Rafe Cameron’s love for you scares the shit out of him.
He’s never met someone so all consuming, that it leaves so little room for him to think of anything else but you. He thinks of you every second of every waking moment. When he’s in a business meeting, going over important documents and numbers he’s thinking of what you may be doing. When he’s scoping out new properties he’s imagining you turning it into your own, a big garden like you always talk about or maybe a huge tree swing like what you had growing up.
He never raises his voice at you, even when he’s boiling with rage. He doesn’t like you see him that way. Even on the off chance he gets a little too overwhelmed, attempting to decompress after a long day while you drone on and on about the day you had and he snaps. Nothing serious, just a small sigh of exhaustion and disengagement that you pick up on. But before you can get offended, he’s already muttering an apology and urging you to continue on about whatever you want.
He also knows that you are the sole reason he got clean. Rafe would rather die than see the hurt and disappointment on your face when you found him snorting a line of coke. He quickly realized that no amount of drugs or money would ever compare to the feeling you give him. The euphoric feeling of being high on love of all things hooked him unconditionally.
Rafe kisses the ground you walk on. All 6 foot 2 of him is wrapped around your finger and he doesn’t mind one bit.
And despite what anyone thinks, he’s a gentle lover. Fresh flowers are always the first thing you see when you walk through the door, a different arrangement every week. At night, he’s the one to reach into your stash of soothing essential oils to rub your back or your feet or anywhere that makes you feel good. Your pleasure is his main priority.
He’s very meticulous when planning dates, depending on your mood it’s a full night out with a nice dinner and the whole works. While on other days it’s a simple picnic or a relaxing weekend on the catamaran.
His gifts are always thoughtful too. Something you stared too long at in passing, an off handed comment made stemming from weeks ago or the day before. He believes anything that reminds him of you should be yours.
Rafe is also a possessive man. He detests the thought of someone else experiencing you, of being able to worship you in ways only he can. And he knows he’s completely gone when he realizes he would do the unthinkable to assure your safety. You can wear whatever you want, act however you want because he allows you to feel safe enough to cut your brain off and let him worry about everything. He’s killed before, what’s another body for his lady?
Rafe is a traditionalist in the sense of providing. He believes you shouldn’t be doing anything stressful or strenuous. You can work if you want, but he never allows you to spend your own money.
And while he spent so much time trying to gain his father’s love, he’s never had to beg for yours.
“i.” kiss “am.” kiss “so.” kiss “proud.” kiss “of you!” you practically squealed before placing a whole bunch of kisses to all over rafes face. grin forming on your face as you felt his grin against your cheek. your pink manicured hand holding his head in place.
rafe chuckled, attempting to ignore how his insides were doing backlfips at your actions. his hands resting on your hips ‘n rubbing soft circles along the skin of your thigh while you sat up on the counter. “‘s only two weeks baby.” he murmurs, attempting to downplay his progress, which in his mind, truly wasn’t the biggest deal.
you gasp at his words, instantly pulling away from his face as you bit your cheek. giving him an un approving look as you shook your head ‘no’.
“two weeks is a big deal!” you scolded, your hands falling down from his face to rub up and down his chest. “think of how much coke you used to do.” you hummed as you straightened his shirt out. “it was practically everyday.”
you sighed as you finished straightening his shirt out, looking back up at rafe.
you smiled softly at the sight that awaited that made your heart speed up. rafe looking at you with a softness reserved only for you, his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled genuinely. a smile also reserved for you only.
rafe hummed, right hand coming up to brush some of your hair out of your face. his touch feather light. “You think so?” he asked, tone quiet as he soaked in the peace of the moment.
“know so.” you grinned, your words soft and confident before you wrapped your arms around rafe and placed your lips to his. his own arms circling around your waist while he returned the kiss. hand running soothingly up and down the length of your back.
Summary : When Rafe tells you to shut the fuck up because you disagreed with him in front of his friends, you do not react the way he excepted you to...
Pairing : S2!Rafe Cameron x strict!reader.
Warning tags : arguing, cursing, angst with comfort, the man dropping to his knees and crying.
A/N : hello everyone! Just wanted to give y'all this since it's been a while since I posted, and im coming up with something big, so enjoy...
"You don't own me, Rafe."
The entire bonfire goes quiet.
The music is still blasting somewhere behind you, Kelce is standing there with a beer halfway to his mouth, and Topper looks like he's suddenly developed a very deep interest in the sand beneath his feet.
Rafe Cameron, on the other hand, looks furious.
"You gonna keep disrespecting me in front of everyone?" he snaps.
You laugh.
Actually laugh.
"Disrespecting you?" you repeat, crossing your arms. "Rafe, you just told me to 'shut the fuck up' because I disagreed with you."
"You were making a scene."
"No, sweetheart," you say sweetly. "You made a scene. I corrected you."
Kelce mutters, "Jesus Christ."
Topper elbows him.
Rafe glares at both of them.
"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"
"No."
His jaw clenches.
"What the fuck do you mean, no?"
"I mean exactly what I said."
You take a step closer.
"You don't get to embarrass me publicly and then expect privacy when I respond."
His nostrils flare.
"You think you're always right."
"No."
Your voice remains calm.
"I think you don't get to treat me like shit."
"You're blowing this out of proportion."
"Oh, fuck off."
Kelce chokes on his drink.
Rafe's eyes widen.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Your gaze doesn't waver.
