#rafe cameron fluff

[andimnotsorry]

“YOU DON’T OWN ME.”

MASTERLIST

you’d been dating rafe long enough to realize that his jealousy could get a little out of hand sometimes. at first, you found it almost flattering. the constant texts asking where you were, the arm he’d keep firmly around your waist at all times, the way his eyes would follow any guy who looked at you for more than two seconds.

but lately, it had started feeling less like affection and more like possession.

it happens at a party on the beach. the sound of the waves crashing are faint below the music, people surrounding the beer keg and bonfire. you’re standing next to sarah and kie, having snuck out of rafe’s grasp earlier and now laughing over something stupid when a guy you vaguely remember comes over and starts talking to you.

you can tell it’s nothing serious. nothing even remotely flirtatious. “i remember we did our 8th grade science project together,” the guy says, laughing at the memory. but you can just feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. it makes you squirm in place as you can’t even comfortably focus on the conversation anymore.

low and behold when you look over, rafe stands there arms crossed, jaw clenched as he tips his chin up silently challenging you to continue. he looks mad. “uhh..” you hesitate to the guy who’s now standing there confused, waiting for you to answer a question he asked earlier.

before you can think of an answer, rafe walks over slipping that damn arm around your waist again. you sigh in annoyance, sick of the same thing happening every time you’re with a guy. “oh who’s this?” rafe asks sarcastically.

“a friend.” you glance up at him, pleading with your eyes to not start anything. he doesn’t seem to care.

rafe looks the guy up and down, sizing him. “yeah? didn’t know you had so many of those.”

you look down at the ground in embarrassment. “rafe.”

“i’m just saying,” a small smirk tugs on his lips.

“uh..im just gonna..” the guy points to somewhere in the crowd before walking away, visibly uncomfortable. you turn to rafe rolling your eyes, too familiar with this routine.

“did you seriously scare him off? what is wrong with you?”

“i didn’t do anything.” he acts clueless.

“yeah, well you didn’t have to.” you state, running your fingers through your hair in frustration. he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “i didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“are you fucking serious? he wasn’t even flirting.” you argue, arms crossed over your chest.

“i don’t care.”

“you don’t get to decide who i talk to.” you say. you can feel people’s gazes on the two of you now, shamelessly watching the argument while whispering amongst themselves. rafe doesn’t seem to notice or care as his expression hardens at your statement. “i’m your boyfriend.” he says.

“but you don’t own me, rafe.” your voice is firmer this time.

rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he looks around at the people watching. “oh, come on. are you seriously doing this right now?” he asks, trying to grab your hands which you pull away.

“you’re making me look like some controlling asshole just because i told some guy to back off.” you can tell he’s actually becoming agitated now.

“you were practically threatening him.”

“because he was hitting on you.” his voice starts to get louder, catching the attention of more people at the party as if there wasn’t enough already.

“he wasn’t.”

“oh, so now you know what he was thinking?” rafe scoffs, taking another sip of his beer. “you really wanna stand here and defend some random fuckin’ guy over- over your own boyfriend?” he starts to pace around. “it’s really not a good look i’m telling ya,”

you stare at him, starting to lose your patience. “this isn’t about him. it’s about you thinking you get to decide who i talk to.”

rafe laughs again, louder this time, clearly aware of the people watching now. “jesus christ- listen to yourself. you’re seriously gonna throw a bitch-fit because i didn’t want my girl talking to other guys?”

“who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? a ‘bitch-fit’? seriously?” you can’t help but get more aggressive.

rafe stares at you for a second before giving a small, mocking nod. “okay. sure. you don’t want me telling you want to do? fine.” he steps closer, lowering his voice silently but still loud enough for the people nearby to hear. “go ahead. do whatever the fuck you want.”

you blink, slightly taken aback. “rafe-”

“no seriously.” he jerks his chin toward the crowd. “go talk to whoever you want. hell, give the guy your fucking number if that’s what you want- go slut out for all i care.”

people gasp around you, jaw dropped as they start to mutter things under their breath. the music sounds quieter now, maybe because it drowned out in your ears or maybe because people aren’t dancing along anymore. you can’t tell.

you stare at him, your chest tightening. “fine.”

rafe’s expression changes slightly. you can tell he didn’t expect it. “fine what?”

you swallow, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “we’re done.”

as soon as you say the words, the smugness disappears from his face as he stares at you, like he genuinely can’t process what you just said. “what?”

“you heard me, rafe. we’re fucking done.”

“no, no.” he shakes his head immediately, stepping toward you. “c’mon baby you’re just pissed, that’s all. we’ll talk about this when you calm down.” he looks around at the crowd.

