pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early 20s)
word count: 4.3k
summary: maybe you're not as special to rafe as you think you are
warnings: SUGGESTIVE (read at ur own risk, minors dni), slow burn???????, angst???????, kook!rafe x pogue!reader, fratboy!rafe x goodstudent!reader, mention of drugs, alcohol, and nicotine [vaping], injury, i made up a university, reader is friends with sarah, reader is on the anxious side, pining!reader???, not proofread
a note: i may or may not have based some of rafe's actions off of the guy i've been seeing
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
The party is so loud, even from across the street.
You cling to Sarah, hand clasped into hers as she leads you through the lawn up to the frat house. Not just any frat house, Kappa Phi Alpha, the most prestigious fraternity at the most prestigious and expensive Kook-ridden campus, Helios University. You were new, ish, a late transfer student with only a year and a half left, having done your first three and a half years at a community college across the thoroughfare to the mainland. You had applied on a whim to please your parents, staring in awe at the acceptance letter you received months later. They had even accepted your financial aid. You were a lone Pogue fish, lost in a sea of Kook sharks, and they were out for blood.
Sarah shoves past drunk guys, all standing huddled in circles passing around a vape, trying to suck the plastic dry. She looks at you over her shoulder. “You look terrified. I told you we should’ve pregamed.”
You immediately shake your head. “I don’t want to get too drunk. I have class in the morning,” You nearly trip as a group of girls pushes past you, eager to get to the front of the line. “And so do you.”
“You can skip one class,” Sarah says, pulling you closer as you approach the front of the line. The frat boy standing guard goes to shoo you away, towards the back of the line, but she interrupts him before he can get the words out. “I’m on the list. I’m Sarah, Rafe’s sister,” The frat boy eyes you suspiciously, looking you up and down. Sarah rolls her eyes. “She’s with me, dummy. Rafe told me he put both of us down.”
The frat boy checks his phone, thumb scrolling through his notes app before nodding, bringing his vape to his lips. “Right. Sorry. Have fun, you two. And don’t take any bottles home, alright?” You and Sarah both nod as she leads you inside, hand still gripped tight in yours. She pats the frat boy on his shoulder, sticking one arm out to weave through the crowd. You instinctively shrink in on yourself, shoulders moving up to your ears as you make your way into the living room.
Sarah tugs you close once you reach an empty spot, nestled against one of the large bay windows that looks out to the pool in the backyard. “Alright, we made it in!” Her tone is excited, a giant smile on her face, until she sees the sour look on yours. “Please, at least try to have fun. You don’t have to drink, I guess, but just…” She sighs, cupping your face. “Just let loose a little. Chat up some guys. Or some girls.”
You cover her hands with yours. “Fine. I’ll try.” And you would, at least a little bit.
“Good,” Sarah lets go of your face. “I gotta say hi to some girls from my Fashion Design class. If you need anything, just come get me, okay?” She’s already walking away, looking at you over her shoulder.
“Okay.” You give her a thumbs-up, forcing a smile.
Sarah smiles and nods, turning around to keep walking when she suddenly stops, whipping her head back around. “Oh! And don’t drink a drink that you didn’t see poured!”
You nod, giving her another thumbs up, watching desperately as she practically skips away towards a group of girls on the other side of the living room, phone propped up on the dining table as they film a TikTok. You try to relax, forcing your shoulders to drop as you take a deep breath. Your hands flex and unflex, and you fight the urge to fidget.
You head into the kitchen, grabbing one of the last Coke Zeros from a bright blue cooler on the counter, wiping the condensation off on your jeans. You open it before taking a generous sip, slipping out of the kitchen as a large group comes in, chanting to themselves about tequila shots.
And that’s when you see him.
Rafe Cameron, Kook prince of Kildare, climbing on top of the rickety coffee table in between three dingy, beer-stained couches, stabbing the bottom of a beer can with a pocket knife before bringing it to his lips, opening the can with his right hand, head tilting back. Frothy, amber liquid travels down his neck, over his chain, and underneath his polo.
You feel your face grow hot as shameful desire grows in your gut. Not only was he the president of his fraternity, apparently the biggest asshole on the planet and renowned player, but he was Sarah’s brother. You’d never spoken to him, only hearing rumours from some girls in your class and stories from your roommate as she anxiously awaited a text back from him. You heard enough, you thought; he was a douche, a player, and only kept girls around that he considered a good fuck. You had decided, then, that you didn’t want anything to do with him.
It didn’t matter how pretty he was or how hot he looked as he pulled the beer can away from his mouth, crushing it between his strong fist as he sticks his arms up above his head in celebration as his friends and admirers cheer him on, biceps bulging deliciously out of his polo sleeves, smirk plastered on his sculpted face, you couldn’t have him. You shouldn’t want him this bad.
There was a reason he was given the title of Kook Prince, and he knew it. Rafe thrived off of the attention. There was never a time when he wasn’t the most desired man in the room, and tonight was no different. He was the most popular guy in your entire university, and he looked the part. His gaze suddenly lands on you, eyeing you from the spot you stood in. His gaze sharpens, lips curling up more at the corners. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, even as his friend, Topper, you think Sarah called him, pats his shoulders, shoving another Coors Banquet can into his hand. His gaze flickers between you and Topper before he smiles, saying something you can’t hear as he shotguns the second can.
The cheers and claps from the group surrounding him snaps you out of whatever trance Rafe put you in. You look around, trying to appear casual as you take another sip of Coke Zero, the can slightly squished from your tight grip. He finishes the beer easily, crushing it between his fist before Topper shoves a third one into his hand. Rafe doesn’t look away from you. He pops it open, raising it to his lips and taking a deep drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his tan throat. His gaze is unwavering, and he doesn’t take any opportunity to move towards you, just keeping his blue eyes on you as you squirm uncomfortably.
Rafe had you right where he wanted you, even if you didn’t know it yet.
You try to distract yourself, try to keep yourself from looking over in Rafe’s direction, and try to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into your back. You join Sarah and her friends, and you try to join their conversation before you eventually go quiet after you realise no one is listening. You opt to nod along, laughing with the rest of them, trying to appear as casual and normal as possible, like your heart isn’t racing at the thought of your best friend’s brother, like you aren’t digging your nails into your palm to keep yourself from asking her if he’s single.
The flash is bright in your face as you join in on one of the group’s TikToks, lip-syncing to a song and doing a dance you had to learn on the spot, hoping you don’t look like an idiot swaying around in the outfit you borrowed from Sarah. You peer over her shoulder as you watch the TikTok back. Your part in it is relatively short, and thankfully you don’t look too idiotic. Your eyes immediately find Rafe in the background, as he occasionally glances over at you. You’re sure he’s only looking because you’re filming a dance trend in the middle of a party, and because Sarah’s with you, but there’s a small part of your heart that hopes he was looking at just you.
Cheers erupt from the living room, and you look up, you can’t help it, eyes immediately drawn to him as he climbs up on the coffee table. Rafe says something you can’t make out before he does a handstand, his polo falling partially down to reveal his toned stomach as his other friend, and Kelce (you think), holds a keg stand tube up to his mouth, Topper holding the keg up high in the air.
Everyone’s eyes are on him as he chugs, including yours, although you’re too busy staring at his abdomen and the faint happy trail that leads into his waistband to notice the beer spilling out of his mouth and onto the coffee table. He immediately lowers his feet and stands back up, grabbing the bottom of his shirt to wipe his mouth as his eyebrows furrow. He says something else you can’t quite hear to one of his fraternity brothers, gesturing wildly to the spill now dripping onto the carpet. Rafe’s jaw clenches before he flips his fraternity brother off, everyone moving to follow him as he heads out to the backyard. One of the girls that was helplessly clinging to him all night starts to clean up the spill, shouting after him to wait up.
“What a show-off,” Sarah mumbles, bringing the mango Cutwater to her lips. “He just has to keep the attention on himself at all times.”
One of Sarah’s friends, Alaina, scoffs as she steals the can to take a sip. “Can you blame him? This party wouldn’t even be happening if he weren't here.”
Sarah grabs her drink back from Alaina, giving her a gentle smack on the arm. “Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an attention-seeking dick.” She sighs, leaning against the wall. She doesn’t want to be concerned, but she is, eyes anxiously heading towards the backyard.
Alaina laughs softly. “A dick that the whole campus wants. You can deny it all you want, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s hot.”
“Can we please not talk about how hot my brother is?” Sarah asks exasperatedly, eyes going wide as she pushes off the wall. “Jesus. You guys are disgusting.”
You can tell Sarah is irritated by the way her jaw clenches and the way she chews on her bottom lip, shoulders tensing. You put a hand on her forearm, rubbing it with your thumb. “Wanna go check on him? We can get some fresh air, too.”
She nods, shoulders relaxing a bit as she sets her Cutwater on the table next to your empty Coke Zero can. “Yeah. I should make sure he didn’t fall and give himself a concussion.” She doesn’t even bother saying goodbye to her friends as she links her arm with yours, pushing through the crowd to head to the sliding glass door. She pushes it open with one hand, lagging back to shut it behind you as you head into the backyard.
The air is cool on your skin, the breeze leaving goosebumps in its wake as it travels over you, brushing through your hair. It’s just as crowded outside as it is inside; most of the party goers sitting on the edge of the pool with their feet dangling in it, drinks in hand as they pass a joint around, careful not to drop it into the chlorine. Some people are just mingling around, drinks in hand as they chit-chat, occasionally swaying to the music blasting out of the large JBL speakers a frat boy set up on the deck, and there’s a group of girls you recognise sit cross-legged in the gazebo, passing a bong around, phone flash on as they record each other.
Sarah stands up on her toes, looking through the sea of people, squinting slightly as she tries to find her brother in his coral polo shirt. “I swear, this dumbass is never in one place for too long, it’s like he’s—“ She immediately stops once she hears his voice, cutting her eyes to the left, finally finding him.
Rafe is climbing up on a fold out plastic table, knocking over a long forgotten game of beer pong. The table wobbles under his weight as he stands up straight, a large smile on his face as he turns to Topper, throwing up a middle finger at the camera pointed at him. Topper laughs, taunting him as Rafe moves the top of his body down to do another handstand. The table wobbles again, but everyone ignores it as Kelce brings the tube back to Rafe’s lips, Topper’s phone being shoved back into his pocket as he holds the keg up high.
Sarah sighs to herself, shaking her head as she leads you through the crowd and towards her brother, who was now upside down, polo falling over his face and revealing his toned stomach. You try to keep yourself from looking, to keep your eyes away from the way his shoulder blades were shifting, how the muscles in his arms were flexing with the weight of his body, how the veins in his biceps were protruding, but you couldn’t. She stops a few feet below him, calling up to him. “Are you trying to give yourself a concussion? Get down from there, dumbass.”
Rafe hesitates before shifting his weight onto one hand, shooing her away with the other. He steadies himself again, hands slightly shifting under him as he tries to keep up with the keg stand. His fraternity brothers and admirers shout at him, encouraging him to keep going, to keep on chugging. Kelce holds the tube tightly as Topper films, and you can slowly see Rafe starting to falter, hands trembling a little. The muscles in his shoulders were straining with the effort of holding himself up, veins in his biceps and in the side of his neck becoming prominent as the seconds went on, and you could tell that Sarah was getting more and more irritated the longer he kept himself upside down. Her foot was now tapping at the ground, arms crossed firmly over her chest. She calls up to him again, a little more aggressive this time. “I swear to God, if your dumbass falls, and you crack yourself in the head, I’m not taking you to the hospital.”
Topper lifts the keg higher, tilting it so more beer pours out into the tube. Rafe’s eyes widen slightly before he roughly pulls back, sputtering and coughing as he tries to stable himself again, beer spilling onto the grass as Topper quickly pulls the keg down, grabbing the tube at the base. The table creaks and groans before it breaks, splitting right down the middle. Everyone stares, Sarah included, waiting for the familiar sound of Rafe losing his cool, waiting for him to jump up and yell at Kelce and Topper, blaming them for holding the keg at a weird angle, blaming the guys who built the table for doing such a shitty job. Instead, he just… lays there.
You’re the first to help him, hesitating for a second before your hand connects with his shoulder blade, slowly running over his taut muscles. He’s laying face down, forehead resting on the grass. He’s definitely awake and breathing, but he hasn’t said anything or even moved. You clear your throat, your voice soft as you gently shake his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Rafe groans, the sound muffled by the grass his face was currently pressed against. He tries to push himself up, but his arm immediately gives out. He groans even louder, fingers grabbing at the blades of grass as he turns his head to the side to look up at you. He squints, blinking furiously, trying to get the blood to rush to his head again, for the black dots to fade away, for the dizziness to subside. He grunts softly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m totally fine. Super fine.”
You step back as Topper and Kelce move in to grab him, helping him get to his feet, even though his legs are shaking. He has one arm wrapped around either of his friend’s necks, head hanging, as they gently carry him over to a pool lounger. The table is long forgotten as everyone quickly rushes him, all clamoring to make sure he’s okay, talking over each other. Rafe waves one hand, trying to get them all to shut up and stop talking, but they all keep going, some of the girls even moving to grab him. “Enough!” He snaps, even though it hurts his head, one of his large hands going to cup it. “Everyone just shut up!”
The crowd immediately quiets, everyone shrinking back sheepishly. Some people take that as their cue to leave, slinking back and sneaking away from the group. Topper and Kelce get him stabilised on the lounger, and he puts his head in his hands, thumbs pressing into his temples. Someone tries to speak, barely getting out a squeaked ‘Rafe’ before he sticks one hand up to stop them. “Stop. Just shut up. Everyone just leave me alone.”
The group scatters, running off to act like it never happened. Topper pats his back and leaves, dragging Kelce along with him. Sarah stands there, arms still crossed, shoulders still tense. She swallows thickly, almost hesitating, before finally speaking. “I told you to get down. You never listen to me.”
“God, shut up, Sarah,” Rafe’s voice is muffled by his rough palms. “You’re the reason I fell.”
“I am not!” Sarah says, her arms falling to her sides. She purses her lips. “You fell because you climbed on top of a fold out table.”
“You distracted me,” he says. “I was focusing on balancing until you started fucking talking.”
“You were going to fall either way!” Sarah insists, taking a slight step forward.
You dig your nails into your palms. “Guys.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sarah!” Rafe snaps, looking up at her. “Can you just shut the fuck up? For once in your life?”
“Oh, fuck you, Rafe!” She crosses her arms again. “You’re just mad because you embarrassed yourself.”
When Rafe suddenly stands up, fists clenched, you slide between the two of them. “Guys, come on. Let’s just chill out, okay?” You look between the siblings, hoping they would listen to reason and not cause another fight in the middle of a party.
He seems to relax, shoulders dropping slightly as he sits back down, head going back to rest in his hands. “Can you just leave me alone? Please?” Sarah keeps her arms crossed, lips pursed as she glares at him, eyes narrowed. She opens her mouth to say something before scoffing, muttering ‘whatever’ before turning around and stomping away, back towards the house. You move to follow her, giving him one last look over your shoulder, already a few paces away when he speaks again. “Not you. You can stay.”
You turn to face him in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “You’re quiet. You can stay,” You mumble a quick ‘okay,’ and after standing in front of him in stunned silence for a bit, he looks up at you, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You can sit down, you know,” And you do, obediently sitting down on the lounger next to him. You look around at the party, hands moving into your lap. Everything seems to be business as usual, even after Rafe’s fall, but a few of the partygoers shoot a curious glance your way. He lets out a soft noise before putting his head back in his hands. “I think I have a concussion.”
“Do you wanna go to your room?” You ask, trying to keep your voice as soft as possible. “I can get you some water and some Advil,” There’s a long pause, and you begin to worry that you’ve overstepped, an apology already on your tongue before he nods, his left hand reaching out to grab your shoulder as he shakily stands.
You struggle to walk him through the backyard, back through the house, and upstairs to his room, the only single bedroom in the entire house. It’s bigger than you thought, and you take in the decor (or lack thereof) as you help him onto his bed. His bed is pressed up against the wall in the corner, adorned with navy sheets, a crumpled-up duvet in the middle. He has no posters on his walls, just clothes littering his floor and an equally messy desk crammed up against the same wall his bed is on. He immediately lies down, throwing his arm over his face as you head into the bathroom down the hall, finding a few packets of Advil inside a Helios University branded first aid kit.
You sit on the edge of his bed awkwardly as he takes the Advil, drinking the remnants from the water bottle on his bedside table. He crumples it up in the same manner he did to the Coors Banquet cans, tossing it aside as he looks over at you through the gap in his arms. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem.” You say, smiling softly.
Rafe looks you up and down. “You’re Sarah’s friend?”
“Yeah.” You sit on your hands to keep yourself from fidgeting.
“Cool,” He closes his eyes for a split second before opening one of them, peering at you. “You can lay down next to me, you know. I don’t bite.”
Your face flushes, and you almost decline, ready to spout some lie about needing to go back downstairs, but when you look at him, biceps bulging out of his polo and his shirt riding up slightly, the words die in your throat.
It all happens so fast. One second you’re just Sarah’s friend, the next you’re his friend, and the next you’re in his bed, face down, ass up as he fucks you. At first you revel in his attention; after all, you text practically all day every day, and you’re in his room almost three times a week. Nothing makes you feel as good as being wanted by him. Sometimes he even takes you out, showing you around Figure 8, showing you all of his special spots (you especially love the cove he showed you just outside The Island Club), and paying for your outings. You don’t call them dates because you’re not sure if that’s what they are, and Rafe doesn’t call them anything.
The more you talk to Rafe, the more you’re certain that the rumours are wrong. He’s not an insufferable jackass who only thinks about himself; he’s actually a sweet and caring guy underneath the layers of self sabotage and insecurity. You feel foolish for ever believing the rumours in the first place, and although you can’t brag about him to your roommate, you wish you could, just to see her face.
Then you start to wonder if Rafe liked you. You liked him, a feeling you felt was glaringly obvious. You couldn’t hide your eager replies, often responding immediately while he took hours, or the way your eyes light up when he opens the front door of the frat house, or the way you continue to nervously stumble over your words as you settle onto his bed as he picks a movie. You never end up finishing them, usually ending up on your knees in front of him five minutes in, cock in your mouth as you try to push the feelings of dread aside.
Forget whiplash; Rafe’s actions left you feeling motion sickness. When he’s pushing your face into one of his flat pillows, hand gripping your hair at the root, you are certain he was only using you for sex, and it wouldn’t be long before you ended up thrown away like trash, just another conquest in his book. But after he cums inside, always inside, he pulls you close, rubbing your back and giving you soft kisses, usually behind your ears but sometimes covering your whole face, and he starts telling you about his dad, you start to second guess yourself. Maybe Rafe did like you, and he was just nervous. Maybe he knew that his reputation preceded him. Maybe he thought you didn’t want anything more, and you just wanted to be friends with benefits. Casual. The word tastes like bile in your throat.
After two months of being Rafe’s something, you’ve made a pact with yourself; the next time you (eagerly) accept his invitation to come over, usually already dressed and ready just in case he messages you, you convince yourself that you’re finally going to have the talk, finally going to confront him about your feelings, making it clear that you just want to know what he wants and you’re in no way pressuring him. You couldn’t risk scaring him, after all. You didn’t want him running into the arms of another woman.
But as you sink onto your knees, yet again, you try to convince yourself that you’re okay with it. That something was better than nothing. That he clearly liked you enough to keep you around. That if you just waited patiently, he would come to you, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he asks you to be his girlfriend, officially. You didn’t know how long that would take—two more weeks, three more months, or even years—but you would wait. You’d push your expectations aside and wait obediently at his feet.
Maybe he’s your dream boy. Maybe you’re not his type.
pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)
word count: 4.8k
summary: you're just one of his many conquests, so why does he need you?
warnings: ANGST, friends with benefits, mild yearning/pining, rafe cannot handle his emotions, ward mention, slight jealous!reader, not proofread
a note: idk if i ate. i'm sorry that it's a little short. :( also, my stalker!rafe fic needs SERIOUS work, so i decided to upload this instead. i am very unhappy with it.
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
It’s almost comical, the way you just sit there and take it. The way you let him walk all over you, taking bites out of you just to toss you aside for later. He cut off slices of you when he needed, never taking the full thing. Always little samples, just to keep you hooked. He would chew you up and spit you out, and you would always come crawling back.
You watch as Rafe dresses himself, eyes landing on his ass as he pulls up his boxers. He always dresses so quickly, not even handing you a towel as he paces around your room, gathering his things. At first, you thought he just didn’t like your apartment. You were a Pogue, after all, even though you were lucky enough to move to a nicer area of The Cut. You spent a lot of time redecorating, trying to make it a little bit nicer. A little bit cleaner. Anything to get him to stay.
Your apartment was small. Cozy. Quaint.
It reeks of you. And that’s why Rafe won’t stay.
Rafe turns around, catching your eye. He can’t help the small smile that stretches across his lips as he pulls his jeans on. “Admiring the view?”
“For as long as I can.” You say.