"You're not going to stand there and pretend I'm being dramatic because you don't like consequences."
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"And you don't know how to communicate without acting like a complete asshole."
Silence.
Topper physically takes a step back.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"No, don't 'Jesus Christ' me."
You point a finger at him.
"You don't get to raise your voice at me because you're having a bad day."
"I didn't—"
"You absolutely did."
"You were pushing my buttons."
"Then grow the fuck up."
He stares at you.
People stare at both of you.
Normally, people back down around Rafe Cameron.
You never have.
You never will.
"You done?" he asks bitterly.
"No."
His eyes close briefly.
"Of course not."
You straighten.
"If you want to date me, then act like it."
His expression hardens.
"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm your girlfriend."
You pause.
"Not your therapist."
Another pause.
"Not your emotional punching bag."
You look him dead in the eye.
"And I'm sure as hell not your fucking hoe."
The words hit him like a truck.
"That's not what I—"
"Really?" you cut in. "Because ordering me around and expecting me to smile through your bullshit says otherwise."
Topper quietly disappears.
Kelce follows.
Cowards.
Rafe's voice drops.
"You know that's not how I see you."
"Then stop acting like it."
He opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Then opens it again.
"I fucked up."
"Congratulations," you reply flatly. "You discovered accountability."
You turn around.
"Where the fuck are you going?"
"Home."
"We're not done talking."
You spin back toward him.
"I am."
He grabs your wrist.
You freeze.
Slowly, you look down.
Then back up.
"Let go."
His expression changes instantly.
"Shit."
"Let go."
He releases you immediately.
But the damage is done.
"Don't ever do that again."
"I know."
"No."
Your voice shakes slightly.
"I don't think you do."
Rafe looks sick.
"I didn't mean—"
"I don't care what you meant."
You take a step back.
"I said no."
He swallows.
"You don't get to decide when my boundaries stop mattering because you're upset."
"You're right."
You laugh bitterly.
"Wow."
He flinches.
"You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"You actually are capable of understanding."
Your eyes shine with frustration.
"You just don't do it until it affects you."
"That's not fair."
"No?"
You scoff.
"Then tell me, Rafe Cameron."
Your voice cracks.
"How many people have you hurt because you expected them to tolerate behavior you wouldn't accept from anyone else?"
Silence.
The answer is written all over his face.
Too many.
"I'm going home."
"Wait."
"No."
"Please."
You blink.
Rafe Cameron doesn't say please.
Not often.
"I said no."
"You can't just leave."
"You don't get to tell me what I can do."
He reaches for you again.
Stops himself.
His hands clench at his sides.
"Fuck."
"Exactly."
He looks miserable.
"Just tell me how to fix it."
Your expression hardens.
"You don't get a fucking instruction manual."
"Then what do I do?"
"You apologize."
"I am apologizing."
"No."
You shake your head.
"You're panicking."
His face falls.
"You apologize because you understand what you did."
He stares at you.
"You crossed a line."
"You humiliated me."
"You ignored my boundaries."
"And then you expected me to comfort you because you felt bad about it."
Each sentence hits harder than the last.
"That's not love, Rafe."
His eyes fill with tears.
"I know."
You blink.
"What?"
"I know."
His voice breaks.
"I'm trying."
Your anger stutters.
Because Rafe Cameron rarely lets people see him crack.
"I'm trying so fucking hard."
He laughs bitterly.
"But every time I think someone actually gives a shit about me, I ruin it."
You don't answer.
"I don't know how to do this."
He gestures helplessly.
"Whatever the fuck this is."
His breathing becomes uneven.
"But I know I don't want to lose you."
The silence stretches.
Then:
"You don't get to keep me through guilt."
His head snaps up.
"What?"
"You don't get to make me responsible for your healing."
His shoulders slump.
"I know."
"You have to choose to be better because it's the right thing to do."
He nods.
"Not because you're scared I'll leave."
Another nod.
You study him.
Then sigh.
"You really are an idiot."
A wet laugh escapes him.
"Yeah."
"You know what the problem is?"
"What?"
"You think love means unconditional tolerance."
His brow furrows.
"It doesn't."
You step closer.
"Love has standards."
Your gaze softens slightly.
"And if you cross those standards, there are consequences."
He wipes at his eyes angrily.
"I hate when you're right."
"You must be exhausted, then."
A laugh bursts out of him.
Real.
Small.
Broken.
Then he says something so quiet you almost miss it.
"I don't think anyone's ever loved me enough to tell me no."
Your chest tightens.
"Well."
You glance up at him.
"You should probably get used to it."
He smiles weakly.
Then ruins it.
"So we're okay?"
You stare at him.
"Did you learn absolutely nothing?"
His face drops.
"Fuck."
You sigh.
"We're rebuilding."
"Oh."
"You don't get automatic forgiveness."
"Right."
"You earn trust."
He nods quickly.
"Okay."
"Consistency."
"Okay."
"Respect."
"Okay."
"Communication."
"Okay."
"No grabbing me when I'm trying to leave."
His expression crumbles.
"Okay."
"And if you pull that shit again—"
"I know."
He hesitates.
"You'll leave."
You look at him.
"No."
His eyebrows rise.
"I'll slap the stupid out of you first."
Rafe blinks.
Then, despite himself, laughs.
"Jesus Christ."
"You think I'm joking?"
His smile widens slightly.
"I know you're not."
You point at him.
"Good."
Then you begin walking away.
"Wait."
You stop.
