appleciderlove

[appleciderlove]

toxic!rafe locking you in to cancel your plans

more of this au here

"i'm going out," you said casually, slipping your phone into your bag.

"with who?”

his voice came from the couch—low, unreadable.

"just… some guy i met at the bar last week." he hummed. not angry. not surprised. just something else.

"oh have fun."

you paused for a beat, eyes flicking to him. but he was back to scrolling, completely unbothered. so you shrugged, turned, and started walking toward the front door.

"wait," he said suddenly. "before you go, come here. i want to show you something."

"what?"

"just come”

you followed, steps slower now. he led you to a room down the hall you'd never really paid attention to. he opened the door.

"huh," you said, glancing around. "i've never been in here."

"yeah, thought you might like it” he murmured, following in behind you.

the door clicked shut.

you turned slowly.

"why'd you close the door?"

"habit," he said, too smooth. too quick.

you reached for the handle, twisted. nothing. it didn't budge.

your fingers stilled. "what did you do?"

you looked back at him, a creeping suspicion twisting through your gut.

"are we… locked in?"

he didn't answer at first. just smiled. faint and unreadable.

"rafe," you snapped.

he stood on the other side of the door, calm as ever. "you weren't really gonna go see him, were you?"

"you're insane."

"i'm obsessed," he corrected. "big difference."

you banged on the door. he didn’t even flinch. “let me out.”

“mm… no.”

you cursed under your breath, this is crazy.

“you can’t lock me in here just because i made plans.”

“no, baby, i didn’t lock you in because you made plans. i locked you in because you made plans without me.”

you’re still standing by the door, in disbelief of the situation you’re in “what are you doing?”

he walked to the corner table, picked up whatever snacks were sitting there, and flopped onto the couch like he didn't just kidnap you.

“trying to spend time with my favourite person” he said. “is that so bad?”

you ignore him, walking to the couch. you try to put some distance between you and him.

he tugged your wrist, and patted his lap. “come here.”

you frowned “no. i’m still mad at you.”

he raised an eyebrow “alright then” you barely had time to blink before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly into his lap like you weighed nothing.

“see?” he whispered against your neck. “this is much better”

“this is messed up,” you muttered.

he shrugged. “maybe. but i’m way better company than some random bar guy, and you know it.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re unbelievable.”

he browsed through netflix with one arm still draped behind you.

“you’ve got five minutes to decide or i’m picking something you hate,” he warned, voice low against your ear.

you rolled your eyes. “fine. that one.”

you tried to stand, but he pulled you right back down.

“no leaving unless you swear you’re staying.”

“fine,” you muttered, “i’m not leaving. i’m too lazy to go out now anyway.”

he finally released you with a sigh. you shuffled to the side, settling beside him instead.

his laugh rumbled against your back. “whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.”

you threw a pillow at him. he caught it without breaking eye contact, smirking. “is that all you’ve got?”

“shut up and start the movie,” you muttered, trying not to smile.

“yes, baby,” he grins, turning his attention to the screen and pressing play on the remote.

the first movie played. then the second.

he let you choose them all, even the one he hated. he let you complain and talk through every scene. he just looked at you with that annoyingly fond expression like you were the only thing in the world worth staring at.

you didn’t even realize you’d stopped being mad until he paused the third movie just to press a kiss to your cheek and say, “you look cute when you’re mad at me” you shoved him. he laughed.

and then you curled into his side and said, “next time you lock me in here, at least light a candle or something.”

“next time?” he teased.

“oh shut up” you say through a half-smile, nudging him with your knee like it’ll knock the smirk off his face.

꒰ 🌙 ꒱ tags — @starkeyvhs

[appleciderlove]

boyfriend!rafe serenades you ୨ৎ ♡₊ ⊹ ⊹

more of this au here

tap. tap. tap.

you blink, looking up from your phone. it’s almost midnight. you tiptoe toward the window, already having a feeling you know who it is. you look down your window, and there he was. rafe. hair a bit messy, his red guitar slung over his shoulder like some lovesick movie boy.

“rafe?” you whisper-shout, cracking the window open. “are you seriously throwing rocks at my window right now. what are you doing?”

he grins up at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“singing to the love of my life,” he says, and strums the first few chords, nervous, a little shaky, but so sweet you feel your chest ache.

his voice slips into the night air, low, warm, just like him.

“why you standing all by yourself? those shoes were made for dancing with someone else…”

"why don’t we move over to that empty space? i bet you twenty bucks i’ll put a smile on your face…”

you cover your mouth, already grinning. “you’re such an idiot,” you whisper, but your heart’s pounding.

he keeps going, softer now, smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“i know a place where we can dance the night away…”

you’re leaning out the window without even meaning to, hands braced against the frame.

“baby, we could try to make the world spin slower…”

he’s watching you now, like the song’s always been about you.

“we could take our time and get to know each other over cherry wine…”

“come in,” you murmur, biting back a smile. “before you wake the neighbors with your romantic nonsense.”

he climbs up the window, with the guitar slung over his back, hands steady as they catch your waist and pull you flush to him.

“told you i’d make you smile,” he murmurs, forehead to yours. “yeah you did” you whisper, breathless. “come dance with me, mr.loverboy”

he laughs, low and full of love. “okay, princess.”

his arms wrap around you without hesitation, pulling you close. your hands settle at the nape of his neck, the two of you start to sway, slow and gentle, like the world’s been waiting for this moment to catch up.

“did you like it?” he murmurs, voice brushing your ear. “my little concert?”

you tilt your head up, smiling “i loved it,” you whisper.

you lean in, resting your forehead against his. “i’m so lucky to have you,” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

he smiles, eyes shining like he can barely hold it in. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says softly.

he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and grins “and you’re stuck with me forever, love.”

you close your eyes for a second, heart thudding too loud in your chest. and then he gives you a little twirl, playful and soft, like he just couldn’t help himself. you stumble right into him again, giggling, your laughter tangling in his.

he hums, eyes flicking to the corner of the room. “we can’t dance without music, princess.” he walks to your vinyl player, flipping through your vinyl collection until he finds your favourite one. he places the record onto the vinyl player. the record plays, and the moment shimmers, like you’ve both stepped into a living fairytale moment. he turns back, hand extended, voice low. “may i have this dance?”

and then it’s just the two of you, swaying in the quiet glow of your bedroom, your shadows dancing on the walls.

the night outside stretches long and golden and quiet, like it’s letting you keep it.

just you. him. and a love that feels like music still playing.

꒰ 🌙 ꒱ taglist — @starkeyvhs

[appleciderlove]

THE FARMERS MARKET!

going to the farmer's market with firefighter!rafe contents: established relationship (they're married), fluff, soft but intimidating rafe :> wc: 240

"should've got here earlier," rafe mumbles while looking for a parking spot. you're oblivious to your husband's annoyance as you're too enthralled by the vibrance of the farmers market.

the potent market aroma invades your senses as you're exposed to the various scents of produce, baked goods, and flowers. upcoming artists playing songs over the chatter between vendors and customers.

you walk around the market in a cute gingham dress and brown boots. rafe follws behind you broodingly, arms crossed as his biceps strain his shirt, reads: kildare fire department. glaring at any man who looked your way.

you smell each scented candle you pass by, while rafe goes to a flower stall, buying an assortment of your favorite flowers. his heart warmed seeing your affectionate gaze looking up at him.

by the end of your trip, rafe's carrying two more linen tote bags than you originally brought. the bags are filled to the brim with trinkets and enough produce to last the two of you the rest of the month.

rafe doesn't take his eyes off you as he watches your face light up as you ramble about how enthusiastic you are for him to try the desserts you plan to make.

"we should do this again, ray" you say, peering out the window, watching the setting sun.

his hand instinctively lands on your thigh, his thumb mindlessly rubbing the soft skin of your inner thigh. "of course, baby."

[appleciderlove]

watch and learn (part nine)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

He’s used to feeling anger. It’s familiar to him, like a song he’s heard a million times.

But there’s something weaved in with the anger he’s feeling right now. A painful, sinking hopelessness. It’s almost debilitating.

Rafe typically looks away when he sees you and Blake together, but this time he can’t. It’s like he wants to aggravate himself.

As he sits in the sand, you’re out in the distance, far into the dark blue water, part of two silhouettes closed in a kiss.

You told him sadness isn’t weakness. That’s a fucking joke. If it wasn’t weakness, why does his heartbeat feel unsteady? He’s the very definition of weakness right now.

Rafe pats Sam on the back, mumbling that he’s heading home.

“What, already?” Sam asks, who’s been focused on flirting with Liv the entire time. “You still coming tonight?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, although he’s not even sure if he’ll be attending the frat party tonight. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he faces Blake.

His legs are heavy when he drives back to the dorm. He’s glad he didn’t carpool with anyone.

Rafe needs to get his shit together. He doesn’t want a commitment. He can’t do that. But he doesn’t want you to have one, either. With anyone.

What you have is so good. Why the fuck are you ruining it?

He scoffs to himself. It’s because you’re looking for someone who can commit. And… maybe he could figure out how to do the boyfriend stuff.

Stupid. He’s in disbelief that his mind went there. You don’t even want him like that. You’re friends that fuck. Or you were.

When you wade back onto the shore with Blake, you notice that Rafe is missing. You ask Sam about it, who simply tells you he left in a rush. You settle onto the sand with the rest of your friends, lightheaded and dazed.

About an hour later, you head home. Rafe’s in his room and hears your door open. He considers knocking. But soon after, your door closes again.

He paces for a few minutes, wondering if you went to shower. Or maybe you rushed back to Blake to go spend more time with him.

He desperately hopes it’s the former. He strips down and wraps a towel around his hips, heading towards the co-ed showers.

As you lather body wash over your arms, wondering if Blake felt the same way about the missing spark in your kiss, you hear your name muttered over the rumbling of the shower, echoing through the tiled corridor. You recognize his voice immediately.

“Rafe?” you say with a laugh. As confused as you are, you’re just as relieved to hear him.

You pull the slide lock open, slowly swinging open the shower stall door, eyes landing on his cheerless face. Your smile fades.

Rafe finds both pain and pleasure in that look of concern on your face that took him prisoner long ago. He knows you only care for him as a friend. You fucking love throwing that word around.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Rafe feels angry. He’s jealous. He’s lost. He’s drowning and this will give him one last breath before he goes under.