“when i calm down? god rafe, you’re a fucking asshole. i’m not changing my mind.”

“baby, seriously.” his voice drops, the panic beginning to creep in. “don’t fucking do this.”

you shake your head, turning away from him as you start to walk away through the crowd. he’s left there standing in the middle of the party as the people who’d been watching suddenly find something very interesting to look at anywhere else.

“wait,” he reaches for your wrist but you’re walking away quick. “please.”

you look back at him. his eyes are red and glossy now, tears threatening to spill any second. he looks desperate.

“don’t leave me like this,” he says quietly. “please i didn’t mean it. i love you.”

you scoff in disbelief, laughing mockingly at his face. “you know what? i think i’m gonna really slut out tonight. you know, soaking in your advice.” you start to walk away again. “don’t fucking text me.”

tags/comment to be added or removed: @filthyrafe @ihateithere33 @lh87905 @naomiiily @drewmfstarkey @dabishou @shewants7 @ghoulmetery @meltyice77 @sweetstrawberrianne @ldrjordannn @kissmeuntil @cakecoffeeandbooks @inclubheaven @imacreepimaweirdoradiohead @rafecameronarchive @cameronsfics

[andimnotsorry]

RAFE’S INNOCENT BSF TRIES DRUGS

MASTERLIST

“shiiiit, you’ve really never tried anything?” rafe asks, slouched lazily in your desk chair as he watches you rummage through your closet for something to wear to kelce’s party.

you knew you’d always been the innocent one when it came to your friendship with rafe. you barely drank, never really got into trouble, and definitely never went anywhere near drugs. so when rafe found out just how untouched you really were, he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. after all, he’d always thought of you as his sweet, sheltered girl.

there was something about your innocence that attracted him; the way you seemed so genuinely oblivious to the things he’d grown accustomed to.

“you’ve never even smoked?” he keeps asking.

“no.”

“nothing?”

“rafe, no.” you laugh, shoving his shoulder. “i told you, i’ve never done any of that.”

he shakes his head, a small grin pulling at his lips. “shit baby, we’ll keep it that way.”

you roll your eyes. “now can you please shut up and help me pick a dress?”

the music is already shaking the house by the time you and rafe arrive, the place packed with people from floor to ceiling. you stay close behind him as he guides you through the crowd, his hands behind his back grabbing onto yours securely.

“jesus, there’s a lot of people,” you mumble, looking around.

“yeah, well, kelce doesn’t know how to throw a small party,” rafe laughs, glancing down at you. “you good?”

you nod, smiling. “yeah, i’m good.”

he gives your hands a small squeeze before letting go, leaning down to talk to you amidst the loud music. “look, i’m gonna be gone for 5 minutes okay?” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he’s going to go do. “whatever rafe, i’ll be fine. just go.” you say grabbing a cup from the counter. “just- just stay here, don’t drink too much. or you know what? let me take you to topper and your girlfriends, you can chill with them while i go handle some stuff.”

he doesn’t even let you protest before he drags you through the crowd again, bringing you to the living room where your friends are sat on the couch. as soon as you squeeze down next to topper, rafe disappears into the party as usual.

15 minutes go by and rafe is still nowhere to be seen. you’re sat on the couch, your chin resting against your palm as you listen half-heartedly to topper brag about some achievement. you glance around the room every so often, expecting rafe to come back, but there’s still no sign of him. eventually, topper reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of white powder, holding it up with a drunken grin. “you want some?” he asks casually.

you’re about to say no instinctively, the answer already sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you stop yourself. your eyes linger on the bag for a moment as the thought crosses your mind. why was it always you who had to stay away from this stuff? rafe could disappear for half and hour at the party and do whatever the hell he wanted, yet you couldn’t even drink too much? you weren’t even doing anything wrong. he’d left you here by yourself, after all. if he wanted to have fun without you, why shouldn’t you get to have a little fun too?

you look back at topper, the hesitation slowly leaving your face. “sure.”

your friends cheer loudly as topper nods in satisfaction. “it’s about time.” he says, setting a line for you with a hundred dollar bill.

for the next few minutes, nothing seems particularly different. you sit back on the couch, laughing awkwardly as topper says something to you, wondering if you’re even going to feel anything at all. then, slowly, the room starts to feel different.

the effect hits you faster than you expected and you can’t stop smiling, your movements feeling scattered and strangely funny. every little thing seems way more interesting than it should as topper wraps an arm around your shoulder, whispering incomprehensible things to your ear.

rafe finally makes his way back into the living room, slightly wasted but not enough. his eyes immediately scan the crowd for you, expecting to find you talking to sarah or ruthie exactly where he left you. instead, he spots you sitting beside topper, a lazy grin spread across your face as you lean against his shoulder, his hands roaming your body.

his expression drops.

for a second, he just stands there in shock, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. the sight of you instantly sobers him up, whatever alcohol he had leaving his system. you look completely out of it, your eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide as you can’t even keep yourself up on the couch. his gaze then drops to the small bag sitting on the table in front of you.

