#rafia

[babydollrafe]

𝓣he 𝓑abysitter

Pairing: DILF!Rafe x Babysitter!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst with Smut, Cheating, age gap (not explicitly stated), failing marriage, drinking, emotionally draining relationships, divorce discussion, possible power-dynamic? Leering, Cock-warming, leaving spouse for affair partner.

It was mid October in the Outer Banks when you met Rafe Cameron. In your tight-knit sweater and black leggings that hugged your hips too tight. You missed the way his eyes dropped when you walked past him, too enthusiastic about the new job.

“You have a beautiful home, Mr. Cameron.” you said, looking around the expensive living room. His eyes lingered on your ass, meeting your younger ones when you turned around. “Please, call me Rafe.” he smiles, holding a hand out for you to shake.

𐂯  ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰  𐂯

Fall came and went, as did you in the Cameron home. Sofia, Rafe’s wife, gave you tight-lipped smiles and let you stay for dinner most nights.

To your surprise, you fit in with the family. Lorelei, 5, and Inez, 18 months, were well behaved. They latched onto you quicker than anyone expected, and demanded your attention with every little thing.

Sofia trusted you enough to care for her children, but  she kept an emotional wall up. Your happy-go-lucky approach to life left her feeling jaded, that she’d lost a spark only a young woman can have. It grated her at times, wishing she could just form an opinion on you and keep it. You hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing worth this feeling. But every time you put her at ease, left an open invitation for connection, there was a voice in the back of her head whispering, “not yet.”

Ironically, Sofia missed the signs in the beginning. She thought it was innocent, felt relieved even. She knew Rafe was a hard man to please, so not having to deal with complaints of childcare lifted a weight off her shoulders. But there were still times she felt her gut clench at the thought of Rafe’s behavior. The way he interacted with you raised flags. She couldn’t tell if those flags were red or yellow, thus pushing it down and carrying on.

But to an outsider, one would easily spot Sofia’s fears becoming a reality. 

It began with eyes. Rafe’s meeting yours before Sofia’s when he returned home. How the two of you stared at each other from across the dinner table while she focused on the kids. Things furthered with lingering touches. His hands grazing your hip instead of your back when he slid past you. Or how he threw you over his shoulder, twirling while you stayed limp, just to make the kids laugh.

Sofia had become busy with work, leaving that voice to drown with upcoming projects and meetings. She started coming home later, worn out and uninterested in small talk. Dinners decreased, leaving you to pick up the burden of her family. Your initial two days a week became five, but you didn’t mind.

It left you with him.

That’s when Rafe really paid attention to you. He’d watch how you cradle his children, as if you were their mother. Your maternity permeated his thoughts, dragging up a primal attraction he hadn’t felt in a long time. And the nights his wife was late, you had dinner ready, with his plate made and on the table.

Life was steady, quiet and peaceful. For you.

But with seasons fleeting and arguments behind closed doors, Rafe and Sofia grew distant. He stopped kissing her, she didn’t hug him anymore, everything about their relationship became a show. A responsibility they shared for the sake of their kids and his image.

He stopped initiating intimacy and she started frequenting upscale restaurants for ‘business dinners.’ By December, Sofia was taking work trips with her boss. She’d be gone for weeks at a time, only making short calls to check on things.

Rafe had his suspicions, but he kept a cool facade and a glass in his hand. Drinking kept his anger away, at least enough for him to not destroy everything. He’d get tipsy and flirt, then wasted and fuck, but the one night stands never relieved him. Part of him even felt worse at having to walk away from those women too. Then he turned to you, confiding his dying love for his wife, and his empty sex life.

𐂯  ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰  𐂯

Your first serious conversation with Rafe ended in his bed. Sheets twisted, a bottle of whiskey, and his arm around your waist. Neither of you addressed it that following morning, beyond you telling him it would never happen again.

But it did. A lot.

Sofia, when she was home, pretended not to see it.

She didn’t question the faint, purple bruises on Rafe’s neck. Nor did she pull you aside to ask why you looked like you’d been crying. On the surface, her trust in Rafe was naive, as her ignorance bliss. 

Another sad story of the wife and the hot babysitter.

And Sofia knew it.

The reason she kept quiet was because she wasn’t a saint either. Not when her boss held her in his arms the same way Rafe held you. Her quiet phone calls, the new password, expensive jewelry Rafe knows he didn’t buy. It all slowly sank in over time, then it settled like a dust cloud of acquiescence. A loveless marriage faded into a roommate situation. Where staying for the kids felt better than just signing papers. 

𐂯  ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰  𐂯

You walk downstairs as Rafe is pulling off his tie. He undoes the first two buttons of his white dress shirt, sighing in relief to finally have a break. “How was work?” you ask, holding his youngest, Inez, who sleepily rests her head on your shoulder. Rafe’s eyes soften at the scene, his stress easing at the sight of his baby girl.

