rafecameronslittleslut

[rafecameronslittleslut]

More Than Friends

summary: JJ and Lola confess their feelings in a game of truth or dare...

Word-Count: 1320 (I went to work lol)

It had been one of those long, lazy summer days in the Outer Banks, sun-drenched, salty, and perfect.

Lola couldn’t stop laughing as she jumped off the back of the boat, splashing JJ in the face. He cursed, loud and dramatic, before diving in after her. Their friends cheered from the deck. John B steering them toward their favorite hidden cove, Sarah wrapped in a towel beside him, Pope and Kie sharing snacks they’d snuck on board.

Later that evening, after the sun dipped below the horizon, they made camp on the beach. Pope built the fire, Sarah queued up music, and John B passed around drinks in dented cans. Kie was trying to teach Lola how to roast a marshmallow without incinerating it, but JJ kept stealing hers the second she got it right.

“Touch it again and I swear I’ll throw you into the flames,” Lola warned, eyebrows raised.

JJ held up his hands. “Alright, alright peace offering.” He handed her his own, perfectly golden.

Lola hesitated, then took it, their fingers brushing for just a second too long.

It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened lately.

A few months ago, that moment would’ve passed without a second thought. They were best friends, partners-in-chaos. But now, she was noticing things. The way JJ looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The way he always found a spot next to her, even when there was space somewhere else.

She noticed him, and maybe… he noticed her too.

The group settled in around the fire, loud and chaotic as always. Someone suggested Truth or Dare. JJ groaned, but didn’t resist.

It was fun at first, goofy dares, silly questions, Kie daring John B to jump into the water fully clothed, Sarah spilling a secret about stealing a jet ski once. But when Pope turned to JJ, the mood shifted just slightly.

“Truth or dare?”

JJ smirked, looking at Lola from the corner of his eye. “Truth.”

Pope grinned like he’d been waiting. “Do you have a crush on anyone in this circle?”

Everything slowed. JJ didn’t flinch, didn’t joke, or dodge. He looked straight at Lola, his voice even but quiet.

“Yeah. I do.”

The world seemed to hold its breath. Then, more softly: “It’s Lola.”

Gasps. Laughter. Someone shouted “I knew it!”

But all JJ saw was her. And in her eyes? Not shock. Not confusion.

Hope.

“I’ve liked you since last summer,” she said, smiling.

JJ’s heart thudded hard enough he was sure everyone could hear it.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bonfire had long burned out, leaving only glowing embers and the soft rhythm of waves lapping against the shore. Everyone had either passed out in sleeping bags or scattered to their cars and hammocks for the night, everyone except JJ and Lola.

They were still sitting near the dying fire, legs stretched out, hands tucked beneath knees for warmth. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, not heavy, not awkward, just new.

JJ watched her quietly.

“You ever think about how fast things can change?” he asked, his voice low.

Lola looked over at him. “You mean like… us?”

He nodded slowly. “Yesterday, we were just JJ and Lola. Best friends, chaos duo, undefeated water balloon champions…”

“And now we’re…” she trailed off, searching for the word.

JJ gave her a look. “More?”

Lola smiled at that, small, but genuine. “I think I like ‘more.’”

For a while, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, it never had been. But tonight, it pulsed with new electricity.

“You really meant it?” Lola asked, picking at a piece of driftwood. “At the fire?”

JJ tilted his head, eyes fixed on her. “I wouldn’t have said it in front of everyone if I didn’t.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I just… I’ve liked you for a while. And it’s scary. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

JJ leaned back on his elbows. “Same.”

They sat like that for a minute, the tension finally starting to loosen.

“Okay, but can we talk about how Sarah nearly screamed?” JJ laughed, shaking his head. “I swear I saw her texting Kie under the blanket the whole time.”

“Oh, 100%,” Lola grinned. “They’ve probably had a bet going for months.”

JJ chuckled, then grew quiet. “You think they’re gonna be weird about it?”

She raised a brow. “Weird how?”

“I dunno. You know how groups are. One couple happens and everything shifts. People pick sides. It’s not just me and you anymore. It’s us.”

Lola thought about it for a moment. “I don’t want us to be a problem.”

JJ sat up straighter, brushing sand off his hands. “Then we won’t be. We don’t have to rush anything. We just… take it slow. See where it goes.”

She liked that. It wasn’t pressure. It was safe.

“I’m in,” she said, and JJ offered her his pinky like a kid. She rolled her eyes, but wrapped hers around his anyway.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The sun was already bright when JJ woke up in the hammock strung between two old pines near the van. He squinted down toward the beach, John B and Sarah were arguing over breakfast again, Kie was organizing towels like a camp counselor, and Pope was… wait.

Where was Lola?

He spotted her sitting alone on the dock, legs dangling over the edge, a hoodie wrapped tight around her. He grabbed two granola bars from the cooler and made his way down.

“Thought I scared you off,” he said, dropping down next to her.

She smiled. “Just needed some quiet.”

He handed her a granola bar.

“I barely slept,” she admitted. “Too much thinking.”

“Same,” JJ said. “But I kept thinking about the look on your face last night. And it kinda made the overthinking worth it.”

Lola leaned into his shoulder just a little. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” he said, his voice softer than she expected. “Not ever.”

Behind them, a sharp whistle cut through the air. Kie.

“LOLA. JJ. TEAM MEETING. NOW.”

They looked at each other.

“Guess we’re being summoned,” JJ sighed as they both get up and head towards their friends, once the group had set up towels in a circle. Kie stood up, hands on hips like a general.

