warnings ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა : big dih rafe , kind of subby rafe >-< , p in v ( missionary ) , dih description , brief oral ( fem rec. ) , belly bulges :D
nerd!rafe had a hung smile. y’know that smile guys have when you know it’s big. real sultry n’ wide that had you wondering if anything else was wide down low, if you’re pickin’ up what i’m puttin’ down.
yeah, that was rafe. the handsome nerd in your physics class who you’ve wanted since the first day of classes. laughing at one of his buddy's jokes with that dimpled grin, and smile lines that only added to his charm.
& a woman’s intuition is never wrong, so when you finally got him in your bed, you were pleased to see you were 100% correct . . .
“w–what’s wrong?” he stammered, noticing your eyes were glued onto his cock. “you don’t like it? i–i’ll see what i can do, jus’ don’t look at it for too long.”
“no, it’s pretty,” you finally looked up at him, stopping his rambling. pretty was honestly an understatement; his dick was unreal.
it was tanned with a prominent vein that ran along the underside of his cock. his tip was mushroom-like, and you were surprised that those actually existed in real life. it was also quite flushed as he grew needier, a pearl of pre jus’ nearly dribbling down his length. both wide n’ heavy, the thickness literally weighing his cock down.
“it won’t be too much for you, will it?” he questions, mindlessly dragging his leaky tip between your folds, his heart hammering against his chest as he begins coating himself in your sticky slick.
he already ate you out moments before to prepare you. lapping up your juices for what felt like hours, remnants of your arousal glistened on his lips. he nods when you tell him, “it’s okay, i can take it, rafey . . .”
it felt like rafe was in your throat. by no means was he rough; he was just soooo big that you felt him at your deepest spots with the smallest roll of his hips. he wasn’t even going fast, nervously looking up at each clench, sharp breath, or shiver, making sure you were enjoying it.
“am i good?” he’d ask with a whine. if you were sane enough, you’d scoff. was he good? good wasn’t nearly enough to describe how perfect he was. the way he filled you, hitting your sweet spot in a way that had you pulsing and expelling your essence around him in creamy rivulets.
“ ‘s big, rafey,” you managed between moans. all he could do was offer you an apologetic look while your tummy bulged with each thrust.
his mind and body would go on autopilot, forcing himself to drive deeper into your heat when he saw that dazed expression on your face . . .
well, it’s safe to say rafe cameron took you thru there, but you certainly weren’t done with him just yet. maybe next time you’ll cockwarm him & see what that’s giving!
It wasn’t like you’d meant to distract Rafe while he was on the phone; you knew better than that. But when you heard who he was talking to, you couldn’t help but feel a sharp thread of envy bubble in your stomach, and before you knew it, you slid your hands beneath the waistband of his jeans, easing the zipper down and tugging the fabric just enough to free him.
“Yeah, I’ll- fuck - sorry, stubbed my toe. I’ll see if I can take the boat out for jus’ the two of us.” Rafe breathed out, trying not to moan as you licked a stripe up from the base of his cock to his tip, feeling the ridges of his veins on the flat of your tongue. A pattern you’d almost memorized on every part of your body that could have ever touched it, your mouth, your hands, the plush walls of your insides. The phone’s speaker was tilted away as Rafe whispered your name in a scolding tone, “Cut that shit out.”
The way his face looked at you with both desperation and domination only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more, like they fed off of the realization that even with some other girl demanding his attention, it was still you he reacted to first, like it was his instinct, his loyalty to you written into his bones.
You softly smiled up at him, eyes wide and doe-eyed, as you kitten-licked the precum that leaked from his tip, his cock glistening red and hardened as it twitched from the sensation. You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently and hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, revelling in the way his hand immediately flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to ground himself.
“Y-yeah, Stacey, that sounds perfect,” Rafe choked out, his voice was tight and strained as he fought to keep his composure. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight as you bobbed your head, taking him further into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You relaxed your jaw and hollowed your mouth, allowing Rafe to buck his hips and fuck your mouth slowly, the wet heat of your tongue dragging against the sensitive underside of his shaft.
The heat in your core started to pulse, your thighs suddenly slick, and the need for Rafe to solely focus on you became more urgent as you ground yourself against your hand to try and relieve some tension. Was it so wrong that he only had eyes for you, or that the boat was your thing only? As Rafe continued to thrust into your mouth, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you, taking him whole and almost completely at his mercy, solely because you were jealous of who he’d been talking to. It wasn’t like he was blind to it; he knew it’d spark the possessive side in you, the side he wished you’d show more often.
Rafe could do whatever he wanted, have whatever he pleased, and genuinely could not give a flying fuck as to what others thought. However, the one thing he’d always wished for was for you to stop pretending you didn’t care. To stop softening the edges of your jealousy, to stop playing it off when he knew damn well how deeply you felt things. He wanted you to be selfish, wanting him loudly, claiming him without apology.
“Dinner sounds good, what time were you thinking?”
You immediately hummed around him in amusement, the vibrations travelling straight through his cock and making him buck his hips involuntarily. You choked a little louder than you would’ve liked, leading Rafe to glare at you as a silent warning to behave. But his pupils widening and now darkened blue eyes gave away how much he was enjoying this. You doubled down, swirling your tongue around the tip before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt and swallowing around him.
“Seven works,” Rafe gritted out, his hand in your hair tugging at your roots as he tried to take control again. “I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up, yeah?” Jus’ you and me, no one else.” He paused, listening to her response. Feeling a surge of possessiveness in you, you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed hard, pulling back with a loud pop which led Rafe to hiss through his teeth into the phone. “Nah I’m just… handling some business right now. But I’m looking forward to Thursday.”
You smirked up at him, drool gathering at the corner of your mouth as you stroked him with your hand, slick with your spit. You leaned down to lap at his balls, taking one gently into your mouth and sucking, knowing it would wreck him.
“Ye-yeah fire away, what did you wanna ask?” Rafe managed to get out as he felt you take him in your mouth again, your fist twisting at the base of his cock as you bobbed your head, tasting him in the process. You heard your name being mentioned as you felt him swell in your mouth, the frantic throbbing pressed against your tongue.
“What does she have to do with this?” Rafe grunted, his hips bucking up involuntarily. His hand shot to the back of your head, not to push you away, but to hold you in place, to anchor himself as you took him to the hilt over and over again. The head of his cock was hitting the back of your throat with every downward plunge, and you just took it, swallowing around him, the constricting muscles milking him for all he was worth. “Listen you got a problem with her, then I-”
The dam that was built in Rafe for so long finally broke when he looked at the sight of you rubbing your clit while sucking him off with no mercy. He moaned out, thick and heavy, the first spurt of his release hitting the back of your throat. Rafe arched off the couch and buried his face in the crook of his arm, muffling the guttural sounds of his climax as you continued to work him through it, swallowing everything he gave you. His hips jerked with each pulse, a helpless, violent rhythm that spoke of his complete and total surrender to the pleasure you were forcing on him.