“It was a lot of bullshit.” he says, running a gentle hand down his daughter’s back. “Language.” you correct, twirling a curl on her head around your finger. “Yeah, sorry.” He mumbles halfheartedly. His eyes meet yours, looking heavy with faint dark circles. He’s been tossing and turning these past few nights. You’ve felt it.

“Were they good?” he asks.

“Always.” you answer, looking upstairs as his eldest crosses your mind. “Lorelei is taking a nap. She fell asleep while watching Frozen.” Rafe huffs, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “That girl doesn’t give my ear a break when it comes to that movie.” he complains fondly.

The corners of your lips curl, “I made dinner.” you remember.

“I’m hungry for somethin’ else.” Rafe smirks, kissing your forehead before giving Inez one last look. For a moment his face freezes with guilt. She doesn’t know. Not yet.

You ascend the stairs with him behind you now, both of you taking opposite directions so you can put the toddler down for bed and he can have a glass of bourbon.

Minutes pass like hours while your mind conjures up what words the walls will capture. Which secrets the mattress will hold onto this time. If he’ll open up or resist you knowing him again.

Rafe’s own brain is tormenting him in the other room. It’s why he grabbed a glass and poured his problems into it, in a pathetic attempt to drown the other problems.

His nearly nonexistent marriage.

His affair with the babysitter.

His miserable job taking, taking, and taking.

𐂯  ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰  𐂯

Rafe groans quietly when you sink down onto his cock. His body relaxes back into the couch, hands holding your hips as you adjust to his size. “Y’feel so good.” his rough fingers slip under your shirt, dragging up your back. A soft moan slips past your lips, head finding a place on his shoulder as you get comfortable.

The two of you enjoy each other’s closeness before he admits, “This is all I look forward to anymore.”

Lifting your head, your eyes meet his. His shade of blue is glassy like the ocean, and dark with shame. You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Part of you is thrilled, of course, feeling a sense of sick accomplishment. Buried deep under, however, is a smaller, yet more powerful sense of pity. “Is that so?”

He nods, “Yeah.” is all he says. You sit there quietly for a moment, considering the weight behind his lighter words. But Rafe doesn’t notice. He’s already leaning back with his eyes closed. The tension in his body releases with a slow exhale, his fingers pressing into the small of your back. “You’re so good with them.” he begins quietly, “The kids… they love you.”

“Don’t, Rafe.” you shake your head, shutting down the conversation he’s been trying to have for a week now. A small ache settles in your chest, while your stomach clenches with anticipation. Things are never meant to go so far in affairs. You know that.

But then his eyes crack open, his face remains unchanged and his voice hums low.

“I think I’m gonna leave her.” 

a/n: i condensed what probably could’ve been a mini-series into a oneshot, which is why it’s jumpy with the timeline.. could’ve been better but at least i made something! i hope you enjoyed my first dilf!rafe fic :)

[cuntleone]

annoying couple who can’t keep their hands off each other

[jarahxiety]

࣪ ִֶָ☾.࣪࿐doe eyed distraction✴︎˚｡ꨄ︎

after rafe gets back from morocco, he’s desperate to win back his favourite drug , not proof read.

“You gotta- Sof you gotta understand me.”

Rafe stands in front of Sofia, the blazing sun from earlier that day faded with time, leaving behind pink-toned clouds and a light orange wash that veiled over the cut.

His eyes desperately trail over her face, watching her soft features contort as she thinks. His own jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically with impatience.

It’s been weeks since Rafe called her, and unhesitatingly kicked her out of his house.

‘God after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.’

The words had done everything to worsen the already immeasurable amount of guilt she felt ever since she stepped foot onto Hollis’s boat. Ever since she took that money.

‘You think the kooks are gonna give you anything? You should get what you can, while you can.’

Hollis was right. The kooks were never gonna give Sofia the time of day, besides Rafe, and even he was too ashamed to admit they’re together.

‘I’m not- living with a pouge, I have standards.’

He deserved it, she thought, a taste of his own medicine for once.

So why was this making her feel even worse? Him standing in front of her, pleading for her back even despite her betrayal?

“Baby, baby look. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t- I love you. I didn’t mean anything by it it’s- it’s Topper and shit they make me…make me say shit I don’t mean.”

She watches his hands flail around the space surrounding him as he speaks, then go back to his chest before falling to his sides, defeated, as he finishes.

His nails dig into his palms, deep enough to leave clear indents, though not deep enough to draw blood. He did that a lot, she’d noticed. Inflict minor physical pain on himself in restraint, or guilt, or whatever negative emotion was coursing through his veins at the time, simmering under his skin and mixing with every fibre of his being until it either slowly faded or consumed him entirely.

Sofia helped with that feeling. That typically irrepressible amount of shame or anger that clouded his amygdala and his prefrontal cortex until the only physical way to get rid of it was through snorting that familiar white power into his nose, savouring the burn that could either calm him or make his poorly suppressed fury ten times worse.

He needed the different high that Sofia brought to him, one without the mental and physical damage, one without the self disgust. Sofia made all his pain go away for a while, she was a distraction. A beautiful, doe-eyed distraction. He needed her.