He barges into the shower, cupping your face with firm hands and kissing you hard. He’s terrified you’ll shove him off and tell him you’re with someone now.

“One last time,” he mumbles when he pulls back an inch away from you, begging that you’ll want him enough or at least find the pity to do this before you turn into someone else’s girlfriend.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion. One last time? Why does he want to stop doing this? He said he wanted to keep hooking up with you just the other night.

Nonetheless, you agree. You’re falling for him and continuing this is self-destruction. Whatever his reason, you agree. Even if it hurts, you agree.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His shoulders lose all tension once your soft hands drag up his arms, curving around the planes of his muscles, landing at the sides of his neck.

Touching him is a thrill every single time. This charge of excitement is what your kiss with Blake was missing. Rafe is everything you want. You finally admit it to yourself.

On paper, this doesn’t make sense. You should be head over heels for Blake. He’s a good guy who actually wants to date you. But Rafe, with all of his temper and his arrogance and his repulsion for commitment, is who you want.

Thankfully, the rest of the showers stalls are empty, but you pull back to shut the door behind Rafe and avoid the risk of anyone seeing you.

He lazily bunches his towel onto a free hook and presses up behind you, his mouth on your wet shoulder, hot water drizzling on his back. His hands roam over your chest, down your body, between your legs.

He’s touching you like he has seconds left before he has to stop.

You feel his cock hardening against your back. If this is the last time, you need to taste him, have him every possible way you can.

You turn and sink to your knees, gripping him at his base, putting him in your mouth. He’s still partly soft, delicate against the inside of your cheek.

Rafe shudders under your touch, watching you on your knees, wisps of steam surrounding you. His cock grows in your mouth as you run your tongue over him.

You look up at him like he taught you to the night in the backseat of his car, your heart pounding.

“Those pretty eyes,” he says over the drumming of the shower. “Fuck.”

He drags a hand over your hair, savoring the way your lips close around him. His cock twitches in your mouth as his softness is replaced by tight rigidity.

You pull away, pumping his length in a tight fist, your saliva covering him.

“You always get hard so fast for me,” you praise, eyes tracking the water falling down the ridges of his toned body.

Rafe knows he’s a goner when he thinks about the fact that he wants to only get hard for you.

You put him in your mouth again and start to slowly bob back and forth, slightly gagging every time you take all of him in. He has to press his other hand against the hard plastic door to steady himself as your hot, smooth tongue circles his cock.

His eyes are locked on you. His grip tightens at the roots of your hair as he bucks his hips forward and you open your mouth wider to invite him to control the pace.

Rafe’s takes his hand off the door to hold your head as he starts to rock, slowly fucking your mouth, keeping his locked eyes on yours the entire time.

When you start to massage his balls, he groans, feeling himself getting close. He pulls out, cupping your face to beckon you to stand. You’re on your feet and he kisses you again, softer and slower this time.

As you kiss, you hear a door open down the corridor. He clenches his jaw in frustration. He doesn’t want to be quiet. He wants to hear you moan, and he wants to be the only one to hear it.

“Let’s go,” he huffs quietly.

You don’t have time to think. You turn the shower off and wrap yourselves in your towels and rush to your dorm room. The towels drop the second the door shuts, hands roaming over each other’s wet bodies, lips joining in deep kisses.

He guides you to lie in your bed. This is where it all started. That first night, it was all emotionless and instructional. Now he understands your body like nobody ever has before.

Rafe hovers over you on his knees and dips to kiss your breasts. You stifle a moan as his tongue circles your nipple.

“Louder,” he orders. You trap your bottom lip behind your teeth as you smile, obeying him and moaning as loud as you want to.

He trails kisses down your stomach, over your pelvis, across your thighs and finally puts his mouth between your legs. His wet lips lock around your clit and you tremble, hands finding his hair.

He can’t imagine how the fuck he’ll ever be able to do this to another girl. She won’t taste like you or sound like you.

Rafe runs his tongue over folds, his face getting wet with your arousal. You bunch your fingers into his soft hair, enjoying the sight of his mouth pressed up against you.

His eyes meet yours and it’s such a beautiful sight that you feel envious of all the others who’ll get to see him like this now that you’ve taught him how to please a girl.

When he slowly pushes a finger into you, you start to writhe and shudder, tightening around him. He adds a second, curling up into you as he continues to suck and lap at your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for him to lead you into an orgasm. You tumble into it with hard pulses, arching your back and squeezing your thighs around him.

Once you come down, he kisses your pussy, thinking that it’s not fair that he didn’t get to do this more times.

He comes up to kiss you, your taste on both your tongues. His cock is swollen as he grinds up against you, the feeling of your bareness with his intoxicating.

“I wanna do it raw,” Rafe says, voice ragged and desperate. “Please?”

You nod without a second thought, wanting to feel him completely. He rubs you, spreading your wetness over his palm.

You watch him stroke himself, his fist moving quickly, covering himself with your arousal. His chest is heaving now as he looks down at you and your awestruck, open mouth.

He’ll miss seeing you like this, all blissful and hungry for him.

Rafe leans down to kiss you again as he guides himself into you, both of moaning into each other’s mouths.

You’re warm and soft and wet and tight around him, giving him a rush of ecstasy before he even cums.

“My perfect girl,” he rasps, his temple against yours. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

You told him not to say shit he doesn’t mean.

He’s following your advice.

As he pushes in and out of you, his hand trails up your forearm and he laces his fingers through yours. The gesture is fucking romantic that you’re almost angry at him for doing it.

You allow yourself to live in this short-lived fantasy, letting Rafe say goodbye to you with his body.

He’s so overcome with passion that he squeezes your hand too hard, making you wince.

“Rafe,” you whisper, “that hurts.”

He tenses and stops moving immediately, blue eyes frantically searching your face for an answer.

“My hand,” you say.

“Shit,” he says. He loosens his grip, gently curling his hand around your fingers. He can’t endure seeing you in pain. Especially if he’s the one who gave it to you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say with a breathy laugh. You thought he hated holding hands. “Keep going.”

Rafe resumes his thrusts, shifting to rub your sensitive clit and meeting your lips with his again.

The pressure of him filling you, the sensation of his thumb dragging circles over you, the way he’s kissing you sends another familiar rush of pleasure through you.

You start to breathe even faster as your walls start to clench around his cock. You whimper as your body warms with the promise of another orgasm.

“Again, baby?” he grumbles in an amused tone. He loves that he can do this to you. “You deserve it.”

Rafe’s words send you over the edge again, your entire body trembling. The way you clench around his cock makes his blood hot, thrusting into you harder and harder.

“You’ll be thinking about me, won’t you?” he says. “Wishing it was me?”

He doesn’t have to say it outright. You’ll be thinking about him the next time you’re tangled up with another man like this. You know you will and it kills you to admit to yourself.

“Yes,” you impulsively answer. The words between you are so sensitive and heavy that you kiss him to stop the conversation from carrying on.

Rafe continues to pound into you, hitting so deliciously deep every time, loving how your pussy swallows him. He’s panting at this point, body slick with sweat, thighs burning as he frantically rocks in and out of you.

“Taking it so fucking good,” he grunts. “Fuck, I’m…”

When he finishes inside you, hips stuttering against yours, every muscle in his body tenses, the wave overtaking him.

He has to keep himself from collapsing on you, shifting and slowly pulling out. You lie on your side with your back to him. It’s too much to look at him after sharing something so intimate, knowing it’s the last time.

You can feel his cum inside you, the lack of him so damn painful. It’s over. You’re crashing now.

“A-plus?” Rafe mumbles against your shoulder.

“A-plus,” you say, hoping your tone doesn’t give away how somber you feel. “You officially know how to please a girl.”

You say it mainly to remind yourself of the situation you have with him. To hear it out loud that this is all a purely physical arrangement.

Rafe shuts his eyes, plummeting from the high you just gave him. He can’t say anything to that. You couldn’t be more clear that you have no feelings for him.

“Why’d you say this was the last time?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Rafe’s not about to tell you the truth and put himself through the process of getting rejected by you. Especially after he saw you kissing another man just hours ago.

The spite and sorrow return, washing over him again.

“We said we’d do this ‘til we’re satisfied,” he says. “I’m satisfied.”

You hate that his words hurt as much as they do.

You’re about to remind him of what he said at the party a few nights ago, about how he wants to keep fucking around with you. But what’s the point in convincing him to keep doing this when you already know it’s best to end it?

“It was fun while it lasted,” you say indifferently. You’re not even close to satisfied, but you’re not going to beg him. “You can go if you want.”

Another touch from him would be too much. You need to end this now.

Rafe’s weight shifts behind you as he gets out of your bed. You gave him the easy way out. And this is Rafe. Of course he’s going to take it.

Your door shuts behind him and you let out a shaky exhale as you lie in bed, hating that hot tears prick at your eyes.

You weren’t supposed to develop feelings. You lost.

Rafe tells himself he won’t care when he sees you with Blake. He’ll act like it doesn’t fuck with his head until it no longer does. He’ll go to tonight’s party and find a girl and sleep around like he wanted to before he met you.

As you get ready a couple of hours after Rafe left, you’re pretty sure going to the frat party is a shitty idea considering you still feel so heavy-hearted. But it’s better than staying in your room, wallowing in your sadness.

You don’t really want to face Blake in case he tries anything, but the sooner you let him know you only want to be friends, the better. It’s best to rip the bandaid off.

You meet Liv at the house, purposely avoiding Blake and Rafe before you’ve had a drink. A couple of sips in, though, Blake and Sam approach you two, offering you a joint.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Liv jokes, taking a puff. She offers it to you and you take one pull. Then another. And one more.

The boys challenge you to a game of beer pong and you and Liv follow them to the dining room. You catch Rafe’s gaze. He’s with another girl. Of course he is.

He’s is in the living room, a few minutes into a conversation with someone who approached him, when he sees you. You’re right next to Blake while you set up a game of beer pong. It’s infuriating him all over again.

He realizes there’s a gap in conversation. She must have said something he ignored. He tries to put his focus back onto her, but how can he when the girl he’d do anything for is just across the room, giving another guy the attention he’s dying for?