“Okay,” she began, “we’re happy for you two. Truly. We’re just gonna set some ground rules.”

JJ groaned. “What is this, a relationship tribunal?”

Pope laughed. “It’s a friendship preservation effort.”

Sarah chimed in. “Rule #1: If you two break up, we’re not choosing sides.”

“Rule #2,” Kie added, “no PDA when we’re eating. I mean it.”

John B raised his hand. “Can they at least sit next to each other?”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Fine. But no cuddling during movie night. That’s my blanket.”

JJ held up his hands. “You guys are acting like we’re gonna be all over each other in a week.”

Lola shot him a look. “Speak for yourself.”

They all laughed, and just like that, the tension broke.

The group had split up for the night. John B and Sarah went to the Boneyard. Pope and Kie were on a store run. JJ and Lola found themselves back on the dock, feet in the water.

JJ leaned back, arms supporting him. “I kinda love how dramatic they all are.”

Lola smiled. “They care. They’re just nervous.”

He nodded, then looked over at her, really looked.

“You know what’s weird?” he said.

“What?”

“Last night… saying it out loud? It felt right. Like, I didn’t even plan to. I just had to.”

Lola’s expression softened. “Me too.”

JJ moved closer, hesitating only for a second. “Can I-?”

She nodded before he finished. He leaned in, kissed her slow, careful, like he was memorizing the moment.

When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“Took you long enough,” she whispered.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse Series list

The Artist and the Muse (Part 1)

The Artist and the Muse (Part 2)

The Artist and the Muse (Part 3)

The Artist and the Muse (Part 4)

The Artist and the Muse (Part 5)

The Artist and the Muse (Part 6)

The Artist and the Muse (Part 7/Last Part)

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 7/Last Part)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

The title grew on me lol! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 459

summary: Rafe and Olivia’s rooftop makeup

chapter title: The Rooftop, Again

The sky was the kind of purple that only shows up right before night truly settles, bruised and beautiful.

Rafe stood at the base of the fire escape, the ceramic cloud lamp tucked carefully under his arm, still warm from his hands. He stared up at the familiar rusted ladder, the metal rungs he’d climbed a dozen times before. Tonight, they felt heavier somehow, like each step was a small apology.

He climbed anyway.

When he reached the rooftop, Olivia was already there.

She was sitting on the blanket, the same one they’d shared on their first “non-date” months ago. Her knees hugged to her chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Her sketchbook was open beside her, a pencil resting across the page. She didn’t look up right away.

Rafe approached quietly and knelt beside her.

Without a word, he placed the cloud lamp between them and switched it on.

A soft, golden glow filled the space. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the night feel a little less dark.

Olivia finally looked at him.

Her eyes weren’t angry. Just tired. Wounded in a way that meant she’d felt everything  and still came anyway.

“I almost didn’t come,” she said softly.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“But then I thought about how mad I’d be if I never knew what you were going to say.”

Rafe took a breath. “Thank you for reading the letter.”

“I read it three times,” she said. “Twice out loud.”

“And?”

She gave him a sideways glance. “It wasn’t terrible.”

He smiled, a little crooked. “I meant every word.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the lamp glowing quietly between them, like it was keeping time.

“I’m scared too, you know,” Olivia said finally. “Not of you. Just... of loving someone this much. Of losing it.”

Rafe looked at her, heart full. “So what do we do?”

She reached over and gently, carefully, took his hand.

“We keep showing up. Even when it’s not perfect. Especially then.”

He gave her hand the softest squeeze. “I want to get this right. I don’t want to keep messing up.”

Olivia shook her head, a small smile breaking through. “You will. So will I. But we’ll fix it. Together.”

Rafe leaned in, forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling in the cool air.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Olivia closed her eyes. “Good. Because I love you too.”

And there, on the same rooftop where it all began, with the city lights blinking below and a cloud lamp glowing between them, they didn’t fix everything in one night.

But they didn’t need to.

They just chose each other.

Again.

And that was enough.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 6)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

The title grew on me lol! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 472

summary: Rafe's letter and Olivia’s quiet surprise

chapter title: The Letter and the Lamp

Rafe wrote the letter at 2:13 a.m.

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the soft scratch of pen against paper. He couldn’t sleep- hadn’t slept well since the fight with Olivia three days ago. Not because she hadn’t texted back. She had. Briefly. Cordially.

But something was missing now. That thread of closeness that used to hum between them like background music.

So he sat at his desk, phone turned over, and wrote the only way he knew how, slowly, awkwardly, but honestly.

Liv,

I don’t really know how to start this, except to say I’ve replayed that day at the library a thousand times in my head.

You were right.

I was shutting down, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was so afraid of losing you that I started acting like I already had and that makes no sense, I know, but fear doesn’t exactly ask permission to make sense.

You’ve always shown up. With blueberry scones and quiet belief and ridiculous theories about the moon being lonely. You’ve been brave with your heart in ways I still don’t fully understand. I want to learn how to be like that with you.

I don’t want to be someone who disappears when things get hard. I want to be the guy who stays. Who keeps showing up, even when it’s messy, especially when it’s messy.

I miss you.

I miss your laugh before it gets loud. I miss your stupid pancake mug. I miss the way you look at me like I’m not a burden. Like I’m worth something just by being here.

I don’t know how to make this perfect. But I can make it real.