"What now?"
Rafe swallows.
Then, right there in the driveway outside Tannyhill,
he drops to his knees.
"Rafe—"
"No."
His voice shakes.
"I need you to hear this."
You freeze.
He looks up at you.
Hair messy.
Eyes red.
Pride completely abandoned.
"I'm sorry."
You don't answer.
"For every time I made you feel small."
His throat bobs.
"For every time I expected you to put up with shit you never should've had to."
Tears gather in his eyes.
"For every fucking time I treated you like loving me meant accepting the worst parts of me."
Your heart aches.
"I know I don't deserve another chance."
His voice cracks.
"But if you give me one..."
He takes a shaky breath.
"I'll spend every day proving that I can be better."
The world feels very quiet.
Then you crouch in front of him.
"Get up."
He hesitates.
"Get up, Rafe."
Slowly, he obeys.
You place your hands on either side of his face.
"I love you."
Hope flashes across his features.
"But loving you doesn't mean abandoning myself."
His eyes shine.
"And if you disrespect me again—"
"You'll leave."
"No."
You raise an eyebrow.
"I'll remind you exactly who the fuck you're talking to."
He laughs through tears.
"Terrifying."
"Damn right."
He wraps his arms around you carefully.
Like he's asking permission.
You hug him back.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks.
Then:
"You know," Rafe murmurs into your hair.
"What?"
"Topper owes me fifty bucks."
You pull back.
"What?"
"He bet you'd dump me."
You blink.
Then:
"Tell him to pay up."
Rafe grins.
"Fuck, I love you."
You roll your eyes.
"I know."
Then, after a beat:
"But don't let it get to your head, Cameron."
His smile softens.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
And for once,
he means it.
_____________________________________________
Hope y'all enjoyed it, see you in the next chapter,
the music was so loud, and all you could smell was alcohol and sweat. you’re not really the party type but somehow rafe managed to convince you. you were seated next to him, with his arm around your waist. you talked with his friends and honestly the party wasn’t even that bad.
rafe stole a glance at you once and then. he doesn’t want to force you into anything and make you feel uncomfortable. ever. he cares for you and loves you so much that your comfort is much more important to him than his.
after a while you leaned closer to rafe so he could hear you and told him you’ll go get another drink. "want me to go with you?" he stared into your eyes and caressed your arm shortly. you gave him a smile and shook your head. you can handle yourself and he knows that so he nodded and decided to trust you and let you go by yourself.
you were on your way towards the bar when suddenly someone bumped into you and spilled his drink on your dress. you stood there and sighed. this dress was newly bought. you were pissed. it was some man that nearly knocked you over, he seemed to be in his 20s.
he smirked and looked you up and down. "oh i’m so sorry." you got even more pissed. "is that funny to you? you nearly knocked me over." your tone was firm and serious which made his smirk waver. "it was an accident." he was acting so nonchalant about this as if nothing happened and yes it wasn’t that deep but it seemed like he’s mocking you. "maybe next time watch where the hell you’re going."
you walked towards the bathroom, shaking your head in disbelief. you stepped inside and tried to dry your dress as much as possible but you knew you’ll have to throw it away anyways.
a few minutes later you left the bathrooms and walked back into the crowd. as you walked someone suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you back which made you stumble a bit. it was the guy. he gripped your wrist tight and pulled you closer to him.
"what the fuck? let go of me!" you said firmly. you tried to squirm out of his grip but he was holding you so tight. he seemed pissed off. "and why would i do that huh?" he wrapped his arm around your waist. "you know.. i didn’t like the way you talked back at me as if i’ve done something horrible."
you were scared. he was so much taller than you and bigger than you. you kept squirming which made him chuckle with a smirk. "damn, you’re a feisty one. i see." his palm slid down on your ass but you pushed it away with your free hand. you knew you needed help.. and you were lowkey surprised no one seemed to notice you were in trouble even though you were in such a crowded place.
"we could talk somewhere more private." he said as he nearly dragged you away from crowd. you knew you had to do something now and all you could think of was kicking him. that kick made him let go of you so you almost ran through the crowd, while few tears rolled down your cheeks. you didn’t want to cry but you were so stressed. your hands were shaking and your chest was aching..
the guy followed after you but fortunately you found rafe. he was in the crowd with topper and kelce. you gripped his arm and leaned against him, your body shaking. he looked down at you and his smile vanished as soon as he noticed your wet cheeks. "hey.. hey what.. what happened?.." his tone was soft. he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away but you kept crying. you were so scared that you couldn’t even say a word. it was getting hard to breathe for you so you gripped his arm tighter.
he hugged you softly and caressed your back. "sweetheart.. it’s okay, you’re alright." he whispered.. he was so confused. he lifted your head up softly and stared at you. "what happened?"
you took a soft breath and sniffled. "there.. there was a guy and he.. he spilled his drink on me and then he grabbed me and-" your voice trailed off. you kept sobbing, unable to keep talking - but these few words were enough for rafe. he looked around and noticed a certain guy staring at them and stepping back slowly. he saw red. "wait here." rafe said before he let go of you and went after that guy. when he noticed rafe he started walking faster but it was too late.
rafe grabbed him from behind and harshly pulled him back so he could face him. rafe’s fist connected with his jaw hard and after that rafe was throwing punch after punch. the people surrounded them after a while and simply watched. rafe had no intention of holding back.
the two of them fought but it was mostly rafe who was beating the hell out of this guy. they ended on the floor. rafe felt so angry.. it was indescribable. his nose was bleeding while his jaw was bruised but the guy was on the verge of passing out.. the fight reached its point when rafe wrapped his arm around this guy’s throat from behind and started choking him..
everyone was staring in horror at this point.. topper and kelce knew they had to stop rafe from doing something stupid.. well more stupid than this so they stepped in and pulled rafe back. the guy coughed for a few minutes, leaning on his palms on the floor. rafe was squirming against topper and kelce.