As you play with Blake against Sam and Liv, you land a ball in a cup. Blake cheers and puts an arm around your waist.

“Nice one,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You know you’ll have to break it to him soon. Leading him on any longer wouldn’t be fair.

The game carries on, the fog of your high thickening. You keep glancing over at Rafe, who’s looking down at her with that smug smile you know so well. He was just inside you hours ago, raw, and he’s already hitting on someone else.

Sam and Liv end up winning the round, and now that you’re tipsy and stoned, the music is too loud, the air is too humid.

You take a deep breath and look up at Blake, needing a break from everything. You lean in, making sure not to touch him.

“Could we go to your room?” you ask. “I need to sit down.”

“Yeah,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you through the crowd and up the stairs.

Rafe sees you and his chest tightens. It was fun. That’s all you said. It was so much fucking more than that to him, but to you, it was fun.

You’re not shy anymore. Thanks to him. That’s probably why you’re comfortable going upstairs and hooking up with Blake so soon.

He told himself he would act like he doesn’t care. It’s taking everything in him to follow through.

When you settle onto the edge of Blake’s bed, he sits next to you. You can smell his cologne and immediately think of how much more you like Rafe’s.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“I think I smoked too much,” you reply.

“Shit, that’s not fun.” He puts his hand on yours. “Can I help? Do you want some water or something?”

You swallow hard, taking advantage of the courage you have from the substances you drank and inhaled.

“Blake,” you say quietly. You look down at your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I… want to be honest with you. I think we’d be better off as friends. I’m really sorry if you want more.”

Tension immediately grows between you. After a moment, he replies.

“It’s all good. I think you’re right.”

Maybe he’s saying it just to save face. Or maybe he can sense that your conversations are rigid more often than not and affection between you feels like it’s missing something. Either way, you’re relieved he’s taking it with grace. It’s what you expected from him.

“You deserve a great girl,” you tell him sincerely. Blake looks down and nods.

“If it’s him you want, I hope he gets his shit together for you.”

Blake doesn’t have to say his name. It’s obvious. It’s embarrassing that you’re so transparent, but you try to push away the discomfort.

You meet his eyes and can only offer him a disappointed smile. You hope Rafe can get his shit together, too. But you saw him with another girl downstairs and you know his heart isn’t yours.

Like he said, he’s satisfied. He’s done with you.

Since you sat down, the world has started spinning even harder. You’re not even at the peak of the high yet.

“Is it okay if I lie here on my own for a while?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Blake says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He leaves, surely grateful he doesn’t have to stay with a girl who just rejected him. You breathe through the scary whirling sensation flooding you.

You lean back on the bed and lie down, anxiety gripping you. You know you just have to ride the high out, but your heart is racing.

You close your eyes, taking calculated breaths, trying to keep the fear at bay.

You hear taps at the door a few minutes later and turn your head to see Liv come in. She offers to walk you to your dorm, but the mere thought of even just sitting up when you’re feeling so sick makes you even dizzier.

“I think I just need to stay like this for a while,” you tell her. “I’ll find you, okay? Go have fun.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Text me if you need me,” Liv says.

Eventually, you still feel woozy, but you’re able to sit up. You’ll definitely need help getting home. You’ll find Liv, get home and crawl into bed.

Rafe blew off the girl he was talking to and has been drowning his feelings in booze. When he sees Blake downstairs, he notices you’re nowhere near him.

His eyes search around for you, but you’re not here.

Then he sees you coming down the stairs, slow with every step, holding the bannister with two hands. Any animosity he held for you dissolves when he sees how disheartened you look.

The vision of you like this sobers him up. You were upstairs and Blake just left you to keep partying? He cuts through the crowd and meets you at the bottom of the staircase.

When Rafe approaches you, your anxiety loses some of its power. What you shared earlier today was such a beautiful experience that you almost forget you’re never going to touch him again.

“Hey,” Rafe says over the loud music. “You okay?”

“Partied too hard,” you say tiredly. Your body still feels a bit numb, your head swimming, your inhibitions squandered. You’re afraid of what you might say to him with less of a filter.

He wants to know what kind of partying you’re talking about. If you actually went all the way with Blake. As if knowing will make any difference.

“What’d you do up there?” he asks. You scowl. Is he seriously still jealous of Blake?

“Why do you care?” you ask. “Where’s the girl you were talking to?”

“I don’t want her.”

“Onto the next one, then,” you say bitterly. “I need to go home.” You step to the side to pass him. Your knees wobble and he grips your forearms, keeping you steady.

“I’ll take you, baby.” You realize that’s the first time he called you that outside of sex.

His sense of protectiveness over you is almost overwhelming to him. He realizes he hasn’t ever cared about someone this much before.

“Liv’ll walk with me,” you tell him. You search for your friend in the crowd to see her in a corner, lips locked with Sam’s.

You consider taking Rafe up on his offer. Liv’s busy. Her dorm is on the other side of campus. Rafe is your next-door neighbor. It’s logical that he takes you home.

But your desire to do it not based on logic. You want to spend time with him and live in the fantasy a little longer.

Another wave of dizziness hits you and you look down with a pinched forehead and a shallow frown.

“Hey, what is it?” Rafe asks softly. You love and hate these few and far between displays of sweetness of his because as nice as they are, they never last.

“Dizzy,” you say. His hands are still wrapped around your forearms.

Guilt seeps into his bones, angry that you were upstairs like this by yourself. Especially if you and Blake hooked up and he just left you to sit in discomfort. Rafe would never leave you like this. He’d stay with you.

“Everything okay?” Blake appears behind Rafe. Weeks of pent-up rage twist deep in his gut. He’s been avoiding him all night for this reason.

“You just left her alone up there?” Rafe snaps.

“What?” Blake says.

“Is that how you’re going to treat her?” Rafe says through gritted teeth.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Blake snaps.

Rafe’s hands lose contact with you, his blood boiling as he turns to look at Blake, his chest aggressively pushing up to his.

“You’re a fucking joke,” Rafe starts to shout.

“Back up before you do something you regret, Cameron,” Blake replies. Rafe steps even closer, fists clenched.

“Back up,” Blake warns again. He looks to you and asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

This is the final straw for Rafe. How dare he pretend like he gives a shit about you?

He shoves Blake hard, finally giving into his rage for everything. For taking you. For leaving you upstairs. For being better than him.

Blake’s nostrils flare and he steps forward, hands bunching around Rafe’s collar.

“Get out,” Blake mutters. “Go. You’re done here.”

You’re in shock. You pull at Rafe’s hand, trying to deescalate the best you can while you’re still feeling so disoriented.

“Let’s go,” you urge. Rafe’s face is a mix of anger and confusion and regret. You can’t tell if he seriously just got kicked out of his frat over you.

In shock, Rafe lets you pull him out of the house into the quiet night air. It’s the blind leading the blind at this point, your muscles weak as you step out on the sidewalk.

Your dorm is just shy of a ten minute walk away, but you’re not sure you can do it if someone’s not watching out for you.

Rafe’s hands are in his hair as he paces out into the street.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice shaky. “Fuck. Fuck.”

You cross your arms as the cool breeze hits you and watch him through worried eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” you try to console him.

“No, it won’t.” He’s reeling. The brotherhood has a code of conduct. Violating it is a big deal. He fucks up once and he’s done. And on top of all that, he lost you.

“You guys’ll talk it out when you’re sobered up,” you say.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Rafe shouts. His volume startles you and he notices you jolt and it makes him feel a hundred times shittier.

You watch each other in silence for a moment before you speak again.

“I’m not going to stand here and let you yell at me,” you say to him. You turn and head towards your dorm, albeit slowly.

Rafe sighs, watching you walk away from him, knowing he should get used to the feeling. He rushes to catch up to you, reaching you as you pace down the sidewalk. He grips your forearm in case you get weak again.

“Wait,” he mutters impatiently. “Wait, I’m…”

“Why the fuck are you mad at me?” you say, staring ahead, refusing to look at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“Don’t say that word,” Rafe says. “I can’t stand that word.”

It stings. He can’t even see you as a friend now that he’s satisfied with you?

“If we’re not friends, then why get so pissed off at him for leaving me upstairs? If you don’t care about me, why did you do that?” you challenge.

Rafe feels drunk, heavy, and afraid of it coming out wrong.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” he says.

“You left me today,” you say with a pissed off laugh.

His rage and jealousy are clouding his judgement. Deep down, he feels like shit for the way he left you in your bed, but all he can see is red right now.

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend,” Rafe snaps. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I told him to, Rafe!” you shout. Embarrassment floods his body. Shit. “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever fucking met.”

Rafe almost laughs. If he’s confusing to you, you couldn’t imagine living with his brain. It’s constantly tugging him in ten different directions.

You cross the street, arms still crossed, trying not to cry.

“What’s so confusing?” he asks. He can’t stand that you’ve kept your eyes off of him this whole time. “Look at me.”

You stop under a streetlamp on the campus pathway, glaring up at him. He hates how sad you look.

“You’re mean, then you’re nice,” you say. “You don’t want to do couple shit, then you call me your girl. You say you’re satisfied and done with me, then you try to fight Blake for leaving me upstairs. I don’t fucking get you.”

“I never said I was done with you,” Rafe replies.

You scoff. Of course he’s going to pick apart your words and move past the actual subject. All this man does is avoid his feelings. You turn to keep walking, but he steps in front of you.

“I don’t want to be done with you,” he says.

A dangerous feeling of hope blooms in your chest.

“We said it was the last time,” you remind him. “You got what you wanted from me.”

“I…” Rafe looks down and shakes his head. “No. I want more.”

“What… kind of more?” you say, tone softening.

He rakes a hand through his hair and exhales. He’s on not sure he’s ever felt this scared before.

“What kind of more?” you repeat.

“More than just… fucking around,” he finally says. He winces like he’s bracing for the impact of your words.

“I thought you said you don’t want to be tied down,” you say.

“Yeah, ‘cause I think college is supposed to be fun,” he says. “But… being with you would be fun. Being with you is the most fun I’ve...”

Rafe looks down again, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Are you with him?” he says quietly.

“Rafe,” you say with a huff. He just doesn’t see it. “Did I stay with him or did I leave with you?”

