[wildfiig]

" when i'm dead, my dearest, do not weep for me " 🦷 willow. twenties. she/her.

wannabe farmgirl. daughter of cain. sophie thatcher lovebot. physical media. radiohead listener. lace. rafe apologist. pinterest addict. the walking dead. always sleepy. bones and all. trinket jar. bon iver. drew starkey's angel.

masterlist. guidelines.

©wildfiig. plagiarism, translations & uploading my work anywhere else is prohibited.

[wildfiig]

┆ someone else is betrothed to rafe ✶

.ᐟ cw: angstttt rafe sucks. small warning for the way i've written this, 'graphic' metaphors used about the body 'dying' etc. if you have a really sensitive stomach id skip this one just in case! .ᐟ notes: this is ( and let me preface by saying ) VERY loosely based on myself a few years back lol... they do say write what you know !

the anguish was all consuming. every corner of your brain plagued with despair and loss even though rafe was far from dead, no he was something worse, betrothed to someone else. someone better. she was everything you weren't in every possible way and rafe went with it. his usual position against his father now shifted because of this ideal angel, happy to oblige to the deal of having rafe cameron all to herself.

you couldn't even blame the girl but you wished she wouldn't parade all around town with him. all throughout social media. all over your ribcage, the pounding cracking your soul and stomping your heart into withered shreds. she played a part in your deterioration, she too watched as you walked past the two of them time and time again with your decomposing organs spilling from your abdomen, your suffering well within eyeshot yet they continued on.

your parents, acutely aware of your agony too, still completely inattentive despite witnessing you ghost around the family home and decay at breakfast everyday. putrefying in the four walls you're enclosed in, your likeness to a zoo or circus animal at this point, backed into a space as you watch the others gaze upon your rotting body day after day. chains heavy around your neck, your arms, your legs, and still no salvation. no sanctuary from the tearing grasp of your life.

rafe knew of how you were torn to pieces inside, more than any other. he too hiding behind blissful ignorance, senses willingly dulled by the radience in front of him. by the ease of it all. you wonder how long it will take her to realise rafe's soul rots inside him too, just like you.

[wildfiig]

if u get a ★ in ur inbox it means ur moot appreciates u, and ur efforts in the community. send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love !!

i appreciate YOU lovely ! tysm

[ohithankyou]

don’t unfollow me okay. i’m going to make a really good post one of these days. just wait.

[wildfiig]

hey i love your theme (it’s so majestic)

i love YOUU and your theme SOSOMUCHHH. fantastic mr fox is one of my all time favourites for sure !

[wildfiig]

how would we feel if i made a series on here except its an oc x rafe

[wildfiig]

thinking about rafe cameron as sam winchester... especially the style...

[wildfiig]

┆ rafe comforts you on a plane ✶

.ᐟ cw: fluff! soft!rafe, bf!rafe, fear of flying, just rafe being really sweet .ᐟ notes: rewatching supernatural sparked this idea lol, i love the early seasons of the showwww

first class, window seat, clouds hanging heavy outside the glass. your stomach was all twisted up, something about being so high off the ground just felt wrong. the kind of wrong that doesn’t let you breathe right. like the sky could swallow the whole plane without thinking twice.

rafe noticed. of course he did.

he didn’t say anything at first, just reached over and tucked the blanket tighter around your lap. then his hand found yours, warm and steady, like it always does. like he could anchor you to the earth even from 30,000 feet in the air.

"hey," he said, soft enough for just you. "got you something."

he dug around in his backpack for a second and came up with a bag of sour gummies, your favourite. the ones you always buy at the gas station even though they make your teeth hurt. he handed them to you like it was nothing, like he hadn’t been thinking about it since last night when you told him you hated flying.

"also," he added, pulling out a worn paperback. your book. your exact copy, spine cracked where you left it on your nightstand. he must’ve grabbed it this morning before the cab.

you blinked at him.

he just shrugged. "figured you’d wanna read. or pretend to."

you smiled then. kind of. it wobbled. but it was real.

the plane started to taxi and your fingers curled tighter around the armrest. rafe leaned in and kissed your temple.

"i’ve got you," he said.

"i know."