Rafe finally came back to himself, his chest heaving. He pulled you off him gently, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound. He looked at you: your swollen lips, the smug yet innocent satisfaction in your eyes, and a dark, possessive fire ignited in his gut.
“Then I’m sorry, but this isn’t gonna work out. My best friend’s not a fucking threat.”
Rafe hung up the phone and tossed it to the side, his full attention snapping on you. “You think you’re fucking funny?” he growled, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crash his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.
summary: rafe got a buzzcut and calls you to show you
warnings: none
a/n: this is a very short one guys, i’m sorry 😔
-> dividers credits: @bhavihelps & @anitalenia !!
part 2!! :)
rafe went with topper and kelce to topper’s right after he got his new haircut. he was very much pleased with his new look, but he was lowkey nervous about your reaction. but just a little bit.. he knew he looked good.
"have you told her?" topper said while he was busy playing a video game. kelce was sprawled on the couch while he stared at rafe and waited for his answer. rafe simply shook his head before he took his phone out of the pocket of his shorts.
"it’s a surprise." rafe smirked and unlocked his phone. "you’re so screwed." kelce chuckled out before he sat up so he could take a sip of his beer. rafe rolled his eyes and kelce smirked. "you know how girls are." topper agreed. "sarah cried when i cut my hair."
kelce pointed at topper. "see?" rafe groaned. "that’s ‘cause topper’s dating a bitch." topper shook his head. "hey, don’t call your sister bitch man." rafe chuckled and smirked when he finally got to find your number and started calling you.
"you’re about to be single or.. you’re about to have the best sex of your life." kelce mumbled quietly and rafe shook his head at his comment with a small smile spreading on his lips. "you’re stupid."
then you finally answered. "hii!" rafe’s smile got wider thanks to hearing your voice. "hey baby."
meanwhile you, on the other side, were just laying in your bed, watching a movie. "what’s up? are you still at topper’s?" rafe cleared his throat. "yeah. i uh.. i have to show you something."
you raised your eyebrows at that. "show me what?" he rubbed his freshly buzzed hair and smirked wider at her reaction. "i’ll facetime you, okay?" you smiled in confusion on the other side. "sure."
rafe quickly did what he said but purposely turned his camera off. he smiled when he saw your face. "i can’t see you." you said with a small chuckle. he wasn’t chronically online as you so you thought he was just dumb and accidentally turned his camera off.
"oops.. my bad." he teased and turned his camera on. your eyes widened but you stayed silent.. he was like 10 times hotter than before.. HOW was that even possible. your lips parted a bit as you kept staring for like a minute.. in silence. he chuckled with a smirk. "do you like it?" he turned his head to the side so you could see it better. you snapped back to reality. “mhm?"
"do you like it?" he repeated. you nodded with this shy but also teasing smile. "like it? i love it." he smirked and looked at kelce & topper, giving them a knowing look. he knew you’ll love it.
he couldn’t help but smirk wider as you admired him, not even saying anything. "cat’s got your tongue, baby?" he teased and you couldn’t help but smile back. "what? i can’t stare at my boyfriend?"
"oh of course you can." he got up and just walked away from his two friends so you two could get more.. talkative.
"no but seriously, it suits you so well." you genuinely meant every word. he literally can pull off anything. he smirked softly at you. "thanks, baby." your eyes landed on his face again.
"how much longer are you staying at topper’s?" you shifted on your bed slightly, you could feel you got wet already just from looking at him. jesus, you felt pathetic but damn.. he looked insanely hot.
he smirked before he licked his lips. "why?" you shrugged before you ran your fingers through your hair. "just.. i’m home alone tonight."
jj swears he fell for you the first time you laughed at one of his stupid jokes instead of rolling your eyes at him like everyone else usually does.
he acts annoyed when you make him wear sunscreen but secretly loves when you rub it over his nose and cheeks because it’s one of the few kinds of soft affection he’s gotten used to.
if you’re naturally affectionate he becomes clingy without even realising it. always has an arm around your waist, hooking his finger through your belt loop, pulling you into his chest while he talks to people.
when he’s having bad nights he shows up at your window without texting first and just quietly crawls into bed beside you.
the thing he loves most is that you never make him feel like he’s “too much” to love. you just have a way with people.
you have him wrapped around your finger without even trying. one smile from you and suddenly he’s agreeing to things he swore he’d never do.
compliments from each other go something like this.
you: “well you look mighty fine as always, jj.”
jj: “not as fine as you though, sunshine. swear you walk around this island tryin’ to ruin my life.”
he’d teach you how to drive the boat while standing behind you with his hands over yours on the wheel.
jj is the type to randomly kiss you mid sentence because he “couldn’t help it”.
when he gets hurt doing something reckless he tries to act tough until you start patching him up then suddenly he’s hissing dramatically and whining for attention.
the first time you say “i love you” he goes completely quiet for a second because nobody’s ever said it to him in a way that felt real before. after that he says it all the time. whispered against your lips, mumbled half asleep and yelled across the beach.
a/n: this was so cute!! i felt like sunshine! reader would suit jj the best so i really hope you guys like it and i can’t wait to right some fics for them! :))
“Picked Up & Pounded: Standing Creampie Leaves Her Legs Shaking”
(in which your boyfriend, Rafe, switches things up a bit in bed😛)
The bedroom is dark except for the faint silver glow from the moon coming through the half-open blinds, and the only sound is your breathing; quick and shallow, and his, low and ragged. And the wet slap of skin on skin as he fucks you from behind on the edge of the mattress.
You’re on your knees, ass up, face pressed to the sheets, back arched so perfectly he can see every ridge of your spine, every tremble that runs through you when he hits deep. His hands are locked around your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave marks you’ll feel tomorrow, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust so he buries himself to the hilt, balls slapping wetly against your clit. You’re dripping. Coating him, running down your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath your knees, and every time he pulls out almost all the way you whimper like he’s taking something vital away, then moan broken and high when he slams back in, stretching you open again.
“Fuck—Rafe—deeper—“
He gives it to you.
He always gives it to you.