He lets the words sink in for a moment. You chose him. Damn. You actually chose him.

“I saw you kiss him,” he says, possibly in a subconscious way to sabotage everything.

You freeze. That must be why he left the beach so suddenly. He saw you with Blake and he couldn’t take it.

“But you didn’t see me telling him that I’m not interested in him like that,” you reply.

A weight lifts off his chest, giving him space to breathe better. Rafe realizes he’s already too deep. If you’re going to break his heart, you might as well break it all the way. At least that way he’ll be sure.

“Do you… do you want me?” he stammers. “As a - a boyfriend? Do you want that?”

He’s never looked so vulnerable to you before. Not even when you walked in on his father berating him. This is a new expression. One he’s been hiding from you.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you say, a smile curling on your lips, your body going numb.

He awkwardly shuffles in his spot, nervously pushing his hair back again.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Yeah?” Rafe echoes.

“Of course,” you laugh. The fact that you seem so sure makes his heart warm in a way he’s never felt before.

“You’re not just saying that?” he asks.

It hits you like an unexpected storm, like the sudden raindrops on the night on the boat, that maybe Rafe doesn’t think he’s as great as he pretends to be. That it’s all an act, that he feels like he’s not worth loving and he hides it behind ego and coldness.

“Rafe,” you laugh. “No, I’m not just saying that.” You close the distance between you, brushing his bangs off his face, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones.

He looks like he’s still scared that you’re being insincere.

“What if I fuck it up?” he says. “I don’t know how to...” Be a boyfriend.

“We both know you can learn,” you reassure him.

Rafe finally lets himself believe that you really do like him, smiling, dimples caving into his cheeks. The way his eyes light up might just break your heart in the best way.

He doesn’t know if you turned him into someone else, or if he was always this person. But he wants it all. The dates, the affection, the commitment. He wants it all if it’s with you.

Rafe kisses you and this time, he allows himself to feel all the vulnerability he repressed before. You’re doing the same thing.

He doesn’t want to stop tasting your lips and feeling your nose nudge against his as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper.

After you somehow manage to pull yourselves off of each other, Rafe’s fingers lace between yours as you walk the rest of the way back to your dorm.

He knows he left things back at the house in shambles. He knows he probably lost his place in the frat and his future living in the house. He knows his temper fucked him over like it usually does.

But for once in his life, he has someone looking at him like he’s not a complete disappointment.

(part ten)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[appleciderlove]

toxic!rafe locking you in to cancel your plans (teaser)

here is the completed fic

"i'm going out," you said casually, slipping your phone into your bag.

"with who?”

his voice came from the couch—low, unreadable.

"just... some guy i met at the bar last week." he hummed. not angry. not surprised. just something else.

"oh have fun."

you paused for a beat, eyes flicking to him. but he was back to scrolling, completely unbothered. so you shrugged, turned, and started walking toward the front door.

"wait," he said suddenly. "before you go, come here. i want to show you something."

"what?"

"just come”

you followed, steps slower now. he led you to a room down the hall you'd never really paid attention to. opened the door.

"huh," you said, glancing around. "i've never been in here."

"yeah, thought you might like it” he murmured, following in behind you.

the door clicked shut.

you turned slowly.

"why'd you close the door?"

"habit," he said, too smooth. too quick.

you reached for the handle, twisted. nothing. it didn't budge.

your fingers stilled. "what did you do?"

you looked back at him, a creeping suspicion twisting through your gut.

"are we... locked in?"

he didn't answer at first. just smiled. faint and unreadable.

"rafe," you snapped.

he stood on the other side of the door, calm as ever. "you weren't really gonna go see him, were you?"

"you're insane."

"i'm obsessed," he corrected. "big difference."

[appleciderlove]

boyfriend!rafe serenades you ୨ৎ ♡₊ ⊹ ⊹

more of this au here

tap. tap. tap.

you blink, looking up from your phone. it’s almost midnight. you tiptoe toward the window, already having a feeling you know who it is. you look down your window, and there he was. rafe. hair a bit messy, his red guitar slung over his shoulder like some lovesick movie boy.

“rafe?” you whisper-shout, cracking the window open. “are you seriously throwing rocks at my window right now. what are you doing?”

he grins up at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“singing to the love of my life,” he says, and strums the first few chords, nervous, a little shaky, but so sweet you feel your chest ache.

his voice slips into the night air, low, warm, just like him.

“why you standing all by yourself? those shoes were made for dancing with someone else…”

"why don’t we move over to that empty space? i bet you twenty bucks i’ll put a smile on your face…”

you cover your mouth, already grinning. “you’re such an idiot,” you whisper, but your heart’s pounding.

he keeps going, softer now, smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“i know a place where we can dance the night away…”

you’re leaning out the window without even meaning to, hands braced against the frame.

“baby, we could try to make the world spin slower…”

he’s watching you now, like the song’s always been about you.

“we could take our time and get to know each other over cherry wine…”

“come in,” you murmur, biting back a smile. “before you wake the neighbors with your romantic nonsense.”

he climbs up the window, with the guitar slung over his back, hands steady as they catch your waist and pull you flush to him.

“told you i’d make you smile,” he murmurs.

“yeah you did” you whisper, breathless. “come dance with me, mr.loverboy”

he laughs, low and full of love. “okay, princess.”

his arms wrap around you without hesitation, pulling you close. your hands settle at the nape of his neck, the two of you start to sway, slow and gentle, like the world’s been waiting for this moment to catch up.

“did you like it?” he murmurs, voice brushing your ear. “my little concert?”

you tilt your head up, smiling “i loved it,” you whisper.

you lean in, resting your forehead against his. “i’m so lucky to have you,” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

he smiles, eyes shining like he can barely hold it in. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says softly.

he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and grins “and you’re stuck with me forever, love.”

you close your eyes for a second, heart thudding too loud in your chest. and then he gives you a little twirl, playful and soft, like he just couldn’t help himself. you stumble right into him again, giggling, your laughter tangling in his.

he hums, eyes flicking to the corner of the room. “we can’t dance without music, princess.”

he walks to your vinyl player, flipping through your vinyl collection until he finds your favourite one. he places the record onto the vinyl player. the record plays, and the moment shimmers, like you’ve both stepped into a living fairytale moment.

he turns back, hand extended, voice low. “may i have this dance?”

and then it’s just the two of you, swaying in the quiet glow of your bedroom, your shadows dancing on the walls.

the night outside stretches long and golden and quiet, like it’s letting you keep it.

just you. him. and a love that feels like music still playing.

꒰ 🌙 ꒱ tags — @starkeyvhs

[appleciderlove]

── . ❤︎ introducing boyfriend!rafe au

boyfriend!rafe wants more kisses

boyfriend!rafe serenades you

[appleciderlove]

drunk confessions | bsf!ethan x reader

part 2

his girlfriend hated you. she didn’t say it outright, but it showed in the way she clung to him when you were around. the way her eyes narrowed when he laughed too hard at your jokes. and eventually, ethan stopped laughing at all.

texts slowed. calls stopped. your inside jokes turned into awkward silences. and one night, when you showed up at a friend’s apartment and saw them curled up together on the couch. her legs draped across his, his hand resting on her knee like it belonged there. something in you cracked, you couldn't do this anymore.

he didn’t even see you. didn’t flinch. just smiled at something she whispered in his ear.

you didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you were in the kitchen, alone, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself. you poured a drink. then another. until the burn felt like something you could hold onto. you heard footsteps. the door creaked open. you didn’t turn.

“you’re drunk,” ethan said softly.

you smiled, tired. “yeah. it’s easier that way.”

he hesitated behind you. “easier for what?”

you swallowed hard. the words felt like glass. “loving someone who’ll never love me back.”

his breath hitched. “don’t say that.”

“why not?” you turned now, finally meeting his eyes. they looked tired. guilty. like he already knew everything you were about to say. “it’s true. you made your choice. and it wasn’t me.”

“it wasn’t that simple.”

you laughed, sharp, bitter. “it was. she didn’t like me. and instead of defending me, you stopped showing up.”

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“but you did.”

the air between you stretched, heavy and thick. your voice lowered.

“i spent so long holding onto every little moment. every time you smiled at me, every time you stayed a little too close. i convinced myself you might feel it too. and maybe that was my fault. maybe i saw something that was never really there.”

“don’t say that,” he whispered.

you blinked, eyes stinging. “i just wish you hadn’t made me feel like i ever had a chance. because i would’ve loved you. properly. the way she never will.”

you stepped past him, your shoulder brushing his. he didn’t stop you. didn’t say your name.

and that, somehow, hurt the most.

because silence? silence was an answer too.

a/n: lmk if you guys want a pt2 for this 🙂‍↕️🩷

[appleciderlove]

── .✦ welcome to an alternate universe starring our beloved neighbour!rafe and neighbour!reader

🌱 coming soon

[appleciderlove]

i’m just curious on how many of my followers like ethan landry

[appleciderlove]

my #1 supporter 🥹🩷🫶 AND YES THE BURNING BEAR PART she is crazy!! honestly toxic!rafe is secretly a loverboy but only to reader ofc 🙂‍↕️

(love how she pasted the parts she liked and added her own reactions 😭 i love her omg)

@starkeyvhs i appreciate you sm 🫶🩷

[appleciderlove]

toxic!rafe blocking you after an argument

more of this au here

you just had an argument with rafe. over something stupid, like always. something he said that pissed you off more than it should’ve, and instead of apologizing, he made it worse, brushing it off and acting like you were being dramatic. you told him to leave. he said "glady" and slammed the door.

now you’re standing in the backyard with his dumb little bear cradled in your hands. the one he won for you at the arcade, where he wasted ten bucks just trying to impress you. it was a brown bear with little brown bows on its ears, small and stupidly sweet. you rolled your eyes when he gave it to you, said, “what am i, five?” but you kept it. slept with it sometimes. brought it to his place and left it on his bed like a placeholder when you weren’t there.

right now, you’re too angry to care. the bear he gave you reminds you of him and you don't want to keep it anymore. you want it gone, reduced to ashes. you drop it into the fire pit and light the match without blinking. the flames rise fast, heat and smoke curling up as the bear catches. the bows are slowly burning. the fur blackening as the fire spreads. you take a photo of the burning bear and post it on your story.

he sees it a few minutes later. you watch his name appear on your story viewer list. you tap his name and it’s blank, no posts, no feed. he blocked you. you laugh, shaking your head. he’s so dramatic. like you burned his car, not his stupid bear.

two hours passes. his number’s still in your phone, but why would you call him. not after this. right when you’re about to go to bed, your phone buzzes.

you get a call from him. you were a bit hesitant but you picked up anyway. “come on, i said i’m sorry,” he murmurs. “i’ll make it up to you. i even bought your strawberry milk that you’re obsessed with."