Your response surprises him, and his eyes widen just slightly. He stares for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact. “You’re too sweet for your own good.” He mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his socks on.
“I wish you would stay.” You mumble, aching to reach out and touch him. But you don’t.
“I know you do,” Rafe sighs, tying his shoes on. “But I can’t, sweetheart. You know that.”
“I do.” Your voice is soft.
“So why do you keep asking me to stay?” It comes out angrier than he intended. But maybe you needed that.
“I…” You swallow hard. “I don’t know.”
“My answers always no. Why do you keep askin’?” Rafe stands, grabbing his wallet and keys off of the bedside table. “Shit’s starting to piss me off.”
“I’m sorry.” You say, sitting up, holding the duvet to your chest. You feel like you’re always telling him that.
“Quit being sorry. Just stop fucking asking it,” He turns to face you. “Jesus. It’s not that hard.”
You don’t know what to say. You nod, looking down.
Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair. He can’t deny, he loves when you look like that. Sad. Vulnerable. It drives him wild. His gaze lands on your neck, bruised and marked by his teeth. Possession looks good on you, He often thinks.
But that was it. He could only take so much of your submission. He couldn’t take you asking him to stay, too.
“I won’t ask again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, still avoiding his gaze.
His jaw tightens and he stares at you. He wants to take you and claim you. To show you were his, and only his. But he didn’t want to keep you. Why would he? “Good.” Rafe walks around the bed and stands in front of you. He reaches out, grabbing your chin and forcing it up. “And look at me when I’m talking to you.”
You nod, looking up at him, mascara still smeared on your under eyes.
Rafe studies your face. God, you always looked so beautiful like this. Broken and upset. The sight had him wanting to take and claim you all over again. But the look of submission in your eyes makes him want to push you even more. “You look pretty like this.” He murmurs, pushing your neck to the side and looking at the hickeys on your neck. “It suits you.”
“Thank you.” You say, although you don’t like it. You didn’t like this version of you, the pathetic girl who would do anything and everything for one iota of his attention; but it got him into your arms, so that’s really all that matters.
“I wonder why that is? Why you look so pretty when you’re crying?” His fingers lightly trace over your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. He knows that it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. You were addicted to him, craving his attention more than you craved anything else. You’d take whatever he gave you. That was the only thing Rafe loved about you.
“Because my lips get all pouty, and my eyes get all red?” You guess, resisting the urge to lean into his palm.
Rafe almost laughs at your answer. It was cute. “Hmm,” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently brushing them. “Yeah, probably.” His eyes meet yours, staring at your face. You were so easy to break. So easy to control. You’d let him do whatever he wanted, no fight or protest. Just endless submission. It was addicting.
You’re getting restless. “Have any plans today?”
Rafe’s hand falls from your face, and his jaw tightens. You always did this. You always try to make small talk, try to create some type of emotional connection between you, even though you knew deep down that he didn't give a shit about you or about your day. “Yeah. I do.” He picks his jacket up from the bed. “Have to go visit my dad's lawyer. Then I’m meeting some friends.”
“That sounds fun,” You say, although meeting with Ward’s lawyer must have something to do with life insurance. “Uh, being with your friends later, I mean.”
“Yeah.” He mutters, shrugging his jacket on. He grabs his keys from the bedside table and glances at you. It’s hard, watching you try to connect to him. He knows that you want more than this. You want to be his girlfriend. You want the world to know you’re his.
But that couldn’t happen. And you knew that.
“Are you, um…” You shift on the bed, the duvet falling just a little bit. “Are you gonna come back over tonight?”
Rafe glances at you, eyes falling to the duvet. God, he loved how you were always trying to keep him around. He loved watching you try and fail to keep his attention. He lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Do you want me to?” He already knows your answer.
“Only if you want to,” You say, trying to not come across as even clingier than you already are. “You know my door’s always open for you.”
He sighs and rolls his eyes. You were always so predictable. So needy. So willing. He starts to wonder when he'll get sick of it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He grunts, picking his phone up off of the bedside table and shoving it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet. Might be with Sofia tonight.”
Your soft smile drops, just for a second, and you hope Rafe doesn’t notice.
Sofia.
Sofia?
Who the hell is Sofia?
You knew everyone he hung out with. Every girl. You had tabs on all of them, shamefully. You didn’t know who the hell Sofia was. Had you missed someone? How had she managed to slip through the cracks?
Under the covers, you dig your nails into your thigh. You had to act casual, as normal as you could be. You were always treading thin ice with him, and you couldn’t risk losing him over this. Your smile returns and you give him a nod. “Cool. Just text me.”
Rafe watches as your smile falters for a moment. He knows it. He knows that you’re jealous. There was no way that you weren't. It didn’t take much to make you jealous. He could make one passing comment about a girl, and you’d spend the rest of the day worrying, wondering who she was. That's why he brought up Sofia, and why he always mentions his other girls to you. Something about the idea of you laying in bed, terrified and anxious to lose him, really excited him.
He smirks as you quickly regain composure, knowing that he got to you. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He says, turning to leave.
“Drive safe.” You say.
He stops as he stands in the doorway. Something about you telling him to drive safe always made him… feel guilty. It was that damn softness you always had and used against him. He glances at you over his shoulder, swallowing whatever sentiment he was feeling. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
After a bit of sleuthing, logged into one of your many burner accounts, you finally find her. She’s a Pogue, like you, and for some reason you find that it stings more. She’s gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, the sweetest girl around, and you fucking hate her.
Rafe had a roster. A rotation, the same few girls on repeat until he got bored, where he would swap a few out for fresh meat. You don’t know how you managed to stay on the roster for this long, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe Rafe thought you had another guy out there, filling your cunt and your bed when he was gone, but you didn’t. You’re too busy being Rafe’s to fall for somebody new.
You used to not care about the other girls. The more and more he mentioned them, though, you got curious. You started looking them up on Instagram, stalking their profile through burners and analysing every post. Every story. None of the girls ever looked like you. None of the girls were like you at all. Why did he like them, and why did he like you?
You wonder if he treats the other girls as poorly, or if in some twisted way, you’re special. You could handle being the only girl that Rafe treated like shit if that meant you stood out to him in some way. You wonder if he fills their necks with hickies, too, if he grips their hips too hard and leaves bruises, if he spanks them until his handprints form welts on your ass cheeks.
You hoped to God you were special.
You tried to distract yourself, running errands and tidying your apartment, but you kept thinking about him. About his stupid baby blue eyes, and his stupid pretty face, and his stupid hands and the way they felt around your neck. You didn’t want to be in love with Rafe fucking Cameron, but you feared you were already in too deep, and soon you would drown, falling below the surface, hand outstretched, hoping just this once that he would pull you up.
You sit on your bed, in the dark and the silence, staring at your phone, waiting for it to light up. Waiting for him to text you, to need you.
The hours pass. Midnight. One and two. Three. Before four o'clock rolls around, you still have nothing. You know that you should just give up and go to bed. He probably passed out at his friends’ place, too drunk and too tired to text you, but you keep telling yourself that he's just busy. That he's gonna wake up any moment now and shoot you a text.
You're praying that something happens, that something keeps you up and keeps you waiting for those messages that you know he most likely won't send. You want him to finally fucking want you in the way that you want him. You didn’t like feeling this way, it wasn’t fun to constantly torture yourself, but is it not fun to feel many other ways? If it wasn’t Rafe, it would just be someone else. Another man, someone else’s son, reminding you that no matter how hard you try, you just aren’t meant to be loved.
Why don’t you do it for him? Why aren’t you enough to get him to stay?
You tap the screen, and it lights up. No new notifications.
“Shit.” You mumble, your hand retreating to your side.
You sigh and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Of course, he isn’t going to text you. Why would he? Why would he do that to you, when he never had before? This is exactly what you expected. This is exactly what he loves. Making you doubt, getting you jealous. It gets him off. It’s a game for him. You were his prey, and he was your predator.
As you lay, staring at your ceiling, you hear three, quick knocks on your door.
At first, you think you’ve imagined them. You sit up, your feet sliding into your slippers as you pad into the living room. You stand there in silence, in the dark, only listening to your own breathing. You’re about to turn around when there’s another knock, this time loud and pounding against your door.
You cross the rest of the room, undoing the locks and opening the door.
Standing on your doorstep, of course, was Rafe, hands in his pockets as he stares you down. He seems… tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, probably from staying out late. He glances at you from behind those tired eyes, his gaze falling over your body. He’s taking note of the oversized t shirt you’re wearing, and how your hair is dishevelled and messier than it was before. He could tell you had been lying down. “Can I come in?”
Something's off, you can tell. He’s acting different, even though it’s just subtly. You watch him as he chews on his lip, an anxious habit he didn’t think you noticed. “What’s wrong?”
Rafe’s expression falters for a split second, before he quickly regains his composure. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. Except for the fact that you asked him that. He looks over you. “Nothing,” He responds, his voice harsh and biting. “I just wanted to see you. That’s all.”
You don’t believe him. He normally carries himself with intense confidence and gravitas, so much so it constantly inks into your lungs and chokes you, but this was different. He felt different. “Right.”
He swallows hard, shifting on his feet. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way you were looking at him. Concerned, like you cared. He glances away from you, sighing. “Can I come in?” He repeats his question, eyes flicking between you and your living room.
You nod, stepping aside and holding the door opening, flicking a light switch. One of your lamps turns on, casting a warm, soft glow over your living room.
Rafe strides into your apartment, immediately heading for your couch. Everything in your place was so damn cozy; the warm light, the soft couch, your scent lingering on every single inch of every single surface. He collapses back onto the couch, arms spread out and legs splayed. He runs a hand over his face, swallowing hard.
You sit next to him, and for a while, you two sit in a comfortable silence. You look over at him, pushing some hair behind your ears. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Rafe closes his eyes, sighing as you speak. He didn’t want to tell you about Ward. Not when you were like this, so gentle and caring. He was exhausted, to say the least. He was dealing with so much, all at once, and he didn't know what to do. Finally, he looks at you. In this lighting, with your hair messy and your eyes concerned, you looked even more like the sweet girl he always wished you were. Sweet and caring and loving. “Today was my dad's funeral.”
Your shoulders droop, and your eyes soften. You had no idea. He had only mentioned visiting his father’s lawyer to you yesterday morning. “Shit, I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”
Rafe almost groans. He loved you when you were soft, when you were sweet. He loved it more than he cared to admit, but right now he hated it. He hated it when you were this caring. It made him doubt everything. He glances at you, a lump in his throat. He hated when you looked at him that way. Because he knew that no matter what he did, you would always have that warmth in your eyes when you looked at him. You would always forgive him, no matter what he did.
Part of him wishes his dad could’ve met you.
You reach out and put your hand on his shoulder, trying not to overstep. Rafe stares down at your hand, so small in comparison to his shoulder. Something about it makes his chest tighten. It seems intimate, and he feels… safe. Safe with you. Which is a feeling he hasn't felt in God knows how long.
His hand slowly lifts, his rough fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brings your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his cheek gently, back and forth.
God, the feeling of you touching him, comforting him, was too much. Your touch was too gentle and warm, and he hated that he wanted it. He hated the way his chest ached at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He had so many reasons he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be letting you touch him like this, and yet there was something inside of him, a small voice in the back of his mind, constantly begging him to please let you take care of him. “Can I ask you something?”
“‘Course.” You say softly.
Rafe glances at you, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. God, he hated this. Your touch on his face, the tenderness in your voice, the look in your eyes. It was driving him absolutely insane. His eyes close, as if he was debating if he actually wanted to ask you this. “Am I poison? Am I poison in the water?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.
He opens his eyes again, hand still holding yours to his cheek. He holds your gaze, eyes softening. He hated how vulnerable he was, and yet there was a small piece of him, buried deep inside, that needed it. He could tell you anything right now, and you wouldn't judge him. You would just listen. Care. “Do I… poison everything I touch? Am I the poison that kills everything?”
“No, of course not,” You move closer to him on the couch. “Why would you ask that?”
God, he could smell you, your perfume a subtle, sweet scent that was driving him crazy. He closes his eyes as you move closer, and his jaw tightens. This was insane; he wasn't weak, he wasn't vulnerable, he did not need you. But then again, the hand on yours on his face had yet to move. “Because,” his voice drops to a whisper. “I know that I'm a sick, twisted bastard. I know that I make others sick. I hurt everyone I care about.”
“Rafe, I will admit you aren’t exactly the nicest guy,” You swallow roughly, unsure of what to even say. “But you still have people that care about you. Your friends, your sisters. They know the real Rafe, the guy underneath all the aggression.”
He lets out a long, shaky breath. God, he hated this. He hated being vulnerable. He hated opening up to you, and seeing that look of concern in your eyes. He wants to run, to close you out, leave and forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to treating you like one of his conquests, instead of feeling like he wanted you to hold him. But for some reason, his mouth wasn't listening to his brain. “But what about you?”
“Of course, I care about you,” You say. “I thought that would at least be obvious.”
He had a thousand different replies on the tip of his tongue, but instead his mouth just opened and closed, words dying when they left his lips. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to get up and leave, but there was a deeper part of him, a small piece of himself that he kept buried inside, deep in the back of his mind, that kept whispering, telling him to sit. It was the part that kept his hand on your wrist. He swallows hard, looking away. “I wish my dad was still here.”
“I know,” You say softly. “I’m sorry.”
He felt his eyes begin to sting, something that only added to his frustration. Frustration at himself, for being pathetic enough to cry. Frustration at you, for making him weak enough to cry. Frustration at Ward, for leaving him and his sisters behind. He suddenly hated everything. He hated you. He hated himself. He hated Ward for leaving him with feelings, making him weak. “I don't even know why I came here,” He mutters through gritted teeth. “I just... I wish I could've been good enough for him. I tried to be good.”
“You don’t know how Ward truly felt about you, Rafe.” You say, stroking his cheekbone again.
He hated the way you were comforting him, hated the way you were so gentle with him. He was always on the defensive, on the attack, so when someone was soft with him... Well, the way his chest ached was proof that it was something he wasn't used to. He swallows hard, closing his eyes. “But I do. His actions spoke louder than his damn words ever did,” He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's so stupid, you know, I... I used to pray I’d be like him, do everything that he did. And sometimes I still do.”
“That’s not stupid.” You say.
He lets his hand fall from your wrist, shaking his head. He hated talking about this, he hated admitting how much Ward’s death has messed him up. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to open up to anybody. The words leaving his lips, however, were not his own. “I hate that I don’t know if he was proud of me... I hate that I’ll never know if I did right by him.”
You remove your hand when he goes to cover his face. You watch him for a few moments, unsure of what to do, when you notice his shoulders shake.
Is he crying?
Your eyes widen when you hear a sob rip through him, shoulders shaking up and down. “Hey, hey, Rafe, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”
He hated crying, absolutely hated it, but there he was, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. “I’m not even- I…” His voice breaks, chest rattling. He lets out a long, shaky breath, shaking his head as he wipes away the tears from his cheeks. He couldn’t even look at you. He hated feeling so weak. Hated that you were seeing this side of him.
“It’s okay,” You put your arm around him, trying to hug him. “It’s okay--”
Rafe suddenly stands, pushing you back. “No. Don’t… don’t fucking pretend like you care.” He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed that he let Ward affect him this much. He was supposed to be strong. Powerful. Not weak.
“I’m not pretending.” You say, standing up.
His jaw tightens, his expression hardening into a sharp glare. God, he was tired of you, of your sweet words, of your gentle smiles. It was messing with his head, playing with his feelings. “Yeah, right.” He mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t care, don’t bullshit me.”
“Of course I care about you, Rafe,” You say, taking a step closer to him. “I… I lov--”
“No!” He suddenly snaps at you. He didn't want to hear that. He couldn't. “Don’t… don’t you dare,” You stare at him, confusion on your pretty little face, and it’s driving him fucking crazy. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. Keep that shit to yourself.”
You don’t know what to say, and you don’t want to upset him even more. You just nod, taking a step back.
He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. He hated the sight of that look on your face. The confusion, the worry, the disappointment. He didn’t understand. Why did you care? He didn’t deserve it, not one bit. What the hell did you think you’d get out of loving someone like him? That he’d love you back? That he’d change for you?
The silence is deafening. You want to say something, you just don’t know what. You take a shaky breath. “I’m here for you, Rafe. You know that. In any way you need me.”
“Why?” He asks suddenly, eyes meeting yours. “Why are you still here for me? Why do you care about me so goddamn much? Why can’t you just give up on me, like everyone else has?”
“Do I look like everyone else?” You ask.
Oh, but that was the problem. You were different. You were the only person in that damn town who was as sweet as you were patient. Who cared so god-damn much about someone so undeserving of that love. “Don’t you think I know that?” He asks, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you think it pisses me off that you are the way you are?”
“I just want you to be happy, Rafe, and if I can make you happy, I want to.” You say.
Why did you have to be so goddamn sweet? It was driving him mad, the way you stood there, so willing and eager to do whatever it took to help him. He let out a long, shaky breath, staring down at you. “It was different when you were just some girl I was hooking up with.” He says, shaking his head.
“I’m still that girl,” You insist. “Nothing has to change. We can go back to normal. Forget this ever happened.”
His eyes narrow as you speak. He hated that you said that, hated how willing you were to forget the fact that he cried in front of you, and yet he hated himself for the fact that he almost wanted to agree. “Really?” He asks, his voice sharp. “You’d just… forget this? Go back to letting me use you, like nothing happened?”
“If that’s what you want.” You say.
He hated the idea of that. The idea of going back to using you. Of treating you like trash when he knew that you cared so damn much.
Part of him liked hurting you, like watching you fall apart at his hands. But it was the other side of him that hated how good it felt at first, hated the pit of shame in his chest that grew each time you begged him to stay, or cried while he left, or looked at him like he meant the world to you.
Part of him knew you deserved better.
Rafe sighs, looking away. “Fine. We forget about this.”
“Okay.” You say, nodding.
The fact that you didn't say anything, that you didn't fight back, made his chest ache. God, he hated this. He wanted to yell at you. Wanted to push you down, pin you to the couch, and make you cry out his name. He wanted you to ask him to stay, fight him to prove to him that you cared. He hated how your willingness to forget it all made him want to wrap his arms around you. He couldn't stay. He would do something risky, something that he would regret in the morning. He sniffles, wiping his eyes again. “I'm gonna go.”
You swallow thickly. “If you’re sure. My door is always open.”
“Yeah,” He replies, his voice hoarse. He hated that your gentleness, your sweetness, still managed to get to him. He steps closer to you. He wanted to touch you again. To feel your warm, soft skin against his palm. But he knew better. He knew that if he touched you, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Thanks for being there.” He mumbles, his voice cracking.
“Of course.” You smile softly.
He hates how your smile makes his chest ache, hates the tug it gives his heart. He hated how he cared about you, hated how he was so weak that he allowed himself to open up to you. And God, he hated how he was thinking about kissing your pretty, pouty lips. “I'll be back tomorrow night. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Rafe nods, licking his lips. He rocks back and forth on his feet before reaching out and cupping the back of your head, pressing his lips to your forehead. Enough to keep you hooked. “See you later, sweetheart.”
Your entire body is buzzing. “Drive safe.”
You’re still standing in the same spot when he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)
word count: 5.4k
summary: rafe reminds you of the reason why he's doing all of this in the first place
warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, drug use, smut (DUBCON/NONCON. READER IS DRUGGED WHILE HE TOUCHES HER, nipple play, masturbation (rafe jerks off while the reader is asleep PLEASE DONT LOOK AT ME)), rafe breaks into reader's house, flashback rafe is basically season 2 rafe, very slight john b x reader, drinking, rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, reader is still high on coke
a note: please don't look at me rn.
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
Rafe spends a long time just holding you, pushing your hair out of your eyes and wiping away the drool that periodically escapes your lips, all numb and tingling from the coke. His cock throbs at the sight of you, all limp and soft with blown out pupils, sitting vulnerable in his lap. You were in his arms, and you were his. His gaze travelled over you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way you were shivering. “You like that, angel?” his lips grazed your neck, nibbling softly. “I know you feel all warm and fuzzy, baby. That’s a sign of a good high.”
Your head falls against his shoulder, a soft whine escaping your lips. Rafe hums, his chest rumbling softly against your cheek. He had known that the coke would hit you hard, had been expecting it. But he was surprised by how responsive you were, how receptive you were to his touch. He rubs your hips, hands caressing you. “Shhh, angel, stay calm. Do you feel warm?”
You nod, starting to squirm in his lap. You were very warm, almost burning up, but you felt too lethargic to move. He could tell you were overheating, that the coke was making your blood run hot and your skin feel cold. He glances down to where he could see under the V-neck of the T-shirt he’d given you, and he chuckles softly, seeing your nipples poking up through the thin fabric. “You’re warm, angel. Want me to take off your shirt for you? You’ll cool down without it on.”
You don’t get a chance to respond before Rafe pulls your shirt off anyway, tossing it aside. “Fuck, so pretty,” he murmurs, reaching up to pinch your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. He spent the better part of a year and a half wondering, dreaming about what they would look like, zooming in on photos of you in bikinis just hoping he would catch a glimpse. They were perfect, even more perfect than he imagined. He pinches them hard. “Fuck, baby. I love you so much.”