Yours (if you’ll have me),

Rafe

He folded the letter, slid it into an envelope, and tucked it into the front pocket of her favorite library sketchbook, the one she’d left at his place by accident after the rooftop night.

Then he biked to her apartment just before sunrise, legs freezing, heart pounding.

He left the sketchbook at her door, under the little potted cactus she always forgot to water. No note. No text. Just the letter, waiting.

That night, Rafe came home to find a small box sitting on his desk.

No name. No return address. Just a sticky note taped to the lid.

“For when the lights feel too heavy.” — O.

Inside the box was a small ceramic lamp shaped like a cloud—handmade, uneven, with a little switch that lit it from within. And beneath it, another note, in her handwriting:

“I read your letter. But I'm here. When you're ready to try again, bring the lamp. I’ll be on the rooftop. – Liv.”

Rafe didn’t even take off his shoes.

He grabbed the lamp and ran.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 5)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

The title grew on me lol! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 508

summary: Rafe and Olivias first fight

chapter title: The Silence Between Us

It started with something small.

A message left on read.

A canceled plan.

A rushed “sorry, I’ve just been busy” from Rafe that felt more like a wall than a reason.

Olivia tried not to overthink it, at first.

But three canceled plans in a row and a half-hearted reply to her “I miss you” text left her standing outside the library on a gray Wednesday with a paper bag full of blueberry scones and her heart a little too heavy.

When Rafe finally showed up, twenty-five minutes late, he looked tired. Jacket half-zipped, headphones still hanging from one ear.

“Hey,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair like he could untangle the awkwardness with one movement.

“You forgot,” Olivia said quietly.

“What?”

“You forgot we were meeting today.”

“No I didn’t. I was just running behind.”

“You said we’d draw together. That you wanted to start something new.”

“I do,” he said, frustrated. “I just- things have been insane. My dad has been on my case. Classes. Work. Life. It’s not all fairy lights and sketchbooks, Liv.”

There it was. Sharp. Unfair.

Olivia flinched.

“I know that,” she said, hurt flashing in her eyes. “But I’m not asking for fairy lights. I’m asking for you. And lately, it feels like I’m the only one showing up.”

Rafe sighed, looking down at his shoes. “I don’t know how to do this sometimes. It’s easier to shut down than screw it up.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Rafe. I never wanted perfect. I just wanted honest.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” she snapped. “I chose to be here. With you. Even when it’s messy.”

Silence settled between them, thick and painful.

He looked up then, and for the first time in a while, she saw it, the truth behind his tired eyes. Fear. Not of her. Not really.

But of losing her.

“I’ve never cared about someone like this before,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “And it scares me. Because if I mess this up, I don’t know if I’ll get another shot.”

Olivia stepped closer. Her voice softened, even as her heart still ached.

“Loving someone isn’t about avoiding mistakes, Rafe. It’s about choosing each other even when we mess up. But you have to let me in. Otherwise, it’s just me loving you from the outside.”

He looked at her for a long time. Then he nodded, slow, aching, real.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I need you to try.”

He reached for her hand tentatively, like he wasn’t sure she’d still take it.

She did.

Not because everything was fixed. Not because the hurt was gone.

But because choosing love—real love—meant staying, even when the sky wasn’t pretty and the words weren’t soft.

And that night, they didn’t draw. They just sat. Quiet. Close.

Sometimes, the silence after a fight speaks the loudest.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 4)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

The title grew on me lol! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 475

summary:  their first real date and the moment Rafe realizes he’s in love with Olivia.

chapter title: The Rooftop

It was Olivia’s idea, of course.

“Dinner’s boring,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the library floor. “Movies are loud. Coffee shops are full of people pretending not to cry into their laptops.”

Rafe smirked. “So what, then?”

“Rooftop,” she said, like it was obvious. “Mine. I’ll bring food. You bring your awkward charm.”

So that Friday night, just after sunset, Rafe climbed the rusty fire escape behind her apartment and found her sitting on a blanket with a box of takeout between them and fairy lights strung around a chimney.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, pulling himself up. “This is… actually perfect.”

“I told you. I don’t mess around when it comes to vibes.”

The sky above them was streaked with the last blush of evening. The city below buzzed, distant and muffled, like they were watching life from the edge of something sacred.

They ate dumplings with their hands and drank lemonade out of mason jars. Olivia played a record from a little portable speaker, some old soul song with soft trumpets and a voice that melted like butter.

They didn’t talk about what they were yet. Not directly. But Rafe could feel it, pulsing under every glance, every brush of their knees, every laugh that lingered just a second too long.

When the food was gone and the stars had claimed the sky, Olivia laid back on the blanket with her arms folded behind her head.

“You ever think,” she said quietly, “that sometimes people meet at the wrong time?”

Rafe laid down beside her. “No. I think sometimes people meet at exactly the right time, but it takes them a while to realize it.”

She turned her head toward him. “And what about us?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “I realized it five minutes ago. Maybe earlier.”

There was a long pause.

Then she reached for his hand, fingers slipping through his like she’d done it a thousand times before.

“You’re such a mess, Rafe,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’m your mess, right?”

Olivia didn’t answer, not with words. She sat up slowly, leaned in, and kissed him.

It wasn’t dramatic. No fireworks, no swelling orchestra. Just her lips on his, warm and familiar, like finding home in a place you didn’t know you were looking for.

And right there, under the stars and the fairy lights and the humming heart of the city, Rafe knew he loved her.

Not just the way she made him laugh. Not just the way she drew hands that never quite touched.

He loved her chaos. Her softness. Her brilliant, bright courage.