“i’m still mad at you,” you mutter. “and strawberry milk is not a peace offering. it’s a distraction.”

“then let me distract you.” his voice is low, smug, and infuriating.

you sigh. "i'll think about it. " he hums like he’s thinking, then says “wait. i’ll call you back.”

eight minutes pass. your phone lights up again.

| rafe: i’m here | rafe: open the door

you open the door. and there he is, holding a basket with strawberry milk cartons in it. he lifts the basket slightly. “this is me groveling. in dairy form.”

you let out a small laugh, trying not to smile. “you’re such a loser.” he grins “your loser." then tilts his head. “wait does this mean i’m forgiven now?”

you hum, pretending to think. “let me see... sorta. i guess.” he leans closer, grinning. “you can still be mad. just let me in and be mad at me while we drink strawberry milk and watch something stupid.”

“you mean my strawberry milk,” you reply, stepping back. “who said i was sharing?” he bows his head slightly, “my deepest apologies, my lady. i shall hydrate with water… or something questionably expired from your fridge. if you'll allow me." you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face. “you’re lucky i’m feeling generous. you can have one carton. i know you secretly like them too".

you walk to the couch, flop down, and open netflix. he follows and drops onto the couch beside you. “if you put on some boring movie, i’m falling asleep on your shoulder” he says, already stretching out across half the couch like it’s his. you shoot him a look. “you don’t have movie privileges right now. i’m still mad at you, remember?” “okay okay, you pick,” he says with a grin. “as long as i get to watch you while you watch the movie.”

[appleciderlove]

── .✦ welcome to an alternate universe starring our beloved toxic!rafe and toxic!reader

┆ toxic!rafe saying do you want to see my biceps?

┆ toxic!rafe blocking you after an argument

┆ toxic!rafe locking you in to cancel your plans

[appleciderlove]

drunk confessions epilogue a/n: its finally over 💔 i will miss them. feel free to send any requests or ask smth abt them and i'll write smth silly for them!!

part 1 part 2 part 3

“what movie should we watch?” you ask, leaning into him.

“you pick,” he says going to the kitchen to microwave popcorn.

“okay spider-man, tangled and wall-e”

you stare at him. “you’ve never seen it?”

“i didn’t say that,” he lies terribly.

you narrow your eyes. “ethan.”

“okay! i haven’t! i was a shrek kid, not a disney princess kid, don’t judge me.” he walks over to the microwave to get the popcorn.

you stand up, already grabbing the remote. “you don’t know it yet, but this is about to become your favorite movie.”

“is it too late to pick spider-man?” he asks.

you shoot him a glare. “yes.”

"okay okay let's watch it" he laughs, raising his hands in surrender as you cue up the movie.

a few minutes later, the opening credits roll. the room dims, and the teasing fades into something quieter.

"okay… i hate to admit this, but this movie's actually not bad. i’m somehow enjoying myself. " he tosses a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

you grin, “and yet, you almost picked spider-man. shameful behavior.”

when your hands brush in the popcorn bowl for the second time, he smirks. “stealing my popcorn now?”

“yours?” you ask. “it’s mine. you’re stealing my popcorn.”

he bumps your knee lightly. you bump him back.

for a while, the movie plays. you can feel his eyes on you in the reflection of the tv screen.

as the lanterns float across the screen, his hand shifts close to yours.

“i’ve been thinking about asking you out.”

you blink and turn towards him but he’s still staring straight ahead.

you nudge his arm. “you just did.”

he finally looks at you. “so… will you go out with me?”

you hold his gaze, smiling. “i thought you’d never ask.”

he grins, smug and a little shy. “that sounds like a yes to me, but i wanna hear you say it”

you laugh under your breath. “yes, ethan. i’ll go out with you.”

ethan's love letter ꒰ 💌 ꒱

dear the love of my life (yes, i said it, don’t make it weird),

it’s been a whole week. seven days. one hundred and sixty-eight hours of you being my girlfriend. and somehow, you haven’t dumped me yet. this letter is basically just me trying to process the fact that i get to kiss you now. like legally with boyfriend privileges. that’s wild.

i keep thinking about how you smiled at me yesterday and i literally forgot what i was saying mid-sentence. tragic behavior, honestly. you’re turning me into someone who feels things. i’m not saying i panicked, okay i lied, i 100% panicked. you smiled and my brain hit the emergency exit. it’s fine. i’m fine. i just feel like a clown in love.

anyway, thank you for being the highlight of my entire life, even though you bully me about my snack choices and make fun of how i fold my laundry. you're just jealous my folding is perfect and yours looks questionable but it is okay. i will do the folding and you can put the clothes in the laundry machine.

i will continue to annoy you with stupid jokes and kiss your cheek at the most inconvenient times. because i can. because you said yes. and because i don’t think i’ve ever liked someone the way i like you. you’re annoying. you’re perfect. i’m so screwed. good luck surviving me.

yours, ethan (aka the luckiest idiot alive)

[appleciderlove]

OH MY GOODNESS I LOVE THIS !!! we need smth similar to this but reverse roles (he can be a stalker maybe?!)

kill bill

PAIRING: rafe cameron x dark!fem!kook!reader

SUMMARY: your ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend, so you take matters in your own hands.

WORD COUNT: ~6k

WARNINGS: MAJOR DARK CONTENT WARNING! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! murder; blood; gore; reader is extremely possessive over rafe, gaslights him, short tempered, toxic, selfish, gets jealous very easily, physically unable to grieve, very very sick and twisted; they have an extremely toxic relationship; mentions of two ocs; suggestive content (absolutely no smut), reader likes to mark rafe; consumption of alcohol, hardcore drugs and cigarettes; minimal usage of nicknames like babe and baby; reader often exercises her ownership over rafe vocally; rafe chokes reader (but not so much she passes out), locks her in a room; minimal swearing; like one mention of y/n (I tried to avoid it as much as I could); detailed descriptions of a funeral; grieving; I always beta read my fics but if you find any minor grammatical/spelling error please ignore :) + let me know if you think I missed anything (I crossed checked everything twice)

EDITH SPEAKS: I hardcore believe we need more sick and twisted reader instead of the usual sweetheart one (nothing wrong with that, btw!) because it’s so much fun writing a complex female character. I had the time of my life writing this, and I hope you love reading this too <3 please please heed all warnings, this fic is really really dark, and I wouldn’t want anyone to be triggered by the content in any way (the warnings are there for a reason!) please reblog if you liked reading this, and feedback is always appreciated 🥀 massive thank you to my baes raye and zya who heard my brainrot for this fic all the damn time <3 (I love having fic writers besties 🥰)

masterlist / join my taglist / requests / moodboard from my old blog

It’s dark.

For some reason, it feels darker than usual.

Maybe because it’s a new moon, the indigo sky is completely devoid of the pale moonlight, which is usually the source of light at night.

Or maybe, the reason for it feeling darker isn’t literal.

Maybe it’s metaphorical.

Your gaze drops down to your hand, your gloved fingertips digging into the engravings on the handle of the knife, the tips of the nails settling between the grooves. The tip of your index finger is trapped in a curvy groove, your finger repetitively moving up and down, up and down, up and down through the curve.

You take a step back, the sound of the rubble crunching under your feet with a certain wetness echoes in the dark alleyway.

With your free hand, you lift up the hem of your dress, revealing the cover of the knife strapped to your upper thigh by a garter. The length of the dress hides the garter at all times, keeping it completely out of view. You slowly slide the knife back into its covering, letting it still in place, and allowing the dress to cover your thigh back again.

Your gaze begins to trail along your arm, the streaks of blood staining your skin red, matching the deep red of your dress. You flex your fingers under the single streak of street light entering the alleyway, illuminating the dried blood rubbed on your fingertips and knuckles.

Slowly, you let your eyesight travel down more and more, until you’re looking down at your feet.

Your feet stand in a dark pool of blood, almost seeming black in the darkness of the eerie alleyway. With the way only a single street light is responsible for the only light source, it almost seems like a scene from a black and white horror movie.

The metallic smell of blood fills up your nostrils entirely as you take another step back, gently kicking the foot in your way to the side.

“Oh poor Amber…” You mumble softly, taking a step closer to her face and bending down to her level, watching her soulless eyes gazing up at the bricked wall behind you. Her soft, pearly white slip satin dress is flushed with a deep burgundy, the slit through which your knife pierced her porcelain like skin is wide and open, right above her chest.

Your gloved fingertips trail over her cheekbone, so pale and so cold, as you feel the lifelessness under your skin. It’s almost pitiful if you think about it: the way poor Amber could’ve avoided all of this only if she knew to keep her hands off what you own.

She wouldn’t have to experience such a horrible end to her life, stabbed in a hidden alleyway, her dainty arms spread on her sides, her lifeless fingers grasping onto the last bit of memories of his touches, only if she knew better than to attempt to exercise her ownership over something clearly taken by you.

Oh well, you slowly get up from your crouched position, sparing a last glance at her body lying in the pool of her own blood.

Maybe it feels darker than usual because your own hands picked up a knife and drove it straight through the girl’s heart.

Do you regret it?

Absolutely the fuck not.

And why would you, if it means you get to have Rafe Cameron back again?

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

The strobe lights flash all around the otherwise dark party mansion, the bass of the loud music thumping in your eardrums. The party is as crowded as it can be, sweaty bodies rubbing up against each other tantalizingly on the dance floor, causing the all too familiar smell of sweat mixed in with weed, alcohol and what not to settle heavily in the building.

There’s so much happening around you, the dance floor if fully occupied, there’s a game of beer pong being played over-enthusiastically at one end, a corner table surrounded by mostly boys busy with their hardcore drugs at another end, the bar right behind you with all the alcohol you can ever need; yet your hardened gaze is fixed on Rafe, and the girl he’s having a conversation with a few feet away from you.