He repressed the urge to step forward, back her up against the brick wall, take her pretty face in his hands and kiss her senseless in the middle of the street, and she’d respond so well, running her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck or draping her arms around his shoulders to connect behind his head.

Rafe knew Sofia would give in eventually. His begging and pleading highlighting his pathetic nature that resurfaces whenever he’s denied the approval and forgiveness he so deeply craves. The pathetic nature that Sofia is weak to once it properly comes out.

He knew she would give in eventually, because she always does. She’ll work up the courage to stand up to him when he disrespects her, and days, if not hours later she’ll find herself tangled in his sheets again, lying atop his sweaty chest that rapidly rises and falls with the evidence of what they had just done. He’d kiss the top of her head, and whisper about how good she did and how pretty she was, and he’d continue on like nothing bad ever happened.

The only question in his mind was when? When would she forgive him? How long would it take her this time? The longest she was able to stretch herself to before was 2 weeks, and that ended the exact same way it always does. In his Queen bed with the soft white sheets, far softer than her bobbly ones at home.

Sofia crosses her arms over her tucked in white polo, her forearm covering the light blue country club logo sewn into it. She exhales a sharp breath, looking down and then to her left, not letting her eyes meet the blue ones in front of her. “Why would you say that, then? If you didn’t mean it.”

Rafe fiddles with the ring on his left hand, glancing down at where it sits on his middle finger before focusing his gaze on her, “I told you it’s Ruthie-“

Sofia cuts him off, “Ruthie didn’t make you say anything. Rafe.”

He exhales, lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck before raising it to gesture towards her, “Look it didn’t mean anything, alright? I proposed to you, I gave you my mother’s ring. You think that means nothing to me?” his gaze falls to her hand.

She follows his line of sight, where the ring is in-fact, still on her finger. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t taken it off yet, left it on the counter when she’d packed up and left. The cushion-cut diamond lay embedded in the gold, which glimmered with every little shift of her hand.

He warily takes a step towards her, putting his hands slightly in front of him as if to come off as less of a threat, “You know I love you, baby. C’mon.”

She drops her arms to her sides as she notices him moving closer, she doesn’t reach for him. She doesn’t step away either.

She takes in his face. The sharp start of his slightly grown out buzzcut, the way his jaw is tightened, his eyes piercing in the evening sun.

Her eyes trail down to his chest, looking over the way his cream-coloured shirt tightens at the chest every time he breathes, and the way the short sleeves are just barely too small, pressing into his biceps uncomfortably.

Sofia wasn’t weak. That’s what she’d been telling herself ever since she overheard him talking to Ruthie and Topper. She has respect for herself. She does. So in determination to prove that, to him as-well as herself, her right hand slowly rises up to the other, and she begins to take off the gold engagement band, slipping it off her finger with shaky hands, almost reluctantly.

Rafe’s eyes widen, the tiniest bit, unnoticeable unless you were specifically looking. Sofia was supposed to forgive him. She always forgave him, and now she was taking off her ring? The last physical tie he had to her?

He takes another step closer to her, now close enough to touch, and carefully places his hands over hers just as the ring slips off her fingertip, “Sofia.”

She meets his eyes for the first time as he addresses her, the bright blue looks darker now with more proximity. Her own are glazed slightly, the hazel appearing light brown as she looks up at him.

Rafe slowly takes the ring out of her right hand, not breaking eye contact with her as he slowly slips it back onto her ring finger.

She lets a stray tear fall, using her spare hand to wipe it away, which doesn’t do much good as another multitude of tears begin to streak down her face, smudging her brown mascara.

He finishes placing the ring back where it belongs, before bringing his hands up to cup her face, wiping at the tears on her cheeks, which just spreads her mascara further around.

She allows his hands to envelope her face, bringing her own up to rest on his forearms, her orange-painted nails digging in to the tan skin there, “Rafe I don’t…”

He leans down, bringing his face just an inch away from hers. His hot breath fans over her face lightly as he speaks, “It’s okay, yeah? I love you. Promise.”

He closes the distance, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, savouring the way her hands move to cradle the back of his head, like they had hundreds of times before.

He knew she would forgive him. Rafe Cameron fucks up a lot, it’s who he is, and it’s most likely who he will always be.

But as long as he always has someone to forgive him when he does, he’ll be fine, he thinks. And he’ll do anything to keep that sweet internal validation she gives him.

Somewhere along the line they make their way to the hood of Rafe’s car, where he lifts her up to sit on it, her legs wrapping around his hips lazily as the kiss continues.

Sofia’s lips trail down his jaw, reaching his neck and leaving soft kisses there that would probably leave red marks later on. He lets himself melt into it for a second, before suddenly remembering the fact they are in the middle of the cut when he makes long eye contact with a man walking across the street, who gives him an amused nod.

He quickly takes a step away, looking down at her sat on his car.