"if you ever touch her again i swear to god i’ll kill you!" rafe shouted before he pushed topper and kelce off of him and wiped his bloody nose. he was breathing heavily and looked for you in the crowd of people who were staring at him. "show’s over!" rafe shouted again.
you were also one of the people staring. you’ve never seen him like this but you just couldn’t be mad at him.. the guy was being disgusting.. god knows what he would’ve done to you. rafe walked towards you and took your hand softly. "come on." he lead you outside. you could feel everyone’s eyes on the two of you.
rafe felt so guilty. he should’ve gone with you, he should’ve been there sooner.. he should’ve been with you. he felt like this was his fault.. cause he let his girl just wander around a fucking bar. he should’ve known.
he walked you to his car and opened the passenger’s seat for you. you sat down and he knelt down to you. that’s when he saw your red and bruised wrist.. must’ve been from the hard grip. he took your hand and caressed the redness softly. "does it hurt?" he asked worriedly, trying to remain calm. you shook your head.
"i’m sorry." he said softly as he stared at you. you shook your head "no rafe he deserved it i-" you thought he’s apologizing for the fight. "it’s my fault." he cut you off and you furrowed your eyebrows. "what?.."
"i should’ve been there with you." he wiped his bleeding nose again. "it’s not your fault, rafe. there’s no way could you know this would happen." he shook his head "there is, baby. i should’ve been the one to get you a drink." he felt stupid. you held his hands "rafe, you saved me okay? you defended me and that is what matters now." you said softly before you sniffled.
he kissed your knuckles softly. "of course i did. you’re the most important person in my life, baby." you smiled through your exhaustion and caressed his bruised jaw carefully. his eyes fluttered at your soft touch.. that always manages to calm him down. "i’m always here for you, sweetheart."
this is lowkey cringey but i have NO ideas rn. 💔 btw i’m so busy guys i’m sorry, i’ll try to post more from now.
also i’ll re-read it tomorrow, it’s 10:40 pm rn so i cba. :p
c/w 𑣲⋆ backseat sex, unprotected p in v, praise, pet names (baby, babydoll + no y/n), almost getting caught + apparently being down bad runs in the family ◡̈
Max’s strong arm wraps around your shoulders as he walks you up the stairs of the Camerons’ house, packed wall-to-wall with people.
He smiles proudly with you tucked under his arm, mumbling in your ear about going upstairs but you can barely hear him over the music and the crowd—his deep voice buzzing against your skin before he tilts in, pressing a kiss on your neck.
He reaches down, turning the doorknob and finding it locked.
“No fuckin’ way,” he mumbles, lifting his fist, banging on the door.
You hear one of his friends yell from inside that the room is occupied. Max hollers back, but he’s too far gone to fight—just ready to get you alone more than anything else. He’ll deal with his buddies later.
He softens immediately when you smile up at him. His back thumps against the large wooden door of his bedroom, his fingers hook around the waist of your shorts to pull you closer.
“This place is a madhouse, baby,” he murmurs. “My old man’s gonna fuckin’ kill me.” The words leave his lips in a breathy laugh and you know he doesn’t give a shit. He’s more upset about not being able to find a little privacy.
“It’s insane,” you whisper as he wets his lip, flipping his hat around to lessen the space between you even more.
“Can’t even find a bed in my own house,” he whispers, just far enough away to see his smile curl into a smirk before he kisses you. “Guess we’re just gonna have to get creative, huh?”
“Guess so,” you sigh, feeling him hum against your lips, pulling you a little closer.
“Follow me.” Before you can respond he’s pulling you along, dragging you right back where you came, weaving through the masses of people you don’t recognize.
The bass pounds and smoke wafts through the air. Glass crashes to the floor, making Max duck a little, looking over his shoulder like that damage might’ve been worth checking out, but who was he kidding? Especially when you look up at him with a smile.
The party starts to die down the farther you go, the craziness leaving the two of you with that privacy you’d been craving all night. He grabs the doorknob of the garage, nodding toward the dark when he pushes inside.
Nine cars sit in a perfect line—luxe and expensive as fuck. The tenth was missing, his parents off on a date night in Charleston, spending the evening in a five-star hotel, none the wiser to what was waiting for them back home. But that was future Max’s problem.
“Take your pick, babydoll,” he mumbles, your feet echoing through the large room with your giggle at the sheer grandeur of it all.
You tap your finger against your chin, checking them out as you walk down the line. You look back at Max, his gaze moving slowly over your body, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles before lifting his eyes to yours.
“Hurry, baby,” he teases—hungry, like he needs it. He’d just as easily lift you onto the hood of any one of the nine cars and fuck you dumb.
“This one—” You gasp as he tugs your hand, lifting you into his arms.
His feet slap against the asphalt, pulling the door of the sports car open fast. You barely get the door open before he’s behind you, one hand settling at your hip as he helps you climb inside. Your knees hit the cushion, and the door rocks slightly beneath his weight when he follows after you.