“I’ll be back in a moment, babe,” He had mumbled against your hair, giving your thigh a firm pat before leaving his place next to you at the bar counter. You were confused for a moment as to where he was going suddenly, but then you saw him approach a girl completely unknown to you, give her a hug and get involved in a conversation.

Now, over ten minutes have passed and he still hasn’t left her side. You can’t hear them talk due to the loud music, but you can watch them laugh, the conversation so engaging it’s like they both have forgotten a world outside them exists too.

Your hand resting on your thigh is beginning to press harder against your flesh, your fingers digging into your skin, causing a sharp pain to spread on your skin, but you do nothing to reduce it. Your jaw clenches tightly at the sight of Rafe and the girl, streaks of possessiveness flaring up in every nook and cranny of your soul.

But the moment the girl’s fingers reach out to nudge his arm, you know you have had more than enough.

In a swift movement, you get up from your occupied barstool and make your way over to Rafe.

As you approach Rafe, you reach your hand out for his arm, letting your fingers curl around his bicep to grab his attention. The girl talking to him suddenly stops speaking as she spots you right next to him, and the way your hand is around his arm, your fingers digging into his skin.

“Oh hey babe,” Rafe says, very discreetly trying to get you to loosen his grip on him by moving his arm subtly, but of course, you’re too busy glaring at the girl to even realize the borderline iron tight grip you have on his bicep.

Rafe senses the tension in you — it’s not hard to miss the way it’s oozing off you.

“Oh uh,” he clears his throat, gesturing to the girl. “This is Keely, she moved away two years ago but now she’s visiting the island for–”

“Yeah I don’t care,” you swiftly cut him off, giving his arm a sharp tug and dragging him away from Keely. Before Rafe can even say anything to Keely, you are tugging him away from the crowd, away from the party, leading him up the stairs of the party mansion.

“Where… babe what are you doing?” Rafe asks, his tone incredulous as he tries his best to pry your hands off his arm, but your grip only seems to be getting tighter by the second. He can catch a glimpse of his arm, and the way his skin has started to pinken under your bruising grip.

You don’t say anything, just lead him up the stairs silently. You reach the hallway on the second floor, and the first door you open is an empty bedroom. You push Rafe inside and close the door behind you two, locking it.

“Babe what are you–” Rafe tries to speak, but with another nudge to his shoulders the back of his legs stumble against the edge of the bed and he flops on his back onto the mattress.

You are quick to follow as you get on top of him and sit in his lap, straddling his waist. You look down at him, your palms laying flat against his chest.

Without any words, you dip down and capture his lips in a searing kiss, your lips moving with a fiery fervor against his. Rafe doesn’t even have a moment to process what’s going on, but his body naturally responds to you, his hands coming to grip onto your hips and squeezing them tightly.

“Fuck baby…” he murmurs hoarsely as your lips leave his to trail over his jawline and finding the side of his neck. A sharp gasp escapes his mouth as your teeth suddenly sink into his flesh, your tongue running over the mark to soothe the burning sensation.

Instinctively, Rafe’s grip tightens on your hips, his eyes squeezing close. Your movements are unrelentless, your teeth biting down into whatever patch of skin of his neck you can succumb onto, your tongue running over the marks, and your lips sucking on the skin.

“You’re mine you hear me?” Comes out your voice in a whisper against his skin as you begin to travel over to the other side of his neck, not stopping for even a second to give him a break.

“Yeah yeah I’m yours I’m–” another sharp gasp leaves his lips as your lips find a particularly sensitive spot on his neck right above his pulse point and suck on it. He can feel the bruises beginning to form, bruises so deep he knows they won’t fade soon.

He knows you like to leave marks on him. Since you and him started dating, he was often seen with a bruise or two on the side of his neck, or peeking from under the collar of his shirt on his collarbone. They were always small, and never too dark.

But today? Today he feels you aren’t doing to let a single inch of his skin bare from your marks.

One of your hands slips into his hair and you pull his head back, baring his slender throat to you. You lean down and press your lips to his throat, kissing and sucking on the skin the same way you did to the sides of his neck.

Rafe’s blunt fingertips begin to dig into your hips, his lips parted as heavy exhales escape him.

“Is… is this about Keely?” He breathes, feeling your fingers slightly tighten in his hair, causing him to let out a barely audible whine.

“What if it is?” You mumble against his skin, biting down on his throat which elicits a sharp gasp from him. He writhes a little under you, as if trying to escape you, but you let your full weight fall on Rafe’s waist, making it impossible for him to move.

“Baby she’s…” he pants. “She’s just an old friend… nothing else…”

Your hand on his chest reaches for the top button of his shirt and your fingers pop it open, revealing more skin to you. Your mouth is quick to follow suit, your lips attacking the newly visible skin.

“She needs to know you’re mine,” you mutter against his skin, your voice lowering an octave. “Who the fuck–” you bite down on the skin right under the hollow of his throat, emphasizing your words, causing Rafe’s upper body to buck up involuntarily, “–does she think she is huh? Touching my man that way?”

“T…touching…?” Rafe breathes. “She didn’t… she never touched me–”

“She did,” Your voice is sharp, leaving no room for any argument. Your mouth goes back to its work, your fingers popping the second button open to bare you more skin of his to mark.

“You’re mine, Rafe,” you mutter against his skin, “always.”

Rafe’s breathing speeds up more — if that’s even possible, as he feels the next buttons of his shirt getting unbuttoned too.

“Say it,” comes out your voice, sharp and low. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m–” he breathes, “I’m all yours baby, all yours… always and forever…”

You let your lips curl up into a faint smirk, the movements of your mouth slightly slowing down as you only kiss along the skin of his chest. At the slowing of your pace, Rafe’s fingers begin to loosen their grip on your hips, his short bursts of breathing slowly coming under control.

You slowly lift your head up and sit up in his lap, your fingers slipping out of his hair. You gently trace your fingertips over the sides of his neck, feeling the red, swollen bruises forming on his skin, which you know will only become more pronounced as the time passes. Your fingertips trail down to his chest, feeling the indents in his skin from the bruises and the bite marks. Something about feeling the bruises on his neck and not just seeing them begins to calm down the stoking fire of possessiveness on you.

It’s like you’ve branded him as yours.

“You look so perfect like this baby…” You coo softly, the gentle tracing of your fingertips a sharp contrast to just a few seconds ago when your teeth were on the verge of breaking through his skin. “So beautiful, so perfect, so mine…”

Rafe watches you through half hooded eyes, his breath only beginning to come under his control. He can feel his chest heaving from his heavy breathing and your touch over it, a sharp tingling sensation spreading over his skin wherever your mouth had been.

He can see it; the look of satisfaction in your eyes as if you’ve won a big prize. Your eyes rake over him, taking in all the bruises that stand out against his light skin.

“This… this should be enough to show her that you aren’t up for grabs,” you mumble to yourself quietly, still tracing over the marks and bruises over him.

Rafe shudders under the feeling of your fingertips tracing over his bruises, the skin reddened and getting more and more sensitive with each touch and nip of the air.

“You haven’t got anything to worry about baby…” he says slowly, almost cautiously. “I belong to you, forever,”

Your piercing eyes find his, the eye contact so strong it sends a chill down his spine.

“Yeah, yeah you are,” you mumble softly, before leaning down to let your lips connect to his skin again.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

FIVE MONTHS AGO

Rafe stands next to the dining table with Wheezie and Sarah as Ward and Rose greet their guests for the night, their noises of greetings and laughter floating over to the three siblings in the dining room. The noise of their chatter only increases as the group approaches the dining table, spotting the three Cameron kids waiting for them.

Next to Ward and Rose are Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, with their daughter Amber. Ward and Mr. Lawrence are the bestest of friends; business wise and casual wise. Their businesses work hand in hand, and their families meet often for dinners and night outs.

Rose politely guides everyone to the dining table and everyone takes a seat, Amber’s seat being right next to Rafe’s.

“Hey Rafe,” she smiles, adjusting in her seat as she takes her purse off and hangs it on the back of her chair.

“Hey,” he says back, his voice quiet as he watches the food being served on the table.

He can feel Amber’s gaze on him; he has always had a hunch that she likes him with the way she looks away with a subtle blush on her cheeks when he catches her staring. Or with how she’s always talking so sweetly to him.

Or maybe his hunch is wrong.

Just like he’s the Kook prince, she’s the Kook princess. She’s known for being an absolute sweetheart, kind to anyone and everyone she meets. Even though she already has millions attached to her name, she’s volunteering at elderly homes, soup kitchens, beach clean ups and what not. She donates to charities whenever she can, and always sponsored them back in their days at the Kook Academy.

Rafe is quiet as the food is served, his plate kept in front of him. Everyone on the table is immersed in chatter, Amber distracted by Sarah and Wheezie, but he’s silent.

He takes small bites of the chicken he’s served, nibbling on the end of his fork as his mind goes to you, and the horrible, horrible fight you both had.

“It’s getting out of hand, y/n! You’re always on my heels, never letting me breathe!” Rafe snaps, trying to create as much distance between you and him.

Your eyes widen, an almost crazy look in them as you walk closer to him. “‘never letting me breathe’ is that so? I care about you Rafe! I love you!” You retort, attempting to reach out for his hand but he pulls back before you can touch him in any sort of way.

Your touch doesn’t feel loving, it feels like a burn to his skin.

“If you loved me, you would believe me that I was out with my friends, not with some girls! You think any girl will approach me when I’ve got these–” he frantically gestures to the marks all over his neck, “–all over my neck? Huh?”

“I leave those marks cause you’re mine!” Your voice comes out as strong, sharp yells now, echoing in the hallway of your house.

“Stop- stop saying that shit! I’m not yours! I don’t want to be yours anymore! You don’t fucking own me!” Rafe spits.

Now, he shouldn’t have said that.

You take another step closer to him, causing his back to hit against a door of a room in the hallway, completely caged by the door behind him and you in front of him.

He can see the look on your face, the way your eye is almost twitching, the way you let out soft pants; he has pissed you off.

“Yes I do,” your voice comes out low, and cold. “Yes, I own you, always and forever.”