He’s been fucking you for over an hour now-started slow on the couch downstairs when you climbed into his lap after dinner and ground against him until he was hard enough to hurt, then carried you up here and bent you over the dresser, then the bed, then flipped you onto your back so he could watch your face while he railed you until you came so hard you cried. You’ve come four times already. Once on his tongue, twice on his cock, once on his fingers while he kissed you slow and deep, and you’re still begging for more, still pushing back to meet every thrust like you can’t get enough of him inside you.
He loves it.
He loves how you take every inch like you were made for it.
He loves how you look when you’re falling apart-eyes glassy, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, tears clinging to your lashes while you sob his name and beg him not to stop.
He loves how you feel—tight, wet, hot, fluttering around him like you’re trying to pull him in deeper, keep him there forever
He slows his thrusts, grinds deep instead of slamming, rolls his hips so the head of his cock drags against that spot inside you that makes your whole body shake.
You moan— long, low, trembling—push back harder.
“Rafe— please—don’t stop—“
He leans over you, chest to your back, his mouth at your ear.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he rasps. “So wet. So perfect. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes— fuck—yes!”
He slides one hand around—finds your clit—rubs slow circles while he keeps grinding deep.
You sob, hips jerking, already close again.
“Come for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock. Let me feel it. Let me feel you squeeze me, baby.”
You shatter, crying his name, walls clamping down so hard he has to grit his teeth to keep from coming right then.
He doesn’t stop.
He fucks you through it. Slow, deep, until your tremors ease, until you’re whimpering from overstimulation but still pushing back for more.
Then he pulls out, slow and watches the way your cunt gapes for a second, still fluttering, still dripping with your release and his from earlier.
You whine, soft, needy and reach back, eager to get him back inside.
He grabs your hips, flips you onto your back then spreads your thighs wide.
You look completely wrecked. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glassy and dark with want, body trembling from how hard he fucked you.
He leans down, kisses you slow, deep, tongue sliding against yours while he lines himself up again.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pull him closer, moan into his mouth when he slides back in.
He fucks you slow, deep, watching your face the whole time.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “So perfect. And you’re all mine.”
You nod—tears spilling—hips rocking up desperately to meet him.
“Yours! Only yours, Rafe, please—fuck me.”
He picks up speed—harder, faster—until you’re shaking again, clenching, close.
Then he stops.
Pulls out completely.
You whine, desperate, reaching for him.
He grabs your wrists, wraps your arms around his neck.
“Hold tight, baby.” he smirks.
You blink—confused—but obey.
Then he stands, pulls you with him, lifts you like you weigh nothing.
You gasp at the sudden change of position, feeling yourself get wetter already at the sight of your boyfriend ready to fuck you while he’s literally standing, every muscle in his body flexing and shining with sweat that makes your mouth water for a taste.
Your legs tighten around his waist immediately-arms around his neck, mouth finding his in a hungry, desperate kiss.
He holds you there, standing in the middle of the bedroom, cock pressed to your entrance.
“Please—Rafe. Need it. Need your big cock inside me.” you whimper, hips rocking, trying to impale yourself on him.
He doesn’t let you.
Not yet.
He kisses your neck, bites down, sucks hard enough to leave a bruise.
You moan, loud, broken, head falling back.
“Rafe—please—“
With a groan, he shifts, lines up, and thrusts up hard.
You scream—sharp, sweet—nails digging into his shoulders as he buries himself to the hilt.
He holds you there, standing, feet planted wide and thrusting up into you while he holds your weight like it’s nothing, his fingers gripping the fat of your ass roughly and spreading you wide.
You’re shaking— legs trembling around his waist—moaning his name over and over.
“Fuck—Rafe, you’re so strong—fuck—”
He growls, low, feral, then thrusts harder, deeper—each stroke lifting you up then slamming you back down onto his cock.
“You like that?” he rasps against your throat. “Like how strong I am? Like how I can hold you up and fuck you like this? Like I can carry you and rail this tight little cunt at the same time?”
“Yes—God—yes!”
He fucks you harder— faster— until you’re bouncing in his arms, tits pressed to his chest, nipples scraping his skin with every thrust.
“Look at you,” he growls. “Taking me so deep, shaking— moaning like a little slut. My perfect fucking girl.”
You sob— high, broken—nails raking down his back.
“Rafe! Gonna come—gonna come so hard—“
“Fuck yeah baby, come on, cream on this cock—let me feel it—show me how much you love it.”
You shatter, crying his name, cunt clamping down so hard he almost blacks out.
Your whole body convulses—hips jerking, thighs trembling, wetness gushing around him, dripping down his balls.
He doesn’t stop.
He keeps thrusting— hard, deep—holding you up while you shake and sob and come apart in his arms.
“Fuck—baby.”
He comes hard—burying deep—spilling inside you with a groan, hips jerking, filling you until it’s leaking out around his cock.
You whimper, soft, overstimulated, walls still fluttering around him.
He holds you there, standing, breathing hard while kissing you slow, deep, gentle.
You cling to him. Arms around his neck, legs still wrapped tight, face buried in his shoulder.
“I love you,” you whisper, voice trembling, body limp in his arms.
He kisses your temple, soft, reverent.
“I love you too.”
Then he carries you back to the bed, lays you down gently, stays inside you while he settles on top.
You don’t move.
Just breathe.
Just hold each other.
And you know you’re gonna ask for this position again real soon.
You and Rafe finally get the house to yourselves over the summer, and you quite literally can't get enough of eachother.
Warnings: Smut, mention of p n v, oral, fem! And male! Recieving. Authors first language isn't english. Mention of alcohol and drugs.
Ever since summer started and Ward and Rose went to Barbados you and Rafe literally can't stop touching eachother.
Maybe it was Wards fault for leaving two very hormonal nineteen year olds alone in a big empty house.
When the others were home, Rafe had always been so careful. He rarely ever fucked you, scared to death that someone was going to walk in on you two. He'd eat you out once in a while, keeping a steady hand over your throat to muffle your sounds.
But now that you had the whole house to yourselves, everything changed.
The warm summer days you were supposed to spend by the pool or on the beach turned into long filthy sessions where you'd ride him until you just couldn't take it anymore.
Your embarassingly wet pussy taking his hard and thick cock so well.
It became a habit, a bad one. You'd cancel on friends because Rafe gripped your waist just a little to hard before leaving the house. Or because you wore a too revealing dress and just Rafe couldn't help himself.
He'd find you by the pool, chilling in one of the sunbeds, wearing one of those oh so slutty bikinis he once bought you.
He'd walk up to you from behind, press slow and hot kisses to your neck before bending you over and fucking you deep and hard while the faint sound of water splashing in the pool filled your ears.