“what the fuck?” he mutters under his breath, his jaw tightening as he pushes through the crowd toward you.

“what the fuck happened?” he shouts. topper looks up at him, confused by the sudden hostility. “nothing, man.”

rafe looks down at your slumped figure, picking your chin up a bit too harshly. “hey. look at me.” your eyes slowly look up, breaking into a huge smile the second you recognize him. “rafe!”

he crouches in front of you, immediately noticing how fucked you are. “what’d you take?”

you giggle again. “i don’t know.”

he looks straight at topper. “what the fuck did you give her?”

topper shrugs. “just a little something. she wanted to try it.”

“she’s never done this shit before.” rafe’s jaw clenches as he grabs the neck of topper’s shirt, yanking him violently to his feet. “what the fuck were you thinking?”

“rafe bro, chill the fuck out-”

rafe swings before he can finish, the punch sending topper stumbling backward before he crashes onto the floor. blood immediately starts running from his nose as he looks up at rafe in shock, one had over his face. people gasp from around the scene, rushing over to help topper onto his feet again.

rafe doesn’t even stick around to argue as he turns back to you, crouching down again and taking your hands. “get up. we’re going home.”

you pout, completely unaware. “but i’m having fun.”

“yeah baby, i can fuckin’ tell.” he sighs, helping you to your feet. “come on. get up.”

the entire drive home you keep rambling about random things, slurring your words and occasionally breaking into laughter for no reason. but it’s only met by a silence from rafe as he keeps his eyes on the road, not even giving you a smile.

when you finally get to tannyhill, he carries you upstairs to his room. he doesn’t say a word as he takes your shoes off and helps you into bed, bringing you a glass of water. you stare at him sleepily as he pulls the blanket over you.

“you’re mad at me,” you mumble.

rafe sighs, sitting down beside you and brushing a strand of hair behind your ears. “i’m not mad at you.”

“you look mad.”

“i’m mad at topper.”

you blink slowly. “why?”

“because,” rafe pauses, looking down at you. “you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing, and he gave you shit anyway.” he shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “i told you i’d keep you away from this shit. i’m sorry. i should’ve been there.”

you stare at him through tired eyes, your fingers reaching out to lazily grab his hand. “but i wanted to try it.”

“i know.” his voice softens immediately. “i just wish you’d waited for me.”

you frown. “but why?”

rafe looks at you for a moment before squeezing your hand. “because i would’ve made sure you were safe.”

tags/comment to be added or removed: @filthyrafe @ihateithere33 @lh87905 @naomiiily @drewmfstarkey @dabishou @shewants7 @ghoulmetery @meltyice77 @sweetstrawberrianne @ldrjordannn @kissmeuntil @cakecoffeeandbooks @inclubheaven @imacreepimaweirdoradiohead @rafecameronarchive @cameronsfics

[instructionsnotincluded]

could we get a season 5 snippet if you have any? i’m rewatching before obx 5 and i cannot wait to read how you spin it for logan.

Yes!! Hahaha, I actually just finished writing a few different scenes from seasons three and four!

18+ MDNI | Warnings: Language, references to sex, jealous Logan.

Rafe could feel Logan’s eyes before he turned around. Could feel them on every inch of his skin, boring imaginary holes into the back of his head as he finished the polite and God awful conversation with Hollis. She had something stuck between her top two teeth which gave him the ick faster than overhearing JJ trying to have phone sex with his girlfriend. It was green and made his stomach turn as he swallowed a mouthful of scotch. It needed to be colder but at this point he’d take what he could get if it meant getting away from this woman faster.

“I hope you’ll think about what I said, Rafe…” Hollis moved to step away, but before she did, she reached out and touched his bicep. And if he hadn’t been through hell and back the last two years, he probably would’ve thought it was innocent. But the way she squeezed his arm had him clearing his throat before he shifted his weight, successfully putting enough distance between them so she couldn’t touch.

“Oh, I will…” Rafe finished the drink before smiling as politely as he could, “you uh…have a good night.”