“No you don’t!” Rafe snaps back. One of his hands reaches back for the door knob, his fingers curling around the cool metal. “I’m done with this shit! I’m done with you!”

You inch even closer to him, your chest almost touching his, leaving barely any space between you two.

“You think you can let me go this easily, huh?” You sneer, looking him dead in the eye.

Rafe’s hand on the door knob only tightens further, his knuckles almost turning white in the process. He’s done with this, he’s done being controlled by you, done letting you exercise ownership over him, and he’s done being in this loveless relationship.

In a swift movement, Rafe’s free hand comes to wrap around your throat, causing your eyes to widen and your lips to part, a choked gasp escaping you. Your hands reach for his fingers gripping your throat so harshly, feebly attempting to pry his fingers off. But his hold is strong, so strong.

You feel the amount of air in your lungs lessening with each passing second, your movements becoming weaker as the moments pass. You try to speak, anything, try to kick him off, but your body is just getting weaker.

Your tear rimmed eyes meet Rafe’s, whose own cheeks begin to streak with the tears that start to fall down. They aren’t tears of sadness, they’re tears of frustration, because he’s done with this shit.

“I’m done with you, you hear me?” He mutters through his tears, his voice frustrated and shaky. “Done with this entire thing.”

You try to fight back, to argue, to do anything, but nothing works. Rafe’s hand on the door knob pulls the knob down, opening the door. It reveals the store room, and in a single movement, he pushes you inside, a choked gasp leaving you, and he quickly shuts the door and turns the lock.

“Open the fucking door!” Come out your muffled yells from inside, and he can hear you sputtering, trying to catch your breath after being at a loss of it for the past minute.

Your hands bang against the wooden door, the sound loud in the empty hallway.

Rafe steps back from the door, hearing the loud banging on the door, the sound thumping in his ears along with his loud heartbeat.

For a moment, it seems like everything goes silent except the loud banging in his ear, pulsating throughout every nerve in his brain.

This is the first time he ever did anything to defy you, defy your so-called “love” for him.

And god, does he feel… good. Strong. He never knew he would be able to stand up against you. But now, he has you locked in the store room of your own home.

It feels exhilarating.

“Open the fucking door Rafe!” Your voice comes from inside the store room again, zapping Rafe out of his thoughts. He swallows harshly, his arms frozen on his sides as he slowly takes another step back.

With the way you’re banging at the door and are yelling, he can tell you’re getting impatient.

But he’s not going to do anything about it.

He’s done getting pushed around by you.

Taking another step back, he begins to back out of the hallway, ignoring your constant muffled yelling and banging at the door. He can hear you rattling the lock, desperately trying to escape the store room.

He tries his best to push away the sounds of you and your attempts to escape out of his mind as he takes shaky steps back from the hallway, slowly and slowly inching away from you. He takes a deep breath, and finally, turns around, his back to the store room, and he makes his way out of the hallway, approaching the main door of your home.

Without thinking twice, he opens the door and steps out, letting the door slam shut behind him, his mind pushing away the distant voice of yours yelling at him to open the door.

“Rafe? Rafe are you okay?”

Rafe snaps out of his thoughts and looks up from his plate to his side, seeing Amber gently shaking his shoulder. He looks back down to his plate and see he barely ate any of it, just nibbled on the piece of chicken, the veggies lying untouched.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, gently moving his shoulder which causes Amber’s hand to fall back to her side. “Yeah yeah I’m good uh… excuse me,” he politely excuses himself and gets up from his chair, leaving the dining table. Sarah and Wheezie glance at him with concern, but Rose and Ward don’t really seem to give this matter much light.

Amber watches Rafe leave the dining room, adjusting his turtle neck once as he makes his way out to the balcony, closing the wooden door behind himself.

Her eyes remain fixed on the path which Rafe had just followed, every cell of her body itching to follow him.

Just a few seconds later, she excuses herself from the table too and makes her way to the closed door of the balcony.

As the door opens and she steps out, Rafe diverts his attention to the door, a cigarette smoking away in his hand.

“Hey,” Amber says softly, giving him a gentle smile as she lets the door knob slip from her hand, the door closing with a gentle click. She makes her way over to Rafe, standing next to him in front of the balcony railing, her eyes fixing on the cigarette slotted between his fingers.

“Hey,” Rafe says back looking back out at the view from the balcony. His free hand comes to sneak under the turtle neck, scratching the side of his neck. “God this is itchy,” he mumbles under his breath, slightly frustrated.

“It’s too hot for a turtle neck anyway,” Amber says, her brows furrowed. “It must be irritating your skin,”

“Yeah,” Rafe mutters, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and letting out a plume of smoke. He knows better than to take the turtle neck off though, the thought of revealing the dark bruises left by you causes a small shudder to go down his spine — knowing Amber will be extremely concerned and will press on the matter.

Even then, his fingers reach out to itch under the turtle neck again, the material really irritating his skin. He pushes the fabric aside to grant him more skin to itch, but just as he does that, Amber catches the sight of the bruises marked on his skin; and these ones just so happen to be the darkest ones he has.

“Oh my god,” her soft voice comes out laced with concern as she steps closer to him, her fingers wanting to reach out to soothe his skin with her gentle touch. “What happened are you okay? That looks really bad,”

Rafe looks down at her, her frame almost comically smaller than his. He can see the concern etched on her face, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips downturned in a frown.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he mutters, focusing back out at the view from the balcony, taking another hit of his cigarette.

“Are you sure? Cause that looks really bad Rafe,” she murmurs, gently placing a hand on his arm, looking up at him.

The moment she touches her arm, he tenses for a fraction of second, but then immediately relaxes. There is something about her touch that you don’t have; that tenderness and the warmth that has always been missing from your touch. And her voice, it’s gentle. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you talk to him in such a gentle voice.

“Did someone beat you up?” She asks, her voice soft.

Beat him up? Oh, he wishes.

His mind goes back to you, the way he locked you in the store room. He knows there’s a window in the room, and knowing you, he also knows you definitely escaped from that window.

“No, someone didn’t beat me up,” He says back, his voice losing any edge it may have, taking a completely tender tone. There’s something so soothing about the way she’s talking to him, and it just makes him want to open up to him about anything and everything.

“Someone didn’t beat you up? Then how did you get them?” She asks. God, he thinks. Her concern, her gentleness, her touch… He’s losing himself in it, a little too quickly.

Maybe it’s because he’s been deprived of this gentleness for way too long.

“You won’t believe me if I told you the answer,” he says, his gaze looking down at her to meet her eyes.

“You’re concerning me Rafe, really,” she mutters, her fingers still wrapped around his arm. And Rafe doesn’t want her to let go.

He takes another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll off his lips.

“It’s my girlfriend– but, but I ended things with her today,” he mutters.

He gauges her reaction; her widened eyes, her lips parting twice to say something but no words coming out.

She knows about his girlfriend, well, everyone does, but he didn’t know about this.

“She did this to you?” Amber mutters incredulously. “That’s… that’s kind of crazy,”

“Kind of?” Rafe says amusedly. “It’s very crazy. I was…” he takes a deep breath, looking up from her and back out at the scenery. “I was suffocated with her. I was never able to express myself. She was extremely possessive, always wanting to… mark me as hers a certain way. It was hard to leave her but I did it, I finally did it today,”

Amber’s facial expressions contort to one of slightly relaxed, though the concern is still evident.

“Wow,” she mutters. “I’m very glad you were able to break things off with her, you don’t deserve to be treated this way Rafe, no one does,”

He turns back down to look at her, his eyes sinking into hers. They’re so warm and beautiful, a kind blue just like his. There’s gentleness in her words and the way she’s still holding onto his arm.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, “that… that means a lot to me you know? I’m… I’m just glad I was able to escape her,”

“Yeah,” she says softly, her fingers rubbing small circles on his forearm. It seems more or less like an instinctive movement, as if this is how she always likes to soothe someone.

And damn, is he starved for some gentle loving just like this.

A silence falls over them, Rafe’s eyes not flickering away from hers. She’s looking up at him, her doe eyes wide but extremely comforting, her gentle rubbing on his arm relaxing him to an infinite extent.

As if a gravitation pull exerts it’s force on him, he finds himself leaning closer to her, his eyes now training down over her lips. They’re so soft looking, so full, and he has a very strong urge to taste them.

Amber doesn’t pull back, she’s watching him lean closer, her own body reacting and leaning closer to him. Midway, Rafe’s lips are just a hair’s breadth from hers, and he takes the leap, pressing his lips to hers.

For a moment, no one moves, their lips joined in a gentle press. But then, Amber takes the initiative, gently moving her lips against his.

Rafe responds, his hand which isn’t holding the cigarette coming to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking the skin. Her hands reach up to wrap around his neck, the kiss soft, slow and incredibly tender.

Rafe gently pulls back, creating just the slightest distance between him and her. He rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he soaks in the moment.

No words are exchanged between them, but he knows they both feel a mutual understanding.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

PRESENT

The rain begins to pour down harder, the drops of water on the grassy lawn gleaming under the occasional strike of lightning. Black umbrellas matching the black outfits are put up by almost everyone, covering everyone’s head by the shelter.

Except one.

Rafe is on his knees right next to the coffin, his fingers gripping the edge of it so tightly his knuckles are beginning to turn white. His head bows down to rest on the edge in between his hands, quiet sobs erupting out of his throat. The raindrops trail over his clothes, making him sopping wet, but he doesn’t care – even when he’s been politely asked to get under an umbrella to cover himself.

Everyone knew well about Rafe’s and Amber’s relationship. God, they loved them. Rafe, the Kook prince, and Amber, the Kook princess. Their fathers; bestest of friends. It’s like people could imagine them getting married even when they weren’t of age. The children of the most powerful men of Outer Banks were meant to take over the island together.

But the dreams were shattered like frail glass when Amber’s death was announced. And it wasn’t some untimely death — it was a murder. A clear gash was present at her chest right where she was stabbed.

Police investigations were started, Rafe paid an incessant amount of money to get the best of detectives on the case, but the murderer was good.

Too damn good.

The murderer didn’t leave a single trace of their presence. They were sharp and quick. It was just a flash of lightning, and the knife was driven in Amber’s chest, and she was declared dead.