She looks up at him, cocking her head to the side, “What?” and he exhales at the way her pretty eyes drop in disappointment.

He keeps looking around for a moment, a subtle shake to his head as he notices the plethora of small homes lining the sidewalk, all of which have windows, “Nothing baby, just- come, get in the car.” he nods towards the car doors.

She jumps down to the concrete floor, her sneakers making a quiet scraping sound as she does.

He quickly grabs her waist and unlocks the car, practically pushing her onto the seat as he opens the door.

An hour or so later, Rafe lays on the expensive leather in the backseat of his white Mercedes, Sofia half asleep sprawled over him.

The sky is dark now, the soft sunset faded into harsh blues and blacks behind the bright stars.

He runs his hand slowly up and down her spine, tracing the soft, now slightly sticky skin there. Her arms rest crossed on his chest, using them as a pillow.

A sense of pride runs through him at her dazed state, knowing that he was the one to do it to her. He leans down to kiss the side of her head, over her messy brown hair.

He feels better than he has in a while, smug relief coursing through his bloodstream, a high far better than anything he could ever smoke, or snort, or inject.

This was physical, real. Not like the baggies that Barry used to sell to him, that was simply a chemical reaction in his brain that lasted barely an hour and left him feeling even worse.

This feels infinite, and he relishes in the fact that he could wake her up and ask her to go again, and she would, and he’d face no repercussions, and he’d feel even better. He relishes in the fact that nobody could take this from him, that he can actually feel her on top of him, her skin on his.

No amount of coke, or whiskey, could compare to the borderline otherworldly feeling of Sofia, and he would do everything he could to keep that feeling, forever.

[snksd]

༘˚⋆ rafia ⋆𖦹.˚

[beautyinsteadofashes]

...for you

[petalmisu]

Maggots for Brains

Author’s note: this is like my third blog and I promised myself I wasn’t going to write any Rafia stuff here. But… I’m listening to Olivia’s new album on my cd player and this idea hit me. This is sincerelypetal.. if anyone remembers me lol.

I’m a sad shell of a woman and I’ve got maggots for brains

But that’s just what happens when my

Baby goes away

Sofia downs another beer, some of it slushing the sides of her mouth. It burns the back of her throat, but she was hoping for the sting. Needed something to distract her, and the cheap beer was doing somewhat that. Her purse hits her gently on her arm, she ignores it.

This was never her crowd, she was never one to be found here, lounging around with people she hardly spoke to. Drinking disgusting beer and laughing at jokes she didn’t actually find funny. But lately, she found she’d been ripped by the seams.

Old Sofia wouldn’t be here. This new her, despite not knowing why she was in the boneyard, was here to find… something. She was even dressed like everyone else today. Short shorts with a tight halter top. Her sandals the only thing she kept the same.

“Sofia?”

She doesn’t turn, just bends down to grab another beer from the cooler. Handing over her last few dollars to the Kook selling it.

“Rafe wouldn’t like this.”

Her eyes closed, her lips stretching into a thin line. She finally leveled her eyes to Topper, who annoyingly has a worried look on his face. Here he goes, wanting to be some kind of hero to someone who doesn’t want him to be. She hugs the beer close to her chest.

“He’s not here, is he?” She tastes the venom in her voice, her heart tells a different story. One of aching harrowing pain.

She feels the wind tousle her hair, doesn’t bother to push it off her face. Glad it obscures Topper’s face, she doesn’t want to see him either.

“But I am. And I know he wouldn’t want me to leave you… like this.”

Her face scrunches up in annoyance, who the hell did he think he was? She could take care of herself just fine. It was only two beers.

“And from the looks of it. It seems you came alone. Which means you drove here alone.”

“Seems like you’re being observant.” This time her voice falls flat on venom.

“Look, I can take you home—”

“I didn’t ask you too.”

“Rafe—”

She drops her beer; both. Feels the liquid spill against her sandals.

“Rafe isn’t here, Topper! I don’t need you to babysit me! He doesn’t care what the hell happens to me! So why should you?”

The unused resentment spills out of her, she isn’t even drunk, she’s just angry. Topper mouth opens like a fish out of water and she wants to laugh. He must have thought she was going to make it easier for him. That she wouldn’t push back. But fuck it, new Sofia does.

“He wouldn’t want you here. Look, I don’t know what happened between you. But I know he care—”

Sofia lets out an ugly scoff, she crosses her arms, head shaking.

“He didn’t even like you.” Sofia says, her eyes narrowing at him. “He thought you were hung up on his sister and it made you pathetic. He thought you were the worst kind of Kook.”

“Okay.” Topper says, blinking rapidly, his brows furrowing into confusion, his hands in front of him like he’s actually trying to process it. Like it hadn’t been so obvious.

“You’re just upset.”

“Sure.”

“And you’re saying mean things so I’ll leave you alone.”

She doesn’t bother refuting, he’s clearly not used to the idea of someone he considers like him, not liking him.

“But look, this isn’t your kind of scene Sofia. And I wouldn’t want something bad happening to you. It’ll just kill Rafe.”