When he turned, he spotted what was simultaneously the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and also the most terrifying. He knew from experience that a jealous Logan was a dangerous woman. And that’s exactly what he found staring back at him, eyes narrowed just enough that he would have to plan his next move very carefully if he wanted to peel that skin tight dress off her later. She tracked him across the room as he moved towards her, and when he flashed her a loose smile she only pursed her red painted lips.

He slipped both hands into the pockets of his slacks as he grew closer, and when he was within an arms length did he tilt his head and meet her eyes. “Jealous?”

Her grip on the champagne glass tightened and his eyes danced with amusement as she glared back at him. A lesser man would’ve rolled over by now. “I think I’m pregnant after all that eye fucking.”

Rafe laughed and he stepped closer, hand moving to slide along the side of her neck to tilt her head back. “I can assure you, I participated in zero eye fucking.” Logan hummed and he slipped his thumb along her jawline, “She’s like 60 years old,” Rafe lowered his head to lightly brush his lips across hers and he took it as a good sign when she didn’t pull away. “And she had something green stuck between her fucking teeth.”

“She wants you.”

“Yeah, well…” Rafe slipped a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of her updo behind her ear before he met her eyes fully, “I only want you.”

“She has a lot of money.”

Rafe kissed the corner of her mouth and then her jaw, slowly making his way towards her ear, “So do you.”

Logan scoffed and Rafe grinned as she rolled her eyes back at him, tilting her head back to give him more space as he kissed the shell of her ear. His arm wound around her and pulled her into him, and she sighed softly when their bodies touched. It had been a long day of teasing and flirting from afar and while all of that was fun and exciting, having the other so close was much more comforting.

“I don’t trust her,” Logan said as Rafe kissed her neck lightly, palm along her lower back and fingers spread wide enough he could almost squeeze her ass, “don’t put yourself in a position where you’re alone with her. Ok?”

“Mhmm,” Rafe kissed lower on her neck, completely unbothered that they weren’t in private, “I’m not gonna talk to her again.”

“You’re not?”

“Fuck, no,” He half laughed, half snorted. He pulled away to place his empty glass on the table and then took her face in both of his hands, shaking it lighting from side to side, “I told you when I took control that it was gonna be different. That this company was going to be something different—something my mom imagined and that my grandparents are proud of. Going into business with…her?” He scoffed, but lowered his head to kiss her forehead, “That’s not something anyone would be supportive of.”

“Plus she had something in her teeth.”

Rafe dropped her face and Logan lifted her hand to smooth the material along his shoulder, “Yeah, I mean…you know how that freaks me out.”

[andimnotsorry]

i have a req! okay so reader got out of like a really toxic relationship which made her like view affection and love in a weird way. then she starts dating rafe and she confused by all the kind gestures he’s doing. so he kind of like fixing her idea of what love is.

love your work!!

“YOU’RE GETTING THE HANG OF IT”

MASTERLIST

a/n: thank you for your request!! this was lowkey heartbreaking to write but it’s very cute

you had gotten used to thinking that love was supposed to hurt; your ex boyfriend had strongly made sure of that. every small disagreement would always lead to a shouting match where you would be left apologizing, begging for him to forgive you even though it was never your fault. the lines between affection and manipulation blurred and somewhere along the way, you couldn’t tell the difference.

so when you started dating rafe, you didn’t know what to do with him. the first time he showed up at your house on a random tuesday morning with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you stared at them suspiciously before looking back up at him. “what did you do?” you ask slightly panicked, because it never crossed your mind that someone could gift flowers without the intent of covering up a mistake. your ex boyfriend had always gotten you half-assed roses after he spent the night with another girl.

“nothing, baby.” he looks down at the flowers before giving you a warm smile. “i just wanted to.” you frown, taking them from him slowly. “that’s it? you don’t have anything else to tell me?” his eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion at your response. “yeah,” he laughs quietly. “what else would there be? what, am i not allowed to bring flowers for my special girl?”

you shrug, still unsure as you walk inside with the flowers clutched against your body. you feel an unfamiliar warmth in your chest. rafe trails behind you into the house, watching the way you keep glancing down at them like you’re trying to figure out what the catch was.

and it kept happening.

it was after you had a heated argument with your parents that left you stranded showing up at tannyhill at 2am. tears start to blur your vision as you tell rafe what had happened, sat on his lap as he gently runs his hands up and down your back. your heartbeat starts to get faster as you relive the moment, your tears becoming more uncontrollable by the second.

the memories of your ex boyfriend suddenly come rushing back, reminding you of all the times you’d gone to him for comfort after situations like this. “grow the fuck up- nobody wants to hear you whining okay? jesus christ stop being so fucking dramatic.” he’d said when your mom kicked you out of the house for the first time.