The investigations started months ago, and even now, any path they take to find out about the murderer is a dead end.

Almost the entire Figure 8 is invited to the funeral; including you.

You stand at the very end of the crowd, black clothes on your body and a black umbrella over your head, protecting you from the rain.

Your eyes scan over the procession, watching the funeral ceremony taking place in the burial ground where Amber’s coffin is meant to be buried. You can hear the quiet sobs from the front, from Amber’s family, her siblings and cousins, her friends, and from Rafe.

Your gaze zeroes on him as a man begins to gently pull Rafe up from his knees and to get him away from the coffin, because it’s time to take the coffin away for the burial. You see Rafe protesting, his hands reaching out to catch a glimpse of Amber; it doesn’t matter if it’s her coffin. He just wants to feel her, one last time, before she leaves his life completely.

His sobs get louder, dry screams erupting from his throat as the coffin gets carried away. Amber’s mother carefully approaches him and takes him in her arms, her own eyes squeezed tightly shut as tears stream down her cheeks.

As time passes, everyone begins to disperse the burial ground, even Amber’s family, except for Rafe. Her family gently pleads with him to leave too, but he refuses. ‘Just five more minutes’ is what he mumbles in his voice hoarse from all his sobbing to Amber’s mother, who squeezes his hand in return and lets him stay.

And now, everyone has left, but you’re still standing in the same position, watching Rafe, who’s sitting on the wet grass, the rain which is now reduced to a drizzle still showering over him.

You carefully make your way over to him and get down on your knees next to him, letting your umbrella cover him too.

He looks up when he realizes he’s not feeling the raindrops fall on him anymore, his teary eyes finding yours. Completely drowned in the whirlpool of his emotions, he didn’t realize you are still there.

It’s silent for a few moments as Rafe sits with him hugging his knees close to his chest, his head resting on them. You sit next to him, making sure to keep him protected from the rain.

“Rafe…” you murmur after a few more moments of utter silence pass over you both. You gently place a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at you — his bloodshot eyes drooping from tiredness.

Another moment of silence passes by, the space around you filled only with the sound of the raindrops pattering on your umbrella. The rain seems to slow down even more, the gloomy clouds beginning to light up.

You can see Rafe’s facade beginning to crumble, his need to be comforted washing over the need to be alone and away from you, and ever so slowly, he leans closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

You let your free arm quickly wrap around his shoulders and you pull him closer, your hand rubbing over his back.

The sobs he had started to bury inside himself start sputtering out, his body squeezing closer to you, every fiber of his being craving comfort as he buries his face in his neck and lets himself go, his tears falling against the skin of your neck.

“Shhh Rafe you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here for you,” you mumble softly in his ear. His hands come to wrap around your frame tightly, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

You finally have him in your arms again, the only arms he should ever be in, the only arms that should be comforting him, the only arms that should ever hold him.

You lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead to comfort him more as you repeat soft words to soothe him as much as you can. When Rafe makes no move to pull himself away from you, you slightly tighten your hold around his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

You let him hold you however he desires, and cry how much he wants.

As you keep on rubbing your hand over his back to soothe him, your gaze looks out at the stretch of the burial ground, your eyes following the path along which Amber’s coffin was carried.

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you let the reality of the situation settle in you.

Amber’s out of Rafe’s life, and he is back where he belongs.

A small satisfied smile quirks the corners of your lips all the while Rafe’s face remains tucked in the crook of your neck, his hands holding onto you as if you’re his last lifeline.

Game over, Amber.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @rafedrewandjjs

specific tags for this fic: @ietss / @mileyraes / @ilyrafe / @runningfrom2am / @congratsloserr

@ladyinbl00d / @zyafics / @karmasloverrr / @rafesgiirl

[appleciderlove]

toxic!rafe saying do you want to see my biceps?

a/n: i saw this on instagram and was like wait this would be so silly to write about and so here it is ◡̈ hope you like it

more of this au here

you reposted it without thinking. it was just some dumb post that said “it’s always "goodnight" and never do you want to see my biceps. it was sorta funny and made you giggle.

a few mins later you hear a notification sound from your phone.

| rafe: hey | rafe: you could've asked

you stare at your phone.

| you: what?? | rafe: the biceps | rafe: i’ve got ‘em on standby

you bury your face in your pillow, already regretting everything. and he knows.

later, when you say “goodnight loser” he hits you back with:

| rafe: goodnight | rafe: are you sure you don’t want the biceps? | you: why would i want to see yours when i’ve already got options? | rafe: bet your “options” don’t have veins like this

rafe sent a photo

you zoom in and stare at the veins for an inappropriate amount of time.

| rafe: block them and come see me ❤ | you: i'm tired but you should come see me and bring strawberry milk 💗 | rafe: did you block them?

you roll your eyes at his message. he was cute, sure, but he wasn’t that important. definitely not important enough to be telling you who to block.

| you: i am going to sleep 😭 this is too much effort i'm about to pass out | rafe: whatever 🙄 goodnight baby | rafe: dream about me

[appleciderlove]

drunk confessions pt 3 - love letters and second chances a/n: this will be the last chapter but i’ll post an epilogue soon

part 1 part 2 epilogue

monday, 12:04 a.m.

“hey. i know you don’t want to hear from me. i get it. i just… i didn’t know what else to do. i got home and everything felt so fucking empty. i miss you.”

monday, 12:47 a.m.

“i made coffee this morning and reached for that mug you gave me without thinking. the one with the ducks. i just stood there holding it for, like, five minutes. couldn’t even pour anything into it.

you said it was hideous and i said it was perfect. i meant it. i still mean it.”

monday, 1:39 a.m.

“i shouldn’t have come. or maybe i should’ve come sooner. i don’t know. i keep going back to that night. what i said. what i didn’t say.”

wednesday, 12:22 a.m.

“fuck. i keep replaying it in my head, over and over. i knew she wasn’t you. i knew it from the start and i still picked her. what the hell is wrong with me?”

wednesday, 1:03 a.m.

“can you just… tell me how to fix it? i’ll do anything. just tell me what to say. i’ll say it.”

friday, 12:31 a.m.

“i don’t know if you’re even listening to these. i don’t blame you if you aren’t. i just… i don’t want you to think i don’t care. because i do. i always did. i just didn’t show it when it mattered.”

friday, 1:18 a.m.

“i miss you. god, i miss you. not just the laughing and the stupid inside jokes. i miss the way it felt being near you. like i was finally safe. like maybe i was enough.”

friday, 2:41 a.m.

“it’s 2:41 a.m. and i still can’t sleep. the rain’s back. it sounds like it did that night. i keep thinking you might open the door again. i keep hoping.”

she sees the voicemails as they come in. monday. wednesday. friday. notifications piling up like a slow countdown she refuses to answer. she doesn’t listen. doesn’t even open them. just lets the screen light up, fade, light up again.

but saturday night, she finally gives in because she was curious. just one listen, she tells herself. just one. his voice fills the room. broken. familiar.

she listens to one. then another. and another. and when they’re done, she turns her phone face-down, curls under the blanket, and sleeps it off like it didn’t touch her at all.

but it did.

he writes to you.

full pages. love letters. apologies.

sometimes just lists of your favorite songs, the jokes you used to laugh at, the things he remembers about you that no one else would know.

he sends one on a wednesday. then again the next friday. never more than one a week. he sends a bouquet of flowers each month, one bouquet per month.

they were always tulips. her favourite flowers. sometimes soft pink, sometimes white, or blue. he rotated colours monthly, making sure she never got the same one two months in a row.”

each bouquet comes with a small folded note, barely a sentence long.

“i miss you”

“i’m sorry”

“can i have a have second chance?”

no signature. no name. but you know its from him. the letters live in the bottom drawer. the notes are in a box beside them. you haven’t read them in weeks.

you say you’re over it. maybe you are. but you still find yourself checking the porch every once in awhile.

one month later

you open the door. there’s a bouquet of blue and white tulips with a note peeking out. it’s your second bouquet this month. that’s never happened before. you wanted to ignore it. but curiosity wins.

you pick up the note and read it.

“i’ll be at firefly café on saturday at 2. if you don’t show, i won’t bother you again. but if you do… i’ll wait. however long it takes.”

2 p.m. comes and goes. you try to stay occupied so you won’t think about it, but you check the clock too much. by the time it’s 8:16 p.m, it’s too late. way too late.

and still you find yourself standing outside the coffee shop. the lights in the café are still on. you tell yourself he’s long gone. you even tell yourself you’re just passing by. but none of it’s true.

you pull the door open, slow. the bell overhead rings a bit too loud, or maybe you’re just nervous. and he’s there. six hours later. he’s still there.

he’s sitting at the table near the window, three empty cups in front of him, a fourth untouched, probably yours. he’s leaned back, eyes heavy, like maybe he fell asleep waiting for something he didn’t really believe would happen.

he stirs when the door opens. blinks. turns. when his eyes find you, he freezes. then exhales, like he thought he’d imagined you and now has to convince himself you’re real.

his voice is low, a little rough, like it hasn’t been used in hours. “you came.”

your throat tightens. you nod once. “you waited.”

he laughs, soft and wrecked. “of course I did.”

he stands slowly, walks around the table, and pulls out the chair across from him. he doesn’t say anything, just waits.

you sit.

for a moment, it’s quiet. the kind that holds too much.

he runs a hand through his hair, looking down.

“it’s been months,” he says. “and i still don’t know what to do with myself. i feel like i’m walking around missing something. like there’s this space where you used to be and nothing fits there.”

you glance at the cup in front of you. it’s cold. untouched.

“i’m not promising anything,” you say. “i don’t want to pretend like none of it happened.”

he nods. slow. careful.

“okay,” he says.

you take a breath.

“but maybe we can try. not everything at once. just... start with something. coffee. talking. being around each other again.”

he smiles. “i’d take anything.”

things don’t magically fix themselves, but they start to shift. you start seeing each other again. not all the time, not every day, but enough. ice cream runs, wandering around museums, and late-night movies where you both laugh at the same dumb parts.

he listens more now. he pays attention. he makes time.

little by little, it stops hurting to be near him. you let yourself laugh around him. and he watches you like he still can’t believe you’re here.