Max is on you the second the door shuts, one hand braced beside your head as his mouth crashes back into yours.
The cramped space only seems to make him bolder. His hand slides from your waist to your thigh, squeezing hard enough to pull a breath from you, and the sound seems to go straight to his head.
He kisses you deeper, impatient now, like the few seconds it took to climb into the backseat were already too many.
His hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss before either of you can think better of it. The hat flicks off and his shirt disappears somewhere into the dark, tossed aside without a second thought as his fingers slide into your hair.
A low groan rumbles from his throat when your hands find the waistband of his shorts. “Finally,” he murmurs, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “Been waitin’ for this all damn night.”
“Me too.”
His focus drops to your mouth. “Yeah?” The corner of his mouth tilts upward. “Then show me,” he mumbles, smiling into the next kiss as his hand drags between your thighs, rubbing your warmth through your clothes.
Your nails trail down his bare chest as you kiss along his neck, feeling the deep groan that rumbles through him. “Let me see you,” he says.
Your heart stutters as he guides you into his lap. Max groans the second you settle over him, your clothed body pressing against him, separated by entirely too much for his liking.
He watches you with heavy eyes and parted lips, his hands already roaming beneath your shirt, sliding up your back before he undoes your bra in one quick snap.
“Fuck me,” he mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. His hands cup your breast as you straddle him and you gasp when his thumbs brush over you, your body arching instinctively into his touch as your hips grind against the thick print of him.
Your lips settle against his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your mouth before you kiss higher, lips dusting the shell of his ear as you breathe. Max lets out a rough groan when your hips roll against him just right, his eyes squeezing shut for a second as he fights for control.
“Oh my God, baby,” he mumbles, his gaze locked on yours before his mouth finds yours again, hot and greedy as you grind down against the outline of him through his briefs.
You keep him pressed right there beneath you, letting him feel every slow roll of your hips as you move against him.
“Holy fuck,” he groans, his head tipping back for a second before his gaze drops again, eyeing the dark gray patch of fabric where the precum gathered.
“Mhmm,” you hum, dragging it out as your hips keep moving.
“Christ. Need to be inside you,” he huffs, the words tumbling out faster this time, his voice already rough. “Done waiting.”
His hands slide higher along your thighs before drifting back down, fingers catching lightly at your shorts, tugging them lower.
His lips dust over yours, lifting his hips just enough to tug his boxers down, his heavy cock hitting his skin.
Max’s mouth falls open when your hips start to move. Just the tip of him pressed right against your soaked entrance as you roll your hips with a practiced sway, dragging him through the slickness.
His head thuds back against the seat and a rough groan slips out of him. “Ugh, that’s it. That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he hums, watching you sink down on the first few inches before lifting off again just enough to leave him staring at the sheen of you on him.
“Feels so good,” you sigh, playing with the depth as you watch his composure start to crack. His hips lift off the seat automatically, chasing your warmth without a second thought.
His forearms tense as his grip firms around your waist, the look on his face giving him away long before his words ever could.
Max’s gaze is fixed and heavy on you as your body moves in the dark. Every bounce of your chest, every flutter of your lashes, every shaky breath that leaves you when the angle hits just right.
He palms your ass, gripping your hips like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.
“Max,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his, your breath unsteady. “Feels so—fuck, this feels so good. I’m close—”
“Yeah?” he breathes, the word barely making it out. One hand comes up to tangle in your hair while the other stays anchored at your hip, guiding you closer.
Your eyes pinch shut as he chases the feeling, and the reaction alone has him hanging by a thread.
“Max! Fu-uck—” Your voice breaks apart on his name, the sound punching straight through whatever self-control he has left.
His jaw clenches immediately. Not because he isn’t enjoying himself, because he is. Way too fucking much.
“Jesus Christ, baby,” he mutters, his forehead dropping briefly against yours as he fights to stay present, his massive hands tightening instinctively on your hips.
His hand slides up your back as he watches you come apart in his arms, eyes fixed on your face. A groan slips out of him when his name leaves your lips in a squeal.
“Yeah, baby? Shit.” His chain catches on the sweat on his chest, his lips parted as his eyes start to glaze over with pleasure, but he wants your focus. “Eyes on me.”
He rocks into you slowly before his pace breaks, driving up into you harder. The wet mess he made squelches through the car as it sways, both of you sure you aren’t going to last much longer like this.
“Feels so fucking good,” he grits out. You whimper that you’re close, the words barely making it out of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m cumming,” Max stammers, your pleasure enough for him to break, jaw tightening, brows furrowing, filling you up but refusing to stop until you cum again.
You follow close behind him, pussy fluttering around his cock as it throbs inside you, leaving him sucking in a breath.
You tuck yourself into his neck, both of you breathing hard, your body still trembling as his hands move slowly up and down your back. His lips press absentmindedly against your skin, soft now where they’d been desperate before.
“Damn…” he whispers, voice low and rough, smiling like an idiot. “I don’t wanna leave—No. No—Holy shit.” Max’s eyes go wide as the garage lights flick on, the world around you far too bright.
Max’s dad steps out of the car, loosening his tie with a smile, stepping around the front of his car before he pops open the passenger’s side for his mom, helping her to her feet.
He presses a kiss against her lips and she giggles—the two of them still not catching on to the party raging inside. Not yet at least.
Max’s big arms wrap around your bare body, sinking with you lower in the seat, trying his best to keep the both of you hidden but the man’s fucking massive—all arms and legs—taking up most of the backseat on his own.