Each time his name slips out of Toppers mouth, just feels like another jab to her heart. It’s all her fault anyway, she’d ruin it, crushed it beneath her toe. His icy blue eyes flashes in her head and she winces.

“He cares. So let me just take you home.”

“What if it is?”

“Huh?”

She gesticulates around her, at the boneyard, at the people dancing and getting drunk. People giggling at jokes they probably didn’t truly find funny around the bonfire, the fire cracking, turning to ash.

“This. What if this is me now? Who are you to tell me this isn’t my kind of scene?”

“Sofia—”

“Whatever, take me home. Doesn’t make a real difference.”

She sits in the back seat of Topper’s bmw, staring out the window, tears flowing down her face. The music covering up the little hiccups that escape her lips. The ac is on full blast, if Rafe had been here, he would have known she didn’t like it that way. He would have known, she feels the phantom touch of his thumb rubbing circles against her thigh.

Maybe they’d been some truth to Topper’s words. Maybe Rafe did care.

His words echo in her head again.

“Just because we hook up doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend, okay.”

She remembers the way his words slurred but he had still said them. No matter what she wanted to believe, Rafe still didn’t see her as someone who he could see himself with.

But he had proposed.

It all felt so contradictory, she wiped her eyes, hoping Topper hadn’t seen. The last thing she needs is him running to tell Rafe. How he found her at the boneyard, trying to get drunk. “She looked heartbroken dude.” With his stupid frat boy voice of his. She places her hands in her lap, staring at them, she could only forgive so much. Could only excuse so much. Could only conclude, Rafe didn’t really care.

God, she really wished she could change everything. Had stopped herself from hearing what he had said. She wouldn’t have lost him and therefore wouldn’t have lost a part of herself. The naive part of her who believed they could have worked out.

“Uh… we’re here.”

Sofia glances up, her rickety old house, the juxtaposition of her sitting in Toppers expensive car. She bursts into a fit of laughter, her shoulders shaking, tears springing out of her eyes. She probably looked crazy from the inside looking in. But the whole thing felt like a weird fever dream she was going to wake up from. How weird was it that Topper was the one who found her. She couldn’t help but let out another shriek of laughter.

“I know break ups are hard. Especially with someone like Rafe. But—”

“Thanks Topper for driving me home. But I don’t need any advice.”

She opens the car door, slamming it shut, not bothering to say anything more to him. She digs around her purse, retrieving her keys and entering her house. She only hears the engine of his car before he drives away.

She’s pathetic, that’s probably how everyone sees her now. A naive girl fed a dream. So naive that she even quit a “decent” job for a man who wasn’t reliable. The town’s piranha, but if they really knew Rafe, they would know he really didn’t bite.

The most he could do was sting. Deep down, she knew he didn’t even know why he did. Everything he did was a reaction from what others did to him. Not because he really felt inclined to it. There was no real danger. Just a scared little boy wanting to throw the first punch so he didn’t look like a coward.

But he was.

She slipped back into her room, jumping straight onto her bed, burying her face into the sheets. She wanted this night to be over with already.

Rafe

Rafe

Rafe

Rafe

That’s how many times Topper had said Rafe’s name. Too many times. She felt as if he was stitching his name into her brain, so she didn’t forget him. So she could see that no matter how much she thought she was finally getting over him. Rafe was still worming his way into her, even if it wasn’t for love.

She closed her eyes, praying sleep dragged her under.

[allthedamnlove]

FINALLY, After so long, obx5 is going to be released and as usual, Sofia wasn't shown in the teaser BUT from what I have seen from the BTS, feels like a lot of the stills will involve Sofia in them.

First of all, this shot below was the exact outfit and scene where Rafe will probably crash out and throw cardbord boxes and then Sofia will be running to him and hugging him (this being the exact day when drew and fiona were shooting until 1 am in the morning I CANT FIND IT BUT I WILL PLUG IT IN WHEN I SEE IT).

2. There are two stills of Rafe running and another still of Rafe hiding behind a door and I know that both drew and fiona wore the exact dress as shown in the teaser and also took pics with one of the extras

I will also plug in that video of drew and fiona wearing that outfit and going to a caravan when i find it.

I will further investigate and update this post if I find anything. They are doing the exact same thing as s4 where Sofia wasn't shown anywhere in the teaser but we literally got an engagement from them. So, all I am saying, let's just wait :)

[lostsyren]

I've read all of your work, but my memory SUCKS. Have we gotten a love confession from Rafe? Maybe it can tie into a third part of the whole ''I have standards'' fight that they are in.

ᥫ᭡ I love you

{summary: the first three times rafe cameron says ‘I love you’ to sofia}

{a/n: sorry for the delay. i didn’t include this to be with the standards series, so i apologise! you can tell how behind on my asks i am! but i hope you still like it!}

{warning: mild sexual content}

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

The first time Sofia heard him say those words she couldn’t be sure he actually said them.