“rafe i’m sorry, i’ll try to stop crying-” you whisper into his chest between ragged breaths. rafe freezes for a second at your response before brushing the hair out of your face, leaning down to lift your chin up. “hey. look at me.” he says.

“i know- i know i’m sorry-” you apologize out of habit. “don’t ever apologize for crying.” he wipes your tears away like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. that night, you slowly started to learn how it felt to be truly loved. it was the way he held you in his arms all night, whispering soft “im here for you”s, telling you “im not going anywhere.” that night he had stayed up for you until the sun peeked through his curtains, pressing gentle kisses onto your forehead and fighting his own exhaustion to make sure nothing disturbed you in your precious sleep.

on a regular basis, he’d bring you food whenever you mentioned anything about being hungry. he’d drive across town to pick you up when your car wouldn’t start, promising that he’d buy the right equipment to fix it himself. he’d remember the smallest things you told him without realizing you’d said them in passing. and every single time, you’d ask the same question in one way or another.

“what do you want in return?” you ask one day after he’d given you his credit card to spend shopping on a girls day. “what?” he responds. you let out a quiet laugh, looking down at his wallet in your hand. “i just don’t get why you’re always doing stuff for me.” rafe’s expression softens. “because i love you.”

you shake your head in confusion. “yeah, but..you don’t have to do all this.”

“i know.”

“and im not gonna owe you anything?”

his eyebrows furrow. “baby, what?”

you shrug, suddenly embarrassed. “nothing. forget it.”

“no,” rafe turns toward you, his voice quieter. “what do you mean?” you stare down at your hands for a moment before finally admitting it. “i’m just not used to guys doing nice things for me without expecting something back. like- like my ex boyfriend he would yell at me if i didn’t pay him back for-” rafe’s jaw clenches as you describe your last relationship, cutting you off with a “yeah, well your ex boyfriends a fucking piece of shit.”

“you don’t owe me anything,” he says. “not for this. not for anything.” you look up at him as he gives your hand a squeeze. “you don’t have to earn me being nice to you. i do it because i love you. if i get you flowers, i want you to decorate your room with them. when i get you food i want you to eat it-”

“and if i want a kiss?” you ask, a wide grin in your face.

“then i kiss you back.” he smiles, leaning down as your lips meet his. “see? you’re getting the hang of it.”

tags/comment to be added or removed: @filthyrafe @ihateithere33 @lh87905 @naomiiily @drewmfstarkey @dabishou @shewants7 @ghoulmetery @meltyice77 @sweetstrawberrianne @ldrjordannn @kissmeuntil @cakecoffeeandbooks @inclubheaven @imacreepimaweirdoradiohead @rafecameronarchive @cameronsfics

[andimnotsorry]

PUSSY WHIPPED!

PART 1 (ISH) MASTERLIST

a/n: this is sort of a part 2 to “rafe’s bsf defending jj at midsummers” but it can also be read seperately!! inspired by @rafecqmeronslove’s comment on that post so ty for the idea :)

“there has to a reason rafe cameron hasn’t been tormenting us for like the past 2 weeks.” pope says, looking between jj and john b suspiciously. “there has to be a bigger picture.”

“pussy whipped.” jj replies matter-of-factly, taking another sip of his beer as the rest of the group burst out laughing, pope shaking his head.

“you’re saying rafe cameron- the same guy who stole our gold, my cross and tried to kill sarah, stopped threatening us and stealing our shit because he’s pussy whipped?”

“i’m saying,” jj shrugs, “y’all saw his reaction when she caught him beating me up. i’ve never seen rafe cameron that scared. like ever.”

kiara nods, starting to see his point. “i mean…that is true. that man used to have a personal vendetta against us and now he just sees us and…leaves? maybe she said something to him about like, a ‘no violence policy,’”

“and you’re saying he listened to her?” pope asks.

“sounds about rafe,” sarah mutters, shaking her head. “he’s been like crazy in love with her since literally forever. maybe he’s happy now?”

everyone looks at her.

“rafe?” jj scoffs. “happy?”

“yeah. happy.”

“that’s worse,” pope says. “now I’m concerned.”

when you go over to the chateau to make sure rafe had been keeping up with his promise of staying clean and keeping off violence, you hadn’t expected everyone to be so shocked.

you’d met the pogues a handful of times before, mostly in passing whenever you were with rafe, but you’d never really gotten the chance to talk to them properly. still, you’d always been friendly with them, offering them a small smile as you approached the group sitting on the porch.