And for the first time in his life, the in-between didn’t scare him.

Because this?

This was everything

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 3)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

This is a working title, Im not quite sure if I like it or if it will grow on me but for right now this is the title! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 385

summary: a few weeks after their sketchbook sessions at the library began. This is when things start to blur between friendship and something more

chapter title: Almost

The library became their secret place.

They never said it out loud, but it just…was. Every Friday when it rained (or even when it didn’t), Olivia would show up with something baked, usually experimental and a little strange, like banana muffins with crushed pretzels and Rafe would bring a new playlist on his phone, always starting with something soft and indie and sad.

They drew. They shared pieces of themselves in pencil lines and bite-sized stories, and it all felt simple, but it wasn’t.

One Friday, Olivia leaned her head against the window while Rafe tried to sketch the way the light caught her hair. She wasn’t posing. She never did. That’s why he liked drawing her. She just existed like art already.

“You ever think about the in-between?” she asked, eyes still fixed on the glass.

Rafe paused. “Between what?”

“Like... before something begins. Or before it ends. That weird space where it’s not anything yet, but it’s not nothing either.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. All the time.”

She turned to look at him then, really look. “I feel like we’re in one of those right now.”

He set his pencil down.

“I mean,” she rushed on, “we hang out. We eat too many muffins. You draw terrible trees. I steal your hoodie sometimes when you’re not looking-”

“I knew it.”

“But we haven’t talked about it,” she finished. Her voice was softer now. “Whatever this is.”

Rafe sat back, heart thudding like it was trying to jump out of his chest and land in her lap.

“I don’t want to mess it up,” he said. “What we have.”

Olivia smiled, but it was the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. “Yeah. Me either.”

They sat in silence after that. Not awkward. Not painful. Just full of almosts.

Almost told her.

Almost kissed him.

Almost something.

As she was packing up to leave, Olivia pulled a folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“An in-between,” she said. “To hold onto until we figure out the rest.”

When she was gone, he unfolded it.

It was a sketch, of two hands drawn in pencil, almost touching, fingertips just barely apart.

At the bottom, in tiny, scribbled handwriting, she’d written:

"Tell me when you're ready."

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 2)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

This is a working title, Im not quite sure if I like it or if it will grow on me but for right now this is the title! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 405

summary: the second time Rafe and Olivia meet after that rainy night in the library.

chapter title: The Window Seat

The next time it rained, Rafe was already at the library.

He’d claimed the window seat in the back corner, their corner now, he thought and placed two pencils and a blank sketchpad on the table, just in case. Every time someone walked past the row of shelves, he glanced up. He told himself it was casual.

It wasn’t.

It was nearly an hour before she showed up.

Olivia walked in with raindrops still clinging to her eyelashes, looking like she’d run through the storm on purpose. Her backpack was crooked on her shoulder, and she had a mug with something warm tucked under her chin. The moment she saw Rafe sitting there, a slow, sideways smile curved on her lips.

“You brought pencils,” she said, walking over.

“You said to,” Rafe replied, standing up awkwardly like they were at a job interview instead of a window seat.

She tossed her bag onto the chair across from him and sat down without asking. “And a sketchpad. Very prepared. I’m impressed.”

“I Googled ‘how to impress artists,’” he said. “It was either this or wearing a turtleneck.”

She laughed. This open, belly-laugh that made the library echo a little too loudly. Someone from the far corner shhh’d them. Olivia just leaned in and whispered dramatically, “Scandalous. Getting us kicked out already.”

He handed her one of the pencils. “Then let’s make it worth it.”

For the next hour, they sketched.

Not much talking. Just scribbling, pausing, glancing up when their eyes met, smiling when they didn’t look away fast enough. Rafe wasn’t much of an artist, his tree looked like a sad fork, but Olivia never judged. She even added a little bird on top of it when he wasn’t looking.

When they finished, she flipped through his sketchpad and stopped at the first drawing.

“You tried to draw me,” she said.

“I did,” he admitted. “But your eyes came out weird.”

“I like it,” she said softly. “You made me look like I’m thinking about something important.”

“Weren’t you?”

She met his gaze. “I was wondering if you'd come back.”

Rafe didn’t know what to say to that. So he just smiled. “You want to meet here again?”

She nodded, pretending to write it in the air with her pencil. “Only if you promise to keep drawing bad trees.”

“Deal.”

That day, the storm cleared before they left, but neither of them noticed.

Not really.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Artist and the Muse (Part 1)

masterlist

Rafe Cameron x OC

This is a working title, Im not quite sure if I like it or if it will grow on me but for right now this is the title! Also This is very short.

Short and Sweet 💋

word count: 417

summary: When Rafe and Olivia first meet...

chapter title: The Lost Sketchbook

Rafe didn’t usually stay late at the library. He didn’t usually go to the library at all, if he was being honest. But that night, a thunderstorm had rolled in early, trapping him inside with soaked jeans, half a study guide, and the sound of rain hammering the windows like it was trying to get in.

He was about to leave, maybe brave the storm, when he saw it.

A sketchbook. Left behind on the windowsill in the corner reading nook.

It was thick, the cover worn soft at the edges, and there was a sticker of a cartoon pancake on the front. He flipped it open.

The first page was a drawing of the window he was standing next to, same ivy vines creeping up the glass, same chipped sill, even the same thunderclouds in the sky. But instead of rain, the artist had drawn stars falling outside. Dozens of them.

“Hey!” a voice called out. “That’s mine.”