He'd find you in the kitchen while you're cooking, pulling you away from the stove for a moment all for a short dry- humping session that left you both soaked and desperate for eachother.
And most days, he'd offer to drive you to your friends house, only to park on the street next to hers.
" Just a quickie. "
That was what he said every single time, but that quickie, turned into so much more and all of a sudden you were twenty minutes late to a girls night out and had five missed calls.
Oh it was unhealthy, it really was. — How the two of you just couldn't keep your hands off eachother, no matter how hard you tried.
And it was even more unhealthy how fucking was the only thing you did. You had been dating for awhile, usually seeing eachother at parties, only having time for a quick makeout session in the bathroom before saying your goodbyes.
And of course, the times where he'd invite you over only to eat you out, he'd force you to climb through the window instead of taking the main door. Just so that Ward wouldn’t find out that he was having girls over aswell.
Ward truly saw Rafe as a failure og some kind—which of course, you did understand.
He was a drug addict, spent his daddys money on buying motorcycles and well—drugs. He could be gone for a full day and come home at 2:am with no explanation of where he had been or who he had been with.
Of course that would make a father worry.
But Rafe didn't understand, perhaps he was too deep into the drug addiction and the self hate that he just saw himself as the failure his father believed him to be.
But without an explanation.
And he tried, oh he did try so hard to have his fathers approval. Even if that came with hiding you from him.
That hurt you, you loved Rafe and all you wished for was that he would feel the love, feel the love that so many people around him held for him.
Not only you.
But what hurt you even more was that you truly only saw eachother to fuck and drink. You couldn't remember the last time you and Rafe had done something, "coupely" together.
If that even was a word.
You just fucked and drank, fucked and drank. Sometimes in between rounds. But yeah, that was truly all that you were.
𑣲 Aska speaks: This turned out so bad towards the end and it's pissing me off.. it felt as if I was just writing down whatever words came to mind without actually putting any thought into it. Well well, I hope everyone enjoyed reading either way. And I hope i'm your new fav Rafe writer after this.. perhaps 😉 (jk)
Summary: You should have just broke up, but Rafe would never let that happen.
Warning: DV, NONCON/DUBCON, PHYSICAL ABUSE, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, physical violence, Alcohol, addiction, pregnancy, mention or abortion, drug use (from rafe). if any of this triggers you or isn’t your thing, scroll away. This is fiction. 
An: heyyy yall lmk if u want a part 2 and like, comment reblog for more! Hearing what u think keeps me motived to write more fics!!
Part 2
MINORS DNI
The house was quiet in that heavy way it got after everyone left. Rafe had made sure the door was locked behind the last person out. You'd felt it, the shift in him all night. The way his eyes tracked you from the corner of the room, jaw locked, fingers drumming restless on his knee while you talked to friends. He hadn't said much then. Just drank. Watched. Waited.
Now the bedroom door clicked shut behind you both. The lock turned slow, deliberate. The lamp on his dresser cast a dim yellow glow, catching the sweat on his neck, the flush creeping up from his collar.
Whiskey breath mixed with the faint chemical bite of coke still lingering on him. His shirt hung open at the top buttons, sleeves shoved up, arms tense like coiled wire.
He didn't speak right away. Just stood there, back to the door, staring at you like he was deciding something. You stayed near the bed, arms loose at your sides but ready, heart already picking up speed. The carpet felt rough under your bare feet, the air thick and stale.
"You had fun tonight," he said finally. Voice low, slurred just enough to show the liquor had settled deep. No question in it. Statement. Accusation.
"I talked to people. That's what parties are for."
He pushed off the door. Slow steps toward you. "Yeah. You talked. Laughed. Let that Pogue asshole get right up in your space. Smiled at him like he was funny. Like I wasn't standing ten feet away."
Your throat tightened.
"It was nothing. He made a joke. I laughed. End of story."
Rafe stopped close. You could feel the heat rolling off him, smell the sharp edge of his anger under the booze.
"Nothing," he repeated. Soft. Almost thoughtful. Then his hand came up, slow, like he had all the time in the world, and wrapped around your throat. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. Fingers warm, thumb resting over your pulse. You felt it jump under his touch.
"You think I'm stupid?" he murmured. Eyes locked on yours. Pupils blown wide. "You think I don't see how you light up for them? How you pull away from me the second someone else is around?"
"Rafe." Your voice came out small. You hated it. "You're drunk. Let go."
His thumb pressed in a little. Just enough to make breathing feel deliberate. "Nah. We're talking now. You wanted to act like everything's fine all night? We're talking about why it's not."
You tried to step back. His other hand shot to your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise tomorrow. He pulled you forward instead. Chest to chest, his heartbeat thudding fast against yours.
"You always do this," he said. Voice dropping lower. Rougher. "Act like I'm the crazy one. Like I imagine shit. But I don't. I see it. Every time."
His grip on your throat tightened fraction by fraction. Air got thinner. Your hands came up instinctively, pushing at his wrist. He didn't budge.
"Stop," you rasped.
He tilted his head. Studied your face like he was memorizing the fear there.
"You know what happens when you push me like this. You've known for a while."
The words hung heavy. He wasn't yelling. Wasn't frantic. Just calm. Cold. Like this was inevitable. Like you'd walked into it on your own.
You shoved harder at his chest. He let go of your throat only to grab both your wrists instead. Twisted them behind your back in one rough motion. Pain flared sharp up your arms. You gasped. He used the momentum to force you back until your legs hit the bed. You fell onto it, him following, knee between your thighs, pinning you down.
He loomed over you. Breathing steady now. Controlled. His free hand came back to your face, cupping your cheek almost gently. Thumb brushed over your bottom lip.
"You think you can leave?" he whispered. Not mocking. Not angry. Just stating fact. "You think you walk out that door and this ends?"
His weight pressed heavier. You felt every inch of him, solid, unmovable. The hand on your wrists tightened until your fingers went numb.
"You don't get to decide that," he continued. Voice soft. Almost tender. "Its not just your choice."
Tears burned hot in your eyes. You blinked them back. "You're hurting me."
"I know." Simple. No apology. Just acknowledgment. Like it was part of the conversation.
He leaned down. Lips brushing your ear. "And you'll still be here in the morning. Won't you?"
You didn't answer. Couldn't. The room spun slowly, fear, pain, the sick twist of knowing he was right about the pattern. The bruises he'd left before. The apologies that came too late. The way you'd always gone back.
His mouth moved to your neck. Not kissing. Just breathing there. Hot. Possessive. "Say it."
You shook your head. Small. Defiant.
His hand slid from your cheek to your hair. Gripped hard. Yanked your head back until your throat arched. "Say you'll be here."