The pinch sends you reeling, pulling back slightly. “Ow!” You whine as you squirm, trying to get away from his eager fingers. “No…stop… God, please!”
Rafe chuckles, putting one hand on your lower back and pulling you forward. “Awh, angel,” he pinches your nipple again. “God can’t help you. He left you here with me.” He tuts when you whine again, pressing you against him. “Oh, come on baby, don't be shy”, he coos, giving them another sharp squeeze. “These tits are mine now, aren't they? You're my little doll, my angel.” he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “And I'm going to have so much fun breaking you in.”
You feel his cock throbbing against your cunt, right up against your clit. You shake your head, trying to move away, but your body is so heavy and warm. You manage to find your voice, opening your eyes to look at him, although your vision is blurry. “Why are you…doing this to me?”
“Because you're mine,” Rafe says, a small laugh escaping him as he grinds his thick cock against your sensitive clit. “I've wanted you for so long, and now I finally have you. You’re right here, in my lap, all mine.” He moves his hand off of your nipple and cups your face, bringing your face towards his to kiss you. You struggle to kiss back, your lips and mouth still tingling from the cocaine on your gums.
You pull away. “Stop! Please! I didn’t do anything to you!”
“Awh, baby,” He shifts you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you against his chest, his face right next to yours. He runs his hands over your shoulder blades. “Do you not remember it, angel?”
“Remember what?” You ask, finally meeting his eyes.
“The night we met.” Rafe says, pushing some hair behind your ears.
That summer night was as hot and sticky as the rest.
The Pogues and the Kooks had all gathered at The Boneyard, all attending a bonfire put on by Pope. Rafe had never even planned on going, but after he heard there would be free booze and free cocaine, he decided he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. When Rafe had arrived, you were already there, bottle of beer at your lips as you sat with JJ and John B. Pope was around, walking the beach, mingling with the others.
Rafe watches you from across the sand, just a ways away, watching as you laughed at something JJ had said. He had seen you around, of course, knew that you were friends with all of his least favourite Pogues, but he had never really talked to you. You intrigued him right off the bat, sitting there all beautiful, surrounded by two of the biggest losers in North Carolina, at least in Rafe’s opinion. He excuses himself from his conversation with Topper and Kelce walked forward, pushing past people as he moved toward you, his hands in his pockets.
JJ glances over and immediately stands, ready to fight, but Rafe sticks his hands up in defence. “Relax, Maybank, relax. I come in peace tonight.”
JJ sits back down on the log next to you, scoffing. He grips the neck of the beer bottle tight. “What do you want, Rafe?”
Rafe looks down at you, and he suddenly doesn’t really know what he wants. He was so used to having a plan, knowing exactly what he was doing. But right now, he was just staring at you, and he didn’t really know what to say. Not that that ever stopped him before. “I came to talk.” he says.
“About what?” John B asks. “Have you come to apologise?”
“Apologise?” He snorts. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that. I just wanted to say something to the angel sitting over here.” His eyes flit over to you for a moment before looking at John B again. “I don’t want a big scene, just want a couple of minutes alone with her. Get to know her, you know?”
“Well, she's not interested,” John B says, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Go bother someone else. Plenty of girls here, I'm sure you can find one who's into Kook assholes like you.”
Rafe glares at John B, his head tilting slightly. He didn’t mind his insults to him, of course he didn’t, but he didn’t like the way John B was holding onto you, and he definitely didn’t like the way John B spoke for you. “Why don’t you let her speak for herself?”
You anxiously rub the beer bottle label with your thumb. “Sorry, Rafe. I’m trying to have a fun time with my friends tonight. But John B is right, there are plenty of girls here.”
Rafe purses his lips, his gaze flickering back and forth between you, John B, and JJ. He glances around, seeing plenty of girls nearby, all of them looking fine. Maybe he really was just imagining things, imagining the butterflies in his stomach and the blood rushing to his cock. He didn’t know you at all, really. He just thought you were pretty, and that had been enough for him to want you. This is just all his pride speaking, he didn’t like being rejected, he would move on. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. My apologies.” He excuses himself, exiting with a small wave before heading back over to Topper and Kelce.
“What a fucking asshole.” JJ mumbles, taking another sip of his beer. Your gaze follows him until he’s out of sight, heading behind a few rocks with Topper and Kelce. You could feel his eyes on you as he walked away, and it gave you a weird feeling. You didn’t want him to be mad at you for saying no, didn’t want him to think you were rude or anything, but you just weren’t interested in Kooks. Especially Rafe.
Even if he is really attractive, almost annoyingly so.
He gets high on coke, snorting way too many lines, hoping the buzz would keep you and your pretty little body off of his mind, but it does the opposite. He can’t stop himself from glancing over in your direction, staring for a bit too long as you dance around the fire with John B. He can’t keep his eyes off you, and by the time it’s getting closer to two in the morning, he’s had enough.
The coke has long since worn off, and he’s starting to get pissed off at himself, at wanting someone he can’t have, at getting so fixated on someone so goddamn quickly. He glances around the fire, noticing how many of the Pogues had wandered off, heading home or into the woods with different people for the night, and he suddenly sees his opportunity.
You, hunched over by the shore, throwing up. You had gotten really drunk, drinking beer after beer, and even sipping directly from a vodka bottle that Kiara brought. Rafe had hoped that your incessant intoxication would cause your body, or even your gaze, to find its way over to him, but it didn’t. You kept hanging onto that stupid asshole John B, both arms wrapped around his neck as you sat on his lap next to the bonfire. Rafe watched from afar as John B fed you s’mores, holding your chin in his hand to help you chew, gripping the beer bottle in his hands so tight he thought it would snap.
Rafe excuses himself from Topper and Kelce as he makes his way over to you, hands in his pockets. He can’t help but feel excited about your vulnerable state, all alone and sequestered away from your stupid Pogue friends. He stands behind you and watches, looking at the way your thighs look in your shorts before speaking, “You alright?”
You stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. Even after vomiting three times, you’re not any less drunk. “Mhm. Peachy.”
He watches you, a slight hint of concern in his eyes. You were really drunk, and you looked like you might collapse at any moment. Your balance was definitely off, which was clear the second you attempted to stand straight. “You want some water?”
You nod, stumbling towards him. You hit his chest, resting against it as your eyes close. “Please.”
His hands instinctively go to your hips, stabilising you against him so you don’t fall. His gaze travels over you, looking at your flushed face and your glassy eyes. So fucking drunk, and so fucking vulnerable. “Sit down a sec, angel. You’re gonna fall over.”
You let out a soft grunt as you sit in the sand, hands going down to dig into it to support yourself. “Okay.”
Rafe squats down next to you, looking out at the waves as they crash against the sand. He glances over at you, seeing how your big eyes were flitting around, unable to focus on one thing. You were so drunk, so out of it, so vulnerable, and he loved it more than anything. “You’re really smashed, huh?” He hands you a half empty water bottle, having drank most of it earlier. It was warm, and the lid was coated in sand, but you didn't seem to even notice.
You eagerly drink the rest of the water, swishing some in your mouth and spitting towards the shore before crunching the bottle in your hands, struggling to recap it. “Mhm. But that’s the point of a party.”
“Yeah, you’re supposed to have a good time. But you’re supposed to stay lucid, not get so trashed that all you can do is throw up and stumble around.” He takes the crushed water bottle from you, putting it aside before turning to face you again, kneeling in the sand.
Your eyes meet his, yet you’re looking right through him, barely registering what’s going on around you. You reach out and grab him, yanking him towards you, his hands falling to the sand on either side of your hips. Your faces are so close. “You’re pretty.”
Rafe grins, leaning forward a bit so that he was almost nose to nose with you, letting his gaze run over your face. You were so out of it, so out of control, so out of your mind, and he loved it, loving the far off look in your eyes. He felt so powerful knowing that he could have you, could do anything he wanted to and have you unable to deny him. It would be so easy to push you back against the sand, to hold you down and make you beg for him. He lets out a low, breathy laugh, his eyes still trained on yours. “Yeah? You think I’m pretty?”
“So pretty,” You mumble, reaching out to hold onto his biceps. “Prettiest guy ever.”
His lips curl into a smug smirk when you bring your hands to his arms. He moves his hands from the sand and rests them on your thighs, fingers trailing over the exposed skin as he moves to kneel between your legs. He was so close to you now, he could just move forward and kiss you. But he loves this, loves being so close that he could have you, loves how drunk you were, loves how all your inhibitions were gone right now. He loved the way you were looking at him. “Yeah? Prettiest guy on Kildare?”
“Prettiest guy in North Carolina,” You say, lightly scratching your nails on his biceps. “Prettiest guy in America.”
Rafe’s gaze darkens as your fingernails scrape at his biceps, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward, closer to you. You were so cute, so out of it, and you were here with him. You were calling him pretty and letting him touch you when you were normally so stubborn and headstrong. He knew if you weren’t as drunk, you’d be pushing him away, telling him to leave you alone, but you weren’t, and he takes advantage of that. He wants to take advantage of you. He leans closer, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah? The whole United States?”
You nod. “Yeah. Whole world, probably,” Rafe hums in satisfaction, his face still right next to yours, your nose touching his. He lets his gaze travel over your face, taking in the beautiful lines of your features, your big, glassy eyes, your flushed cheeks. He loves how vulnerable you are right now, how trusting and affectionate you are, his touch-starved self revelling in any attention you give him. One hand moves from your thigh, pushing some hair behind your ear. You swallow hard. “Wanna kiss you so bad. I always wanna kiss you.”
God, you’re so honest when you’re drunk, it makes his cock throb. “You do, angel? You wanna kiss me?” His hand moves to your cheek, gently brushing over your skin, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. One touch was all it would take to kiss you, a small jerk forward would be enough, and he desperately wants to. You bite your lip, still staring straight through him before leaning forward and kissing him, one hand going to the nape of his neck.
Rafe’s eyes widen as you lean in and kiss him. His jaw tenses, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets go, letting himself fall into the kiss. He reaches forward, grabbing you and practically pulling you into his lap. Your lips were so soft, so perfect, just how he thought they would be, and he lets out a sigh, his hand burying itself in your hair. You shift in his lap, pressing your chest against his, deepening the kiss. He lets out an almost desperate whimper when you press your chest against his, his hands sliding to your hips, moving you in his lap so that you’re straddling him, sitting on his thick thighs as he continues to kiss you. He pulls away, tongue brushing against yours. “You’re so perfect, baby.”
“Mhm…” You lean back, your head spinning. “Johnny…”
Rafe’s heart stops, just for a second.
Johnny?
His grip tightens on your hips as he racks his brain, trying to figure out who the fuck Johnny is--
John B.
You were hanging all over him at the party, sitting in his lap and letting him feed you s’mores. You thought he was John B.
You whine and squirm in his lap, feeling your stomach churn. He can hear the whine in your voice, feel the way you squirm as your gut revolts from the amount of alcohol you’ve had. “What’s wrong, baby? You feel sick?” He knew the answer, of course, seeing how pale your face was getting.
You nod and Rafe lets you up, looking over his shoulder as you vomit again onto the shore line. He stands, turning to face you. You thought he was John B this entire time. Were you and John B dating? Did he have no chance with you? Would you even remember this come tomorrow? He goes to step towards you as you vomit again when he hears someone calling your name. He looks back over his shoulder to see JJ and Pope heading down the dune, looking for you.
“What the fuck are you doing here with her?” Pope asks him as JJ rushes over to you, holding your hair back as you vomit again.
Rafe doesn’t hesitate, shooting a glare at Pope. “Just having a conversation.” His gaze lingers on JJ as he holds your hair back. “You guys taking her home? She’s pretty smashed.”
“Why do you care?” JJ asks, wiping your mouth for you.
“Just curious, why are you getting defensive?” He watches as JJ holds your face tenderly, looking after you, and he feels the overwhelming wave of jealousy again, although he doesn’t know why. He’s never felt this possessive of someone before, never had strong feelings before, and seeing another man touch you, care for you, is really pissing him off. “God forbid I want someone to be okay, Maybank.”
“Don’t worry about her, man,” Pope says, joining JJ at your side. “None of your concern.”
He bites his tongue, hard. He didn’t want to start a fight, not with you being sick and your stupid friends acting like this. But god dammit, he really wanted to punch Pope, throw him right to the ground and kick him over and over until he was spitting up blood and guts. “Yeah, no, not worrying anymore. You handle her, then.”
“We will,” Pope says, helping you walk back towards the parking lot. “Later, asshole.”
Rafe sighs as you disappear from sight, kicking the sand. “Fuck.”
Rafe can’t get you out of his head. Not on his drive away from The Boneyard, not while he continues the party at Topper’s place, and not when he’s finally at home in his bed. He tosses and turns for a while, thinking about your lips against his and the way you felt in his lap, the way your skin felt under his fingers. Your little whines and whimpers play over and over in his head.
He feels himself growing harder as he flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. He reaches over and grabs his phone, unplugging it as he unlocks it. He pulls his boxers down, tucking them underneath his balls as he scrolls through his apps. He clicks on Instagram, heading to the search bar, before pausing. Shit. He didn’t know your last name. He sighs, switching over to his burner account and types JJ’s username into the search bar, @jj.maybankofficial. Little fucker had blocked him months ago. He clicks on JJ’s following list and types in your first name, and for a second he panics, half expecting nothing to show up.
But then he sees you.
Your profile is set to public. How convenient. How cute.
He scrolls through your photos, cock fully hardened, pre-cum already dripping from his tip. He finds a few he likes, screenshotting them for later, before finding one that makes his cock throb against his stomach. The photo of is of you in a bikini, holding a smoothie bowl, and smiling into the camera. One of the cups of your bikini is slightly pushed to the side, revealing some of your nipple.
Rafe's breath hitches as he stares at the picture on his phone. “Fuck... Look at those tits,” He mumbles, stroking faster. He leans forward, propping his phone up on his chest as he watches the photo intently. His other hand moves between his legs, and he fondles with his balls, cupping and squeezing them. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, making it easier to stroke. “Yeah, that's it,” he grunts, eyes locked on your face in the screen. “Such a pretty little thing.” Rafe keeps jerking himself off, moaning softly as he strokes faster. The hand that was on his balls reaches up, rubbing at one of his nipples, pinching and twisting it. He rolls his hips up, thrusting his hips into his hand. He can't help but imagine what it would be like if he was fucking you instead, your tight little pussy wrapped around his cock.
He cums embarrassingly quickly, cumming all over his phone screen, right on your pretty little face. He slumps back against his pillow, panting heavily as he comes down from his high. He wipes his sticky hand across his chest, smearing some of the cum onto his abs. He locks his phone and sets it aside, breathing heavily as his cock softens.
It isn’t enough. You’ve corrupted him, and he can’t stop thinking about you, and it isn’t long before he’s hard again. He needs more, he needs something different. “God dammit,” he mumbles, picking his phone back up. He unlocks it before going onto Google, typing in his favourite porn site and scrolling through the top search results, trying to find a girl that looks like you.
He finds a girl that looks close enough, starring in a video titled ‘Hot slut gets fucked rough by her brother’s best friend!!’. He tries so hard to jerk off to it, and although his cock is hard and leaking pre-cum, he can’t get into it. The lighting sucks, the angle is bad, and the girl is so loud and annoying. He exits the video and closes his phone, groaning as he lets go of his cock. Rafe stares back up at the ceiling, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach as it starts to soften.
This wasn’t working. He needed more.
Rafe sits up, digging through his bedside table, and pulls out a small dime bag of coke and a small pocket mirror. He pours some out carefully, smoothing it out and making one single line with his credit card. He sets the credit card down and grabs a dollar bill from his wallet, rolling it up tight. He keeps thinking about you, his mind going back to the way your ass looked in your shorts tonight and the way you clung onto him. He sets the mirror down on his bedside table before snorting the whole line in one go. The cocaine burns as it enters his nose, the effects kicking in within minutes as his head starts to rush. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans back against the wall, the high hitting him hard.
Rafe needed you.
Fuck. He was going to regret this.
He stands up with a grunt, pulling his boxers back up. He was still hard as fuck, the coke definitely not helping. He digs through his dresser and pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting them on before slipping his shoes on and grabbing his keys. He rushes out of Tanneyhill, heading down the driveway towards his truck. He hops in, completely forgetting his seatbelt as he puts his keys in the ignition, turning the car on and pulling out of his driveway. He drives along the streets, the adrenaline making the cocaine even more intense. He knows he’s probably too high to be driving a vehicle, but he can’t help himself, he needs you. He keeps his gaze fixed on the road ahead as he drives, his mind swimming with images of you.
It’s a 15-minute trip to the south side of the island, and soon he realises that he doesn’t know where you live. Rafe sighs, grabbing his phone from his pocket. He’s a powerful man with powerful connections. He scrolls through his contacts, tapping on a name. It rings a couple of times before someone picks up on the other side. “Yeah?” the voice on the other end asks, sounding exhausted.
“Yeah, I know who you are, kid. What is it?” The annoyance in her tone was obvious.
“Listen, I uh…” Rafe sighs. “I need help finding someone’s address. They were at my party tonight, and they were pretty drunk, so I just wanted to check on them.”
There’s a long pause from the other end of the phone, and Rafe can hear the creaking of a chair as she shifts her weight. “Whose address, kid?” Rafe gives her your name, hands gripping the steering wheel as he hears her typing away.
There are a few more pauses of silence, the clicking of the keyboard, before she responds. “Got it, I texted it to you. Anything else you wanna tell me?”
“Does she have a record, or?” Rafe asks. “I'm just trying to stay clean, you know. Like we talked about.”
She lets out a humourless laugh. “No, she’s clean. Parents are clean, too. Nothing to be concerned about. You’ve been staying away from coke like you said, right?”
“Of course I am, Agent Peterkin,” Rafe says. “Alright, thanks for your help. Have a good night.”
Peterkin sighs, knowing that she doesn’t believe him for a second. “Behave yourself,” is all she responds with before she hangs up.
Rafe opens the text thread, finding your address. He clicks on it, and it opens up the map app on his phone. It’s not far, only 5 more minutes, down the street from The Chateau.
He feels himself grinning, his heart rate picking up as he gets closer, knowing that he was going to see you again soon. He drives a little bit faster than he should, turning onto the road your house is on before pulling up outside. He stares at the house, his gaze flitting from window to window, trying to figure out which window was your bedroom. He parks his truck down the street, walking through the darkness towards your house.
It was small. Cute. Looked easy to break into.
Rafe checks the windows, finding them all locked with the curtains drawn. He tries your front door, which is locked as well. He moves around to the back of the house, walking past your backyard and finding the back door. He carefully walks up the stairs, hand on the doorknob. He takes a deep breath before twisting it.
It opens.
He grins triumphantly, silently pushing it open and walking through the dark house. He shuts the door behind him, glancing around. He had to remind himself to go slow, to stay steady. You weren’t his yet, but you would be. He slowly makes his way through the dark house, looking around for anything to tell him where your room was. He opens one of the doors and peeks in, but finds your parents both asleep, the TV on low. He carefully shuts the door before heading down the hallway towards the second closed door.
He slowly pushed open the door to your room, breathing out when he sees the bed. His gaze travels over the walls, the decorations, the furniture. There’s a small light on your bedside table, casting a soft golden glow over your skin. He walks towards the bed, sitting on the edge, watching you sleep. You were out like a light, completely unaware that he was here, watching you. You looked so perfect when you were asleep, so peaceful, curled up on your side wearing a thin tank top and tiny little pyjama shorts. He gently reached out, letting his fingers trail over your soft cheek.
He feels his cock harden again.
“Okay,” He breathes out softly as he slowly, carefully flips you over onto your back. You shift around and mumble, but you don’t wake up. He lets out a shaky breath, untying his sweatpants and pushing them down around his knees. He pulls his cock out, his boxers resting underneath his balls.
You shift again, wiggling around on the bed, throwing your arms over your head. You’re still asleep.
Rafe freezes, heart pounding in his chest as he watches you move in your sleep. His cock twitches, throbbing in his hand as he imagines what it would feel like when he first pushes into you, feeling your warm wetness envelop him. He leans closer, slowly trailing a finger down your neck, across your collarbone, and along the swell of your breast. He cups your breast in his palm, thumb brushing over your nipple as it hardens under his touch. A soft whimper escapes your lips, but you remain unconscious, lost in slumber. He pushes your tank top up carefully, revealing your stomach, so soft and just begging to be covered in kisses. If he lifted your shirt any higher he would risk waking you.
Rafe's breathing grows ragged as he continues to explore your body, mapping every curve and contour. He wants to memorise you, to claim every inch of you as his own. And he will, in time. He squeezes his cock before starting to brush his fingers over the tip. He starts to jerk off again, panting softly, his free hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up slightly to give him better access. His fingers brush over your inner thigh, teasing you through your thin pyjama shorts. He rubs his thumb over your clothed slit, feeling how warm you are. His movements become more erratic, faster, chasing his release as he imagines burying himself inside you and cumming, claiming you as his own, as his little angel. His hand starts to speed up as his fingers drift over to your face, dragging them across your lips. He didn’t want to wake you up, but fuck he wanted to touch you more.