He turned, startled, and found her, Olivia, drenched from the storm, cheeks flushed pink, and clearly out of breath. She was wearing a hoodie three sizes too big and one earring instead of two.

“You left it,” he said dumbly, holding out the book.

“Yeah, because I was coming back,” she said, snatching it gently. “You don’t just flip through someone’s sketchbook, you know. That’s like... emotional trespassing.”

He blinked. “Sorry. I just- It was good. The stars. It was really good.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes for a second. “You’re not a thief. You’re just curious.”

Rafe shrugged. “Isn’t that kind of the same thing?”

She grinned. “Only if you’re stealing hearts.”

He laughed, surprised by how quickly she flipped from scolding to charming. “Do you draw all the time?”

“Only when I’m bored. Or sad. Or trying not to overthink the universe.”

“And which one were you doing when you drew this?”

She glanced out the window. “All three.”

Something shifted between them then, soft and invisible, but real. A sort of gravity.

Rafe looked down. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Only when it rains.”

“Then I hope it rains again soon,” he said before he could stop himself.

Olivia looked at him like he was either incredibly sweet or incredibly stupid. Maybe both. Then she handed him a loose page from her sketchbook, a pencil drawing of the same window, but this time, there were two people sitting side by side on the sill.

“Next time,” she said, turning to go, “bring your own pencil.” 

[rafecameronslittleslut]

new rafe cameron story

YALLLLLL

i have been writing a little bit and started writing a new Rafe Cameron story and wrote it but completely forgot about it so im posting all of it now. Its short and fast pace.

anyways I hope you guys like it.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

The Cracked Mug

Summary: Rafe forgot your anniversary and a fight forms....

The kitchen was too quiet except for the rhythmic tick of the wall clock and the low hum of the fridge. you stood by the sink, a chipped ceramic mug in one hand, a dishrag in the other. Rafe sat at the small table, scrolling through his phone, pretending not to notice the way she hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes.

“You forgot,” she finally said, not looking at him.

He didn’t glance up. “Forgot what?”

you laughed, dry and sharp. “Of course you don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

Rafe set his phone down, frowning. “I’m not a mind reader, Livvie. If something’s wrong, just say it.”

She turned, placing the mug down a little harder than necessary. “It was our anniversary.”

Rafe blinked. “That’s not until—”

“Today, Rafe. It’s today.” Her voice rose, tight with the effort of staying calm. “You said we’d go somewhere. That we’d make time.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked like he wanted to rewind, to pull up some mental calendar and fast-forward to the part where he fixed it.

“I got off work early,” you continued. “Put on the dress you like. Made a reservation. Sat in a restaurant by myself for forty-five minutes before I realized you weren’t coming.”

“I didn’t mean to forget,” Rafe said, quiet now. “Work’s been—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say ‘work’s been crazy.’ That’s your line every time something matters to me and you drop the ball.”

He stood slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care?”

“I think you care when it’s convenient.” Her voice cracked then, and she hated that it did. “I think I’m always the one holding us up while you float in and out when it suits you.”

Rafe stepped closer, hands out like he might reach for her, but thought better of it. “I mess up, yeah. But I’m here. I always come back.”

You looked at the mug. The little crack running from rim to handle. She picked it up again, stared at it.

“Coming back isn't enough if you keep leaving in the first place,” she whispered.

She set the mug in the sink and walked past him without looking back.

Rafe stood there alone, the tick of the clock suddenly deafening, the silence hit him like a punch to the chest.

He grabbed his keys off the counter and bolted out the door, rain starting to needle down as he scanned the street. You were already halfway down the block, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders tense like she was holding in more than just the cold.

“Olivia!” he called, his voice half-lost in the wind. She didn’t stop.

“Livvie, wait—please.”

She slowed. Just a little. Enough for him to catch up. He jogged to her side, breath coming hard, unsure whether from running or from everything else caving in at once.

“I know I don’t get to say the perfect thing right now,” he said, voice rough. “And I know I messed up. But I’m not gonna let this end on a rain-soaked street.”

You turned to face him. Her eyes were rimmed red, but dry now. “You think just chasing after me fixes it?”

“No,” he said. “I think showing up now doesn’t erase not showing up before. But I had to try. Because you matter. And because I forgot one day—but I’ve never stopped choosing you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, lips pressed tight. “Words are easy, Rafe.”

“I know. So let me show you.” He stepped closer, soaked through, shaking but steady. “I’ll make every day after this one count. Not just anniversaries. All of it. I’ll be better.”

She let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“But you’re my idiot,” she muttered, and before he could say another word, she pulled him into a kiss.

They kissed for a while, in the rain, in the mess, in the middle of everything unresolved but still worth salvaging.

“Let’s go home,” she finally whispered.

He held her tighter. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

[rafecameronslittleslut]

MASTER LIST

Rafe Cameron:

The Cracked Mug

The Artist and the Muse Series

JJ Maybank:

More Than Friends

[rafecameronslittleslut]

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

[rafecameronslittleslut]

SAID SHE WANTED

5 GUYS

SHE AINT TALKING BOUT BURGERS

I pull up w four friends and that pussy

GETTIN MURDERED

[rafecameronslittleslut]

Starlight

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summary: You've always felt inadequate compared to Belly, but it's possible you never had a reason to.

Genre: Fluff, kinda angst? hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: harassment, underage drinking, swearing

You'd always been second to Belly Conklin. Although it had been the five of you since you could remember, for some reason it seemed like in the end only four mattered: Belly, Steven, Jeremiah, and Conrad. You were always in the shadows, and now that Isabel had returned to Cousins as beautiful as ever, you wanted to disappear.