"you wanna listen to music?"

you nodded, so he handed you one of his earbuds and you tucked it in, head resting against his shoulder. he didn’t move when you leaned all your weight into him, just shifted slightly so you could fit there better, his hoodie already starting to smell like the little packet of peanuts they gave him at check-in.

takeoff felt like being launched out of your own skin. but rafe’s hand stayed locked with yours the whole time.

he rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, slow and mindless, like he didn’t even know he was doing it. like it was just instinct. like he always had to be touching you.

halfway through the flight he tore open the gummies and handed you one without asking. then he opened your book, flipped to the right page, and set it in your lap.

"you’re gonna be okay," he murmured. "you’re already okay."

later, when the sky turned from blue to gold and the seatbelt light dinged off, you realised you hadn’t looked out the window once. you hadn’t needed to. rafe had been looking at you the whole time.

"thanks for not making fun of me," you whispered.

"never," he said.

and he meant it. he always does.

somewhere over the clouds, your breathing finally steadied, and you thought, if being in the sky could ever feel safe, it’d be here, in his hoodie, in his arms, head tucked just beneath his jaw, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear like gravity finally letting go.

[lacyydollette]

SAY YOU LOVE ME ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

SUMMARY𓂃 after a night of mixed signals and quiet hurt, you and rafe finally stop running from what has always been there, trading fears for something real.

PAIRING𓂃 rafe cameron x fawn!reader

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

she was too close.

touching his arm like she owned him, smiling up at him with her perfect lips, her acrylic nails brushing his sleeve like she belonged there.

you watched from your spot with sarah and the pogues, pretending not to see, pretending not to care.

he barely even acknowledged the girl— you could admit that much — but he did not move away either.

maybe he liked it.

maybe that was where he was supposed to be.

maybe that was the kind of girl he needed.

you did not hate her. maybe you were a little envious. she was pretty. confident. good for her for trying.

before you could spiral deeper into your own head, his eyes found yours. steady. unwavering.

he murmured something to the girl, who winced like he had said something rude— typical, and then he pulled away, digging into his pocket for his phone.

your phone buzzed almost instantly.

rafey: wanna head out now?

you: not really, wanna stay with sarah tonight

rafey: u sure? thought we were having us night tonight?

you: maybe next time kay?

you tried to focus on whatever sarah was saying, but your heart was not in it.

not when you could feel his stare burning into you across the firelight.

not when you heard the crunch of his boots against the dirt as he made his way over.

“c’mon,” he said, voice casual but firm, like it was not even a question.

sarah glanced between you and her brother, something soft flickering across her face. she knew. she had always known how much of a lovesick fool rafe was when it came to you. when he decided to take you, he would— no point in arguing. so she just kissed your cheek and said, “see you later,” like she had expected it all along.

you sighed and stood up as rafe’s hand found your elbow, guiding you gently away from the group.

“you’re coming with me.” he said under his breath as you walked toward the parking lot, the smirk in his voice making your chest tighten.

you rolled your eyes, trying to act normal. “are you really gonna steal me away?”

he bumped your shoulder lightly with his. “stealing would only make sense if you weren’t already mine.”

you shook your head, looking away, but you could not help the tiny smile tugging at your lips.

after a few steps of silence, you said, voice a little sharper than you meant, “i thought i told you i wanted to stay with sarah? she needed me for something.”

he shrugged, unbothered, flashing a quick grin.

“too bad. i needed you more.”

your heart twisted painfully at that— because god, you wished it could mean everything you wanted it to.

the walk to the truck was quieter after that. you wrapped your arms around yourself, the night air colder against your overheated skin.

when you reached the truck, you went to open the door, but his hand beat you to it, shutting it before you could climb in.

you turned, confused. startled.

“you mad at me or something?” he asked, voice low but careful.

“no?” you said instantly, stepping back.

you hated how small your voice sounded. hated how obvious you felt.

he watched you for a second longer, his brows knitting like he was trying to see right through you. then he sighed under his breath and walked around to the driver’s side.

you climbed in, pretending you were fine. pretending you were not dying inside, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, staring straight ahead.

the truck rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the dark road, but he did not drive off immediately.

he just sat there, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping anxiously against his leg.

“you’re always like this,” he said after a beat, voice tight but calm.

“what?” you asked, forcing your voice to stay even.

“not telling me shit,” he said, voice low, almost tired.