“hey guys,” you greet, giving them an awkward smile. “how are you?”

“uh… good,” john b replies, looking between you and the others with a confused expression. jj just stares at you for a moment before glancing at pope.

you furrow your eyebrows. “what?”

“nothing,” jj says, shaking his head. “we’re good.”

you nod slowly before getting straight to the reason you came. “actually, i wanted to ask you guys something. has rafe been bothering you?”

the question is met with complete silence before kiara speaks up. “no…actually he hasn’t. we were just talking about how weird he’s been acting.”

“rafe,” pope adds on. “he hasn’t done anything to us in weeks.”

you blink, looking genuinely surprised. “wait, really?”

“exactly,” jj says, pointing at you. “which is why we think something’s wrong.”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “oh. no, there’s nothing wrong. he’s not doing anything.” pope raises an eyebrow at your response. “how do you know?”

“because i asked him.” you shrug casually. “he promised me a few weeks ago that he wouldn’t mess with you guys anymore. that’s why i came here, to make sure he was actually keeping his word. seems like he is, right?”

all five of them stare at you dumbfounded.

“you’re saying you actually asked rafe cameron to stop fucking with us?” jj asks.

“yeah.”

“and he agreed?”

“yeah?” you say, confused at their reaction. “why are you guys acting so surprised?”

john b looks at jj, then at pope, before slowly shaking his head. “because that fucker doesn’t listen to anybody,” he says, “he literally tried to kill us. multiple times.”

“just trust me, he’s not trying anything now okay? and if he’s planning some secret shit behind my back i will literally kill him myself.”

your comment is met with another round of stunned silence.

“holy shit,” pope mutters. “she really does have him pussy whipped.”

“i told y’all.” jj replies.

“I’m serious,” you say. “he’s been really good lately.”

kiara stares at you for a moment before smiles, shaking her head. “yeah,” she says. “that’s fucking disturbing.”

just as you’re about to respond, you hear rafe’s tires screeching from outside the house as he pulls up.

“i’m just here to pick her up- nothing more.” he steps into the house, arms up in surrender. he smiles at you before guiding your waist out of the porch.

“pussy whipped.” jj comments, trying to mask it under a cough while everyone else holds in a laugh. rafe silently flips him off while you’re not looking as he walks the two of you outside.

kiara and sarah look at each other, giggling at the whole interaction. “girls’ really got him on a leash.”

tags/comment to be added or removed: @filthyrafe @ihateithere33 @yeahimcrying @lh87905 @naomiiily @drewmfstarkey @dabishou @shewants7 @ghoulmetery @meltyice77 @sweetstrawberrianne @ldrjordannn @kissmeuntil @cakecoffeeandbooks @inclubheaven @imacreepimaweirdoradiohead @rafecameronarchive @cameronsfics @nana2amuro @c9pidletters @alina5368

[daisyklee1]

Frat Rafe Chapter 32

You woke up late.

Really fucking late.

Sunlight was already pouring through the half-open curtains, warm across the tangled sheets. Your head was tucked under Rafe’s chin, one of his heavy arms locked around your waist, your leg thrown over his hip like you’d been trying to climb inside him in your sleep. His other hand was buried in your hair. You were both still completely naked under the covers, and the room smelled like sex and his cologne.

You were just starting to stir when the door swung open without warning.

“Yo, Rafe, we’re heading to the— oh shit.”

Topper’s voice froze mid-sentence.

Your best friend’s gasp followed a second later.

You and Rafe both jolted awake at the same time. You scrambled to yank the sheet higher while Rafe sat up fast, one arm still protectively around you, blinking hard against the sudden light.

Topper stood in the doorway with his mouth open, your best friend peeking around his shoulder with wide eyes. The two of them took in the scene in one long, stunned second: the messy bed, the clothes scattered across the floor, the very obvious hickeys on your neck, and the fact that you were currently half-draped over their frat president like you belonged there.

“Holy fuck,” Topper finally said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I knew it.”

Your best friend smacked his arm, but she was biting back a smile too. “We knocked! You didn’t answer!”

“Get out,” Rafe growled, voice still rough with sleep. He looked murderous and ridiculously hot at the same time, hair a mess, chest bare, one hand still resting possessively on your bare thigh under the sheet.

Topper held up both hands, laughing as he backed toward the door. “We’re going, we’re going. But just so you know, breakfast is almost over and everyone already assumed you two were fucking after the way you’ve been looking at each other. Congrats, I guess?”

Your best friend gave you a pointed look that clearly said we are talking about this later, then dragged Topper out and shut the door behind them.

The second they were gone, you dropped your face into your hands with a mortified groan.