It was now apparent to everyone around that Isabel Conklin was the Sun. And you? You weren't even the Moon. You were dust at most, and who would choose dust over the Sun?

"You having fun lil' sis?" Jeremiah fisher asks, leaning against the lonesome wall you claimed as yours. You look at him and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Parties weren't your thing. You only came because Belly had convinced you. Jeremiah grins and points behind him, "Well, that cute boy hasn't stopped looking at you since we arrived, if that makes things a little better." Jeremiah winks and your eyes round. Reluctantly, you glance behind him and see a handsome boy with blond curls smiling at you.

You panic. No boy had ever looked at you like he was and you had never wanted any boys to look at you in that way before—not unless their name was Conrad Fisher.

However Conrad is Belly's now, it's obvious, and you aren't even competition. So, you smile at the boy. You learn his name is Alex and he hands you a drink the moment you walk over to him (upon Jeremiah's insistence). Alex seems genuinely interested in your conversations so when he asks you to dance with him, you don't refuse.

His hand on your hip is foreign and it makes you nervous. But, because the small amount of liquor in your system drowns out any anxieties you have and you lean into him and let him move your hips into his. As soon as Alex's lips skim your neck however, someone's hand is gripping your arm and pulling you away. You lose your balance and bump into the person's chest.

"What the fuck." Conrad hisses. It takes you a moment to understand it isn't you he's addressing, "She's sixteen, you creep."

"Conrad!" You shout, hoping his hand would loosen around your arm. It didn't and it isn't until you push him that he turns to you. His cheeks have blushed pink and the look in his eyes makes you pause. Conrad had never looked at you like that before.

"Did he hurt you?"

You blink at him, head shaking, "Excuse me?"

"Don't touch or even speak to her again." Conard turns around to threaten Alex and your eyes widen, "Now leave." To your surprise, and disappointment, Alex reluctantly listens to him.

"What? No! What the fuck, Conrad?" You curse, pulling your arm from his hand. You stumble but keep your gaze on his. Conard frowns and his hand holds your waist instead,

"You're drunk." He says and you narrow your eyes at him.

"I had one drink!"

"You're a lightweight then." Conrad deadpans and holds out his hand to you, "I'm calling your mom, Y/n. Give me your phone."

You shake your head, "Stop it, Conrad. You're embarrassing me." You murmur and look down, tears pricking your eyelids. Conrad has always seen you as a kid. He has never seen you as an equal, or as a girl he could potentially love, and at this point you don't know which hurts more.

His expression softens seeing your teary eyes. When you look up at him, he looks guilty. You hug your arms around yourself and muster up the courage to ask, "Why did you do that?" You pause, "Alex liked me, he liked me! For once in my life a boy likes me and not Belly and you had to ruin it for me. Why!?"

You look him dead in the eyes when you say, "I hate you Conrad, and I hate that I love you even more." And you mean every single word. All you want to do now is to run and hide, but all you can do is stand there, frozen in time, as you aggressively rub your cheeks with your palm.

Conrad doesn't know how to answer you. His entire body burns to hug you, kiss you, do anything to make you smile again. Smile like you had been when he saw you dancing with that boy. Honestly, he hates himself for being jealous — because yes he was jealous. He has no claim to you whatsoever but simply seeing another boy's hands on your skin made him see red.

Conrad knows your words have been spoken only because of the alcohol you drank. He knows you don't hate him, and he knows you don't love him. Only, some part of him isn't so sure you don't love him. Part of him is hoping you do love him because he loves you too.

But he can't do anything about that now, not when you seem drunk.

"Is she crying? Y/n, are you okay?" Belly suddenly comes rushing up to you both, Cam Cameron abandoned behind her. She puts a delicate hand on your shoulder and you turn around. Instantly, you bury your head into her shoulder and start sobbing. Belly wraps her arms around you as she mouths, "What did you do" to Conrad.

You don’t think he answers her, because she takes your waist and pulls you away from him and into the nearest bathroom. You crumble to the ground and hug your knees, muttering something. Belly slowly shuts the door and kneels next to you, "How much have you had to drink?"

"Apparently, I'm drunk." You sniffs, rubbing your hand under your nose. You look at her with tears in your eyes. "You're so pretty, Belly."

Belly looks surprised, her eyes widening, and she puts her hand over yours, "You're pretty, Y/n." she says, trying to reassure you.

"Not like you are, Bells," You exclaim, "No one has ever looked at me like Cam looks at you. Or Jere. Or even Conrad! And I want them—him—to look at me like that. I don't want him to look at me like I'm a kid he has to keep in check." You choke out another whimper and bury your head in your arms, hands clutching at your hair.

"You're in love with Conrad." Belly suddenly states, her hand disappearing from yours.

Your eyes widen and you look up, quickly shaking your head, 'What? No." You could see Belly's cheeks turn pinker. You'd known about Belly's massive crush on Conrad Fisher since forever and you had never intended to stand in their way. You never even intended to tell Conrad, or anyone for that matter, that you love him.

"It doesn't matter, trust me. Conrad loves you, Belly." You assure her but she doesn't look in any way convinced.

"I don't love him and he doesn't love me." Belly comments determinedly, standing up, "And I'm going to show you why."