“if you’re pissed, just say it. if you’re upset, just fucking tell me.”

your throat burned. you stared stubbornly out the window, fingers digging into the hem of your sweatshirt.

you wanted to tell him.

wanted to say i hated watching her touch you.

wanted to say i wish it was me you wanted all the time.

wanted to say i am so stupidly in love with you it makes me sick sometimes.

but you could not. it felt selfish. pathetic.

“there’s nothing to tell,” you mumbled.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the steering wheel tighter for a moment— the leather groaning faintly under his hand before letting it go with a soft, frustrated sigh.

“bullshit,” he said. “i know you.”

you swallowed hard, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the words trapped inside.

he did not say anything after that. just kept driving, knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

the tension stretched so thick between you it hurt to breathe.

and then-

suddenly, the truck jerked to the side, tires crunching against gravel.

he pulled over without warning, throwing the gear into park.

you blinked at him, heart hammering.

“what are you doing?” you asked, voice small.

“not driving another fucking mile till you tell me what’s going on,” he said, turning to face you fully.

his jaw was clenched. his eyes burning.

you stared stubbornly out the window again. it felt safer not looking at him.

“there’s nothing—”

“bullshit,” he exhaled again, voice rough.

“you think i cannot tell when something’s wrong with you? you think you can just sit there, quiet and sad, and i won’t fucking notice?”

your throat tightened painfully. you hated how easily he could see through you.

still, you stayed silent, twisting your fingers in your lap.

rafe swore under his breath and leaned across the console, crowding into your space until you had no choice but to look at him.

“is this about that girl?” he asked, voice so quiet you almost missed it. it’s like a realization suddenly hit him.

your heart lurched.

you opened your mouth to deny it, but the look on his face, so open, so patient, stopped you.

“i know you saw,” he said. “and i know you.”

he reached over slowly, brushing his knuckles along your wrist where it was balled up in your lap.

“you don’t get mad for no reason,” he said. “you get quiet. you shut down. you start lying, badly. like you are right now.”

a tiny, broken laugh slipped out of you without permission.

“i don’t care about her,” he said. “i didn’t even want her talking to me.”

you bit down hard on your lip, the sting grounding you.

“i wanted to leave the second i saw you sitting there looking like you didn’t want to be there anymore.”

tears welled up, but you blinked them back stubbornly.

“i’m not mad you felt something,” he said. “i’m mad you didn’t think you could tell me.”

you finally looked at him properly, really looked, and your heart cracked open at the frustration, the hurt written all over his face.

“you’re allowed to want me,” he said, voice raw. “because i’ve been yours this whole time anyway.”

your breath hitched painfully.

he leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him.

“talk to me baby,” he murmured, “tell me.”

“i do not know how,” you whispered, and he smiled, a small, broken thing before pressing his forehead to yours.

“s’okay,” he breathed, “we’ll figure it out together yeah?”

you nodded, a shaky little movement, and the silence stretched again, but it was different this time— softer, fuller. like something had finally cracked open between you.

and then, almost like he could not hold it in anymore, he whispered against your hair,

“i love you.”

you stiffened, breath caught in your throat.

he pulled back just enough to cup your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“i know i’ve said it before,” he said, voice shaking slightly, “but that was me pretending it was as friends.”

you blinked, tears sliding hot down your face.

“i don’t love you like a friend,” he said, rough and broken and so real it hurt.

“i love you. as you. all of you.”

you whimpered, barely managing to nod.

“say it back,” he whispered, desperate. “please.”

your voice cracked as you choked out, “i love you too.”

relief and something like wonder flashed across his face before he kissed you— slow, aching, reverent, like he had been waiting forever for you to finally say it.

and you kissed him back, finally letting yourself believe it, letting yourself have him, completely.

he pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours again, breathing you in like he could not get enough.

“you’re so fucking stupid sometimes,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it. just pain.

“you’re exactly what i want. exactly who i want and you know that.”

your whole body trembled.

“i don’t want anyone touching me. i don’t want anyone looking at me,” he said, every word heavy.

“if it’s not you.”

silence.

your heart was beating so loud you could barely hear anything else.

and then, softer like he was afraid to scare you off:

“you’re it for me.”

you broke again, a tiny, broken noise escaping your throat, and he was already moving, unbuckling your seatbelt, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing.

you buried your face in his neck, clutching at his hoodie like you were drowning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, over and over.

“nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured into your hair.

“not when it’s you.”

he kissed your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, so much softness it shattered you even more.

and he just held you there, arms wrapped so tightly around you it felt like he could shield you from the whole world.

you let him.

you let yourself have this.

finally.

[wildfiig]

┆ trying to end being fwb with rafe ✶

.ᐟ cw: angst! mentions of having had sex before. fwb. the usual mention of rafe + ward strained relationship. mentions of rafe being selfish + insecure. .ᐟ notes: one day i'll write a full fic with actual smut that isn't a little short...

you were pulling your jeans on when he finally sat up. pillow lines streaked across his cheek, his hair all bent and wrong from sleep, or sex, or both. he looked at you like he always did. like you were some kind of answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask.

you didn’t look back.

“so that’s it?” he said, voice still rough from the night.

you tugged your shirt over your head, didn’t bother fixing your hair. “yeah.”

he swung his legs over the side of the bed, elbows digging into his knees, hands clasped together like he was praying. or like he was trying not to break something.

“you’re not even gonna pretend you’re sad about it?” he asked, and the laugh that came after didn’t sound like him. too sharp. too small.

you turned, finally. leaned against the dresser and crossed your arms. “what do you want me to say, rafe? that i’m gonna miss your fingers inside me? that i’m gonna cry into my pillow because we won’t be fucking in secret anymore?”

he blinked like he didn’t recognize you. like you’d gutted him clean.

“you don’t mean that.”

you shrugged. “i don’t know, maybe i do. maybe i’m just tired of being the thing you use when you’re bored or drunk or angry at your dad.”

he stood, too fast, and the way his jaw clenched made your heart stutter, just once. he wasn’t angry. not really. just unraveling.

“is that really what you think this is?”

“i know what this is,” you snapped. “we sleep together, you leave. sometimes you stay. sometimes you say shit that almost sounds like you care. but you don’t. not really.”

rafe stepped closer. too close. his hand ghosted over your hip like he wasn’t sure if he was still allowed to touch you. “i do care,” he said, and his voice cracked like he hated himself for it.

you looked up at him and wished you were the kind of girl who could pretend. who could say sorry with a smile and let him back in again, just to feel something. but you weren’t.

“you’re selfish, rafe.” your voice was ice. “you take and take and take and you only show up when you think i’m about to disappear.”

he flinched, barely, but it was enough.

“i’m not gonna wait around for you to figure your shit out. this thing between us? it’s done.”

the silence that followed was ugly and too full. he stared at you like he wanted to shake you. or kiss you. or both.

you turned away, started toward the door.

“wait.”

you stopped, hand on the knob.

he didn’t move. he just looked at you with something broken in his face, like he was ten years old again, and somebody had just told him no for the first time.

“would you be my girlfriend?”

[wildfiig]

thank you all for so so much love on this fic !! whether you've commented, liked, reblogged, etc i love you endlessly angels

[r0seb100d]

I mean, Henry, come on

[wildfiig]

how old r u

i'm in my twenties, i wont get specific for privacy ♡♡

[wildfiig]

https://www.tumblr.com/wildfiig/781274981693784064/wait-im-so-confused-bc-ur-pinned-post-said-it-was

how do you change the date

when you're editing a post, in the settings theres an option to change post dates

[wildfiig]

coolest girl on tumblr

says YOUUUUUU !

[wildfiig]

never recovering from your writing i love it so much

ily endlessly angel & just a reminder, your fics are so so amazing

[wildfiig]

i love love loveeee ur writing and your theme+layout angel xx

thank you sm angelll, your entire blog is stunning ♡♡

[wildfiig]

┆ rafe becomes a medic when you hurt yourself camping ✶

.ᐟ cw: fluff! small mentions of blood/being hurt/a cut. just rafe being soft. .ᐟ notes: thought i was overdue for a bit of fluff amongst all the angst...

you don’t mean to slip.

you’re just walking down to the creek with him, barefoot, stupid, laughing at something he said that wasn’t even funny, and the branch catches your shin so fast you don’t even register it until your leg is warm.

"shit," you breathe, blinking down at it. the gash isn’t huge, but it’s messy. red and dripping.

rafe turns around at the exact second your laugh drops out of your mouth. "what happened?" he’s already by your side, hand curled under your elbow like you might collapse. you don’t. you just sit down in the damp grass and press your fingers to the blood.

he kneels beside you, eyes flicking between your face and the cut. "you okay?"