You’re still fighting for a breath from your orgasm, pulse pounding in your head, the two of you collectively holding your breaths as his parents walk in front of the car, heading toward the door to the house.
“Fuck,” Max whispers, his eyes falling shut—whatever hotel night his parents had planned had obviously fallen through.
“Should we go inside?” you whisper, looking back at him and he chuckles, shaking his head, looking back at you.
“Hell no.” His hand cups your cheek, pulling you toward his lips for a kiss. “Can’t get in trouble if they can’t find me.”
“Max…” you sigh, looking back at him. He rolls his eyes, sucking his teeth before he smiles.
WARNINGS: Swearing, Fears of becoming like his father.
SUMMARY: Rafe’s stress boils over, it sparks a fight that forces him to face his father’s shadow. The next day, he makes it right with an apology, a hug, and a surprise trip to Disneyland.
—————————————————————————————————————————
It was one of those chaotic summer afternoons where everything was a little too loud, a little too bright, and definitely a little too much. Sabrina had dragged the kids out back for pool time—Miles and Mason cannonballing like maniacs, Maya rolling her eyes but secretly loving it, and baby Mila kicking her chubby legs in her tiny swimsuit, squealing every time the water splashed her.
Sabrina was lounging nearby in her bikini, hair pulled back, pretending she was relaxed but really keeping track of four different sets of chaos all at once. She was already tired when the sliding door clicked open, and there he was—Rafe. Home early. Four p.m. instead of six.
He’d been gone since before sunrise, suit jacket tossed over his arm, the weight of the day written all over his face. Work was chewing him up lately, and the moment the noise of the backyard hit him, his jaw tightened. The stress, the endless meetings, the deals—it was all still clinging to him like a shadow.
The twins immediately swarmed him, dripping water everywhere, yelling “Dad!” like it was a competition. Maya shouted from the pool for him to watch her dive, Mila squealed and reached her little arms out from her floaty, and poor Rafe just stood there for a second, shoulders tense, lips pressed in a thin line.
Rafe lingered at the edge of the door, running a hand through his hair, his tie hanging loose. He didn’t even bother to put his bag down before Mason nearly tripped trying to wrap wet arms around him. Miles wasn’t far behind, tugging at his shirt, both of them talking over each other about who could swim faster.
“Boys—” he muttered, voice low and rough from the day, but they didn’t notice.
Maya’s voice carried across the pool: “Dad, watch this, I’ve been practicing!” She launched herself off the diving board, water exploding everywhere, and little Mila clapped her hands like it was the best show she’d ever seen.
Sabrina could see his jaw tighten, his nostrils flare—every little sign that he was hanging on by a thread. She stood up, brushing water droplets from her skin, and crossed over to him, her presence soft but steady.
“You’re home early,” she said gently, almost like an anchor. Her tone wasn’t surprised so much as careful, testing.
Rafe finally exhaled, shoulders sinking a fraction. “Couldn’t… stay another hour in that office.” His eyes flicked to the kids, then back to her, guilt threaded into his stress. “I just needed to be here.”
Mila squealed louder, splashing her floaty, and the twins kept tugging, begging him to jump in. Maya was already lining up another dive.
The tugging, the shouting, the splashing—it all stacked on top of the weight he’d been carrying since six that morning. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt, and Sabrina’s squeeze on his hand wasn’t enough to keep the dam from bursting.
“Jesus Christ, would you all just shut up for one goddamn second?” His voice cut across the yard, sharp and loud enough to freeze everyone mid-motion.
The twins immediately let go of his shirt, wide-eyed, and even Maya sank back into the pool, water rippling out around her. Mila blinked from her floaty, confused by the sudden change in energy.
Rafe ran a hand down his face, pacing a few steps. “I’ve been up since six a.m. busting my ass so you kids can have all this—this house, that pool, every little damn thing—and the second I walk in the door, I can’t even breathe without one of you screaming in my ear.” His voice cracked with anger, not softness, eyes darting from Mason to Miles to Maya.
“Dad, we didn’t—” Miles started, but Rafe’s glare cut him off.
“No. Don’t. I don’t want excuses. You’re old enough to know when enough’s enough. You think I like coming home just to feel like I’m walking into another circus? You’re not little kids anymore, start acting like it.”
The silence afterward was heavy. The twins stared at the ground, shoulders hunched. Maya swallowed hard, brushing wet hair from her face, trying not to look stung. Even Mila had gone quiet, kicking her legs slowly in the floaty as if she could sense the shift.
Sabrina’s eyes flicked from the kids back to Rafe, her lips pressed tight. She didn’t jump in right away—she knew better than to try softening him down in the first five minutes.
Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath: “Fuckin’ insane… can’t even come home to peace…”
Rafe dropped his hand from his face and looked back at the pool, his eyes sharp. “You think it’s funny? You think it’s cute to be running around like a bunch of lunatics the second I walk in? Mason, Miles—you’re fifteen, not five. Stop acting like fucking idiots.”
The twins exchanged a glance, but neither dared to answer.
“And Maya,” Rafe’s voice cut through again, sharper than a whip, “screaming across the yard every two seconds for me to watch you dive? Jesus, give it a rest. Do you think I need more noise in my head after ten straight hours of bullshit meetings and phone calls?”
Maya’s lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, but she just sank lower into the water, cheeks burning.