You don't understand what she means until a few minutes after she left, the bathroom door opens again. Conrad runs in like he's seen a ghost. In a blur, his hands cup around your cheeks and he's moving your head around, "How did that bastard touch you? Y/n tell me now or I swear–" Your eyes must have been wide open because Conrad squints at you, confused.

"Connie," You say and hearing his nickname, Conrad's body relaxes, "Alex didn't hurt me."

"Belly mentioned you had a fucking bruise, Y/n/n." Conrad continues to roam his hands around your skin as gently as he can. You look at his face. His beautiful face and you notice how different the small freckles he gets because of the sun look in the darkness of this small bathroom. Conrad Fisher has always been so beautiful. If Belly is the Sun, then you're sure he's the Moon and that realization only breaks your heart more.

Conrad's thumb pads under your eye, "Don't cry." He says.

You look up at him and he can't help but think how beautiful you are. Conrad wishes he could give you his eyes, even only from a day, so that you could see yourself just as he sees you.

"I'm not drunk. I promise." You whisper and he cracks a smile. He nods, "I-Connie, if I tell you this can you promise it won't change a thing?"

"Sure." He answers and sits down in front of you, his hands draped across your knees.

"I meant what I said. I hate you," Conrad's face falls, "But I hate you because you won't ever love me the way I love you. I hate you because every time I look at you I want to be someone else, someone that would be worthy of your love. Someone prettier—"

"Y/n," Conrad interrupts you with his hand over your mouth, "Don't finish that sentence. Please. It breaks my heart that you can't see yourself like I see you." He removes his hand and you stay silent. His fingers run through your hair until he cups your chin, "How can you expect nothing to change now that I know you love me?"

You cringe and turn your head, "Because I don't want to lose you."

You hear him laugh and as beautiful as the sound is, it tears your heart into a million little pieces. "You could never lose me." He says and leans back, his arms now crossed over his knees. He's looking into space. You glance at him and he looks like the old Connie. His eyebrows are raised and it looks like he's smirking.

You sniff, "I am losing you."

Conrad tilts his head, "How?"

"Because you love Belly. Because she's the Sun and you're the Moon and I'm, well, I'm fucking dust." You exclaim and Conrad looks at you like you've suddenly grown two heads.

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." You whisper.

Conrad inches towards you, his arms outstretched. You look at him curiously but still, you let him hug you. You're leaning against his chest now and he smells like laundry detergent and sea salt. His large hand rests in your hair and he leans his chin on your head, "I don't love Belly, Y/n. Not in that way. She's like my little sister. She has always been."

"Oh," You say and you think back to Belly's words: Conrad doesn't love me, and I'm going to show you why. You think back to how Conrad looked at you when he was pissed at Alex, or how he almost broke the bathroom door down to make sure you weren't hurt. "Am I like your sister too? Is that why you got so protective?"

You sense his body tense and there is a pause.

"No." Conrad breathes out, "Y/n, you're not like my sister."

You lean away and look at him. Your tone is serious now, "So what am I to you, Conrad?"

His eyes shine blue like the ocean and you almost drown looking at them. He's so close to you now and his cheeks are rosy. You both smell faintly like cranberry liquor and his hand is soft on the exposed skin of your thighs, "You're a Star. My Star."

You feel like you've lost your breath, "I'm your Star?"

Conrad nods, "You see, the Moon is lonely." He explains, expression serious, "He's usually all alone and sometimes it makes him want to cry. But whenever his Star comes out of hiding and shines into the darkness, the Moon is happy again. Unfortunately, his Star doesn't know how brightly she shines though. Most times, the Sun can't even compare because this Star," Conrad pauses, "his Star, isn't blinding. You can look at her shine all night and she'll always be the most beautiful thing. She's kind and brave and the Moon loves her more than anything." You have the sudden urge to sob and Conrad brings his thumb under your eye again, catching some tears, "Shh, it's okay." He says and you don't know how to react. You're suddenly wondering if, because of your crying, you have snot running down your nose.

Conrad Fisher has just declared his love for you and you're thinking about snot. It's all so funny you laugh. Conrad's nose scrunches, "Are you laughing at me?" He asks, mouth ajar.

You shake your head, "No!" You say but you start laughing again, covering your mouth and shrinking into yourself.

"Oh I see, you can make corny metaphors but I can't." Conrad rolls his eyes. Your mouth twists into a smile and you take his cheeks in your hands, pulling him to you until your noses are almost touching. In between your fingers you can see the tips of Conrad's ears turn pink.

"You can make as many metaphors as you want, Con. As long as you mean them."

He smiles, "I have never meant anything more in my life, Y/n/n."

You feel his hand find its way to the back of your head and he pulls you forward, his lips meeting yours. It's like a weight has been lifted from both your chests and you kiss him back instantly. It isn't like you imagined your first kiss with Conrad to go. You certainly weren't sitting on the floor of some random person's bathroom, dried tears on your cheeks.

But, it's still somehow better.

Conrad's hands now find themselves on your hips as he continues to kiss you, lips delicately moving to your neck. The situation is so ironic you chuckle. You move away and Conrad looks confused.

You fake a pout, "I'm sixteen, Connie. Isn't this a little inappropriate."

Conrad begins to panic, "What? I-I mean, I'm barely a year older than you! Are you uncomfortable because," He pauses seeing your expression and he suddenly remembers what he had said to Alex and he blushes, "Okay, that wasn't funny." He whines.

"Kinda was." You boast.

Conrad leans back and tucks some hair behind your ear, "So what do you say we leave this bathroom and go dance." He asks and your heart flutters. You nod. You had never wanted anything more.