Rafe let out a low, tired laugh and pulled you back against his chest.

“Well,” he muttered into your hair, “that’s one way to tell the house.”

You groaned again, but you were smiling into his skin.

Present Day

The bass from the speakers thumped through the crowded living room of the Delta Kappa house, red lights flashing across bodies moving to the music. Solo cups everywhere. Laughter. The usual controlled chaos of a Saturday night party.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter, a little tipsy, nursing the same drink you’d been nursing for twenty minutes while watching Rafe across the room. He was talking to a couple of the brothers, one hand in the pocket of his black jeans, the other holding a beer. Every so often his eyes found yours through the crowd, dark and knowing, like he could still feel the way you’d woken up that morning tangled around him.

It had been months since that beach trip.

Months since Topper and your best friend had walked in on the two of you looking thoroughly fucked and ridiculously soft with each other.

Months since the arguing had turned into something else entirely.

You took another sip of your drink, warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Your mind kept drifting back — the car rides, the lake, the way he’d tied your bikini bottoms with careful hands, the night you finally stopped running and kissed him first. How he’d looked at you the next morning like you were already his, even before either of you had said it out loud.

Rafe finished his conversation and started making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with that same easy, arrogant confidence he’d always had. Only now it was softer around the edges when it was directed at you.

He stopped in front of you, close enough that his chest almost brushed yours, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve been staring,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear over the music. “What’s going on in that head?”

You smiled up at him, a little soft, a little drunk, and looped your arms around his neck.

“Just thinking about how we got here,” you admitted. “How much I used to hate you.”

Rafe’s mouth curved into that familiar smirk. He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “And now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly, thumbs brushing the back of his neck.

“Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

His expression softened in that rare way that was only ever for you. Then he kissed you — slow and deep right there in the middle of the kitchen — while the party kept moving around you like background noise.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

You laughed, tipsy and warm and completely gone for him.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I know.”

Across the room, Topper caught your eye and raised his cup in a mock toast, still looking far too pleased with himself.

Some things never changed.

But the most important one had.

And as Rafe’s hand slid down to rest on the small of your back, grounding you against him, you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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wooohooo end of an era! Thank you guys for all the support throughout the series (with my longggg breaks in between)! I want to especially thanks @rafecameronarchive who helped me throughout the series love her! Though sometimes it had its slow moments and I was farmished for ideas and energy I would do it again! Which why I am with another Rafe series! Yayyyyy!

[daisyklee1]

Frat Rafe Chapter 31

You lasted maybe twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of lying stiffly on your side of the bed, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to Rafe’s steady breathing and overthinking every single word from earlier. The garage. The store. The way he’d looked at you when you said you might move back to your own room. The quiet disappointment he hadn’t even tried to hide.

You hated this.

You hated the distance more than you’d hated arguing with him.

So you caved.

Carefully, you rolled onto your side and reached out, poking him lightly in the ribs with one finger.

Rafe’s eyes opened almost immediately. He hadn’t been fully asleep.

“What?” he muttered, voice rough with the edge of sleep.

You didn’t answer with words at first. Instead you scooted closer, the sheets whispering around you as you closed the space you’d been so careful to keep. Your hand found his side again, fingers brushing over warm skin as you pressed yourself against him, forehead nearly touching his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Rafe went still.

You kept going, voice soft and a little shaky. “About earlier. About saying I’d move back the second the room was ready. I didn’t mean it like… like I was done with this. I just panicked. I don’t know how to explain any of this to anyone yet, and I didn’t want to assume you even wanted me in here for more than one night.”

His hand came up slowly, resting on the curve of your waist. Not pulling you closer. Just holding.

“You talk too much when you’re nervous,” he murmured.

“I know.”

You tilted your head back to look at him. In the dim light his eyes were dark, watching you carefully. The usual cocky edge was softer. Quieter.

You swallowed.

Then you kissed him.

It was slower than the first time in his dorm room. Softer than last night’s hungry, filthy urgency. Just your mouth brushing his, tentative and a little shy, like you were still waiting for him to push you away.

He didn’t.

Rafe’s hand slid up your back, fingers threading into your hair as he kissed you back. Deep and unhurried. Like he’d been waiting for you to make the decision. His other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you fully against him so there was no space left between your bodies.

You made a small sound against his mouth when your chest pressed to his. He answered by tilting his head and kissing you harder, tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl under the sheets.

When you finally broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Took you long enough,” he said, voice low.

You huffed a tiny, breathless laugh. “I was trying to be responsible.”

“Fuck responsible.”