He suddenly stops touching you, leaning back as he grips his cock tighter, his free hand going to fondle his balls, stroking furiously as he cums all over your stomach, groaning quietly, whispering your name over and over. He pants softly, wiping the cum off on your pyjamas before tucking himself away and fixing his clothes. He glances at you once more before slipping out of the room, leaving as quietly as he came. He pauses at the end of the hall, glancing back one last time before forcing himself to leave, knowing he'd be back again soon enough. He couldn't get enough of you, and he knew that no matter how many times he snuck in to watch you sleep or touched himself while imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to you, he would always come back for more. You were his, whether you knew it or not. His obsession. His angel. His everything. And one day, he'd make sure everyone else knew it too.
Rafe smirks at the horrified look on your face. “That’s how we met, baby. You don’t remember?”
You squirm violently, trying to push him away, although your body is still lethargic. “You’re sick, Rafe.”
He rolls his eyes, holding you down against his chest. “Please. You’re the one who told me I was pretty.” He teases, resting his chin on the top of your head as he keeps you pinned in his lap.
“I thought you were John B,” You say, defending yourself. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“But it was me,” He says, burying his nose in your hair. “You think I’m pretty.” He repeats, nuzzling your neck before pulling back and running his fingers through your hair, feeling how soft it is.
“You can’t do this, Rafe,” You say, eyes starting to well with hot, shameful tears. “You can’t keep me here!”
“But I can,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him, smiling softly at the look of fear in your eyes. You looked so beautiful when you were scared of him. “And I will keep you here. I’ve come to take what’s mine.”
He leans in close, biting your earlobe. “You can’t run from me forever.”
You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.
You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.
You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you.
You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.
You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?
Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.
Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.
You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.
The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”
You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.
Sofia must’ve been here earlier.
You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”
He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.
You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”
“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”
Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”
“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”
What the fuck? “Excuse me?”
He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”
“It wasn’t funny.” You say.
It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”
“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.
Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.
He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.
“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”
“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”
Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”
“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.
“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”
“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”
He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.
He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.
He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”
“I wish I never did.” You say.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.
Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”
“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.
“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”
He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.
“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.
“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.
“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”
“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”
Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”
It’ll pass.
It’ll pass.
It will never pass, will it?
You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”
He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”
“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.
He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”
You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.
He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”
You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”
“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”
You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt.
“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.
You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”
Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”
You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.
The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.
You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.
He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”
You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.
He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”
“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.
“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”
“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.
He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”
You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”
He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”
“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”
He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”
You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”
He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”
“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”
“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”
You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.
But they weren’t.
You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”
“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse.
His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.
Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.
“What?” You ask.
He doesn’t answer.
His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly.
He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do.
His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.
He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.
Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.
He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”
You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.
But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this.
You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”
He feels relieved. That’s good.
He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race.
His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice.
You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.
Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.
You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.
It’s peaceful.
Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.
You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.
JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.
JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”
“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.
“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”
You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”
He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”
You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”
He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Handsome.” You add.
He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.
You smile at him again, looking back over the water.
JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind.
He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder.
He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.
You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.
Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.
You bring the red solo cup to your lips, eye twitching and throat burning as you take a sip. It was foul, cheap vodka mixed with melted skittles, but it was getting you drunk, and that’s all that mattered. You felt like a creep, sitting in the corner of Barry’s living room, practically eye fucking Rafe as he stands in the kitchen, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes naturally went to his figure, tracing the expanses of his toned arms.
You wanted him.
You always have.
From the second you met him in elementary school, when you were around 6 years old, you’ve had a crush on Rafe. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had just gotten new shoes that had laces instead of Velcro, and even though your mom had tied them for you in the morning, you were struggling to tie them yourself after they had come undone. Rafe had spotted you in the courtyard and expertly tied them himself before sticking his hand out towards you to shake, announcing his presence with the upmost confidence. Ward had been raising him to be a businessman, after all.
You fell for him immediately, and you fell hard. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings towards him. You had just moved to Kildare, and your parents had exclaimed that you would be best friends forever when you discovered that you were actually his next door neighbour. Through the trees you could just make out his bedroom window, and if he tried hard enough, he could see right into yours too. You spent the rest of your days wanting, needing, dying for him, hoping one day he would pick you over whatever girl of the week he was seeing. You wondered what it was like to be chosen. You were never chosen by Rafe. You were a maybe, a probably, sometimes even definitely, but never his first choice.
You remember when he got his first actual girlfriend, April. You were 13, already head over heels in love with him, and were absolutely devastated when he sent you that text. You cried so hard you nearly threw up, yet your reply to him was a simple ‘Congrats!’. You knew that he didn’t like you back then, and that showing any type of jealousy would just drive a further wedge between you. He was already starting to pull away. He was dealing with so much at home that he was taking it out on everyone else at school, constantly screaming and yelling and throwing things. He needed the attention he wasn’t getting, and it seemed that the attention you were giving him wasn’t enough.
At 15, he got a new girlfriend, Lillian. They weren’t serious like how he was with April, but this was the first girl he had in a while that actually stuck around. Lillian didn’t like you, and you didn’t like her. She was, quite ironically, jealous, and was constantly reading your texts with Rafe. She purposely excluded you from parties and hangouts, doing everything in her power to get you away from Rafe. They only lasted seven months before Rafe dropped her, saying: ‘I’ve known her for a few months. I’ve known you my whole life. It’s a pretty easy choice.’
He didn’t get another girlfriend until he was 17, bordering on 18, when he met Jacquelyn. The daughter of one of Ward’s business partners, they were essentially a PR relationship, only hugging and holding hands during fancy black tie events. Jacquelyn was nice to you, nice enough, although you always had a feeling that she knew you loved Rafe.
And it was hard not to love him. You had tried so many times over the years to just get a grip and move on, but something about him was so alluring. You had watched him grow, blossom into the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, and it was hard not to fall for him. You had tried to gaslight yourself a few times into believing you were truly over him, climbed out of the hole you were stuck in, but the next time you hugged, and you got to bury your face into his chest, you fell right back down. He was the moon in your universe, and you were barely even a star.
Just as you had seen Rafe blossom, you had seen him shrivel up. Watching him get into drugs, alcohol, and violence was heart-wrenching, but he never listened to you. He said you didn’t get it, and you didn’t understand him, but when things got too much for him, or he got too drunk, he would always turn up on your porch, your favourite candy in hand as a figurative olive branch. And you accepted it every time, eagerly opening your arms to welcome him, revelling in the feeling of his whispered apologies in your ear.
You were always the one he went to.
Until he met Sofia.
You didn’t want to hate Sofia, but you couldn’t help it. She had everything you wanted, and she was everything you wanted to be. She had Rafe, and she was Rafe’s. After Rafe heard of Ward’s death, Sofia is the one he went to, not you. You didn’t see him until weeks later at The Island Club, and as you tried to give him your condolences, she whisked him away. He left the room as quickly as he entered it, leaving only a waft of his cologne and a pit in your stomach in his wake.
She stole him away from you, constantly hanging on his arm and dragging away during parties. He never responded to you anymore, too busy spending time with her, taking her to some stupid boutique on the mainland or going with her to the beach when the UV was too high to resist. Did he rub sunscreen on her back? Did his hands ever slip under the bikini straps as he caressed her skin, did his hands ever wander around the front and slip underneath the cups?
Did you even want to know?
You had grown apart these last few months. You rarely saw him, even out on Kildare, and your conversations were few and far between. Even then, your feelings for him never faded. You would sit on the chair by your window, staring out towards his, wondering if just maybe you would catch a glimpse of him walking by. You felt, for lack of a better word, hollow without him. Rafe was one of your best friends, and after spending years together attached at the hip, you were suddenly missing your other half. It felt like a breakup, except you were never together in the first place. You were grieving a relationship that never even happened.
You advert your eyes from Rafe, realising you’ve been staring for a bit, and go to take another sip, only to find your cup empty. You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip as you look back up at the kitchen. His arm is slung around Sofia’s neck, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing at her collarbones as she leans against his chest, a smug look on her stupid pretty face as she sips on her hard seltzer.
You look back at the cup again. You needed more alcohol if you were going to stay sane at this party. You stand up, placing the pillow that was once in your lap on the chair before moving across the room towards the kitchen, manoeuvring through drunk Kooks and groping couples until you reached the linoleum.
‘It’s an open bar,’ Barry said, ‘Take whatever.’ so you didn’t feel weird about immediately digging through his liquor cabinet, pulling out the giant bottle of Everclear from the bottom shelf. You had only ever had Everclear one other time, and all you remember of the night was waking up face first in the sand with seaweed in your hair. You had promised yourself never again, but this night was different. You wanted to stay at this party and be with your friends, but you couldn’t bear to look at Rafe and Sofia sober.
Rafe’s thumb moves up to caress Sofia’s jaw as he watches you set the Everclear down on the kitchen counter. “Damn, already?”
Oh, shit. Was he talking to you? You look over, pursing your lips together. “Uh, yeah. Why not live a little, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess…” He mutters, dragging his thumb down Sofia’s neck. “You know that stuff is hella strong, right?”
Did he not remember that night? “I’m just gonna take one shot, dude.”
“Well, one shot can turn into two, then into four, then…” He trails off. “You know how you are after a few shots.”
You unscrew the Everclear and pour some into your solo cup. Your hands are shaking from the vodka you had before, and you dump in more than you had initially planned on. You screw the cap back on and slip it into the cabinet again before opening the fridge to grab a mixer. “I got it.”
He watches you pour, eyebrows raising when he sees the amount that flows into your cup, but he says nothing, simply continuing to caress the skin of Sofia’s jaw with his thumb. “Mhm, okay.”
Sofia looks between the two of you, sipping on her drink before speaking up, “You never drink like this.”
You don’t even fucking know me, you want to say, but you don’t. You shrug as you open a can of Cherry Coke and dump it into the solo cup before crushing it and tossing it into the recycling bin on the edge of the kitchen. “Just wanna try something new.”
“You could do that with literally anything. Everclear is not a good start,” He sighs, looking down at you. “One shot of that stuff will have you on your ass within the hour.”
You swirl the drink in your cup and shrug again as you leave the kitchen to go back to your spot. “We’ll see.” You glance at Rafe over your shoulder as you take a sip, moving back through the crowd.
It tasted disgusting. You felt the liquor burn all the way down to your stomach, your eyes watering slightly as you hold back a cough, but you keep drinking. You wanted to forget. You wanted to be drunk enough to not care about Rafe and Sofia. You sat back down without a word, grabbing the pillow you had left on the chair and putting it back on your lap. You watched the party from the corner, hesitating as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip.
November was one of the cooler months in the Outer Banks and although the patio door was wide open, you were starting to sweat. The alcohol, mixed with your bubbling anxiety as you watched Rafe and Sofia, was causing you to start to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.
You hadn’t even finished your drink when you head outside, pushing through the crowd bottlenecked at the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you reach the pool area. Your shoulders droop as you start to relax, your skin starting to cool down. The loungers and seats are full, but the pool is empty, even though Barry had been promising everyone it was heated. There were a few Kooks sitting on the edge of the hot tub, their feet in the water, beer cans littering the surrounding ground.
You look around, biting the inside of your lip. You start to move, looking around the expansive backyard before finding a small concrete bench pressed up against an old out of use fountain full of leaves and dried algae. You brush some of the leaves off and sit down, a small noise escaping your mouth at how fucking cold it is. You zip up your jacket, sitting cross-legged as you try to get as comfortable as possible.
You continue to people watch, taking some brief moments to look up at the stars.
It’s peaceful, and you’re grateful for the silence. The sound from the house is still audible, but it’s muffled enough from being out in the yard. You watch the Kooks in the hot tub, noticing a couple of them starting to kiss.
You were grateful to be out of there.
You were grateful not to be looking at Rafe and Sofia. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the kitchen. Rafe’s hands on Sofia’s hips. Him burying his nose in her hair. The soft kisses they exchanged every time they thought you weren’t looking. It made your stomach turn.
You look up at the clear night sky, shivering as a breeze passes, brushing the stray hairs that escaped your low bun away from your face. You could see Orion, you could see the moon, you could even see some stars you didn’t know the name of. They manage to distract you for a long time, so long that you don’t even remember how long you’ve been sitting there.
You feel something heavy being placed on your shoulders, the weight startling you. You turn around, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed your solitude, but you're met by Rafe. He's wearing only a t-shirt, his own jacket in his hands. “Couldn't let you freeze to death sitting out here alone.”
“I have a jacket,” You say. It’s true, your jacket was keeping you warm, and a large part of you felt bad that Rafe was trying to give his up. “Keep yours.” As you stop dissociating, your fingers and toes suddenly feel stiff. You move the cup to your other hand, clenching and stretching your fingers.
He ignores your protest, draping his jacket over your shoulders anyway, even going as far as to zip it up under your chin. “No arguments. You looked like a baby deer sitting here shivering.”
His cologne smells so good. It smells like home. “Thanks.” Your eyes follow him as he sits next to you on the bench, beer bottle in hand.
“No problem,” Rafe looks out, his knee brushing your leg as he turns to check out the backyard, eyes scanning the Kooks in the hot tub as he takes a sip of his beer. After a moment, he turns back to you, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your drink. “You didn’t finish that.” he nods towards the cup in your hand.
“No, it’s uh…” You clear your throat and sit up straight. “It’s disgusting. Guess Everclear and Cherry Coke don’t mix.”
He snickers, “Told you so,” He takes another sip of his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks at you. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff anyway. I’ve seen people go down quick after only one shot. Not pretty.”
“Eh. Wanted to try something new.” You say, swirling it around in the cup.
“Yeah, well, don’t go drinking Everclear again. I’m not gonna hold your hair back while you’re puking,” He gives you another once over, eyes lingering on your face. “You don’t look very good.”
You weren’t doing good. Not at all. You were trying to live your life without Rafe around, even just as a friend, and it was proving to be a very difficult task. It was so hard to not immediately rush to text him, or to send him a million TikToks throughout the day. You missed him, as much as it pained you to admit. You shrug. “Just kinda tired. Didn’t sleep well.”
He notices the change in your demeanour instantly, the walls that he was so used to seeing come down were up now. You were shutting him out. “You gotta stop staying up late on your phone, then.” he elbows you playfully, hoping to get you to laugh, like old times.
You don’t.
You awkwardly look back down at your drink and swirl it again. You had thought that maybe this unwelcomed distance would do you good, and you would eventually fall out of love with him, but it seems to get harder and harder every day. You just wanted to hold him one last time. You needed him back then, and you needed him still. You let out a breath. “Yeah. Probably.”
He stays silent, taking another sip from his beer as he looks back out to the yard. There was a tension in the air now, but he wasn’t sure if it was all in his head. You seemed…distant. Shut off. He was so used to your bright personality, your happy demeanour, your laugh. Now, you were just…blank. His knee bumps yours again as he shifts. He looked back over at you, watching you for a long time. You were just staring straight, avoiding his gaze.
You clear your throat again, setting your cup down beside you. You unzip his jacket and stand up as you slide it off, trying to avoid his gaze as you drape it over his shoulders. “I’m gonna head back inside.”
Rafe catches your wrist as you start to move away, fingers gentle, but firm, almost reluctant to let you go. His eyes meet yours immediately, holding your gaze captive as he looks at you. “Wait.”
“What?” You ask, picking your drink back up with your free hand.
“We…” he trails off, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he looks at you. It was cold outside, but your skin was so warm against his. It felt so natural. Like everything was right again. He didn’t ever realise how much he had missed you until now. “We need to talk.”
You try to pull your wrist away. “About what?”
He lets the grasp on your wrist loosen, but he doesn’t let go, his touch trailing down until his fingers are laced with yours. “About this…distance…” he motions vaguely between you two, “That you’ve been building for the past couple of months.”
“That I’ve been building?” You ask, your eyebrows raising. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”
“Not on purpose. I’ve been busy.” he says defensively, almost immediately. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he had been busy lately. Sofia had been keeping him on his toes lately, and he hadn’t had much time alone during the day, let alone time alone in his own home. But he also couldn’t deny that he had been purposefully avoiding you, knowing that if he spent too much time with you, Sofia would have something to say about it.
“Maybe I’ve been busy too.” You say, although it’s a lie.
Rafe snorts, almost calling you out on the lie, but he lets it go with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at you. His thumb rubs slow circles on the inside of your palm, the touch familiar. It hurt his chest. “I don’t like this.”
“Don’t like what?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.
“This,” He gestures between you and him. “This distance. I don’t like it,” He looks away, a frustrated expression on his face. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Why do you act like I can’t even approach you anymore?”
Friends. You never hated a word more. You take a step back, sighing as you glance out over the pool again. “Sometimes friends drift apart, Rafe.”
He looks at you, his jaw clenched as he watches you avoid his gaze once again. You wouldn’t even look at him. It was infuriating. He couldn’t believe that you were so nonchalant about all of this. Friends drift apart. That’s what you said. Did he have to mean so little? His hand falls back to his side, but the expression on his face stays fixed. “Bullshit.”
“You’re busy, I’m busy,” You say. “Sometimes that happens.”
“I’m only busy with Sofia,” He snaps, frustration seeping through in his voice. He takes a step towards you, eyes narrowed. “And even when I’m busy with her, I still manage to find time-” He stops himself, taking a moment to slow his breathing. He was getting too worked up. The last thing he needed right now was to blow up at you.
You chug the rest of your drink and set the empty solo cup on the bench, immediately regretting it. You should’ve dumped it out a while ago. The last thing you needed was a drunk walk home. “We’ve both been busy. That’s it, Rafe.”
“That’s it?” He repeats, looking at you incredulously. He couldn’t believe you were so blasé about this. About you guys practically ignoring each other, never talking, practically avoiding each other every chance you got. Was it so simple to you? To forget years of friendship over something so idiotic like being busy? “You’re bullshitting me.”
You hated this feeling. Your heart ached, and your hands went numb, your body full of tingles. You take a few more steps back. You had to do it, you had to rip the band-aid off if you wanted to finally move on. You didn’t want your happiness to live and die with him. “Maybe this friendship thing isn’t working anymore.”
It felt like you had stabbed him straight in the chest, twisted the blade, and then pulled it out slowly, painfully. Every word that you spat out felt like another layer of pain. It was bullshit. You had been by his side through everything. You were always there. He trusted you more than anyone. And this was how you felt now? You didn’t want to be friends? Rafe clenched his jaw, biting back the sting of emotion. “You’re not serious.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rafe.” You say.
“I want you to tell me that you still give a damn about our friendship!” he says, a frustrated tone in his voice. “I want you to tell me that this distance is bullshit and that I still mean something to you! That you still want to hang out and talk and everything else I thought we’d still be doing when we got older, and that I’m just reading into this too much! I want you to tell me that you’re just busy, and it’ll all get better in a little bit, because I can’t handle this anymore.”
“Rafe--” You try to speak, but he cuts you off.
He was getting more worked up now, his chest heaving as he stares at you. He had never felt like this before. You always knew how to calm him down from whatever fit he was throwing, but you weren’t doing that now. He takes a step closer, getting into your personal space now, anger evident in his eyes. “Do you even care about me anymore, or are you just pretending you do whenever I’m around? Do you hate me now?”
You would probably still adore him with his hands around your neck. “No, of course I don’t hate you.”
“Then why are you doing this to me?” He demands, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. He was getting louder, but he didn’t care. For once, he wanted to let his emotions out, knowing that they would be safe with you. “Why are you acting like this?” He gestures between you, “You’re shutting me out, and you’re pulling away, and you can’t even look me in the eye without flinching. Why? Tell me why.”
“Because I like you, Rafe!” You blurt out. Your eyes widen slightly when you realise what you said. You let out a shaky breath. “I like you a lot. More than I should. And seeing you with her, with Sofia… it’s so hard for me.”
He stares at you for a moment, stunned into silence by your confession.
You liked him.
A lot?
More than you should.
His jaw clenched, his mind trying to process everything as he sits back down. He had suspected that you liked him more than a friend for a long time, but he had never dared to try and confirm it. The words were out in the open now, though. And it changed everything.
You hate how silent he’s being. Your voice is shaky when you start to speak again, “And I know that you don’t feel the same way about me. I know that, and I’m okay with that.”
He lets out an almost bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. The sound is harsh in the air, like a slap in the face. “That’s what you think? You think I don’t have feelings for you?” His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made it even more threatening than if he was yelling.
“I know you don’t.” You say softly, tears starting to well in your eyes. You weren’t stupid. You knew from day dot that he would never feel the same way that you do, and you always knew that he would never be yours, but it was never enough to help you finally move on.
For the first time in Rafe’s life, he struggles with what to say. It takes him a few seconds to find the words he's looking for. “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? We’re not romantic or anything, we’re just friends.”
