chiaraanatra

[chiaraanatra]

Do some of that spinning shit, Val

[chiaraanatra]

"get a load of this guy" I'M TRYINGGG

[chiaraanatra]

can u write something w bff rafe, maybe reader is drunk and needs help showering.. maybe some smut? pls pls thank u (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

— HELPING OUT / Rafe Cameron!

content WARNING: mentions of alcohol, manipulation, intoxication, drunkenness, masturbation, +18 MDNI.

♡ ˚ dolly's notie note ﹒﹒﹒ I CHANGE THIS A BIT AND RAFE’S THE DRUNK ONE BC I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE COOLER IF HE MESS UP WITH HER HEAD, HOPE YOU LIKE IT<3

Her phone buzzed at 1 AM. Topper’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey, you gotta come get Rafe.” he slurred over the line, the thumping bass of the Kook party at his beach house nearly drowning him out. “He’s trashed, threw bourbon all over some Pogue, and now he’s picking fights. I can’t deal with him.”

Her heart lurched, Rafe, always spiralling, always hers to save. She threw a flimsy cardigan over her skimpy pyjama tank and tiny shorts, her nerves sparking as she sped to Topper’s.

She found Rafe sprawled on the sand outside, his white button-up soaked through with bourbon, clinging obscenely to his carved pecs and abs. Eyes wild and red-rimmed, a shattered bottle at his feet.

“My fuckin’ saviour!” he slurred, lurching toward her, his broad frame nearly toppling them both. His breath was pure liquor, his grin sloppy but dangerously charming. “Knew you’d come for me, angel.” Her cheeks burned as she looped his arm over her shoulders, his heat searing through her thin clothes.

“Rafe, you’re a disaster,” she whispered, dragging him through the jeering crowd to her car. He collapsed into the seat, his hand grazing her bare thigh, lingering too long as he mumbled about “fuckin’ Pogues” and “making ‘em pay.”

At Tanneyhill, she wrestled him inside, his boots scuffing the pristine floors. His shirt was trashed, his skin glistening, reeking of chaos.

“Shower, Rafe, now,” she ordered, her soft voice trembling but firm.

He leaned against the bathroom doorframe, smirking, his hooded eyes raking over her. “Can’t even stand. You gonna get me naked, huh?”

Her face flamed, but he was a mess, and she couldn’t abandon him. Hauling him into the massive shower, she cranked the hot water, steam curling as she attacked his shirt buttons. Rafe’s hands fumbled uselessly, and she yanked the fabric off, exposing his chiselled torso, water already beading on his tanned skin. Her breath hitched, but when he nearly collapsed, trying to shove down his jeans, she squealed,

“Okay, I’m doing it!”

The water drenched them, her tank top turning transparent, hugging her curves, her shorts plastered to her thighs. She grabbed a sponge, scrubbing the sticky liquor from his broad shoulders, her hands shaking as they slid over his slick, muscled chest. Rafe’s head lolled back, water streaming down his sharp jaw, and he groaned, “Fuck, you’re too goddamn perfect.”

Then she froze, his boxers, soaked and clinging, outlined his thick cock, rock-hard and throbbing, the tip straining past the waistband. Her wide doe eyes flicked up, meeting his, and Rafe’s drunken smirk was pure sin.

“S’just a hard-on. Hurts so fuckin’ bad,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “Help me, angel. Jack me off, yeah? Just… take care of your boy.”

His words were a slurred, desperate command, and she, naive and drowning in the steam’s haze, nodded, her pulse hammering.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the water. “Just helping you.”

Her trembling hand slipped inside his boxers, fingers curling around his pulsing shaft, hot, heavy, and slick with water. Rafe groaned, low and guttural, his hips jerking as he braced both hands against the shower wall, caging her in.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice raw. Her small hand stroked him slowly, deliberately, gliding from base to tip, her thumb brushing the swollen head, smearing precum.

Each slide drew a ragged moan from him, his abs flexing, water dripping from his clenched jaw. Her soaked tank top clung to her breasts, nipples hard against the fabric, and she felt a shameful slickness pooling between her thighs, her body betraying her as she pumped him.

“Tighter,” he grunted, his hand sliding to her neck, not choking, just holding, his thumb stroking her pulse. She obeyed, gripping harder, stroking faster, her wrist twisting as his hips bucked, fucking into her fist. “Goddamn, you’re killing me,” he panted, his voice cracking with need.

Her own breath came in shallow gasps, the heat of his cock, the way it throbbed in her hand, igniting something primal in her. She shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t feel her clit pulsing, but his groans, the way his body shuddered, were intoxicating. When he came, it was explosive, his cock pulsed hard, thick ropes of cum spilling over her hand, splattering her wrist before the water washed it away. Rafe’s head fell forward, a broken “Fuck,” spilling from his lips as he sagged against the tiles, spent and panting. “Best fuckin’ friend.”

[chiaraanatra]

…CRIMINAL!RAFE X SPOILEDGF!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🥛♡

CRIMINAL!RAFE X SPOILEDGF!READER who met each other online when spoiledgf!reader found him on a pen pal website. she saw his pictures and fell in love almost instantly. grateful that he was only in jail for possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute, and not something else that was considered heinous, she decided to send him a message, attaching some of her favorite pictures in hopes that he’ll answer her. criminal!rafe logged into the computer the following morning, expecting nothing interesting as usual, but instead he was met with the sight of your beautiful face. he was quick to send you multiple replies, his knee bouncing up and down as he waited in anticipation for you to get back to him. all it took was a few exchanges of texts before you two found yourselves texting everday, plans of you two talking to each other and hearing each other’s voices soon coming to fruition.