His hand slid down to your thigh, hitching it over his hip so you were half on top of him. The kiss that followed was deeper. Hungrier. You could feel him getting hard against you, and the low sound he made when you shifted your hips sent heat flooding through your entire body.

“You still nervous?” he asked against your mouth.

“A little.”

Rafe kissed the corner of your lips, then your jaw. “Good. Means you’re not overthinking it as much.”

You smiled despite yourself, fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.

“I’m still sorry,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. Something serious flickered in his expression.

“Then stay,” he said simply. “For the rest of the trip. Don’t do the whole ‘maybe I’ll move back’ thing again. Just stay.”

Your heart stuttered.

“…Okay.”

Rafe’s mouth curved into the smallest smirk. Then he rolled you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling between your thighs as he kissed you again — slower this time, but with clear intent.

“Okay,” he repeated against your lips. “Now shut up and let me make up for being an asshole earlier.”

You didn’t argue.

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[daisyklee1]

Frat Rafe chapter 30

Your room still wasn’t ready.

The plumber had done what he could, but the carpet was still damp and the smell of mildew hadn’t fully cleared. Topper delivered the news at dinner with an apologetic shrug.

“Looks like you’re stuck upstairs another few nights,” he said. “Sorry, man.”

Rafe just nodded once, expression unreadable. You felt your stomach drop.

A few more nights.

After the conversation in the garage, the thought of sharing a bed with him again made your skin feel too tight. You’d left things unfinished. He’d told you to figure out what you wanted. And now you were going to be trapped in the same room with him while you still had no clear answer.

You tried to delay the inevitable.

You stayed downstairs longer than anyone else, helping clean up after dinner, then sitting on the porch with your best friend until the group started drifting off to bed one by one. You volunteered to lock up. You took an unnecessarily long shower in the downstairs bathroom. Anything to give Rafe time to fall asleep first.

It didn’t work.

When you finally crept upstairs a little after midnight, the hallway was quiet. You pushed open the door to his room as softly as possible, hoping the lights would be off and he’d already be out.

Instead, the en suite bathroom door opened at the exact same moment.

Rafe stepped out, towel hanging low on his hips, hair still damp from the shower. Steam followed him into the room. Water droplets clung to his chest and shoulders. He stopped short when he saw you standing there in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, one hand still on the doorknob.

For a second neither of you spoke.

You felt the shiver run through you before you could stop it.

Rafe’s eyes moved over you slowly — not in the hungry way from earlier, but assessing. Taking in the way you were hovering near the door like you might turn and run. The way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. The flush already climbing your neck.

He’d never seen you look this shy.

“You’re late,” he said finally, voice quiet.

“I was… helping downstairs.”

He didn’t call you on the obvious lie. He just walked over to the dresser, pulled out a pair of black sweatpants, and stepped into them under the towel before letting it drop. The casualness of it made your mouth go dry.

You still hadn’t moved from the doorway.

Rafe glanced at you again as he tossed the towel toward the bathroom. “You planning on sleeping in the hallway?”

“No.” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. You forced yourself to step inside and close the door behind you. The soft click felt too loud.

The king bed suddenly looked enormous and far too intimate.

You set your phone on the nightstand and hovered near the edge of the mattress, unsure what the protocol was now. Last night had been heat and teasing and no hesitation. Tonight felt different. Heavier.

Rafe pulled the covers back on his side and got in, leaning against the headboard. He watched you for a moment, elbows resting on his knees.

“You can relax,” he said. “I’m not gonna jump you the second you get in the bed.”

The dry edge in his voice almost made you smile. Almost.

“I know.”

You climbed in carefully, staying as close to the edge as possible without falling off. The sheets were cool. His body heat radiated from the other side of the mattress. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of every small movement he made.

Silence stretched.

Then Rafe exhaled and turned onto his side, facing you.

“You’re being weird,” he muttered.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’ve been acting like I might bite you since you walked in.”

You turned your head to look at him. In the low light from the bathroom, his expression was softer than usual. Still a little closed off, but not cold.

“I just… didn’t know how this was supposed to go,” you admitted. “After earlier.”

Rafe was quiet for a few seconds. Then he reached out and tugged lightly at the edge of your pillow, dragging it — and you — a few inches closer without fully closing the space between you.

“Same as last night,” he said. “You stay on your side. I stay on mine. Unless you decide otherwise.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs.

“Okay.”

He didn’t push further. Didn’t tease. Just settled back against his pillow, eyes still on you for a moment longer before he closed them.

You lay there in the dark, listening to his breathing even out, every nerve in your body still buzzing.

A few more nights.

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