“I know that.” You say.
“We’re just friends.” He says again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.
Your stomach hurts. “I know.”
He looks away from you, standing up from the bench. “How long have you liked me?”
“Since the day we met,” You say. “When you tied my shoe for me.”
He runs his hand through his hair again. “And you never said anything.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it stings.
“There was no point,” You say. “I knew even back then that you would never feel the same way.”
He doesn’t know what to do. You’re right, he doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t like you the way you like him. At least he thinks he doesn’t. He stays quiet, his fists clenching.
“I don’t want to ignore you, Rafe,” You continue. “But maybe this distance will be good for us. I’ll be able to get over you.”
“You shouldn’t have fallen for me in the first place.” He snaps.
It takes you by surprise. Your eyes flutter for a second as tears start to fall, and you take a step back, chest clenching.
He stares at you, his stomach lurching as the first of the tears roll down your face. He stays silent for a moment, before finally sighing. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” He walks towards you again, reaching out to take both of your hands, trying to stop you from backing away from him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, not some girl in love with me.”
“I’m sorry.” You say.
“Stop apologising,” He says, holding your wrists tightly, like he’s trying to keep you in place. “I hate it when you do that.”
You almost apologise again. You just nod, looking down at your feet before moving your gaze back over to the pool. No one has noticed you two yet.
He follows your gaze, looking towards the pool. No one had even spared a glance in your direction. It was just you and him, secluded in the quiet corner, surrounded by a party that seemed a mile away. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react to your confession. All he knows is that he still hates seeing you cry.
“Do you still want to be friends?” You ask quietly, looking up at him.
Rafe hesitates.
His first instinct is to push you away. To tell you that it would be best if you two just never spoke to each other again, that things would be better that way. But he knew he didn’t mean that. And when he looked down at you, seeing the heartbreak on your face, he knew he couldn’t say it. He wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and he had no idea what he was doing, but you were his oldest friend. You had been by his side through everything. There was no way he was pushing you away that easily.
He pulls you into a hug, pressing his nose into the crown of your head. “Of course, I still want to be friends,” he murmurs. “You’re my best friend, you idiot.”
You hug him back, and it feels so good to finally hold him again. You interlock your fingers behind his back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” he mutters, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Stop apologising.” He stays silent for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being able to hold you again. He had missed this. He had missed you more than he had ever realised.
You stay there for a while, nose buried in his chest, before you speak again. Your voice is quiet, muffled against his jacket, but he can hear you loud and clear. “I love you.”
Rafe sighs, pushing your hair away from your forehead before placing a kiss on it. “It’ll pass.”
pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)
word count: 10.5k
summary: you reconnect with an old friend while seeking quiet refuge from the midsummers party
warnings: longtime friends to lovers, kook!reader & kook!rafe, emotional rafe comes out for like 2 seconds, drunk rafe, light-medium angst, soft rafe, fluff?, talk of anxiety, topper is a bitch, blackmail is mentioned but it's not actually done, not proofread
a note: ik its long i don't wanna talk about it
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
Although you and Rafe had grown up together, you weren’t the best of friends anymore.
Your father and Rafe’s father, Ward, were business partners. Your father handled the financial side of everything, while Ward was the face of it all. You had spent countless dinners at his house, spent more summer nights than you can remember in his backyard, helping your dad grill. You were a fellow Kook, and while your house wasn’t as extravagant as Tannyhill, you still grew up in Figure 8 with the rest of them.
You and Rafe were close at one point, spending some of your elementary years closer than ever before. You spent every waking second together, but everything changed when you both went to middle school; he started getting angrier, louder, and soon just completely ditched you for his new friends Topper and Kelce. You spent so much time watching him from the sidelines, and you spent a few years crushing on him, admiring him from afar and just wondering what it would be like to be his. It wasn’t until you went to Kildare Academy alongside him, Topper, and Kelce, that you realised he would never feel the same way. After all, you weren’t exactly a close friend of his anymore.
At least, you thought you weren’t. It wasn’t long after hearing of Ward’s death that Rafe was on your doorstep, drunk out of his mind and soaked to the bone from the rain. It was late, almost 11 PM, and you had let him in, giving him a towel and some of your older brother’s old clothes to borrow for the night. He wouldn’t mind anyway, he was engaged and living in Raleigh with his fiancée, doing something in IT and tech. Rafe eagerly accepted the clothes, although you had to help him change, trying your hardest to keep your eyes and hands from wandering while you helped him out of his old wet clothes.
The dryer hums from down the hall as it runs, tossing his clothes around. Rafe lies on your bed, his legs hanging off the end, his feet flat on the ground. You sit next to him, water bottle in hand, watching him. He has his arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the soft light of your bedside table lamp.
You swallow, moving a little closer to him. “You okay?”
“Mm.” He grunts in response, still keeping his eyes covered. He didn’t smell the best, the smell of weed and hard liquor practically wafted off of his soaked form. The alcohol, though, seemed to be the main thing that took its toll on him. He was a mess of a man as it was, but when he drowned himself in alcohol like this, you weren’t even sure that it was Rafe in the room with you anymore.
“I heard what happened, I um…” You hesitate, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry, Rafe.”
“Don’t,” He says, raising his arm from his face just enough to glare at you through the crack in his arm. “Don’t you dare pity me.”
“I’m not pitying you,” You say. “I really am sorry, Rafe.”
“Yeah, you seem real sorry,” He huffs, dropping his arm back in place, blocking out the light again. “Sitting there, staring at me with your big doe eyes.”
Your face gets warm, and you bite back a smile. “I let you in, didn’t I? I could’ve kicked you to the curb. But I didn’t.”
“Mm, you’re such a saint, you know that?” He grumbles, although this time he did let out a bit of a chuckle. He drops his hand down onto his chest, resting it just above his heart as he tilts his head towards you.
You lay down next to him, your shoulders touching, your legs dangling next to his. Your voice is soft when you speak, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
He turns his head towards you, his body following suit, rolling to his side, so his whole body faced you now. He stays quiet for a moment, just looking at you, before shaking his head and letting out a sigh. “What is there to talk about?” He grumbles again. “He got shot and fell off that stupid fucking cliff. Now there’s a big, father-shaped hole in my life now. End of story.”
“Did he ever even fill that hole?” You ask quietly. You immediately regret your words, but it seems like Rafe doesn’t even care.
“I… no. No, not really,” He admits, swallowing around a knot in his throat. “But it’s a hole I was counting on… one day filling. And now there’s no chance for that.” He rolls onto his back again and covers his face with his hands. After a few seconds, you hear his breathing get heavier as his shoulders shake up and down.
He’s crying.
You roll over to face him, wrapping one arm across his chest and over his shoulder. “No, hey come on, it’s okay.”
Rafe doesn’t fight your hold, and he shifts onto his side in front of you, facing you as you pull him into your embrace. He buries his face into your shoulder, his hands grabbing at your sides, holding onto you tightly as he begins to sob.
You rub his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head. “It’s okay, Rafe. It’ll be okay.”
His whole body shakes against yours as he cries, his fingers grabbing and clinging tightly onto your sides, like you were the only thing keeping him together. Rafe’s nose presses into the crook of your neck, his warm, shaky breaths ghosting against your skin as he cries against your shoulder. His voice is so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “I want my dad.”
Your heart shatters, and you pull him closer, fighting back tears of your own. “I know, Rafe. I know. I’m sorry.”
His arms wrap around your back, enveloping you in his arms, and his legs hook around one of yours, pulling you in closer to him, as if he’s hoping that if he holds you tightly enough he would be able to hold himself together. For a few long moments, he falls silent, the only sound being the faintest hitch in his breathing every couple of moments. Eventually, Rafe speaks again, his voice muffled against your neck. “I really messed up.”
“No, you didn’t.” You say, tightening your grip on him.
“Yes, I did,” He whispers, nuzzling himself further against you. You can feel one of his hands trail up your back, his fingers tangling into your hair. It almost seems like he’s trying to melt himself into you. “Everything I’ve ever done… everything I’ve ever said… I did so many things just to try and-and make him proud of me. Everything I did was never enough to make him see me the way I wanted him to. But I still kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing. For what? For nothing. For absolutely nothing,” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I wanna know it’s not my fault. I didn’t mean it.”
Your eyes well with tears, and you quickly wipe them away. “It’s not your fault, Rafe. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t push him. It’s not your fault.”
His fingers tighten in your hair as his lips drag against your neck, leaving a damp trail across your skin. “I could’ve been a better-a better son,” He whispers against your neck. “I-I could’ve tried harder, I could’ve been better. I-” He chokes back another wave of tears, his whole body trembling in your grip. “He was never proud of me.”
“You don’t know that,” You whisper. “He always talked to my dad about you. My dad said you were all Ward talked about. Not Sarah or Wheezie. You.”
“That doesn’t mean he was proud of me.” Rafe mumbles. His hand that has been gripping your side released its hold on your shirt, his fingertips trailing up your side as he shifts ever so slightly in front of you. His fingers brush against the edge of your shirt, slipping under the baggy fabric and settling against your bare skin. His palm presses flat against your side, holding you, fingers spreading out over your skin.
“You don’t know that he wasn’t.” You say.
He slowly lifts his face from your neck, his fingers gliding along the curve of your side as he pulls away. Rafe swallows hard, his eyes fixed on you. He looks like a mess; his eyes red and puffy from crying, his face red and patchy from wiping his tears away. His eyes flicker down to your throat, and he pauses for a moment, his lips slightly parted as he studies your skin. When he finally speaks again, his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “I feel sick.”
“Do you need to vomit?” You ask.
“I don’t know.” He croaks, his hand still lingering against your side, his fingers gently brushing back and forth across your skin. Something in his eyes seems a bit… off. Normally, he was loud, and cocky, a bit obnoxious at times, but still somehow charming. Right now, though, he seemed… vulnerable. Broken down. He was exposed in ways that you didn’t even know he could be. You hadn’t ever realised how blue his eyes were before now.
“Come on, honey,” The nickname slips out without much thought as you help him sit up. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
He doesn’t have it in him to protest your help, and he lets you ease him up and guide him to his feet. He kept one hand around your torso, his other wrapping around your shoulder as he lets you guide him towards your bathroom, practically stumbling behind you as he tried to walk. His grip on you stayed steady, fingers pressing into your side and digging into your skin.
You push open the door to the en-suite bathroom, helping Rafe kneel down by the toilet. “If you need to vomit, just do it. Don’t hold it in, okay?”
He swallows, still stumbling slightly as he knelt there in front of the toilet. “Okay.” He croaks. A few moments pass, and then suddenly Rafe’s whole body tenses up, and he lurches forward at the waist, leaning over the toilet. He gags, the first few being dry gags and coughs, before, after another heave, Rafe lets loose the rest of his stomach contents into the toilet, throwing up everything in his stomach.
You look away, rubbing his back. “There you go. Better out than in.”
He stays hunched over the toilet bowl for several long minutes, coughing and dry heaving. It finally passed, but he still knelt there, heaving and gagging. “I-“ He started hoarsely, a trail of spit dripping out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes still red and puffy. His shoulders shook once, and you could’ve sworn it was another heave, but when he finally spoke again you nearly choked at the sound of how wrecked his voice was. “I need a drink…”
You let out a small chuckle, grabbing some toilet paper and wiping his mouth. “You’re drinking water only.”
He lets you wipe his mouth, and he watches you through tired, bleary eyes. “I-“ He tries to protest, before his face turns a little green again. He grumbles, then sighs, mumbling against your touch. “No booze?”
“No booze.” You say.
“Okay, okay, fine.” He mumbles, sighing again as his shoulders drop in defeat. “No booze, then. Just… I need something. I need to- I need to-” He pauses halfway through his sentence, swallowing hard as he suddenly leans forward at the waist again, hovering over the toilet. He gags again, a thin trail of spit connecting his lip to the rim of the bowl, before he leans back again, gasping and panting.
You look away, quickly rushing back to your bed to grab the water bottle. You head back into the bathroom, rubbing his back as he pukes again. “There we go.”
He heaves and coughs for several more moments before finally collapsing back against your touch, sagging into your hand on his back. His head falls forward, his face against his shoulder, forehead pressed against his arm as it rests against his knee. He looks and sounds like a wreck, his whole body trembling in front of you. He’s a mess. A complete, utter, heartbreaking mess.
His voice comes up, hoarse and ragged. “You… you called me honey.”
“I did.” You say, wiping his mouth again. You uncap the water and pour some into his mouth.
He doesn’t argue, his mouth parting readily when you hold the bottle to his lips. He closes his eyes as a few mouthfuls of cool water washes away the taste of vomit, and a soft groan escapes his throat when you pull the water away. When his eyes finally open again, his gaze shifts back to you, and that same look is still in his eyes. The same lost, brokenness that made your chest ache for him.
You hand him the bottle. “Do you wanna stay here tonight?”
Rafe stares down at the bottle, his hand coming up to wrap shakily around it. His fingers linger against yours a moment longer than needed, touching your fingertips for a brief second before withdrawing, his fingers sliding down the cold plastic of the water bottle. After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks, his voice hoarse and raw from the vomiting. “… Yes. Please.” He whispers.
“Come on,” You say softly, helping him to his feet. “There’s a guest room down the hall.”
He lets you pull him to his feet, stumbling to his feet without much resistance. He was clearly exhausted and worn out from vomiting, but even so, when you tried to remove your hold from him, he protested. His fingers wrapped around your wrists loosely, his gaze fixed on you, as if he was practically begging you not to let him go. “No,” He whines. “I… I need to be with you. I can’t be alone right now.”
“Okay,” You say softly, slipping your hands into his. “You can stay with me.”
He lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as your fingers slide into his. His fingers intertwine with yours, and his thumb brushes against the back of your hand. Although he seemed like he wanted to say something to you - his lips parted, and his gaze dropped to watch your fingers, he seems to change his mind at the last second, and simply squeezes on your hand. After a beat, he gives your hand a tug, gently pulling you towards your bed.
You climb in next to him, already in your pyjamas from earlier in the night. You give him an extra pillow, letting him get comfortable. He lets out a sigh, pulling his knees up towards his chest a bit as he turns his head to face you. One arm slips between the pillow and his head, propping it up slightly, while the other finds its way to your side, resting there on the other side of your body. “Rafe?” You ask, your voice quiet.
“Yeah?”
“Why'd you come here?” You ask. “I'm not, like, upset, but... we aren't very close anymore, you know?”
To answer that question, Rafe reaches his hand that’s on your side up a bit, his fingers trailing up your shirt and settling on your stomach, his palm laying flat against the soft skin of your stomach. His fingers trace soft lines back and forth against your abdomen absently, like he was trying to soothe himself just by touching you. “Because I need someone right now,” He replies after a long moment of silence. “And… you’re the only one that I’ve never been scared to tell I was hurting. Top and Kel… they wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t comfort me, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” You say softly. “I’m glad you came back to me.”
“Thanks for letting me in.” He mumbles in response, his fingers still tracing lines over your stomach. It was something that he must’ve unconsciously started to do once he laid his hand against you, but it still sent shivers down your spine when you felt his gentle touch on your skin.
You pull him into a hug, your voice still soft. “Get some sleep, Rafe.”
Rafe doesn’t protest this time as you tug him into a hug. His arm tightens around your back, and he squeezes a bit in your embrace, drawing himself in a bit closer. He lets out a soft sigh, his face pressing into your neck, and his body finally slumps against you. “Goodnight.” He mumbles against your skin.
“Goodnight.” You whisper.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝
You don’t remember the last time you journaled.
The morning after, Rafe left in a rush, leaving only a pile of your brother’s clothes in his wake. You spent a little too long staring at the ceiling, the feelings you felt for him so long ago coming back to rear its ugly head. You flipped over, pulling the drawer open and digging around in your bedside table, pulling out the leather-bound journal and a ballpoint pen.
You let your stream of consciousness out, filling out pages and pages about your night with Rafe and your conflicted feelings. You don’t date the entry, quickly shoving it back into your bedside table for another day. You spend the rest of your day stuck in limbo, wondering, thinking about your next interaction with Rafe. What would he say? Would he even acknowledge you? Did Topper and Kelce know about your night together?
You didn’t want this to control you as it used to; spending hours awake at night, wanting and praying that Rafe would see you in the same way you saw him. Praying that Rafe liked you, not whatever Kook girl caught his eye that night. You didn’t want to pine for him anymore, wandering behind him through the desert, hoping he’ll lead you to an oasis. You always wanted him when you were finally fine. You kept journaling, though, filling pages upon pages with your thoughts, whether Rafe was even in them or not. You decided to push him aside, to only speak to him if he spoke to you first. Out of sight, out of mind. And it worked. You didn’t think about him for weeks, even when you would see him at the corner store or at the gas station. He didn’t approach you, so you didn’t approach him.
It was taunting you on your calendar. The Midsummers Party.
You hated it every year. It was one of the town events that gave you the most anxiety. You hated the crowds, the loud music, and the aura that surrounded you; your fellow Kooks thinking that they were better than the people on the south side of Kildare just because their mommy and daddy had more money. You were supposed to hate the Pogues, it was supposed to be ingrained in your DNA, but you didn’t. Why would you just hate someone purely because they didn’t have as much money as you? You were grateful for your life, grateful for the life that your father and mother built for you and your brother. You didn’t want to take it for granted like some of your fellow Kooks did.
Your dress was simple; a flowy, pink, low cut linen midi dress with thin straps, a $35 steal you got from a thrift store on the mainland. You hunted through your closet for your old sandals, putting them on before checking your outfit in the mirror again. You looked cute, which was the most important part. You would spend the entire time sitting in the corner alone anyway, trying to get yourself to relax. You grab your bag and your keys off of your bed, and you’re a few steps out the door when you get a nagging feeling. You sigh, looking back into your bedroom, fingers tapping on the door frame as you start to contemplate.
The journal and the pen join the belongings in your bag before you leave, shutting and locking the door behind you.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝
The Island Club is already lively when you arrive, giving your key to one of the valets. You slip him a large tip before heading inside the country club. The country club is abuzz as you take a step inside, music thumping throughout the house as you pass through the massive front room and make your way towards the outdoor seating. Pogues and Kooks alike mill about, chatting amongst themselves and laughing heartily as they make their way indoors and out. The whole club smells like food, and smoke wafts through the air from the various barbecues that are going on throughout the outdoor patio area.
You were already overwhelmed. The chatter is nearly deafening in your ears, the various sounds of people talking and music blaring from speakers filling your head. You feel like you can’t breathe. You don’t want to be here, stuck in this country club full of people. Everyone here is loud and drunk and happy.
And you’re drowning in the sea of it all.
Across the country club, leaning against the bar, is Rafe. Midsummers was always fun for him. Loud music, endless drinks and even more pretty Kooks, all there to celebrate one of the most exclusive events on the island. As the sun set, the dance floor was filled with couples, dancing against one another and getting drunk on endless bottles of rum. He stood around a group of his friends, drinking and talking with a smile on his face. His gaze was always drifting out to the sea of Kooks and Pogues before him, but it lingered every so often when a pretty girl passed.
The bar was packed with people, all clamouring and fighting to try and get a drink before the entire bar was empty and the Pogues would end up stuck drinking piss beer from kegs out on the patio. You push your way through the crowd to the bar, squeezing yourself up next to a couple other people and waiting your turn to actually get the attention of one of the bartenders. You fumble with your wallet and get your ID out, managing to order a tequila sunrise; your go-to drink for a fancy, Kook heavy event, something sweet to mask the hard liquor inside but still strong enough to distract you from your impeding thoughts. You grip the edge of the bar tightly, closing your eyes as you take one more deep breath, trying to block out the noisy chaos around you. Just a few drinks and then you can escape to the beach and hope no one will find you.
You look around and meet Rafe’s gaze from the other side of the bar. He’s been watching you since the moment you entered the country club. He flashes you a small smirk, his eyes lingering on you as people bustle and push around you, filling up the bar and blocking him out from you. He watches you for another moment, his body still slouched against the bar, talking to the people around him, before he finally pushes himself up, and starts to weave through the crowd towards you instead.
You grab your drink, handing the bartender a cash tip before turning around, meeting Rafe face to face. “Uh, hey.”
“Hey,” He replies with a charming smile, taking a step closer to you, standing just a bit closer than was strictly necessary. “Fancy seeing you here,” He muses, raising his beer to his lips and taking a sip. “Thought you hated Midsummers.”
“I do, but uh…” You sigh. “My parents want me to be here, so…”
“Right,” Rafe sighs softly, taking another drink of his beer. His eyes flick up and down your form as he does, the corner of his lips twisting up in a slight smirk. “Well, I’m glad I get the privilege of seeing you all dressed up, then.”
You feel your face grow warm. “Yeah, I guess.”
He chuckles at how awkward you are, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment before flicking back down to your body. “You look nice, by the way.” He compliments. It was genuine enough, his gaze lingering over your curves and the low neckline of your dress, before they flick back up to your face.
“Thanks,” You say. “You do too.”