* ~ *

Summer ended and came again quickly. It had been a year since Conrad kissed you in that bathroom and a year since he became your boyfriend. Since you didn't live in Cousins, long distance had been complicated. But this was Conrad—when he wanted something he was determined to make it work and luckily for him you had the same amount of determination.

It was Belly's seventeenth birthday, yours having happened a few months prior to the Summer, and Shayla was throwing her a party. Parties usually weren't your thing but having Conrad around made things better.

"Hey lovebirds, this is my make out spot now. Go away." Jeremiah exclaims, leaning on the wall you and Conrad had claimed as your own. He pushes you away from your boyfriend. You laugh as Conrad sends Jeremiah a dirty look.

"You're a freak, Jere. Why can't you find your own?" He asks, his arm remaining around your waist.

"Because this is the only quiet one, and she isn't the only one who wants privacy."

You look at Micheal, Jeremiah's boyfriend, and smile, "Hi, Mike." Micheal awkwardly smiles back.

"Why can't you find a bathroom?" Argues Conrad.

"Occupied." Jeremiah defends.

"Okay children, calm down." You say, taking your boyfriend's hand in yours, "Babe, I’m thirsty, do you think you could grab us drinks while I dance with Belly and Taylor?" Conrad sighs and looks down at you. He squeezes your hand.

"Of course, Starlight." Conrad says sweetly. He then turns around and ignores Jeremiah as he says a quick hello to Micheal and leaves for the kitchen. You smile sheepishly, "Sorry, here!" You move from the wall, "Have fun! I mean–um. Yeah!" You state, waving, and quickly leave to find Belly and Taylor.

"Y/n!" Belly shouts from the crowd and you push your way towards them. Belly hugs you and when she pulls away her cheeks are flushed and you know she's had one too many drinks. But, by the way Taylor is holding her hand you know she's in good hands. Literally.

"Hi, Bells'. Tay." You smile and start to dance with them. Taylor nods at you, gripping Belly's hips and moves them to the music. Just like last year they're wearing flower crowns and they look beautiful. Your mind wanders to Conrad and you remember how he'd offered to buy or make you a flower crown last year since Belly only had two. He'd been so kind. You smile. However, just as quickly as your smile came it disappeared because someone's hands touched your waist. You know it's not Conrad, you know how his hands feel and these aren't his hands.

You turn around only to be met with familiar blond curls, "Alex?"

"Hi, Y/n." Alex smiles, not moving his hands. You return his smile awkwardly. You don't know what to do. His smile makes you want to puke and you don't understand why. You look around for Conrad. "You wanna finish our dance, without interruptions this time?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Alex, I actually have a boyfriend." You mutter and shakily move his hands. Belly has turned around now and when she notices Alex, she drunkenly frowns. In seconds she's taking your hand and pulling you into her and away from the boy.

"Hi," She slurs, "I'm Belly."

Alex sends her a tight-lipped smile, "Hi," You look away but his hand gripping your arm makes you turn to him again, "I-" He starts but he's interrupted by Conrad yanking his arm, causing him to drop his hold on you.

"Don't ever touch her." Conrad snaps.

Alex squints at Conrad, "Not you again." He looks at you, "Does he even know you?"

"I'm her boyfriend, dipshit." Conrad exclaims, his arm going around your shoulder and you unconsciously lean into him.

Alex frowns, "Oh," He moves away, "My bad, man." Your hands clench. Suddenly it matters that you're taken? It hadn't only a minute earlier! When Alex leaves, you turn to Belly and Taylor and they look just as disgusted as you do.

"My bad, man." Taylor mocks, "Asshole." She says and continues to dance.

"Men suck." Belly mutters, taking Taylor's hand and spinning her around. You laugh. You would have agreed, had your boyfriend's hands around your waist not reminded you that no, not all men sucked. But then again, not all men were your boyfriend.

You spin back around and he pulls you into him, "You ok?" He asks, genuinely concerned. You smile and nod, "Good." He says, rubbing his thumb over your hips. His lips twist into a smirk and you tilt your head.

"You look like you enjoyed that." You say.

Conrad raises his brow, "I did not enjoy him touching you when you were obviously uncomfortable, Starlight."

You laugh, "No, I meant telling him that you're my boyfriend."

"I am your boyfriend." Conrad smirks and leans in to kiss your forehead. He looks at you, blue eyes shining, "Is it so bad that I want people, especially idiots like him, to know?"

You pretend to think for a moment, "No," You smile, "I don't think it's bad."

"Good because I want everyone to know." Conrad says as he kisses your lips. You lean up and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Ew, gross." Belly groans, pulling on your arm, "Connie, leave her alone. It's my birthday and I want to dance with my best friends!" You chuckle as Conrad’s eyebrows scrunch but he doesn't protest, he only points to Belly and says,

"Only because it's your birthday."

Belly drunkenly points her tongue at him and Conrad smirks, amused at how childish she is when she's drunk. You look at them and your own smile curls your lips. A year ago, Conrad smiling at Belly would have made your heart sink and your insecurities spiral. Now, those insecurities are forgein because while Belly might be the Sun and Conrad might be the Moon, you were his Star.

And what is a Moon without Stars?

[rafecameronslittleslut]

[rafecameronslittleslut]

the #ethan landry here on tumblr is full of jack and haley drama like pls idgaf if haley's a bitch bcs she is like PLEASE LET ME READ ETHAN FICS IN PEACE OMFG