The words stuck in your chest. You swallowed against the ache. "Fuck you."
He laughed once, low, quiet. Lacking humor. "Yeah. But you're still here."
He released your wrists suddenly. Rolled off you. Stood up. Backed toward the door like nothing had happened. "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
You stayed curled on the bed. Breathing shallow. Wrists throbbing. Throat raw. Face wet from the tears you hadn't let fall until he turned away.
He didn't look back. Just flipped the lamp off. Darkness swallowed the room.
You waited until his breathing evened out on the couch across the room. He never slept in the bed after nights like this, like he needed distance to cool off.
Then you moved.
Quiet. Careful. Slipped off the bed. Grabbed your shoes. Keys. Didn't bother with anything else.
The front door opened without a sound. Cold night air hit your face. You didn't run. Just walked fast to your car. Started it. Pulled out slowly so the engine wouldn't wake him.
Drove home in the dark. Locked every door behind you. Went to your room. Sat on the floor against the wall. Felt the bruises forming on your wrists, the ache in your throat, the hollow pit in your stomach.
Three days.
You stayed inside. Curtains closed. Phone off. Ignored the rumble of his truck outside, once, twice, then nothing.
On the third day, when the marks had turned deep purple and the fear had hardened into something colder, you turned your phone on.
Typed: We're done.
Sent.
Turned it off.
The silence after felt different this time. Sharp. Final.
You didn't cry. Just sat there. Breathing. Waiting for the fallout you knew was coming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The beach house was already alive when you arrived. It felt warm and forgiving after weeks of hiding in your room. Music drifted out the open doors, vibrating up through the deck planks. The air carried bonfire smoke, spilled tequila, and the faint coconut of someone's sunscreen even though it was dark.
You walked in through the side gate like you always did. Sophia and Avery had texts you earlier.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 GROUPCHAT 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
(6:30 pm)
Sophᥫ᭡: girl pls come out ;(
Sophᥫ᭡: just us girls seriously we need u here!!!
Averyʚɞ: mias margaritas r actually insane tn… come save me
Mia spotted you first. She waved you over with both hands, red cup already in one. "There she is! Finally." Her smile was bright, genuine enough that the knot in your chest loosened a fraction. She pressed the cup into your hand without asking. The glass was cold and slick with condensation. You took a sip…tart lime, too much tequila, the burn sliding smooth down your throat.
"Sit, sit," Sophia said, patting the wicker chair next to her. "We’ve been dying without you."
You sat. The chair creaked under you. The fire pit crackled a few feet away, heat licking at your shins. Avery leaned in on your other side, shoulder bumping yours.
"You look good. Like, really good. We missed your face."
Conversation flowed easily at first. Safe. School gossip. Someone’s new internship. A story about Topper wiping out on his board last weekend that had everyone laughing. You laughed too. The margarita helped. You finished the first one faster than you meant to. Mia was right there with the pitcher, topping you off before you could protest.
"Lightweight rules don’t apply tonight," she teased.
The second drink went down smoother. The third even easier. Your limbs felt loose, the edges of the night blurring just enough that the ache in your wrists, the faint ghosts of bruises, was easier to ignore. You let yourself lean back. Let the fire warm your face. Let the laughter wrap around you like a blanket you hadn’t realized you were cold without.
You didn’t hear the truck pull up. Didn’t notice the shift in the air until Topper’s voice cut through the chatter. "Yo, look who decided to grace us."
Your head turned slowly. The alcohol made everything lag half a second.
Rafe stepped onto the deck from the side stairs. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders hunched against the breeze. Hair messy from the wind. He looked worse than you remembered, sunken under the eyes, skin pale in the fairy light. But when his gaze found you across the fire, it sharpened. Locked. Held.
Your stomach flipped. The cup in your hand suddenly felt too heavy.
You started to stand.
Sophia’s hand landed lightly on your wrist. Not grabbing. Just resting there. "Hey. Stay."
Mia leaned in close. Voice soft, almost conspiratorial. "He’s not here to start shit. He’s been quiet all week. Like, really quiet. Just… give it a minute?"
Avery nodded on your other side. "We all miss how things used to be. One night. That’s it."
You looked around the circle. Faces lit orange by the fire. Eyes on you,concerned, hopeful, a little pleading. No one was forcing you. No one was blocking the gate. But the weight of their quiet expectation pressed in anyway. Saying no now would mean explaining why. Would mean ripping the fragile normalcy they’d all been clinging to.
You sat back down.
Rafe didn’t come straight over. He drifted instead. Slow. Casual. Grabbed a beer from the cooler near Topper. Cracked it open. Taking a long pull. Then another. He laughed at something Kelce said, low, forced, but enough to make the group relax a notch.
You kept your eyes on the fire. Flames snapping. Sparks drifting up into the dark. The tequila hummed warm in your veins, dulling the sharp edge of panic. Your head felt fuzzy. Pleasant fuzzy. The kind that made bad decisions feel distant.
He moved closer eventually. Sat on the low bench across the pit from you. Knees spread. Elbows on his thighs. Beer bottle dangling between his fingers. He didn’t look at you right away. Just stared into the flames like everyone else. But you felt it, the pull of his attention. Steady. Unavoidable.
After a while, it had been long enough that another round of drinks had been passed, and he spoke. Voice low. Rough around the edges from the alcohol or the week or both.
"You’re here."
Two words. Simple. No accusation. No demand. Just observation.
You swallowed. The margarita now tastes worse on your tongue. "Yeah."
He nodded once. Slow. Took another drink from his beer. "Good."
The group kept talking around you both. Laughing. Teasing. Pretending the tension wasn’t there. But it was. Thick. Electric. Every time someone shifted, every time the fire popped, you felt his eyes flick to you. Quick. Careful. Like he was afraid that if he stared too long, you’d bolt.
Mia leaned over again. Whispered so only you could hear. "See? He’s chill. Just stay a little longer. For old times’ sake."
You nodded. Small. Automatic.
The fourth margarita appeared in your hand somehow. You didn’t remember asking for it. But you drank anyway. Let the burn chase away the last of the clarity.
Rafe finally stood. Walked around the pit. Slow steps. Stopped a few feet from your chair. Hands still in his pockets. Head tilted just enough that the firelight caught the sharp line of his cheekbone.
"Can we talk?" he asked. Quiet. Almost careful. "Just for a second. Down by the water."
You looked up at him. The world tilted soft from the drinks. His face looked different in the low light, less angry, more… lost. The same face you’d seen in the dark of his room weeks ago, right before everything went wrong.