That little compliment sends a jolt through Rafe's chest, and he tries to keep his face as neutral as possible so that you don’t see. He doesn’t get compliments like that often - not genuine ones, anyway. He smiles to himself, his face softening a bit before he catches himself. “Yeah, well, I gotta look good, you know?” He replies, giving you a wink before taking another swig of his beer.
“Yeah, uh…” You look behind him and immediately make eye contact with Topper, who doesn’t advert his eyes. You look away, stirring your drink with the straw. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun, alright?” You walk away before Rafe can respond, pushing through the crowd to find a seat.
He lets out a sigh, watching you disappear into the crowd, before pushing himself away from the bar, and returning to the group he was with. Topper and Kelce both look his direction as he comes up to them.
“What was that about?” Kelce asks, raising a brow.
Rafe shrugs, bringing the beer bottle to his lips. “I’ll catch up with her later.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝
You try to enjoy Midsummers. You really do.
You drink your tequila sunrise rather quickly, hoping the warmth of the alcohol with calm your nerves, but it does the opposite. It’s overwhelming - the lights, the music, the people. Every once in a while a hand will grab your ass, or brush against your side as it reaches past you, and it’s all slowly becoming suffocating. Your heart pounding in your ears drowns out the shitty house music, and you feel nauseous as you make your way through the crowd, trying to find the exit to the patio.
Your escape into the patio doesn’t seem to do much, though. The patio is just as full as the house, people sitting in the outdoor seating to eat and talk while others dance. A bonfire burns in the corner, and a few small groups stand about it, talking and drinking and laughing. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool sea air on your skin as you make your way through the patio, heading towards the beach entrance. You had to get away, your skin already starting to itch with discomfort.
You finally make it to the beach entrance, the sounds of the party in the country club fading slightly as you take in the sound of the ocean instead. It’s cooler here than inside the club, but somehow even the beach is still packed. Couples sit together against the dunes, talking quietly in hushed whispers, and the air is thick with the smell of weed as people pass joints between one another.
You can feel yourself getting annoyed, getting angry. You just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, away from the loud ass Pogues and the other Kooks with their leering gazes. You walk through the sand, sandals in hand, trying to find an empty spot. It takes a few moments of walking across the beach to finally find an empty spot, surrounded by a cliffside, though it’s not much of one. You’re far enough from the party that the light from the bonfire on the patio doesn’t reach you, and the music and the laughter is faint from far away. Still, you’re just close enough to the country club that you can hear the thumping bass.
You’re surrounded on all sides by couples that have gathered on the beach, too. You can hear their whispers and laughter, quiet intimate moments in the setting sun, and it just seems to make you angrier. You take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the sun as it settles into the horizon, watching the colours change.
The sun slips behind the horizon, the sky slowly fading from purple and orange to the black of night, lit up only by pale stars and a crescent moon. The air grows colder as night creeps in, a soft breeze sweeping off the ocean, carrying the sound of the waves hitting into a soft roar in your ears. It’s still too loud. The voices of the couples on the beach next to you and the music from the club don’t allow any kind of peace, no quiet moments for you to just breathe.
You set your bag down beside you, digging through it to pull out your journal and your pen. You start to write another entry, undated, just like the rest of them. It’s just pages of your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, words pouring out of you in the dim light of the setting sun. It’s just your stream of consciousness, all the things you’re feeling and thinking. It feels good, like a release to just unload it all onto the page, and every word that comes off of your mind and into the journal just serves to relieve the growing tension in you. Your shoulders start to droop, your mind too focused on writing and the sound of the crashing waves to pay attention to the couples around you.
The world fades away, and it’s just you, the crashing of the waves, and your pen on the page. Your mind empties and it’s finally so, so quiet, the weight off of your shoulders almost lifting you up entirely. You’re so focused, so deep into your writing, finally having the peace and quiet you were wanting--
The pen nearly flies out of your hand when you jump, feeling someone tap on your shoulder. You quickly shut the journal, your head spinning around. “Jesus, dude! You scared the shit out of me!”
And there’s Rafe, standing there behind you, a grin on his face as he watches you quickly clutch your journal to your chest. He puts out a placating hand, giving you an almost innocent look. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”
You sigh, your shoulders tense again. “It’s fine.”
His face falls slightly, no longer grinning, as he notices just how tense you are. He glances around for a moment, taking in the couples on the beach around you all curled up to one another. He swallows, looking back to you. “You alright?”
“Fine, just…” You sigh again. “Overwhelmed, I guess. I get bad anxiety at things like this. I can normally handle it, but…”
He watches you for a second, studying your face, the way you hold the journal to your chest, the way your shoulders are still tense. The way you’re clearly still on edge. He slowly sits down next to you, the sand shifting under him. He stretches out his legs in front of him, dropping his hands into the sand, and his knee pressed against yours. You slip your journal and pen back into your bag.
He stays quiet, just sitting with you, listening to the waves and the sounds of the couples next to you. He finally speaks after another moment, his voice quiet. “Why’d you come if it makes you so anxious?”
“My parents,” You say. “They expect me to come. I have to, for like appearances and stuff. The ladies at my mom’s book club like to gossip, you know?”
He lets out a quiet snort, nodding. “Yeah, I get the whole appearances thing. This whole party is basically just an excuse for the Kooks to flaunt their money and kiss ass.”
You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly.”
He smiles a bit to himself as you laugh quietly, but his gaze still watches you for a moment longer before he turns to look forward, watching the waves as they crash into one another and spill onto the beach. He’s quieter than usual tonight. Usually he’d make some kind of smart ass comment to go with his answer, but tonight he seems almost pensive.
You sigh, leaning your head against the side of his bicep. “It’s just so loud in there and people kept touching me. I don’t know how you do it.”
Rafe’s shoulders tense at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away from you, he just lets you lean against him for a long moment. He swallows a little bit, his hand twitching in the sand in-between you too, before he finally speaks again. “You get used to it, after a while.”
You hum in response. “Is it cool that I’m doing this?”
“Yeah,” He replies quickly, his shoulders finally relaxing as he takes in a deep breath. It’s silent for another moment, but the way his muscles relax under your touch makes it clear that he appreciated it. “Yeah, it’s fine. You can do whatever you want.”
“Thanks, Rafey.” You mumble, the old nickname tumbling out. “I’m feeling better already.”
Rafe stiffens at that nickname, his breath catching in his throat just for a second. He was surprised to hear it again - it had been years since he’d last heard you call him that. He swallows, forcing himself to stay calm as the nickname stirs a little bit of that old feeling in his chest. “Yeah, you look a little better too. Less green.”
You snort. “Thanks.”
He gives you a slight nudge with his elbow, smirking a bit at your snort, but his smirk fades almost immediately, his face falling back into a more thoughtful look. He stays silent another moment, still listening to the waves and the couples around you, but his thoughts seem to be a million miles away. He finally speaks again, voice quiet. “How often do you get anxious? At events like this, I mean.”
“I’m anxious from the second I arrive until the second I leave,” You say. “I’m not built for crowded events. I don’t like when people stare at me.”
He keeps his gaze on the ocean, but his shoulders sink a bit at hearing that. He never knew that, to be honest - he always assumed you were built for these kinds of parties, more at peace with crowds since you were born into it. The fact that you’re just as anxious as he used to be makes his chest ache a bit, and his gaze flicks over to you. “How’re you feeling now, though?”
“Better, now that you’re here.” You say, wrapping your arms around his bicep, leaning against him.
His breath catches again, his stomach jumping when you wrap your arms around his arm, and his hand twitches a bit, like he thought about wrapping it around you for a moment before he stopped himself. He swallows, but he still can’t fight the slight flush that rises up his neck as he stares forward, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Why, do I just have a calming aura?”
“It’s the familiarity, I guess,” You say. “I feel safe around you.”
Rafe’s shoulders relax a bit more at that answer, his face softening slightly, and his smile grows the slightest bit. He can feel his own heartbeat in his chest still, but he lets out a breath, trying to keep his cool. “Good, that’s uh… I mean,” He swallows, trying to think of what the right thing to say is, before settling for the truth. “I want you to feel safe around me.”
“Good.” You say. You look up at him, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. His gaze flicks back down to you again, and he looks down at you as you stare up at him, before he slowly raises a hand, lightly brushing a strand of hair out of your face. He studies you a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, taking in how calm you look now as you leaned against his side. There was something about you that Rafe was drawn to, and he couldn’t explain why. All he knew was that he loved the way you felt against him. For a split second, his gaze flicks down to your lips, the smallest moment where he’s tempted to lean down and kiss you.
He turns back to face the horizon, sneaking his arm out of your grasp and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You comply happily, wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets out a quiet sigh as you wrap your arms around his waist, his face flushing more as you get closer to him. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, looking forward towards the sea. It was so peaceful - the waves, the cool breeze, the feeling of your body against his. It was just perfect.
He breaks the silence. “You doin’ anything after this?”
“No,” You say, rubbing some of the material of his shirt between your thumb and pointer finger. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” Rafe says, his hand moving up to absently play with the hair at the back of your neck. It sends shivers down your spine, and he smirks slightly, pulling you closer. “Havin’ an after party if you wanna come. Top and Kel already left to get it started.”
“Who’s gonna be there?” You ask.
“The boys,” He says with a slight shrug, running a finger along the side of your neck, tracing it along your skin. “Some people from the club too. But I want you there, if you think you'll be okay.” He adds as an afterthought, his hand settling gently against the side of your neck, his thumb ghosting back and forth against your skin.
“Promise to take care of me?” You ask, your tone joking.
Rafe chuckles a bit, smiling lightly as you joke. He nods, running his thumb in small, comforting circles against your skin. “I'll look after you. I won't let you out of my sight.”
“Then I’ll do it,” You say. “Should be fine. I’m feeling pretty good right now.”
He smiles, leaning his head down and pressing a whispery kiss to the top of your head. “Good, cause I want you there. Everyone else sucks.” His thumb brushes along your neck one more time before he draws his hand back, returning it to rest on top of one of your arms around his waist. His gaze flicks from the ocean back to you, studying your face again as you leaned against him. “Can I tell you somethin’?”
You nod, looking back over the horizon. Rafe takes a deep breath, his hand absently rubbing up and down your back as he gathers his words, trying to decide how to say this without ruining everything. He was always awkward when it came to things like this, and having a beautiful girl in his arms made it even more difficult to say. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” You ask.
His eyes linger on yours for another moment before he speaks again. “For leaving you that morning without saying goodbye. I was… I was just scared. Scared after losing Ward. I just had to go home.”
You smile softly, squeezing him. “It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. You were going through a lot.”
His shoulders relax as you squeeze him, a soft breath escaping him when you say you understand, and a soft smile appears on his face. He pulls you more snugly against him, his face flushed from your squeeze, and he presses another soft kiss to your head, letting out another one of those soft breaths. “Good, I’m glad you get that. Um… you know I care about you, right? Like, a lot. That’s… I mean, that’s not gonna change. I…” He trails off for a second, hesitating before finally continuing. “You mean a lot to me.”
“I care about you too, Rafey.” You whisper, looking back up at him.
His eyes soften, his stomach jumping. His heartbeat is still quick in his chest - he can still feel it through his ribs. He swallows quietly, a hand slipping up the side of your neck, fingers grazing up until they’re under your chin. He slowly raises your chin up, staring down into your eyes. “I’m glad,” You smile softly, leaning against his shoulder. His gaze lingers on your face for another moment, studying your sweet look a moment longer before he leans down, leaning his forehead against yours. The hand on your neck stays in place a moment, his thumb brushing your jaw, before sliding down your neck again. “You ready to get outta here?”
You nod. “Yeah. Ready when you are.”
He smiles softly, his thumb brushing over your neck one final time, before he slowly pulls away. He pushes himself up, groaning a bit as he straightens, his back popping. He reaches down and offers you a hand. “C’mon, beautiful.”
Your face grows warm again as you take his hand, putting your bag over your shoulder. He pulls you up with ease, a hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you once you’re on your feet again. He lets out a soft sigh, looking at your face again, before starting to walk with his hand resting on your lower back, guiding you up the beach.
You make your way to the country club. You hang around outside, waiting for Rafe to say his goodbyes, as you wipe your sandy feet off on the grass, slipping your sandals back on. He doesn’t take long inside, giving a few last farewells to the few people still mingling in the country club before heading back out to you, still waiting for him. He can’t keep the slight smirk off of his face as he steps out, spotting you waiting around. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” You say.
He smiles, walking over to you and resting his hand on your back again, guiding you away from the country club and towards the parking lot. His hand drops from your back when you get to his car, but his fingers brush your arm as he walks past you. He unlocks his truck before rushing around and opening up the passenger side door. “After you.” He said with a smirk.
You climb in, getting comfy. His car is always clean, a bottle of sunscreen and a water bottle in his cupholders. Dangling from the rearview mirror is a pear scented air freshener and a photo of him with his sisters Sarah and Wheezie. “Is it at your place?”
Rafe closes the door behind you and quickly walks around, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. He doesn’t immediately drive off, though, and instead just starts the car and leans back in his seat, letting it idle for a moment. “Mhm. My new place. That cool?” He asks, glancing over at you.
“Yeah, course.” You say.
“Good,” He says, pulling his seat belt on and pulling out of the parking lot, pulling out onto the road and driving towards his new house. The sun had set a while ago and the drive is peaceful, Head over Heels by Tears for Fears playing softly from the radio as the wind brushes through your hair from the slightly-open windows. You admire him as he drives, watching him quietly sing along, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
He doesn’t catch your eyes watching him until he glances over at you for a moment. He smiles when he catches you looking at him, his cheeks growing a bit warmer, but he quickly turns his gaze forward again, focusing on the road. He doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music and keeps driving. As you approach his new house, he turns the radio off, Heat Of The Moment by Asia just getting seconds to start playing. He parks the car, quickly getting out to rush over to the passenger side to open the door for you.
“Thanks.” You say, hopping out.
“No problem.” He smiles, holding out a hand to help you out. When you’re safely on the ground again, he keeps your hand in his, shutting and locking the car before guiding you towards the house. As he does so, he glances down at you, his face growing a bit warmer when he realises that you’re now holding his hand.
He opens the door, the party already in full swing, music blasting while drunk Kooks grind up against each other. The house reeks of alcohol and weed, music blasting through the speakers and people talking loudly amongst themselves. The majority of the crowd appears to be drunk and/or high already, people swaying and staggering around each other, talking and laughing drunkenly. Rafe slips inside, pulling you along with him through the crowd, heading straight for the kitchen, where Topper and Kelce are, beers in hand while they talk to a few of Rafe’s other friends.
“Where can I put my bag?” You ask, keeping it close to you.
He looks at the bag, opening the fridge. “Yo, Top.”
Topper looks over. “Sup?”
Rafe grabs your bag, handing it to Topper. “Put this in my room and I’ll let you snort some lines.”
Topper seems intrigued by the promise of free cocaine, already heading out of the kitchen towards the stairs.
“Thanks, Rafe.” You say.
He shuts the fridge door. “No problem,” He watches Topper head off before turning back to you, resting his hand on your lower back. “You want a beer or somethin’?”
You shake your head, getting closer to him. “No, I’m good.”
He smiles softly, rubbing small circles with his thumb against your back. “You sure? Plenty of stuff you can try out.” He nods towards where the makeshift bar is set up in the living room, various bottles of liquor and hard alcohol all stacked up.
You shake your head again, fully leaning against him. “Nah. I’m good right now.”
He smiles, putting a bit of pressure against your back, pulling you closer. He’s a bit buzzed himself, a few drinks into the evening, and feeling good already. He leans down a bit, almost resting his chin on your head. “Alright, beautiful.” You lean against Rafe, head resting against his chest as he talks to his friends for a while, beer bottle in hand. You’re feeling a bit anxious, but all things considered, being right against him is providing you some comfort. Your eyes flutter closed for just a second before you open them again.
Topper approaches, a stupid smile on his face, definitely a little drunk. Rafe smiles, his hand absentmindedly playing with your hair for the time being. He glances over when Topper approaches, seeing the smile on his face. He lets out a snort, looking at his friend. “You snort something already?”
Topper ignores him, hands immediately going to cup your face. “You…” He shakes your head. “I know about you.”
“What?” You ask, trying to pull away.
“I know,” He repeats. “I know what you do.” He doesn’t let you go, his hands lingering on the sides of your face, though his hands are now a bit more rough.
Rafe’s face falls immediately, a bad feeling brewing in his gut. “Top, what are you talking about?”
“You left your journal in your bag,” Topper says, squeezing your face. “I read it. Couldn’t help myself.”
Your heart drops, a chill going over your skin. “What?”
Topper grins stupidly, still squeezing your face in a way that’s making you uncomfortable. “I read it.” He repeats. “You and all of your anxiety.”
Rafe’s eyes fill with dread as he hears that, his eyes widening slightly with terror. He swallows. “You weren’t supposed to read that, dude.”
“Oh, that’s not all!” Topper exclaims happily. “Someone…someone’s got a crush on you, Rafe.” Topper glances over at him. “A big, fat, gigantic crush on you. Half those pages are about you, man.”
You try to pull your face away, but his grip tightens. Your stomach twists and churns, hot, shameful tears welling in your eyes. Rafe’s heart drops into his stomach at Topper’s words, and his gaze flicks over to you almost immediately, his eyes widening when he sees the tears. He swallows, trying to stay calm as he takes a step forward. “Topper, let her go, man. Don’t do this right now.”
Topper lets go of your face, pushing you slightly. “Don’t tell me you pity her, man.”
“She didn’t do anything,” Rafe argues with his friend, clenching his hands into fists. “C’mon, man, you don’t gotta do this. Just leave her alone.”
“Hey, listen,” Topper grabs your arm when you try to walk away. “I won’t tell anyone. All you gotta do is get down on your knees and open your pretty mouth for me, alright? All you gotta do is put my balls in that pretty little mouth of yours, and I won’t tell a soul.”
Rafe pushes Topper away from you, sending him tumbling into the counter. “You’re being a dick, man, don’t say that shit to her. Come on.”
Topper stands up and shoves him. “Don’t be a pussy, Rafe. She can handle it.”
“I don’t care if she can handle it, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Rafe says angrily.
“Why do you care?” Topper asks. “You care about this little slut?” Rafe goes to lunge at him but stops himself, and it causes Topper to laugh. “What? You gonna hit me?”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” Rafe says. “Just shut up. Don’t talk to her like that. I won’t let you treat her that way. Quit being an asshole before I fuck you up.”
Topper laughs. “I could kick your ass, man, and you know that.”
“Yeah?” Rafe challenges. “Come on. Hit me.” He slaps his cheek over and over, inviting Topper to take a swing.
“Rafe, hey, stop,” You grab his arm. “Don’t fight. Come on.”
Rafe doesn’t look at you as you grab his arm, his eyes still locked on Topper’s, waiting for a punch, daring his friend to hit him. Topper hesitates, waiting for a moment before finally grinning and dropping his shoulders. “Look at that. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”
“You know what? Party’s over,” Rafe says. He cups around his mouth before yelling. “Everyone, get the fuck out!”
Almost immediately, everyone starts heading for the door, the party rapidly dying out as people start piling out into the night. The music dies down as Topper pushes past Rafe, his shoulder checking him on his way out. “Pussy.”
Rafe just clenches his fists, biting his lip, as he stands there and watches everyone leaving. The door slams shut with the final departure, and you look over at him, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear. “You okay?”
When the door shuts for the last time, he turns to look at you, his heart breaking at the sight of the tears in your eyes. He swallows, moving towards you and cupping your face, wiping away the other stray tears off of your face. “I’m good. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” You say softly.
“Good,” He says softly, sighing. He keeps his hands on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You’re good. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about Topper.”
“It’s not your fault.” You say.
“Still,” He sighs. “You didn’t deserve that. That’s not how any of this should’ve happened.” He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours as guilt overflows his chest.
Your eyes close and you sigh, leaning into his hands. He lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he just feels you lean into him, a warm feeling going through his chest. He’s not even quite sure what to say, still overwhelmed from the events that have just unfolded in front of him. He just stands there with his eyes closed, pressing his face against your forehead.
“He was telling the truth,” You say, breaking the silence. “About what he read. They’re all about you.”
He swallows, keeping his eyes closed for a few more seconds before slowly opening them again. “I know, beautiful.” He replies softly, his voice nearly a whisper.
Your stomach twists. “You knew that I liked you?”
“Yeah, I knew,” He replies softly. “I’ve known for a while.” He hesitates, his fingers grazing against your cheek. “Didn’t know you felt that strongly about me, though.”
Your bottom lip trembles as you pull away, trying not to cry. You felt so stupid. “They were… they were older entries, Rafe.” Although deep down, you knew you still felt the same way.
His face falls when you try to pull away, guilt filling his gut, and he quickly moves his hand to catch your wrist, trying to stop you. “Hey, wait, don’t pull away, please,” His eyes look sad when he sees that trembling lip, his grip tightening on your hand. “It’s okay, beautiful, please just stay.”
“No, no, you…” You shudder. “You don’t need to do this.”