Rafe let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. I bust my ass so you little fuckers can have every goddamn thing, and I can’t even walk through the door without getting ambushed. You don’t have a clue what pressure feels like, not one fucking clue.”
He pointed toward the twins, his voice raising another notch. “When I was your age, I didn’t have a pool, or a massive house, or a mom and dad paying for everything. And what do you two do? Run around like animals, dripping water everywhere, screaming in my face the second I walk through the door.”
Mason finally muttered, “We were just happy you came home early—”
“Happy?” Rafe snapped, cutting him off with a sharp bark of laughter. “You call this happy? You’re not listening, Mason. None of you are. Happy would be shutting the fuck up for once and giving me two goddamn minutes of peace when I get home.”
The backyard went dead silent again, the air thick. Mila whimpered in her floaty, sensing the tension, and Sabrina moved quickly to scoop her up, pressing the baby against her hip, her jaw tight as she watched Rafe pace like a caged animal.
“Swear to God,” Rafe muttered, dragging his hands down his face again, “one of these days I’m just gonna walk right back out that door and not come home. At least then I’d get a minute to breathe.”
The kids froze at that—hurt, confused, and quiet.
Sabrina’s head snapped up at his last words, heat flashing across her face. “Wow,” she said sharply, voice carrying across the backyard. “Real nice, Rafe. Threatening to walk out on your own kids? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised—you are your father’s son.”
That hit him square in the chest. Rafe froze, eyes narrowing instantly, anger twisting into something darker. “The fuck did you just say?”
But Sabrina didn’t back down. Her chin lifted, eyes blazing. “You heard me. You stand there talking about how hard you work, how much pressure you’re under—like we don’t all feel it. Like these kids don’t deserve their dad coming home and actually being glad to see them instead of tearing into them for existing.”
The baby fussed softly, but Sabrina’s grip was steady, protective. “You want quiet? You want peace? Fine.” Her voice cut sharp as she turned toward the twins and Maya. “Inside. Now.”
Mason and Miles didn’t argue, not this time. Shoulders hunched, eyes down, they shuffled past their dad without a word. Maya followed, still dripping from the pool, lips pressed tight to keep her own anger in check.
Sabrina’s glare never left Rafe as she walked toward the sliding glass door, Mila on her hip, her other hand gesturing for the older kids to move faster. “You don’t get to dump your stress on them. Not after the shit you’ve pulled, not after everything we’ve already survived.”
The door slid shut behind her with a heavy clunk, leaving Rafe standing alone on the deck, chest heaving, jaw tight, his wife’s words echoing in his head: You are your father’s son.
Later that night.
The house had settled into a heavy kind of quiet. The twins were upstairs, doors closed, Maya curled up with her headphones in, pretending she wasn’t upset. Dinner dishes sat in the sink, half-rinsed. The only sound came from Mila’s soft sucking as she nursed.
Rafe had locked himself away in their room hours ago. The curtains were half-drawn, his tie tossed over a chair, and he sat hunched on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor like it owed him answers. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t moved. Just brooded.
When Sabrina finally pushed the door open, she didn’t look at him. She padded in wearing her beige pajamas, Mila warm and drowsy against her chest in her tiny pink onesie. Without a word, she sat down on the opposite side of the bed, leaning back against the headboard, focusing on the baby and only the baby.
The silence stretched. Rafe’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his eyes darting toward her then away. Finally, the tension snapped.
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna sit there acting like I don’t exist?” His voice was low, sharp, brittle with defensiveness.
Sabrina glanced at him, cold and tired. “What do you want me to say, Rafe? That it’s fine? That screaming at your kids and threatening to walk out on them is okay? Because it’s not. I’m not brushing this one under the rug.”
His jaw ticked, fingers flexing against his knee. “You don’t get it. I’m under so much fucking pressure right now, Sab—”
She cut him off immediately. “No. Don’t you dare use that as an excuse. We’re all under pressure. You think I’m not? Feeding them, showering them, keeping this whole house running while you sulk in here like some moody teenager?” Her voice cracked, not with weakness but with anger. “You don’t get to dump your shit on them because you can’t handle it.”
Mila squirmed softly in her arms, and Sabrina adjusted her, never taking her eyes off him. “They’re kids, Rafe. Our kids. And you scared the hell out of them today.”
He exhaled through his nose, rough, raking a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean—”
“You did.” Her voice was firm, not loud but solid, unshakable. “And I meant it too. The second you start sounding like your dad, I will call you on it. I’m not raising this family in the same bullshit cycle you grew up in.”
Rafe’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing at her words. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him again.” His voice was low but sharp enough to cut.
Sabrina didn’t flinch. “If the shoe fits, Rafe.”
That was enough to set him off. He pushed up from the edge of the bed, pacing across the room like a storm. “You think I want to be like him? You think I don’t spend every fucking day trying not to turn into Ward Cameron? Jesus, Sab, you’re supposed to have my back—not throw that shit in my face.”
“I do have your back,” she shot back, voice raising now. Mila stirred against her chest, but Sabrina only shifted her gently, her tone hardening. “But I’m not going to stand by and watch you tear down the kids the way he tore you down. That’s not happening in this house.”
Rafe turned, his face flushed, hands balled into fists at his sides. “You act like I’m the bad guy. Like I don’t kill myself out there every fucking day so you don’t have to worry about bills, so they can have every goddamn thing I never had. And one bad night—one fucking bad night—and suddenly I’m my father?”