Sophia touched your shoulder lightly. "Go. We’re right here if you need us."
Avery smiled slightly. "Five minutes. Then come back and make fun of Topper with us."
You stood. Legs wobbly but holding. The sand was cool under your feet as you followed him down the steps, away from the fire, away from the lights. Waves rolled in steady. White foam hissing against the shore.
He stopped near the waterline. Turned. Didn’t crowd you. Just stood there. Waiting.
"I fucked up," he said. Voice rough. Low. "Bad. I know it."
You crossed your arms. The wind tugged at your hair. Salt stung your lips. "Yeah. You did."
He looked down at the sand. Kicked at a shell. "I’ve been trying to fix it. Therapy. Cutting back. All of it. Doesn’t make it right. Just… means I’m trying."
Silence stretched. Waves filled it.
"I don’t expect you to believe me," he continued. "But I’m sorry. For real."
You searched his face. The tequila made it hard to read him. Or maybe it made it easier. He looked wrecked. Eyes red-rimmed. Jaw tight like he was holding something back.
You didn’t say anything. Just stood there. Letting the words settle.
He stepped closer. Slow. Careful. "Can I…?" He opened his arms a little. Not grabbing. Just offering.
The drinks had softened everything. The fear. The anger. The memory of his hand on your throat. It all felt farther away. Muted.
You stepped into him.
His arms closed around you. Tight. Familiar. One hand cradling the back of your head. The other low on your back. He smelled like smoke and salt and him. His heartbeat thudded fast against your cheek.
"I missed you," he whispered. Barely audible over the waves.
You didn’t hug back. But you didn’t pull away.
Behind you, up on the deck, the group watched. Faces glowing in the firelight. Smiling soft. Relieved.
You stayed like that longer than you planned.
When you finally stepped back, his hands slid to your arms. Lingered a second. Then dropped.
"Stay?" he asked. Quiet. No demand. Just a question.
You glanced back at the house. Sophia raised her cup. Mia gave a small nod. Avery mouthed please.
The net was soft. Warm. Almost comfortable.
You nodded once.
Walked back with him.
Sat down again.
Took the next drink when it was handed to you.
Let the night keep pulling you under.
Slow.
Subtle.
Inevitable.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three weeks later, your period was late.
You bought the test at the small pharmacy on the Cut because no one there would recognize you. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The cashier didn’t look at your face. You sat in your car in the parking lot with the plastic bag in your lap, heart hammering so hard you felt it in your teeth.
The two pink lines stared back at you from the bathroom counter like they had been waiting there all along.
You had taken the test twice. Same brand. Same result. The first time you sat on the closed toilet lid for twenty minutes, knees drawn up, staring at the stick until the plastic felt warm from your grip. The second time you did it in the shower, water running cold, hoping the steam would blur the lines or wash them away. It didn’t.
Your period was nine days late now. You had never been this late. Not once.
The night at the beach house came back in fragments. Not clean memories. Just flashes. The margaritas tasting stronger than they should have. Mia’s hand on your arm, refilling your cup again. Rafe’s arms around you by the water, the group watching from the deck like it was some kind of movie moment. Then the guest bedroom. His mouth on your neck. His hands sliding under your shirt. You remembered saying “wait” once, maybe twice, the word slurring into the music thumping through the floor. You remembered his weight pressing you into the mattress. After that the edges went soft and dark. You woke up the next morning in his bed upstairs, sheets tangled, head pounding, no clear memory of how you got there or what happened between the guest room and waking up.
You had asked him once, days later, casual, testing the water.
“Do you remember… that night? Like, after we talked on the beach?”
He had looked at you with those tired eyes, thumb brushing your cheek. “Yeah. You were drunk. We both were. You wanted it. We both did.”
You had nodded because pushing felt dangerous. Because the alternative meant admitting you didn’t remember consenting. Or not consenting. The lines were too blurry to touch.
Now the lines weren’t blurry anymore.
You drove to his house that afternoon because the nausea had started and you couldn’t keep pretending it was stress or bad takeout. Your hands shook on the wheel the whole way. The Cameron driveway felt longer than usual. The house loomed white and quiet under the late sun.
Rafe answered the door shirtless, hair damp like he had just showered. He smiled when he saw you, small and hopeful, the way he had been smiling lately. Careful. Like he was afraid the wrong expression would make you bolt.
“Hey. You okay? You look…”
You didn’t let him finish. You stepped inside, closed the door behind you, and held up the test. The plastic trembled in your fingers.
His eyes dropped to it. Then back to your face. Everything in him went still.
“Is that…”
You nodded once.
He took the stick from you gently, like it might break. Stared at the lines. His breathing changed. Shallow. Fast. Then his face cracked open in a way you had never seen before. Not anger. Not smugness. Something raw and bright and terrifyingly real.
“Holy fuck.” His voice broke on the last word. He looked up at you, eyes wet, shining. “We’re… we’re having a baby?”
You couldn’t speak. Your throat closed tight.
He pulled you into him suddenly, arms wrapping around you so hard it hurt a little. His face buried in your hair. You felt his chest shudder against yours. He was crying. Quiet, ragged breaths. Not the dramatic kind. The kind that came from somewhere deep and broken.
“This is it,” he whispered. “This is us fixing everything. You and me and… fuck, a kid. Our kid.”
You stood there frozen. His heartbeat hammered against your cheek. Too fast. Too loud. You felt the nausea roll again, sharp and sour.
“Rafe. I don’t… I don’t remember us having sex without… a condom. That night. I don’t remember any of it clearly.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands stayed on your arms, thumbs stroking slow circles like he was trying to soothe you.
“You were drunk. We both were. But you wanted me. You pulled me down there. You said my name like…” He swallowed. “Like you needed me. We didn’t use one because… shit, I don’t know. It happened fast. You were on top at one point. You didn’t stop me.”
The words landed heavy. You searched his face for a lie. Couldn’t find one. But the memory still wouldn’t come clear. Just heat. Pressure. His voice in your ear. Your own hands on his back. Had you pulled him down? Had you said his name?
“I said wait,” you whispered.
His expression flickered. Pain. Guilt. Something darker underneath.
“I know. I heard you. But then you kissed me again. You wrapped your legs around me. I thought… I thought that meant yes. I’m so fucking sorry if I got it wrong. I swear to God I thought you wanted it.”
He dropped his forehead to yours. Eyes closed. Breathing shaky.
“I would never hurt you like that on purpose. You know that. Right?”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
He took your hand. Led you to the couch. Sat you down. Knelt in front of you like he was praying.