It was when they were fucking. Well– not really that. Sex had become something that transcended physical. It became almost a mental game between the two– where eye contact was held, where touches felt reverent, where kisses were uncontrolled. It was no longer hooking up, it was companionship– for the both of them.

Sofia knew Rafe was lonely. She quickly figured out the playboy, cocky, man of the house persona that clung to him like dried paint was a front. He’d always be wary of never hurting her (well at least not consciously) and that was a lot more than what could be said about other guys on Figure 8 she’d messed around with. They were always mean; especially after they’d wetted their dicks with her.

“Be quiet when you leave– if they see I hooked up with the bartender I’d never live it down.”

“You think you can give me free drinks now? I think I deserve it.”

“You pogues always want more don’t you?”

They’d always say they were joking when they would see her crestfallen face and wide eyes. Rafe’s jokes had irked her a couple times too, but he’d always found a way to fix it– make her feel better. They never did.

So when Sofia heard Rafe murmur something against the flushed skin of her neck, his head buried into her hair, lips pressed on her jugular vein– her heart spluttered for a second.

“I love you,” he panted, half breathless, half groaning.

It was either she’d misheard or he was joking.

So she let the moment pass, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist as she came. He didn’t say anything afterwards. Maybe he didn’t want her to hear? That’s why he’d muffled his mouth with her nape. Maybe he didn’t mean it? It was just a wanton slip of the tongue. Or maybe he didn’t say it at all and she was just hearing what she wanted.

The second time he said it he was drunk. And she heard him loud and clear.

Rafe wasn’t the type to get full-on, no inhibitions, sloppy, drunk. He could handle his drink. It was usually him who had to deal with Sofia’s tipsy ramblings and inebriated stumbles.

So when he was throwing back shot after shot at some party they’d attended together, Sofia thought nothing of it. But later on when he’d come crawling back to her, after fooling around with Topper and Kelce, she was surprised to see him like that: drooping eyelids, blush-kissed cheeks, a clear, rhythmic sway to his walk.

“Hey baby,” he slurred, sinking next to her on the couch. His head lolled back, and up close she could see a faint sheen of sweat coat his skin.

“Rafe– are you drunk?” She said, bringing her mouth close to his ear. He sat like he always sat– sprawled out, legs spilling into her space.

“No…I’m fine.”

He was not. He’d been acting off for a the past couple days. But whatever was bothering him, he didn’t let slip. Sofia had a hunch it was something to do with his family– information he’d impart with rarely. But whenever he did mention his father, or his sister, sometimes even his mother…Sofia listened, still and solemn.

“Come on, let’s go.” She left one word unspoken, that dangled off the end of the sentence like breath hanging in front of you when it’s cold.

Let’s go home.

But it wasn’t her home. It was his home. She’d been with him long enough to feel like this was something more. She knew it was something more. But neither her or Rafe would concede first. Not out of stubbornness or embarrassment. But fear of ruining what they had. So she swallowed the word bitterly, and let what was hers and what was his exists in their separate spheres. They weren’t each other’s. They were just two people who fucked.

Sofia half-carried him out the party, face burning as she passed Kelce and Topper. She knew what they saw her as. And she hated it.

But Rafe breezed by without a care, his arm slung around her frame, his hands playing with hers as she tried to grasp on to him.

Eventually they reached his car.

Sofia had directed him to the passenger seat, and after a few grumbles and complaints, she managed to grab the keys from him.

Driving the BMW down the smooth-paved streets of Figure 8 was something Sofia loved. Rafe let her sometimes when she’d ask, otherwise he would drive them everywhere.

In the plush, leather interior, she didn’t have to fumble with a janky gearstick, or worry about stalling, like she did in her decades old car. She could just cruise, listening to Rafe’s soft sounds as he slept.

Once they reached Tannyhill, she’d woken him up and coaxed him to bed. Turns out drunk Rafe was even more of a wilful terco.

“Come on baby, let’s get you to bed,” she said, voice like velvet. Rafe eventually complied, ending collapsing on their– his– his bed.

He was out, chest rising and falling, mouth slightly parted. Sofia’s heart stirred. He was so pretty sometimes. When he wasn’t trying to appear threatening and tough. A sense of innocence settled over his relaxed features, that never seemed to shine through when he was awake.

Sofia pulled off his shoes before slipping into the en-suite to run a washcloth under the tap. She took a seat beside him, running the damp fabric across his brow.

The action caused him to stir, blue eyes blinking open, meeting her own stare.

“Sofiaaa,” he murmured, lips tugging up into an amused smile. His hands snaked over his body to meet her wrist as she dabbed the washcloth across his sweaty face.

“Raaafe,” she teased, mirroring his lilting tone.

“You’re so pretty, you know that right?” His words were breathy and low, barely audible despite the silence of the shadowy room.

“Thank you Rafe.” He moved her hands away from his face, so he could see her more clearly, hand still folded around her wrist.

“And you’re so kind and nice and fun. You make me feel good. Like real good.”