Sabrina’s laugh was sharp, humorless. “One bad night? Rafe, you’ve been snapping at them for weeks. Tonight was just the worst of it. You want credit for paying bills? Great. You want a medal for working? Fine. But don’t act like that gives you the right to come home and unload on us.”
His chest rose and fell hard, nostrils flaring, eyes dark. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under—”
“And you don’t understand the damage you’re doing,” she cut in, her voice firm, final. “I’m not your punching bag. Neither are they.”
Rafe’s shoulders slumped as the fire drained out of him. He dragged a shaky hand down his face, pacing slowing until he stopped at the foot of the bed. His voice, when it came, was rough.
“Fuck…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “You’re right. I—” His throat worked, words catching. “I shouldn’t have… I lost it. I shouldn’t have said any of that to them.”
Sabrina didn’t answer right away, just kept Mila steady against her, rubbing the baby’s back in slow circles. The silence pressed down on him, making the guilt burn hotter in his chest.
Finally, he forced himself to look at her. His eyes were glassy now, the anger burned out into something rawer. “I don’t wanna be him, Sab. I swear to God, I don’t.” His voice cracked, and before he could stop it, a tear slipped down his cheek. He swiped it away quickly, almost angrily, but it didn’t matter—Sabrina had seen.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Sabrina sighed, shifting Mila in her arms as she stood up from the bed. The baby, still nursing drowsily, didn’t stir when she stepped toward Rafe. His head was bowed, one hand braced on the dresser, jaw tight as if he was waiting for her to tear into him again.
Instead, she reached out and wrapped her free arm around him, pulling him into her while balancing Mila between them. Rafe stiffened at first, then sank into the hug, burying his face against her shoulder. His chest heaved, a shaky breath rattling out of him.
“I know you’re sorry,” Sabrina murmured, her voice low but steady, lips close to his ear. “But sorry isn’t enough if it keeps happening.” She rubbed small circles on his back with her hand, firm but not overly soft. “These kids love you. They worship you. You scare the shit out of them when you come home and treat them like that.”
Rafe’s grip tightened around her waist, his voice muffled. “I don’t wanna be that guy, Sab. I swear.”
“Then don’t,” she said simply, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. Her expression was tired, but strong. “It’s that easy and that hard. You’ve got to choose not to be him every single day. Especially when you’re stressed.”
The next morning.
The house was still quiet when Sabrina padded into the living room, Mila warm and wriggly on her hip. Mason and Miles trailed behind, yawning, their hair sticking up in every direction, while Maya shuffled in clutching her blanket. No one had spoken much since last night—just tired goodnights and the sound of doors closing.
But there was Rafe, already awake, standing in the middle of the living room. He looked different—softer around the edges, eyes tired but clearer. He rubbed the back of his neck as they all filed in, his kids watching him carefully like they weren’t sure which version of their dad they’d find.
“Hey,” he started, voice low. “I… I need to say something.”
Mason and Miles exchanged a quick glance, Maya hugged her blanket tighter, and Sabrina stood steady with Mila, waiting.
Rafe’s gaze dropped to the floor before finding each of them in turn. “I fucked up yesterday. Bad. I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have said half the shit I did. You guys didn’t deserve that. And I’m… I’m sorry. Like, really fucking sorry.” His voice cracked a little on the last word, but he kept going. “You’re kids. You’re supposed to be loud and excited when I come home. That’s what I should want. That’s what I do want. I let my shit get in the way.”
The twins shuffled uncomfortably, and Maya’s eyes flicked toward Sabrina, who gave her the smallest nod to encourage her to listen.
“And,” Rafe continued, clearing his throat, “I know words aren’t enough. So, uh… I booked something.” He reached onto the coffee table and picked up a slim folder, holding it out like it might explode. “Two weeks. Disneyland. All of us. You leave me alone with my own guilt long enough, I’ll do something crazy.”
The kids froze, blinking at him, processing. Then Miles’s jaw dropped. “Wait—Disneyland? Like… Disneyland Disney?”
“Yeah,” Rafe said, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “The one with Mickey Mouse, fireworks, overpriced food— the whole deal.”
Mason’s eyes lit up, Maya let out a shocked laugh, and even Mila squealed on Sabrina’s hip as if she understood. The living room shifted instantly, tension breaking into a flood of excitement.
The kids were buzzing, questions tumbling out—when were they going, could they ride Space Mountain, did Disneyland really sell giant turkey legs? Rafe let them talk over each other for a minute, his expression softening in a way it hadn’t in weeks.
Then he lifted his hands, quieting them. “Alright, alright—hold up.” His eyes swept over all three of them, then down at Mila, her tiny fist tangled in Sabrina’s pajama top. His voice was softer now, but still steady. “So… do you forgive me?”
For a moment, no one answered. Then Maya stepped forward first, blanket slipping down her arm, and she wrapped her arms around his waist without a word. The twins followed immediately, bumping into each other in their rush, clutching onto him tight. Rafe bent down, pulling them in close, his arms locking around all three.
Sabrina walked closer, Mila perched on her hip, and leaned in too. Rafe pressed his forehead against Sabrina’s temple, his free hand brushing gently over Mila’s back. The baby squealed and smacked her little palm against his chest like she was part of it too.
The living room was quiet except for the sound of breathing and the muffled “love yous” whispered into the hug. For the first time in a long while, it felt like the house was steady again—messy, loud, imperfect, but steady.