“This baby… It’s not an accident. It’s us. It’s proof we’re supposed to be together. After everything I put you through, after I almost lost you… This is how we make it right. Ward’s gonna be so fucking proud. The girls are gonna lose their minds. They already love you. They’ll love this.”
He reached for your stomach. Hesitant. Palm flat against the flat plane. His hand shook.
“Our kid won’t grow up like I did. No yelling. No bullshit. Just… us. Safe. Together.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks. Silent. You didn’t wipe them away.
He saw them. Misread them, maybe. Or didn’t care.
“I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But we can do this. I’ll take care of everything. Doctor’s appointments. Money. All of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it. The words stuck.
“What if I don’t want…”
He froze. Hand still on your stomach.
“Don’t say that.” His voice cracked again. Not angry. Pleading. “Please don’t say that. Not yet. Just… think about it. Think about how good this could be. How much better I’ll be. For you. For them.”
He leaned in. Kissed your forehead. Soft. Lingering.
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when I fucked it all up. This… this is our second chance.”
You sat there. Numb.
He stood up. Pulled out his phone. Already texting.
“I’m telling Ward. And our friends. They need to know. They’ll be so happy for us.”
You watched him type. Watched the messages send. Watched the little dots appear almost immediately.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You didn’t look.
You just sat there.
Staring at the spot on the floor where his knees had been.
Feeling the weight of something you couldn’t name settle deep in your chest.
Something final.
Something you hadn’t chosen.
But something you were already carrying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You met them at Sophia’s house because it felt safer than anywhere public. The living room smelled like vanilla candles and fresh coffee. Sunlight cut through the big windows and landed in sharp rectangles on the white couch. Mia had brought muffins. Avery kept refilling your water like that would fix anything.
They were smiling when you sat down. Real smiles. The kind that made your stomach twist worse.
“So,” Mia started, tucking her legs under her, “how are you feeling? Like, actually feeling? The group chat is already losing it over baby names.”
You stared at the muffin on your plate. The blueberries looked too bright. Your throat felt tight.
“I’m not keeping it.”
The words dropped into the room like a stone in still water.
For a second, nobody moved. Sophia’s hand froze halfway to her coffee cup. Avery blinked slowly, like she was trying to replay what you just said.
“What?” Mia laughed, nervous. “Come on. You’re joking, right?”
You shook your head. Your hands were shaking, so you pressed them between your knees. “I’m not ready. None of this… none of it feels right. Rafe and I are still so messed up…And now there’s a baby? I can’t bring a kid into this. I feel so guilty even thinking about it, and I’m scared. I’m really scared.”
Sophia leaned forward. Her voice was soft, careful, the way people talk to someone on the edge. “Babe, I get that you’re overwhelmed. Pregnancy hormones are crazy. But this is a good thing. Rafe’s been trying so hard. He’s different now.”
“He’s not different,” you said. Your voice cracked. “He’s the same. And I’m not ready to be someone’s mom. I can barely take care of myself when he’s… when things get bad.”
Avery reached over and touched your arm. “We’re all here for you. We’ll help. The whole group will. This baby could be what finally makes him stable.”
You pulled your arm away. The touch felt too heavy.
“You don’t get it.” Your heart was pounding now. The vanilla candle suddenly smelled sickeningly sweet. “I don’t even remember that night clearly. I was so drunk. I said wait. And now I’m pregnant, and everyone’s acting like it’s this beautiful second chance. It’s not. It’s a trap. I feel trapped.”
Mia’s face changed. The soft concern hardened into something sharper. “Okay, that’s not fair. Rafe told us what happened. You were into it. You went to the guest room with him. You can’t rewrite it now just because you’re scared.”
“I’m not rewriting shit!” Your voice rose. You hated how loud it sounded in the bright, pretty room. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m terrified of raising a kid with him. He’s literally a drug addict!”
The word exploded out of you.
The silence after was worse than the shouting.
Sophia’s eyes went wide. Avery looked away, cheeks flushed. Mia stared at you like you had slapped her.
“Jesus,” Mia whispered. “You really just said that?”
You were breathing hard. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“It’s true. He does coke all the time. He gets paranoid. And now you all want me to bring a baby into it? What kind of mother would that make me?”
Sophia’s voice was quiet but edged.
“He’s been clean for weeks. He’s going to therapy. Ward even said he’s proud of him. You’re acting like he’s so fucked up when he’s trying to be better for you. For the baby.”
“He’s not fucking clean,” you snapped. “He just hides it better when you’re watching.”
Avery stood up suddenly.
“This is fucked up. We all saw how broken he was when you left. He was crying to us. And now you’re pregnant, and you want to… what? Get rid of it? After everything we did to get you two back together?”
The words hit like ice water.
You looked at each of them. The people who had lied about Rafe not being at the party. The ones who kept pushing drinks on you that night. The ones who told you this was fate.
Guilt and rage and fear tangled so tight in your chest you couldn’t breathe.
“I can’t do this,” you said, quieter now. Voice raw. “I can’t bring a child into this. I’m not ready. And I don’t think I ever will be with him.”
Mia shook her head. Tears in her eyes. “You’re being selfish. That baby is innocent. And Rafe… he’s going to be devastated. You have no idea what this will do to him.”
The room felt too small. The sunlight too bright. The vanilla candle cloying.
You stood up on shaky legs.
“I need to go.”
None of them tried to stop you.
But as you walked to the door, you heard Sophia’s phone buzz. Once. Twice. Then three more times in quick succession.
You didn’t have to ask who it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your phone started exploding the second you left Sophia’s house.
It vibrated nonstop in your pocket the whole drive home. You didn’t look. You already knew. By the time you pulled into your driveway, the screen was flooded with missed calls from Rafe, Mia, and Avery. Text after text.
Rafe: answer ur fucking phone (4:56 pm)
Rafe: you told them you want to kill my kid???
Rafe: after everything ur really doing this to me???
You turned it off and went inside.
The knocking started softly at first. Polite. Almost hesitant. Your mom answered, voice muffled through the door.
“Rafe? Honey, what’s going on?”
You heard the low rumble of his voice, calm, measured. “Can I talk to her? Please. It’s important.”
There was a pause. Your dad appeared in the hallway, arms crossed, watching. Your mom stepped aside. Rafe walked in slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller. His eyes were red, his hair damp with sweat, but his face was composed. Polite smile for your parents. The perfect Kook boy.
“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Sorry to show up like this. I just… need a minute with her. If that’s okay.”
Your dad glanced at you. You stood frozen in the living room doorway, arms wrapped tight around yourself. He nodded once. “Upstairs. Door open.”
Rafe gave a small, grateful nod. “Thank you.”