“I’m not ‘doing’ anything, beautiful,” He says softly. “Stop pulling away. Stay. I’m trying to talk to you. I… I want to talk to you about this.”
“I know you don’t feel the same way, Rafe,” You say pathetically, starting to cry. “You don’t have to do this.”
He swallows, the guilt just building and building and building as he watches you start to cry, and he can’t stand to watch you cry for another second without doing something about it. He takes a step forward, taking your face in his hands. “Look at me.” You look up at him, whimpering slightly.
He gently wipes away your tears, his gaze locking on yours as he forces you to look him in the eye. His face is soft, his look comforting, and his own chest hurts just from looking at the hurt in your teary eyes. He swallows to collect himself before speaking. “I know they were older entries, but I know you still like me.”
You shake your head, but you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, yourself or Rafe. “Rafe, please, you don’t have to do this.”
He can tell that you’re trying to deny it, and when you start begging him not to do whatever he’s trying to say, he finally just breaks. “Stop.” He says, almost begging himself. His thumb presses against your jaw, trying to still you and get you to look into his eyes. “Please, just stop. Stop saying that I- that I don’t have to say anything. I need to say this.”
You nod, letting him talk.
He swallows again, trying to organise his words and say everything right in his mind before he says it all out loud. It’ll be too real if he does. He holds your face in his hands as he looks down at you, his own chest rising and falling as he tries to find the words. “I know that you still like me, and I know you’ve felt that way about me for a long time. But I just… I’m just terrified I’m going to mess it up. Like I always mess everything else up.”
“You don’t mess anything up.” You say.
He looks away for a moment before looking back into your eyes, swallowing. “Beautiful, I do. I mess everything up. That’s just who I am, I mess everything good up, and I can’t bear the idea of risking messing it up with you too. You matter too much to me. You, like, you actually mean something to me, and I just can’t stand the idea of not being able to be in your life because I messed everything up.”
“How would you mess this up?” You ask softly.
He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself again. “I don’t know. I don’t know how, but I would. I mean, I screw everything else up, so why should this be any different? I’m gonna get too messed up and act too crazy and do something that pushes you away. And you’ll hate me, or, or worse, you’ll just go away. You’ll walk out of my life and it’ll just be like you were never there.”
“I’ll never leave you like that, Rafey.” You say, leaning into his palms.
He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling you lean into his hands. It feels so good, so right, that he can’t stand it. He lets out a breath before opening his eyes again, swallowing hard. “You say that now, beautiful, but it doesn’t change anything,” He says softly. “I know I’m gonna screw this up, I’m gonna do something that hurts you, and I just can’t stand the idea of ever hurting you, beautiful, I…” He trails off, his chest constricting as he desperately tries to get his words out. “I lost Ward. I'm loosing Sarah to that fucker John B. She doesn’t even go by Sarah Cameron anymore. I can't lose you too.”
“You’ll never lose me.” You say, moving your hands up to cup his.
He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily as he feels the warmth of your hands wrapping around his, your words like a soothing touch to his own soul. It’s like everything inside him just settles at your words, a feeling he hadn’t realised he was craving for the longest time. He opens his eyes again, slowly, before looking down at you. “Promise?”
“I promise,” You say. “I…” You hesitate, sucking in a breath. His chest is a nervous wreck, his stomach twisting into so many goddamn knots as he just waits for your words, his eyes never once leaving yours.
You take a shaky, tear filled breath. “I love you.”
Everything falls silent. Rafe’s mind goes blank, all thoughts just vanishing from his head as those words fall from your lips. All that fills his head is your voice. I love you. I love you, it echoes, over and over and over again, bouncing around his mind like a ball in a dark room. He can’t think of anything else as those words just crash through his head, leaving everything in rubble. His heart feels like it’s stopped, that it’s just frozen in his chest, and he’s speechless.
Your bottom lip trembles again, a fresh new set of tears already welling in your eyes. “Please say something. Please do something.”
When you plead for him to speak or do something, it snaps him out of his daze, and his heart comes back to life. It starts pumping again like he’s run a mile, and suddenly he’s all movement as he suddenly pulls you against him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He just holds you like that at first, hugging you tight tight tight, his head burying against the side of your neck, letting out a huge breath against your skin.
“You don’t have to say it back,” You say, wrapping your arms around him. “I know it’s hard for you to say, and you don’t have to say it back to me.”
He just hugs you tighter when you say that, his hands clutching at the back of your shirt. “Shut up,” He mumbles against the side of your neck, his voice a whisper. “Just shut up. You stupid, beautiful girl. Shut up. Shut up.”
You let out a small laugh, hugging him tighter.
Rafe hugs you even tighter at the sound of your laugh, his arms wrapped so tightly around your back that you might have trouble breathing soon. His heart is still beating a mile a minute, and he just wants to squeeze all the air out of you, so that you’re forced to only breathe him. He buries his face against your neck again, his voice a whisper when he speaks. “Say it again. Please.”
“I love you.” You whisper into his ear, kissing his temple.
His breath catches in his throat when you whisper those words again, saying them against his ear and kissing his temple, and he can’t take it. He squeezes you tighter, almost afraid you’re going to disappear if he doesn’t hold you tight enough, if he doesn’t hold you close enough. His lips suddenly press against your neck, kissing it over and over, his voice a shaky whisper. “I'll say it. Eventually. I just can't right now.”
“I know.” You whisper.
He buries his face against your neck, still kissing your skin over and over as his mind races, trying to collect himself. “Stop telling me it’s okay. Stop being so damn forgiving, beautiful girl. I don’t deserve it.”
“Yes, you do.” You say.
He sighs against your neck, finally pulling away, though he still keeps his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He doesn’t look you in the eye, his eyes falling to the collar of your shirt, his eyes just locking on the skin of your throat. “I’m a mess,” He says. “I’ve never done anything right in my life. I mess everything up. Why do you want to put up with that?”
“Because I love you,” You say again. “I always have, and I always will. Even if we don’t end up together, I’ll still fucking love you.”
His breath catches to hear you say that. Hearing those three words again makes his stomach twist and his mind go blank, but he finally forces himself to look into your eyes again. He swallows before speaking. “Promise?”
“I promise.” You say, sticking a pinky up.
His eyes fall on your pinky, and for a moment he just stares at it, seeing it in front of his face. When he finally comes to his senses, he lifts a hand off your waist to reach forward and lock his pinky with yours, his eyes locking back on yours. When he locks your fingers together, a warmth rushes through his chest, like a weight has just been lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes grow soft as he stares into your eyes. For a while, he just stands there, looking at you as he takes in the fact that you… love him. That you’re, actually, in love love with him. And he’s standing here, holding your hand in front of him, just trying his best to keep his shit together.
Rafe swallows hard before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”
“God, fuck, please do.” You breathe out.
God, he can’t believe he’s actually hearing that from you - begging him for a kiss. His heart leaps in his chest to hear that, that soft, pleading response, and he barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s suddenly surging forward, pressing his lips against your own. His hands release your waist and instead move up to cup your face, tilting your head back as he suddenly kisses you.
You wrap your arms around his neck and he keeps his hands on your face as he kisses you, pulling you flush against him, closing his eyes. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced - he’s kissed plenty of girls before, sure, but he’s never felt this. You, you feel so different. He can’t even begin to put into words what it is about you that makes it different, what it is that makes you different from all of the girls he’s kissed before.
pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)
word count: 4.6k
summary: you wait up for rafe after he leaves you for sofia
warnings: ANGST/THEMES OF DEPRESSION. please only read if you're comfortable!, reader literally sits on her couch for 2 days, forced undressing (not sexually), no smut but they shower together, rafe is trying to be good i promise, i haven't finished s4 so if i get shit wrong about his house i'm sorry, not proofread
a note: ik i just posted part 1 yesterday but like. i had to keep cooking. let me know if you want a part three! also, i think this is my longest fic to date...
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
You wait for him all day. Like the good girl he expects you to be.
You shower and pamper yourself, trying to take the edge off, but it’s all for naught. You were going to be an anxious, stressed mess until you heard those three knocks. You sit, fully dressed in a simple crop top and miniskirt, watching TV. You don’t dare move from this spot, just in case he decides to come home to you early.
The clock strikes one, and the waiting is too much for you. You're anxious, stressed, nervous; everything that you didn't want to be. The waiting feels like hours but also like seconds, the seconds ticking away painfully slow and too fast, the minutes and hours passing without your realization or intention.
You watch the TV with unseeing eyes, still sitting on the couch, fully dressed. And then it strikes two. And all you can do is wait some more. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there. You’ve already made it through a season of the show you were watching, mindlessly staring at the screen.
Sitting.
Waiting.
The sun starts to set, orange and pink hues streaking across your living room. You don’t move from your spot, starting to grow even more anxious. The tag on your shirt is starting to irritate you, but you don’t dare to move. You didn’t want to miss him, didn’t want to miss the knocks from your bedroom.
The sun completely sets, the only source of light coming from your TV. It’s just a few minutes after 6:00pm, but the room feels dark, so much darker than any other night before. Your phone vibrates, dancing across the coffee table, but it isn’t Rafe, so you don’t answer it, not wanting to miss the three knocks. Your patience grows thin, and each second feels like an eternity. Waiting is never a pleasant thing. Waiting for him is even worse.
6 PM turns into 9 PM, and suddenly it’s midnight. Rafe never came home.
You continue to stay up, pinching your arm occasionally to wake you back up. You didn’t want to miss him. You had a habit of being a heavy sleeper and sleeping in, and you knew that you would miss the knocks.
You grab your phone, scrolling through Sofia’s Instagram with shaky hands. There was no point in checking Rafe’s, he barely posted. The little pink ring swims around Sofia’s profile picture, and you click on her story.
The first story is from 12 hours ago, showing a plate from a fancy brunch spot on the mainland. The date he ditched you to take her on. The next story is from 10 hours ago, a shot of both of their hands holding cups of ice cream on a pier somewhere. He was wearing the gold Ouroboros ring you bought him, and it makes your heart clench. The next story is from 7 hours ago, a selfie of her looking frustratingly gorgeous in Rafe’s bedroom, the covers pulled up over her bare chest.
Did they fuck? Even after everything that happened last night?
The last story is from 3 hours ago, a selfie of them together outside a sushi restaurant, her arm around his neck while he looks off into the distance, a cigarette in his mouth. He’s still wearing that stupid ring.
Did he forget about you?
It wouldn’t be the first time.
You hope, foolishly, that he would text you, tell you he’s running late and that he’ll be there soon. But he doesn’t. You don’t move to text him first, knowing he won’t respond anyway, especially if Sofia is next to him.
You set your phone down, feeling completely overwhelmed. The possibility of them sleeping together tonight makes you sick to your stomach, but you wouldn’t put it past Rafe to do something like that. Especially after what he said yesterday.
She’s my girlfriend.
And you were just his…what? His friend? His side chick? The other woman? A warm mouth and a tight hole that he sought out when he was done with Sofia’s shit?
You drop your phone onto the floor, grabbing the pillow from under your head and pressing your face into it, trying to silence your sobs. It takes everything in you not to scream into the pillow, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. How could you be such an idiot? He never fails to make you feel so naïve. You thought last night would change everything between the two of you, but it didn’t.
All it did was remind you how worthless you were, that you were just his second best. Maybe the picture that you painted of him looks better in your mind.
You suddenly jump when your window slams shut. It blows open again before slamming once more, your curtains rippling with the wind. You get up, shuffling across the room. You shut the window, drawing the curtains closed, but not before looking out of them to see if Rafe’s car was parked outside.
It wasn’t.
You lay back down, resting your head on your pillow, starting to stare at the screen again. You make it through a few more episodes of whatever the hell you put on before it suddenly shuts off. Even the show’s characters didn’t want to be with you. Your head is pounding, your throat is dry, and your eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from your tears. Your heart aches, and your lungs sting with every breath you take.
You don’t even move to turn the TV off or try to fix it. You just lay there, crying in the light of the TV static.
You didn’t want to move, just in case he showed up, but part of you knew deep down that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. You fix the TV before laying back down, staring mindlessly at the screen, trying to distract yourself. You reach down onto the floor, grabbing your phone. You check Sofia’s Instagram again. The little pink circle around her picture taunts you. You click on it anyway, wiping the tears out of your eyes.
Joining the remaining stories from yesterday is one new post. A selfie of her with a clay facemask on, one eye closed as she blocks the sunlight with her hand, lounging beside Rafe’s new pool. She’s wearing a necklace with a diamond ‘R’ charm on it, as if she’s personally rubbing it in your face.
You lock your phone, putting it down on the floor before sliding it away with a flick of your wrist. It doesn’t go far, hitting one of the legs of your coffee table. You change the show on your TV, picking some true-crime documentary before laying your head back down.
You watch the show with distant eyes, feeling completely numb. You don’t know why you keep checking her account, knowing it would just make you feel even worse. But you do it anyway, because maybe deep down you deserve it. You think about texting him, asking him if he’s coming over today. But you don’t dare. You don’t want to come off as a clingy whore.
Your phone buzzes from the floor, vibrating the coffee table, startling you. You stay on the couch, reaching across the floor with one hand and grabbing your phone. You eagerly turn it over, expecting it to be from Rafe, maybe a long apology text, or even just a simple ‘On my way over.’ The phone doesn’t immediately light up. You hate that feature. You tap on the screen, your face immediately falling.
It’s just an email from your electric company about your mid-cycle usage report.
You let out a sharp scream, chucking your phone against the wall. It doesn’t shatter, but it bends around the sharp corner of the plaster.
The scream of frustration is cathartic, but it doesn’t last long. It’s quickly replaced by the feeling of loneliness that has become so common these past few days. But right now, it seems like a million times more unbearable. You start to cry again, burying your face back into your pillow.
The sun sets, and then it gets dark. You don’t move.
You can’t move. What if he comes back? What if this is the time he knocks? You can’t miss them. You can’t miss him. You curl yourself into a pathetic heap on the couch, hoping that he’ll come back. He will. He has to. He has to know how miserable you are. He has to realize how badly he’s hurting you and actually care about it this time.
But each hour feels even more hopeless than the last. You stay up, wide awake, all night thinking about him. You don’t hear a single knock. You don’t see any headlights or cars pulling up into your driveway. There’s nothing but crickets in the distance and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
You barely pay attention to the show in front of you, staring with unfocused eyes at the screen. The sun starts to rise, casting a soft pink hue onto your living room. You’ve been sitting on your couch for two days, waiting for a man who probably doesn’t want you. Two days. Two days of sitting here, hoping, praying that he would come back. Two days of sitting here like a fool, waiting for a man who’s with someone else.
Yet you can’t seem to find the motivation to get up. You can’t. Just in case, this time, he shows up.
Your head throbs, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You shut your eyes, burying your face in your pillow. You wish you were laying your head on his chest instead. Your thoughts are too loud, too consuming, too overwhelming. It’s hard to think clearly, to sort things out in your head. You’re so exhausted, mentally and physically, that you start to doze off.
You fall asleep, face buried in your mascara stained pillow.
Your eyes suddenly shoot open when you feel your shoulder being shaken and a hand on your face.
“Hey, sweetheart. Wake up, I’m here.” Rafe’s voice is like music to your ears. Soft, low, deep. You feel his large hand against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he tries to gently coax you awake. He’s here. After two long days of no food, no shower, no company except your own miserable thoughts, he’s here.
“Rafe?” You ask, head and body aching from two days of laying completely still on your uncomfortable Ikea couch.
“Yeah, baby. I’m here.” Rafe says, his voice soft and gentle. His fingers trail along your cheek, his hand so big against your face. He tries to hide it, but you can see the slight grimace on his face as he takes you in. “Are you okay? I tried calling you this morning, but you didn’t answer.”
You glance around, trying to take in your surroundings. You finally fell asleep, and judging by the slowly setting sun, you slept for a while. “My phone, I um…” You gesture to the smashed phone laying across the room.
Rafe sighs, his brow furrowing as he glances over to your smashed phone. “I’ll buy you a new one.” He says, looking back at you. His expression falls, and his eyes narrow. “How long have you been sitting here?”
“Two days.” You say, sitting up. You’re still in the same crop top and miniskirt, your hair starting to feel greasy and itchy.
“Jesus, baby.” Rafe exhales, shaking his head. “Have you eaten anything?” He asks, brushing your messy hair out of your face gently.
“I was waiting for you.” You say, completely ignoring his question. “You said you would come back. I was waiting for you.” You look up at him, feeling completely and utterly pathetic.
His eyes soften, his hand moving to cup your face in his palm. “I know. And I came back, like I promised.” He says soothingly, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Baby, you look terrible.”
“No, you promised me two days ago that you would come back.” You say, your voice growing thick as you start to cry again. “You said after your brunch date with Sofia that you would come back.”
Rafe opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He doesn’t say anything for a while, as if trying to come up with something to say. His expression shifts slightly, from sympathetic to something else, something almost akin to guilt. He sighs, finally speaking, “I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t realize how late it was until it was too late to swing by here.”
“So you left me hanging for an extra day?” You ask, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear.
“I’m sorry, alright?” He says, still gentle, but a hint of irritation is there. “I know I said I’d-… I said I’d come back, but I lost track of time, baby. I had to hang out with her for a while to keep up appearances.”
“Oh, fuck you and your appearances!” You say, standing up. You lose balance, reaching down with one hand to balance yourself on the arm of the couch. “Just admit that you didn’t want to see me.”
Rafe reaches out to steady you on your feet, frowning. “That’s not-… I did want to see you.” He says, his voice growing sterner, more irritated. “But I had other obligations. I had to keep up appearances. I told you that.”
“Don’t expect me to believe that bullshit, Rafe.” You say. You try to pull away from him, but he tightens his grip on your arm. “You can just dump me, you know.”
“Yeah? So can you.” He snaps back, his grip on your arm tightening even more.
Your face and eyes twitch slightly, your chest aching. You feel so stupid. Your breathing starts to escalate, coming out of your nose in short puffs. “Let go of me.”
“No.” He says, his voice hard, stern. He still grips your arm tightly, not wanting to let you go. He knows you well enough to understand that you would storm off, maybe even lock yourself in your bedroom. Both of Rafe’s hands move to your hips, pulling you closer. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
“No!” You shout, trying to pull away. You twist around, reaching down and trying to tug his hands apart. “You can’t do this to me!”
“Baby, look at me! I said, look at me!” Rafe raises his voice, finally using his strength against you, pinning you against his chest with his arms around your waist. He’s got you pressed flush against him now, one hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him, your neck craning. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.”
You squirm and wiggle, starting to cry. “You can’t treat me like this!”
His grip tightens, his jaw tensing as he grips your chin and face roughly. It almost feels like he’s manhandling you, forcing you to stay in place as he glares at you. His blue eyes have a hard edge to them. “I will treat you anyway I damn well please, sweetheart. You’re in no place to make demands or tell me what I can and can’t do. I said, look at me.”
You finally meet his gaze. You just sit in his grasp, sniffling as more and more tears threaten to fall. Your bottom lip trembles, and you wonder if you look as pathetic as you feel.
Rafe sighs, his expression growing soft. He loosens his grip on your face, his thumb caresses your cheek. He takes a deep breath, counting to four. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.” In one swift motion, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he makes his way towards your bathroom.
“No! Let go of me!” You whine, pounding your fists against his back.
“Quit it.” He snaps, reaching behind his back and grabbing both of your wrists, yanking your hands away from him as best he can. “I swear to god, sweetheart, I will spank you if you don’t stop punching me in the back.” He pushes open the bathroom door, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub, your wrists still in his grip. He turns on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before turning to you with a sigh. “Take off your clothes, sweetheart.”
“No.” You whine, trying to tug your wrists away.
He scoffs, exasperated. “I’m tired of having to repeat myself to you, baby. You’re gonna take a goddamn shower even if I have to force you to, so drop that attitude real quick, or I’ll strip you myself.” He leans in closer, his eyes darkening, his jaw clenching again. “You wanna be bratty and defiant with me? I can get real bratty with you right back, sweetheart. Real bratty.”
Your eyes water and your bottom lip trembles. Rafe sighs, taking another deep breath. He had to be nicer to you. “You gotta shower, baby, come on.” He grabs the bottom of your crop top gently, thumb rubbing along the hem.
You sniffle, wiping your cheeks. When your scalp starts to itch, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, mascara smeared, you realise he’s right. You raise your arms up.
“Good girl.” He says, sounding relieved. He reaches behind you to grab the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head. He can see how exhausted you are, how awful you look and how horrible you must feel. He gently drops your shirt on the floor, gently running a hand through your hair with a sigh. He reaches behind you and grabs the waist strap of your skirt. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”
You obey, lifting your hips.
Rafe slides the skirt off your hips and down your thighs, setting it on top of your shirt on the floor. He then grabs the waistband of your panties, kissing your hipbones as he tugs them off of your legs and adds them to the pile of discarded clothing. He then reaches forward, gently running his fingers through your hair. “You’re so pretty, baby.” He says, his voice quiet.
“Thank you.” You whisper.