Sofia scoffed, letting the washcloth fall onto the bedside table, dropping his hand across his stomach. “I’m not sleeping with you Rafe so don’t even try it– you’re drunk remember?”

He just shook his head, “nahhh– Like you make me feel good here.” He tapped his hand against his chest, his fingers hitting the sternum where his heartbeat was.

He waited for her reaction, his dilated eyes looking like two wet marbles, his lips shiny with saliva and remnants of tequila.

Sofia’s gaze softened, her hand reaching out to caress the slope of his cheekbone, her thumb brushing against his face.

“You’re so sweet, cariño,” she hummed, smiling down at him.

“I love you Sofia. Like so fucking much, yeah?”

Her heart dropped, breath hitching in her ribcage. She stopped the gentle circles rubbing into his skin, but her hand remained cupped against his cheek.

He didn’t mean it. He was drunk. He was lying. He was teasing her.

But the way he looked up at her: Waiting. Anticipating her response to his words. His blue eyes flickering in the half-dark.

In the quiet of the bedroom Sofia chose to believe them.

“I love you too Rafe.” Her voice was quiet and high, bordering a rasped out cry. God, did it feel good to say. Sofia Flores was in love with Rafe Cameron.

His face broke out in a boyish smile, and for once he looked his age. Not like a man trying to fills his father’s shoes, sleep in his father’s bed, take over his father’s company. He looked like a boy in love– sappy and sweet and soft.

“Give me a kiss,” he instructed.

“You reek of alcohol.”

“If you loved me you would,” he huffed with a smirk.

Sofia laughed, eyes crinkling in the corner, “that’s not fair.” But she bent down anyway, her hair tickling his face, which he tucked away behind her ear.

“My pretty girl,” he mused, staring into her eyes, his own glossed over in a drunken haze.

“Mi niño lindo.” Sofia brushed a chaste kiss over his forehead, before moving off of him, realising he’d slipped into a steady sleep.

Sofia undressed, sliding into bed beside him. She nestled up against his body heat, her heart fluttering when he moved to bring her in closer– his hand slotted against the crook of her hip, his face nearing hers.

After that night, Rafe didn’t seem to remember his drunken love confession. But Sofia stored it inside her heart, tucked in between her own pulsating love for him.

The third time he said it was her birthday. Sofia hated birthdays. They were just a reminder of how she’d gotten nowhere in life. Still stuck in the shitty job she got when she was 18, still stuck on the Cut, still stuck living life for her family rather than herself.

Her parents had given her a hug and a kiss, and her little sister had made her a card. But as always, she then had to leave for her shift at the country club.

Sofia had let herself recognise the occasion, picking up half a dozen cupcakes for her and her colleagues. Ever since she’d spent more time with Rafe, Sofia had neglected her friendships with them. They’d smile at her and make small talk, but they never invited her back for drinks, or told her about parties on the Cut– she couldn’t have gone of course since she was busy with Rafe, but it would’ve been nice to have the option of declining. Sofia pushed away her trivial insecurities, and held the white box with shaky hands.

They’d all seemed chagrined when she told them it was her birthday– embarrassed they didn’t get her anything, embarrassed it slipped their mind, embarrassed that Sofia acknowledged their crumbling bond. But they still ate the cupcakes on their break before going back to letting Sofia skirt conversations and pretend to ignore them when they discussed their plans.

It was nearing evening and her day was coming to an end, when she spotted Rafe walk across the bar floor, a big smile on his face.

They hadn’t planned to meet today. But Sofia was relieved to see him regardless, finding herself mirroring his wide grin.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were busy today?” She asked, already making his drink that she’d grown to memorise.

Rafe just shrugged, retaining that sly grin on his mouth, “I missed you. Are you busy?”

Sofia shook her head “only with work.”

He drove her back to Tannyhilly when she finished her final shift. She noticed he seemed effervescent, bubbling with energy: fingers tapping against the wheel, eyes darting everywhere, shoulders rolling back ever so often.

He led the way inside once they reached the house, Sofia heading up to the bedroom.

But Rafe stopped her. “Wait– follow me.”

Sofia quirked her eyebrows, “why?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, grabbing her by the hand, “just come on.”

Rafe took her to the kitchen, but before they went past the doors, he stopped, letting go of her hand and instead moving to stand behind her.

“What are you–?”

“Shh– just trust me.” And with that, he covered her eyes with his big hands and slowly pushed her into the kitchen.

Sofia giggled nervously, feeling Rafe’s tall figure crowd against her back. She’d honestly forgotten it was her birthday, so when Rafe’s hands fell from her face, letting her upon the candle lit table, a helium balloon that gently swayed, the bouquet of lilies and peonies that sat verdant in the centre, her heart faltered a little.

“Happy birthday Sof,” he said softly behind her, smiling down, watching her face intently.

“What– how– ?”

“I saw it on your ID once and kept a note of it. Was hoping you’d tell me, but you didn’t so I thought I’d surprise you.”