He followed you up the stairs without touching you. The hallway light buzzed overhead. Your bedroom door creaked when you pushed it open. He stepped inside after you. Closed it most of the way, not all the way, respecting the “open” rule, but enough that voices wouldn’t carry downstairs clearly.
The second he faced you, the mask slipped.
He turned. Locked eyes with you. The polite smile vanished.
“You told them,” he said. Voice low. Controlled. Barely above a whisper. “You told our friends you want to get rid of my kid. And you called me a fucking drug addict.”
You backed up until your calves hit the edge of your bed. “Rafe-”
“Shh.” He held up a hand. Not aggressive. Just firm. “Keep your voice down. Your parents are right downstairs. We’re not doing this loud.”
He stepped closer. Slow. Deliberate. You could smell the faint chemical edge on him, coke, fresh. His eyes were glassy but focused. Calculating.
“You have no idea what you just did,” he continued, still quiet. “The girls are blowing up my phone. Telling me you’re scared. Telling me you’re not ready. Telling me you think I’m gonna be a shit dad because I’m… what? A drug addict?”
He laughed once. Soft. Bitter. No humor.
“I’m trying. Every day. For you. For this.” His hand moved toward your stomach, not touching, just hovering. “And you go behind my back and tell them you want to kill it? That’s cold. That’s really fucking cold.”
You swallowed. “I said I’m not ready. I didn’t say I was-”
“You said it.” His voice dropped even lower. Almost a hiss. “You said the words. And now they’re all texting me like I’m the problem. Like, I forced this on you. Like I’m the one who’s dangerous.”
He took another step. Close enough, you felt the heat coming off him.
“I didn’t force anything,” he whispered. “That night? You wanted me. You pulled me into that room. You kissed me back. You wrapped your legs around me. Don’t try to spin it now just because you’re scared.”
His hand finally touched you, palm flat against your stomach. Gentle. Possessive.
“This is ours,” he said. “God gave us this. You think He makes mistakes? You think He’d put a baby in you if it wasn’t meant to be?”
You tried to step back. He didn’t let you. His other hand came up to the side of your neck. Fingers curling lightly into your hair. Not pulling. Just holding. Keeping you there.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he murmured. “Not like that. Not with our kid inside you. But you need to understand something.”
His thumb brushed your jaw. Slow. Almost tender.
“If you try to take this away from me… if you go to a clinic, if you make an appointment behind my back… I will lose it. Completely. And I won’t be quiet about it. I’ll tell everyone. Your parents. Ward. The whole fucking island. I’ll tell them you’re unstable. That you’re trying to kill my baby because you hate me. That you’re the one who’s dangerous.”
His eyes searched yours. Wet. Pleading. But the grip in your hair tightened just enough to sting.
“And Ward?” He leaned in. Breath hot against your ear. “Ward already knows. I told him the second your friends did. He’s furious. Not at me. At you. He said we’re handling this the right way. He’s already talking to lawyers. Prenatal custody stuff. Visitation. Support. He can make your life hell without ever raising his voice.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you again.
“But I don’t want that,” he whispered. “I want us. I want our family. I want to be good. For you. For the baby.”
His hand slid down to cup your cheek. Thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized was there.
“So here’s what’s happening,” he said. Still quiet. Still calm. “Tomorrow you’re coming to the house. Ward wants to talk. He’s already got the guest house ready. Full doctor coverage. Money for whatever you need. But you’re staying there. With me. Until the baby comes. After that… we’ll figure it out. Together.”
You opened your mouth.
He pressed his thumb over your lips. Gentle. Shushing.
“Don’t say no yet,” he murmured. “Think about it. Think about what happens if you fight this. Think about your parents downstairs. They already let me in. They already know about the baby. They’re not gonna let you do something stupid.”
He leaned in. Forehead resting against yours.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Even when you hate me. Even when you want to hurt me. I still love you. And I’m gonna love this kid so much it scares me.”
His hand stayed on your stomach. Warm. Heavy.
“But if you try to take it away… I won’t survive it. And I won’t let you walk away clean.”
He stepped back slowly. Dropped his hands.
“I’ll be outside in the truck,” he said. Voice back to normal volume. Polite again. “Whenever you’re ready to talk. No rush.”
He turned. Opened the door wider. Walked downstairs as if nothing had happened.
You heard him thank your parents again. Heard the front door close softly.
You sat on the edge of your bed. Breathing shallow. Scalp stinging. Stomach churning.
Downstairs, your mom called up quietly.
“Honey? Rafe said… he said you’re pregnant?”
The silence stretched.
You didn’t answer.
Your phone buzzed once.
Rafe: I meant what I said. I’ll wait. (5:31 pm)
Then another.
Ward: We’ll see you tomorrow at 10. Don’t be late.
The screen went dark.
You stared at it.
The house felt smaller than ever.
And the weight in your stomach, the one you hadn’t chosen, felt heavier than Rafe’s hand ever could.
…….
LIKE REBLOG AND COMMENT FOR MORE! YOUR SUPPORT KEEPS ME MOTIVATED TO WRITE!!
This season of Love Island is packed with surprises. Friendships will be tested, alliances will shift and complications in the villa will keep everyone on their toes. Relationships will form and passion will run high, but with drama everywhere and twists around every corner, nothing is ever simple. It’s messy, unpredictable and totally addictive. Are you ready for it...?
pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader
content: fluff, angst, smut
warnings: sexual innuendos, cuss words, 18+ content, smut, drinking, verbal arguments, breakdowns, drama
a guide before reading the love island series
episodes:
episode 1: welcome to the villa
episode 2: the bombshell effect
episode 3: dear stranger
episode 4: ex marks the spot
episode 5: tangled hearts
episode 6: handle with care
episode 7: sparks fly
episode 8: kiss it better, baby
episode 9: imperfect for you
episode 10: this is why we can't have nice things
episode 11: purple lace bra
episode 12: after midnight
episode 13: pick me, choose me, love me
episode 14: brutal
episode 15: the one with the blue party
episode 16: bed chem
episode 17: running out of time
behind the scenes:
introductions: rafe edition
introductions: y/n edition
meet the islanders (girls edition)
meet the islanders (boys edition)
meet the islanders (y/n & rafe edition)
meet the islanders (bombshells edition)
meet the islanders (bombshells edition pt 2)
meet the islanders (bombshell edition pt 3)
meet the islanders (casa amor boys edition)
meet the islanders (casa amor girls edition)
kissing challenge results
follow @drewsephrryslibrary & turn on your notifications for fic updates!!!
(inspo for this series: @finelinevogue @rafecameronssl4t)