He can tell that you’re still upset with him, and while he’s annoyed by it, he tries to maintain his composure, trying to be patient with you. He steps back, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside before undoing his jeans. “Come on, pretty girl. Get in the shower while I undress.”
You nod, standing up on shaky legs and stepping into the shower. Your muscles instantly relax under the water as you step in, back facing the water.
Rafe watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your body before you shut the curtain. He quickly discards the rest of his clothes. Slowly, deliberately, he steps into the shower behind you, not wanting to startle you. He reaches over and moves you a little to the side, giving him room under the water to stand with you. He gently spins you around so your back is facing him, the water hitting your chest. He glances around the built-in ledges of your shower. “Where’s your stuff?”
You point to the metal shelves you stuck onto the wall, full of expensive products, all gifts from Rafe.
He glances over at the shelf, noticing how neat and precise everything is. Rafe laughs as he grabs your shampoo. “God, you always gotta have everything organized.” He teases, pulling you against his chest with an arm wrapped around your torso, his strong hand pressed against your stomach. He kisses your shoulder before lifting your hair away from your neck to kiss there, his chest and abdomen pressed flush against your back.
He pours a fair amount of the shampoo into his hand, setting the bottle down. He hasn’t had to actually wash his hair in so long, he forgot what a normal amount of shampoo looks like. He rubs his hands together, lathering it up before starting to gently massage into your scalp. “Keep your head tilted back so you don’t get anything in your eyes.”
You tilt your head back, reaching back and putting your hands on his ribs to keep steady.
He hums in approval as his fingers work, rubbing and massaging your scalp. His body is relaxed against your naked curves, his fingers now working through your hair slowly, ensuring it’s completely lathered before he moves onto the conditioner. He keeps the conditioner in your hair while he washes your body. You reach up and grab your face wash yourself, squirting some into your hands before thoroughly washing your face, trying to get the two-day-old mascara off. Rafe keeps his arm wrapped around your upper body so you can keep leaning against him.
After rinsing yourself clean, he turns the water off, pushing the shower curtain open. He grabs a towel for himself off of the hook by the shower, stepping out. “C’mere, baby.” He says quietly.
You step out, watching as he wraps the towel tight around his waist. He grabs another from your linen closet, holding it open for you. “Arms up, sweetheart.” He says, waiting for you to obey, and you do, lifting your arms.
Rafe quickly wraps the towel around you, gently rubbing your body to dry you off. He then pulls you close, hugging you. One hand holds the back of your head, the other resting on the small of your back. He’s been craving the feel of your bare skin for the past two days, and it was nice to finally feel it again. “I’m sorry.” He says, quietly, sincerely. His lips graze your forehead.
“Why couldn’t you have just texted me?” You ask.
Rafe pauses, sighing. He was worried this would come up at some point. He tries to choose his words wisely, so he won’t start a fight so soon after the initial one. “Because… I…sweetheart, I was trying to keep a low profile with her.” His voice is just above a whisper. “Texting you would have let her know there was something going on.”
You shake your head. “You could’ve texted me and then immediately deleted the conversation. She wouldn’t have noticed.”
“I thought of that,” He starts, his brow furrowing. “But the thing is…she looks at my phone sometimes. So I just didn’t want to risk it, alright?”
You look away as he starts to dry your hair with the towel. “I wish things were different. I wish you could change.”
“That’s not fair, baby.” He says, his voice holding a hint of warning. He’s annoyed with you again, but he tries not to lash out this time, especially when taking into account how much he missed you. “You act like I don’t want things to be different.” He runs the towel over your head, gently squeezing your hair to wring out the excess water. “Do you even have enough respect to see me try?”
Your breath hitches. You watch him as he finishes with your hair, wrapping the towel around your chest.
“I love you, Rafe.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you realise you even said them. “Of course I have respect for you. Of course I want you to try.”
Rafe pauses, his shoulders relaxing as his expression softens. He smiles at you, his eyes looking into yours. He grabs your hips, his thumbs rubbing along the soft skin there. He sighs, closing his eyes. “Then don’t act like I’m evil when I do try.” His voice is quiet, soft. “I mean it. Stop acting like I’m a complete ass to you, sweetheart, because I have been fucking trying.”
He didn’t say he loved you. You don’t care how crazy and clingy you sound at this point, you have to know. “Do you love me too?”
Rafe opens his eyes, his expression growing serious all of a sudden. He pauses for a moment, searching the gaze of your eyes. His hands on your hips move to your lower back, wrapping around you and pulling you close against his chest. His chest is warm against your bare breasts, his body firm and strong. “Baby, that’s a stupid question.”
“You didn’t answer it.” At least just lie and say yes. Please just say that you love me more.
He sighs, his grip on you growing tighter. One of his hands moves up to the back of your neck, holding you in place. He lifts your chin up with a single finger, looking into your eyes. “Loves never meant much to me, sweetheart. I mean… Ward told me that he loved me, and you know exactly what he did.” Rafe brushes his thumb across your cheek. “But…yes, I do love you. You’re the only one I truly love.”
“Promise?” You ask, your voice quiet.
Rafe holds that strong eye contact for a few more seconds before his face softens more, his gaze softening in his eyes. “I promise, sweetheart. I swear on my life. I don’t love anyone else as much as I love you.” His other hand runs up and down your sides, fingers spreading across your skin.
“Not even Sofia?” You ask.
“Especially not her.” He says, pulling you even closer against his chest. He’s growing agitated again. “I told you this before. Everything with her is fake, completely fake. I’m with her for appearances. All she is, is a pretty face.”
You want to believe him, so you do. You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso.
Rafe sighs, relieved that you seem to finally understand. He rubs your back, one hand wrapping around your neck to keep you held against him. He kisses the top of your head, resting his chin on top like before. “Don’t ask me that question again, sweetheart.” He says, his voice gentle, yet stern. “You know I only love you, there’s no need for you to ask such dumb questions.”
You nod. “Can you stay tonight?”
He sighs, nodding. “Yeah. I can stay tonight.” He takes your chin in his hand again, tilting your face up to look at him. “Can you promise me something, though?”
You take a deep breath. “Anything.”
His brow furrows again, his thumb rubbing along your jawline. “Don’t ever doubt my love for you, alright? I can’t deal with that self-loathing bullshit you pull sometimes, sweetheart, you got that?”
Your eyebrows furrow slightly. You weren’t expecting that. But at this point, you’re so desperate to lay down with him that you’ll do anything he wants. “I promise, Rafe.”
He smiles, kissing your forehead. “Good girl.” He says, his voice gentler. “Now, let’s get you into bed, hm?” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you to bed. He lays down next to you, tucking you in before handing you his phone. “Pick out what new phone you want.” When you look confused, he sighs. “I told you I would buy you a new one because you destroyed yours.”
Oh, yeah. This has been the longest two days of your entire life, and you weren’t even sure if any of that actually happened.
Rafe unlocks his phone before handing it to you, picking something to watch from the small TV on your dresser. You scroll through his pages of unorganised apps, before finally finding Google, typing in the newest iPhone model. You buy yourself a new phone in your favourite colour, all on Rafe’s dime. You’re tempted to text Sofia pretending to be Rafe and tell her it’s over, and to leave you alone, but you don’t. Rafe loved you, and Rafe wanted you. He could dump her himself.
You lock his phone, handing it back to him. He sets it on your bedside table, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.
★taglist: @ietss, @loves0phelia, @drewsphswife, @pillowprincess4him, @maybankslover, @theeternaloptimistt, @jumpme300, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @matthewswifeeee. reply to this post if you would like to be tagged! italics mean i couldn't tag you! x
hiii can i request rafe or jj reacting to the reader getting nipple piercings??
ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ (ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)
read my other jj fic here!
pairing: jj maybank x pouge!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)
word count: 2.9k
summary: you get nipple piercings and your boyfriend is eager to get his hands on them
warnings: SMUT 18+, smut under the cut, nipple piercings, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, dom!jj & sub!reader, mention of p in v (although no protection is mentioned, it is implied), i've never gotten nipple piercings but i tried to be as accurate as possible, although i do know that touching them or kissing them after is a big no-go, this is a fanfiction lol.
a note: the skin colour in the photo isn't correlated with the reader's skin colour. i just like the picture! and, also, a BIG THANK YOU for 500 followers! i know in the grand scheme of things, 500 isn't a lot, but i never thought i would get this far! thank you all, i love you all so much!!!!
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
You pull away breathless, lifting your arms as JJ pulls your top off before tossing it aside. He pulls you into his lap, kissing down your neck as he unclips your bra, the black fabric joining the tank top discarded on the floor. JJ kisses down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones as he slowly kisses down your sternum. You squirm in his lap, his hands roaming over your curves as you feel his cock pressing against you through his shorts.
“Mmm, you're so soft,” JJ murmurs, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. His other hand cups one of your breasts, thumb teasing over the nipple. “You know what would really suit you, baby?” He brings his thumb and pointer finger together and squeezes, tugging at your nipple harshly.
You gasp, your back arching, your chest pressing against his. You whine as he pinches and squeezes again. “What, Jay?”
“Little piercings here,” He pinches your left nipple. “And here,” He pinches your right nipple, grinning at the way you squirm and wiggle. He leans in close, hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “Fuck, it’s making me hard just thinking about it. Two little bars, just begging to be played with,” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, tracing over the sensitive skin of your lower belly. “I bet you'd look fucking stunning if they were gold. Or maybe silver. Fuck.”
“You know,” You breathe heavily as he tugs and twists your nipples again. “I’ve been thinking about getting some.”
“Oh yeah?” JJ chuckles, giving your nipples another sharp pinch before releasing them. His fingers continue their path south, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your panties to stroke over your slick folds. “I'm more than happy to help you pick out the perfect bar.” He rubs his thumb over your clit in slow circles, applying just enough pressure to make you shudder. “Because I gotta say, imagining your cute little nipples adorned with sparkly jewellery while I eat this sweet pussy... fuck, that's even hotter.”
“I’ll get them then,” You pant out in between moans. “Just for you, baby.”
JJ groans low in his throat, hips bucking up as he grinds his cock against you. “For me? Oh, pretty girl, you have no idea how much that turns me on,” He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit that spot that makes your legs tremble, your back arching as a strangled whine escapes your lips. “But don't forget, these pretty tits are all mine too,” His free hand reaches up to pinch and squeeze your nipples. “I want to see those piercings, feel them against my tongue when I suck on your nipples,” He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you faster now, thumb still circling your clit. “Gonna make you cum so hard on my fingers, pretty girl. Then I'm gonna bend you over and fill this tight little cunt with my cock.”
You squeal as he picks you up and flips you over, pinning you underneath his weight.
After researching and asking around Kildare, you found your piercing studio; Prickink just across the thoroughfare on the mainland. $175 for both the piercings and the jewellery. You would get simple silver bars for now, but they had the cutest pink heart nipple rings that you wanted for after they’re all healed. Only the best for JJ.
You push the door open, walking into Prickink, greeted by the buzz of tattoo guns and the smell of rubbing alcohol, 80s rock playing softly in the background. The receptionist smiles when she sees you approach the counter, holding your ID and a wad of cash. “Hi, welcome to Prickink! How can I help you?” She's decked out in tattoos, covering her arms and chest, with a cute nose ring with a bat charm on it and large gauged ears. “Piercing or tattoo?”
“Uh, piercing,” You say nervously. “I have an appointment today at 12:30 with Yvette.”
“Alright, lemme see here…” The receptionist types away on her computer. She confirms your name before taking your ID and checking it. “Nipple piercings?”
You nod. “Yeah. Kinda nervous, but it’ll be worth it.”
She hands you your ID back. “Nerves are normal, but everything will be alright. Yvette is one of the best in North Carolina,” She types on the computer before looking back at you. “Alright, it’ll be $175 including the jewellery. We can’t put in the heart rings until your piercings heal, but you’re welcome to take them home. Will it be cash or card?”
“Uhh, cash.” You say, pulling out $175. She takes the cash and recounts it, sliding a consent form over to you to fill out and sign. You check every necessary box and sign your name, handing it back to her.
“Alright. You can go and sit down, Yvette will come get ya when she’s ready.” She gestures over to the seating area where a few other people are waiting. Some have their phones out, some reading a magazine, and some were waiting as couples excited to get their matching tattoos.
You sit on one of the chairs, pulling out your phone and scrolling, trying to calm your nerves. It would hurt, yes, but everything would be okay. JJ would be more than happy to help you clean and take care of them. You wait for almost 10 minutes before Yvette rounds the corner, calling your name. You stand up and follow her through the hallway, shoving your shaky hands into the back pockets of your shorts.
Yvette leads you through the tattoo shop, passing a few different rooms before arriving in the last one at the end, closing the door behind you. There’s a tattoo chair, a small stool, and a shelving unit built into the wall full of supplies. “Alright, take a seat. I’ll need you to remove your top and bra. You can set them on the stool right there.”
You take off your shirt and your bra, folding them and setting them aside on the stool before sitting down on the chair, leaning back against the seat. You clasp your hands in your lap.
She sits on the small stool at the end of the chair, putting on a pair of nitrile gloves. She grabs a thin black marker and holds it up to your chest, making a small dot at the centre of your left nipple, before marking the right as well. “Alright. Any questions before I get started?”
“How long is the healing process?” You ask. “I just… I have an eager boyfriend, ya know?”
She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one plenty of times,” She puts the marker down. “Well, it’ll usually take about six to nine months for you to fully heal. It varies person to person, and a bit if it’s done right but a good guideline.”
You nod, leaning back in the chair. “Okay. Sounds good.”
She scoots forward slightly, the stool rolling smoothly on the wheels. “I’m going to start with the left one. Deep breaths, and try not to move too much.” You nod again as she wipes your nipple with an alcohol prep pad before pulling out a fresh needle, picking up the clamp with her free hand.
It all happens so fast. One second you’re feeling the cooling sensation of the pad, the next second you’re in unbearable pain. You keep still, gripping the armrests so tight your knuckles turn white. You let out a shaky breath as Yvette slides the bar in, twisting the ball bearing closed. “Alright, one down. You need a second?”
“Yeah,” You say breathlessly, your face growing hot. “Holy shit.”
She sets the needle down, giving you a pat on the knee. “Yeah, that’s the worst part. Nerves are in there and it’s super painful. Once I’ve got the second one in the painful part will be over, and you can just sit there and look cute.”
You laugh, even though you didn’t find it particularly funny. Yvette dabs up some of the blood as you shut your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Okay. I’m ready.”
You grip the armrest again and prepare for the second needle. This time it goes a lot smoother. One pinch of the clamp, a quick swipe of the prep pad, a slide of the needle and a twist of the bearing. “And, done,” She says. “How you feeling?”
“Good,” You say. “A little lightheaded. I got cookies in my bag though.”
Yvette smiles as she puts the clamps down. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one either. It’s perfectly normal. Let me just tape some gauze over them before you get dressed again. I would recommend leaving the bra off,” She gets up from the stool and heads to the storage cabinet, picking out two thin strips of gauze with some medical tape before returning to you. She places them over your nipples, then tapes down the edges. “Keep those on until tonight, then you can take them off to shower.”
You sigh. “Alright, cool. Thank you so much.”
“No problem. Now, make sure you don’t play with them while they’re still healing. You’re gonna want to,” She chuckles. “I would also avoid all swimming, even if it's in a pool. There are a lot of bacteria that you don’t want that getting into the piercing,” She hands you a business card from one of the shelves. “Call or come back if you have any questions about healing.”
“Sweet, thank you. Have a good day.” You say, pulling your shirt back over your head. You tuck your bra into your bag before heading out of the piercing studio. You pull out one of the cookies and munch on it while you head back to your car, a small smile on your lips.
You push JJ down to sit on the edge of his bed, running your fingers through his hair. “I got something I wanna show you, baby.”
He smirks, putting his hands on your hips as he sits, fingers dipping under the waistband of your leggings. He leans closer, the smell of your shampoo filling his nostrils, your hair still damp from your shower. “Oh yeah? What is it, pretty girl?”
“Did you wash your hands like I asked?” You ask, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders.
He shrugs nonchalantly, not bothering to remove his hands from your hips despite your question. “Yeah, yeah, course I did. Don't worry about it,” He reaches up to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. “Now, show me what you've got for me.” You roll your eyes, moving your hands from his shoulders to grip the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your new piercings glitter in the lowlight of his room.
JJ's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of your newly pierced nipples, his gaze fixated on the glinting metal, his cock hardening in his sweatpants. “Holy shit, pretty girl…” He trails a finger over the barbell piercing your left nipple, watching intently as it twitches with the movement. “Look at that. So fucking sexy,” He leans in, taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before switching to the other side to do the same. “Mmm, love the way it feels against my tongue, fuck you’re so fucking sexy,” He releases your nipple with a pop, looking up at you with a hungry grin. “Do you like having them played with?”
You let out such cute, soft little gasps as he rubs his thumbs over them. You nod, grabbing his biceps. “Yeah, Jay. I like it a lot.”
He chuckles, rubbing his thumb around them slowly. “Good, baby, I’m glad. You look so fucking sexy, baby. Like a goddess,” He wraps his arms around your waist and spins around, throwing you onto the bed and climbing on top of you, pinning your hips down with his own. “When they’re all healed up, you should get those rings that have the connecting chain. Wanna tug on it and hear your sweet little whimpers.”
You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Only if you promise to play with them often,” You reach down, rubbing your fingers over his hard cock, feeling it strain against his shorts. “Got ‘em just for you, my love.”
JJ groans, hips thrusting into your touch as he grinds his hardness against your palm. “Fuck, you're killing me, baby. I'll play with them every damn day if you want,” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim yours. Breaking away, he pants, “Need you naked, now. Remember what I said last week? I wanna eat you out and watch how you look when you cum with your nipples all pierced.”
With swift movements, he tugs your leggings down, sending them flying across the room. He yanks down your soaked panties, pocketing them for later. “Christ, you're dripping wet already,” JJ groans, spreading your thighs wide. He buries his face between your legs, lapping at your slit hungrily. “So fucking sweet…”
You squeal, back arching as your thighs clamp down on the sides of his face. Your hands immediately fly to his hair, gripping and tugging on the blond strands. “Fuck, JJ!” He moans loudly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core as he laps at your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the sensitive nub. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he devours your pussy. He pulls back slightly, blowing cool air over your wet heat before diving back in, tongue delving deep to taste your arousal. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, his favourite taste in the world.
“Mmm, fuck, you taste amazing, baby,” His voice is mumbled as he sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before releasing with a pop. “Gonna make you cum so hard, pretty girl. Wanna hear you whine and cry for me.” He resumes his relentless assault on your clit, fingers digging into your thighs as he eats you out like a man starved, one hand going up to tweak your right nipple.
Your jaw goes slack, and you throw your head back, thighs trembling against the sides of his face. “Fuck, JJ, please!”
JJ looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, saliva dripping down his chin as he continues to feast on your pussy. His eyes are drawn to the silver studs on your cute little nipples, and his cock throbs as he slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in time with his licks and sucks on your clit. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you need,” He murmurs against you, the words vibrating against your clit and making you shiver. His free hand moves to your left breast, rolling and pinching the nipple roughly. “Wanna hear you scream my name when you cum, wanna feel your little pussy gush, but you gotta ask for permission, baby.” He redoubles his efforts, sucking harder on your clit as he curls his fingers to hit that magic spot inside you. Your body starts to quake, toes curling, as your orgasm builds.
You gasp, trying to find your voice. “Fuck, please JJ, please let me cum! I’ve been good! Please!” You tug on his hair, back arching off of the bed.
JJ smirks against your pussy, blowing more air directly onto your clit. “Alright, alright, baby. You can cum, but only because you asked so nicely,” He sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue as he pumps his fingers fast and deep inside you. At the same moment, his hand moves back up to your right nipple, rolling the stud between his fingers and tugging.
The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as your inner walls clench tightly around his fingers, pulsing with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you. JJ moans in satisfaction, continuing to lap at your spasming pussy, drinking in every drop of your release. Only when your tremors subside does he finally pull away, licking his lips clean of your juices. He gazes up at you, eyes shining with pride and desire. “That's my good girl. Fuck.”
You let out a strangled whimper as he kneels, pulling his shorts down before climbing over you. He pulls his hard cock out, fingers brushing over the tip to gather some pre-cum, spreading it out over his length as he jerks himself off. JJ grips his shaft firmly, stroking it in long, even motions as he hovers above you, his heavy balls slapping against your thigh with each pump. Pre-cum beads at the tip, leaking steadily as he gets closer to the edge.
His chest heaves with ragged breaths, abs clenched tight. “You're so fucking beautiful like this,” he rasps, his gaze roaming over your flushed skin, the glint of metal on your nipples, the messy hair around your face. “Can't wait to bury myself deep in this perfect cunt and fill it up. Fuck.” He leans over you, lining himself up before starting to push in, giving you time to adjust to his size. He pauses for a moment, savouring the feel of your hot, slick walls wrapped around him, before starting to move, one hand going to tug on your new piercings.