Sofia’s eyes roved over all the little details: the fancy china she’d never seen him use, the expensive bottle of champagne that was sitting there waiting to be opened, her name in swirling script across the balloon.

He took her silence as something negative, “you don’t like it. Fuck I’m sorry. This is weird isn’t it?”

Sofia quickly stopped him “no no no! This is so beautiful, I love it! It’s just that I never really do anything for my birthday– I’m just surprised that’s all.”

Rafe considered her words, a brief flash of confusion swiping across his face, “well sit down and I’ll serve dinner yeah?”

Sofia nodded, smiling up at him.

They finished eating (Rafe had gotten her pizza from her favourite spot), and they sat nursing their drinks at the table.

“I’m sorry you spent most your birthday working,” he suddenly said, starring at her with a piercing sincerity that unsettled her.

She simply just laughed, “don’t worry about it, I’m used to it.”

“I’m sorry for that. You deserve more.” They shared a brief glance that felt too long, the back of Sofia’s neck prickling in goosebumps.

“Wait I forgot one thing.” He got up, disappearing behind the kitchen counter.

“What?” Sofia arched her neck trying to see what he was doing.

“Can’t forget the birthday girl’s gift,” he teased, pulling out a wrapped present, complete with a bow and everything.

Sofia bit back a smile, her eyebrows softening at his giddy smirk. She accepted the gift gingerly, examining the golden wrapping paper that glowed in the dull candle light. She could tell he wrapped it himself– there was tape in places that didn’t need it and the paper was wrinkled slightly, as if he’d tried folding it multiple times. It was heavy too, Sofia’s arm sagging slightly when he handed it over.

“You didn’t have to Rafe,” she began, her cheeks turning pink.

He shushed her again, “just open it.”

And so she did, carefully tearing the paper, to reveal a box with golden clasps. She opened it, realising it was a vintage record player.

“Oh my god– Rafe you shouldn’t have.” Her eyes were glued on the near perfect finishings, the sheen of the leather and glint of the metal attachments. She’d mentioned ages ago about how much she loved records, when they were talking about what music they listened to. But she didn’t have a record player to play her collection, curated from lucky thrift store finds and countless trips to old music shops.

And Rafe still remembered? She was overcome with a heady verve.

“Do you like it?” He asked, as if he was almost shy.

“Of course! It’s literally perfect– thank you so much!”

Rafe chuckled, watching her with a soft smile as she fiddled with all the buttons, running her fingers across the smooth surface.

Sofia placed her new gift on the tables getting up so she could hug Rafe. He happily complied, lifting her slightly, and spinning her around. A bubbly giggle escaped her chest as her hands flew around his neck.

“Feliz cumpleaños, baby,” he murmured, putting her down on her feet, before hooking her lips with a soft, slow kiss.

“Love you,” he murmured against her lips, but clear enough so that she could hear every syllable. Her whole body became suffuse with a euphoric warmth as if it was injected into her by those words.

“Love you too,” she whispered back, kissing him again.

Their kisses grew hungrier and more desperate until he hoisted her up so her legs were entwined around his waist, one arm holding her up while the other pushed back her messy curls.

“You down?” He asked in between kisses which made her laugh.

“Yes I’m down,” she gasped, brushing her nose against his causing him to smile.

Rafe led Sofia onto the kitchen counter, placing her on the cool granite countertop, her thighs clenching at the cold sensation of it hitting her warm skin.

His lips enmeshed with hers, supping voraciously at the tender flesh, his teeth catching at her lower lip, inciting a throaty groan which he mirrored.

Rafe’s hands roamed wildly across her exposed skin, inching up her leg, bunching her blue work skirt up until it reached the line of her hips. He hooked his hands under the meat of her thigh, tugging her forward so she was at the edge of the counter. His lips licked lower and lower, kisses being peppered down the length of her arm, as Sofia watching in a lustful stupor.

Rafe lowered himself until his face was between her legs. He placed her hand, that was still in his, atop his head, forcing her to push him even lower. The sight of Rafe Cameron practically on his knees for her, made Sofia see stars.

He let go of her hand, Sofia rubbing a thumb across his tickling buzzcut, as he parted her pressed together thighs with a rough hand.

Rafe mewled as she scratched her fingers through his shorn hair and Sofia whined at the feeling of his hot breath fanning her skin.

“Got another gift for you too,” he said with a smirk, Sofia rolling her eyes, but the words lit a fire in her lower abdomen that flickered deep inside her.

“I love you Sof,” he said, quiet, dipping his head down between the valley of her thighs, kissing her warm skin with delicate lips. The kisses became coarser, until she felt teeth graze at her flesh, biting into her pillowy legs.

Sofia let out a hiss. He didn’t wait for her to say it back this time– as if it didn’t matter. He loved her and that was the only important thing.

Even if she wanted to say something, her words became caught in her throat, reserved to only exalted whimpers and strung out cries, as Rafe showed her just how much he meant what he said, leaving her a writhing mess on the kitchen counter.

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