"it’s nothing." but you wince, and that gives you away. he makes a face.

"it’s not nothing."

he pulls his hoodie off and wraps it around you while you both walk back to the tent, his hand firm and warm on your waist the whole time, like you might float away if he lets go. he keeps glancing down at you, jaw clenched like he's mad at the ground for hurting you. like he’d punch the dirt if it meant you wouldn’t be in pain.

"you should’ve worn shoes," he mutters, but it’s not mean. it’s soft, like he’s trying not to cry about it.

you sit on the cooler while he rifles through the first-aid kit that neither of you packed, it was just already in the tent when you borrowed it from topper. rafe finds gauze and alcohol wipes. he settles in front of you on his knees, like he’s praying.

"this is gonna sting," he says, but there’s a softness to his voice now. something quiet and heavy.

you nod. he presses the wipe to your shin and you hiss, grabbing his shoulder with more force than you mean to.

"shit— sorry," he mumbles. his eyes flick up to yours, something small and guilty and real in them. "almost done."

and he is. careful. focused. gentle in a way that’s stupid for a guy with bloody knuckles and a temper like his.

he wraps the bandage around you with shaking fingers, and when he’s done, he presses a little kiss to it. then looks up at you like he didn’t mean to.

"sorry," he says again.

"don’t be."

the sun dips under the trees, soft orange flooding the sky, and you both crawl out and sit on the plaid blanket he laid out earlier. the fire is still going. weak and glowing. he passes you a half-scorched marshmallow on a stick and grins when it sticks to your lip.

"you look a mess," he says, but he’s staring at you like you hung the stars.

"you like it," you mumble back, mouth full of chocolate.

he doesn’t deny it.

you’re curled into him, hoodie draped over your shoulders, sock on one foot and a bandaid on the other. his arms loop around you like he’s keeping you from shattering.

he leans down and presses his mouth to your temple, not saying anything. just a kiss, just heat. just that familiar smell of campfire and sweat and boy.

"it’s weird," he says suddenly. "being out here with you. feels like i can breathe better."

"you can’t breathe around me normally?"

he shrugs. "not when you’re wearing that tiny tank top."

you smack his chest, but he catches your hand and kisses your knuckles. his mouth is warm, soft like it shouldn’t be. like it has no right being this gentle.

you speak first. "you always take care of me."

"you let me," he says.

you smile, chewing your smore, head pressed to his chest where you can feel his heartbeat. steady. grounding.

he tells you about the time he went camping with ward when he was a kid, how he accidentally knocked their tent into a river and cried for two hours until rose came to pick him up. he laughs through the story, but there’s an ache behind it that you feel settle under your skin.

he says he never really liked the woods until now.

"why now?"

he gives you a look like the answer is obvious. "you."

the night stretches long and low around the two of you. you roast another marshmallow even though you’re too full to eat it. he feeds it to you anyway. there’s ash on your hands and dirt on your calves and the fire is nothing but embers, and still, you feel like you could stay right here forever.

he lays on his back, staring up at the stars, and you lay beside him. his pinky finds yours and hooks around it. not possessive, just connected. like a string.

"i think i’d live in a tent if it meant i got to fall asleep next to you every night," he says. like it’s funny. like it’s not the most serious thing you’ve ever heard him say.

"you’d miss your memory foam mattress."

"nah. i’d figure it out. maybe we’d build one out of moss."

you laugh, roll toward him, tuck your head under his chin. his arms come around you like they always do. you’ve never said it out loud, but you know he knows.

later, when the fire’s died out and you’re half-asleep in the tent, curled up under his hoodie, he pulls you closer and whispers, "you scared me."

"it was just a cut."

"don’t care," he says, fingers drawing shapes across your hip. "you bleed, and it does something to me."

you don’t know what that means. but you like the sound of it.

he kisses the top of your head again, pulls the blanket higher over your bodies, and you fall asleep to the sound of the wind in the trees and rafe's soft breathing, your hands tangled somewhere in between.

and maybe, in the space between sleep and morning, you dream of a life where things are always this warm. always this safe.

+

༉ dedicated to cami, who's most recent fic totally inspired me, ily ! ( @dearapril )