CRIMINAL!RAFE X SPOILEDGF!READER who started dating within a month of them flirting with each other over the phone. rafe learned that his new pretty girlfriend was a real life material girl and had no problem spoiling her rotten from beyond the bars of his cell. “look, you’re gonna drive down to the cut, alright? go to the address i sent you in last week’s letter and talk to the guy named barry. i already told him about you so he’ll know who you are once you mention me. he’s holding onto all of my cash until i get out, so whenever you want money just go and bother him and he’ll give it to you. got it?” you nodded and squealed excitedly even though he couldn’t see you. following his instructions, you met barry later on that day, his partner looking both impressed and displeased at the same time. “you’re pretty and all, but i’ll be damned if you’re just using my boy for his bread.” he grunted, handing over a stack. “oh, please, does it look like i need it?” you laughed, motioning towards your expensive outfit.

CRIMINAL!RAFE X SPOILEDGF!READER who see each other for the first time when they decide to video call one evening, both of them talking away until the guard told rafe his time with you was over for the day. “goodnight, gorgeous, i’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” you blew him a kiss, your cheeks heating once you saw him wink before hanging up, a plethora of butterflies fluttering in your chest as you went to sleep thinking about him. rafe doesn’t know how he got so lucky that you found him first, this blossoming romance of yours giving him a new profound sense of hope now that he knows he has someone other than barry who cares for him outside of jail. to know that you’re just as excited and eager to be with him just as much as he is was a refreshing feeling. criminal!rafe continued to send you heartfelt letters along with homemade cards and little drawings that he’d scribble down whenever he was thinking about you (which was all the time).

CRIMINAL!RAFE X SPOILEDGF!READER who can’t wait for his release date, both of them wishing they could just hug and kiss and touch each other already. “you gonna wear something special for me when i get out of here?” rafe licked his lips while spoiledgf!reader smiled sheepishly at him. “no..” you trailed off quietly. “what do you mean ‘no’? i’m gonna eat you right up as soon as i get my hands on you.” rafe scoffed, a smug grin taking over his features as you leaned in closer to the glass separating you two. “..because i’m not going to be wearing anything when you come home.” rafe’s jaw ticked at your words, lewd images of you running through his head as he thought about you underneath him, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist while he thrusted into you, your pretty manicured nails digging into his flesh as he did so. “oh, yeah?” he spoke quietly, looking around to make sure no one else could hear him, “you gonna let me fuck you fresh out?”

CRIMINAL!RAFE X SPOILEDGF!READER who are kissing and grabbing at each other once he walks out of the jail gates, all thanks to barry for bringing you to pick rafe up after he got a phone call stating that your boyfriend had been let out early. you could barely control your excitement on the way over there, the annoyed brunette in the driver’s seat flashing you a glare. “can you chill out, bruh? we’re picking him up from a dingy jail cell, not a beauty pageant.” you rolled your eyes at barry’s words, still fixing your lipgloss in your pink compact mirror. “look, ‘bear, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together now, so do me a favor and stop calling me ‘bruh’ okay!?” you chirped, glancing over at him only to see the same annoyed expression on his face. “yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” he grumbled. the first thing you and rafe did (besides getting handsy and making out in the backseat) was pick up his cash from barry’s trailer, his arms glued to your waist as he counted every single bill. “what do you say we check in somewhere after this? ‘eat a good meal and i’ll have you for my dessert when we get back to our room?”

[chiaraanatra]

Top Gun - Incorrect Quote 213

USNA Teacher: *Sees Bradley's emergency list - after Bradley twisted his ankle*

COMPACFLT - Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Admiral Rom "Slider" Kerner Admiral Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe Captain Rick "Hollywood"- ...

USNA Teacher: I'm not calling

USNA Doctor: Me neither

Cougar: *USNA principal* Okay I call them

[chiaraanatra]

[chiaraanatra]

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy THE BOYS (2022) | 3.04 – “Glorious Five Year Plan”

[chiaraanatra]

Supernatural - 4.16 | “On the Head of a Pin”

[chiaraanatra]

[chiaraanatra]

jj fuckin’ his girl bestfriend all nice and slow, taking in her body just in complete shock that this is reality and not some crazy wet dream. tanned arms supporting his body weight beside her head where her hair is splayed around her head like a halo making her look like some kind of goddess, full lips parted and eyes closed, little ‘uh, uh, uh‘s’ leaving her pretty mouth at every thrust where jj’s fat cock nudges that spot inside her squelchy pussy that makes her dig her nails more aggressively into his muscly back.

her eyes opening for a second when his thrusts become more frantic and miscalculated, her orgasm building white hot in her lower stomach making her moan out, their eyes locking as he continues thrusting, his orgasm building as fast as hers seemed to be.

on a whim, she reaches up to take his shark tooth necklace between her teeth, the action innocent but making jj even more desperate for his release, her innocent eyes looking up at him as he thrusts harder, an even deeper desire consuming him as she moans out.

wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a heated kiss, tongues swirling deliciously against each other as he swallows all of her pretty little noises, pulling away to watch her face as she claws harder at his back, his arms aching but he wasn’t about to miss this moment, eyes flicking to her tits as her noises got louder. “‘m fuckin’ coming jj!”

“cmon come for me pretty.” he says, keeping his pace and not looking away from her face, a loud moan spilling from her wet lips as she comes undone, face contorted beautifully as her eyelids slip closed again, feeling the wetness of her orgasm coating his cock he lets go too with a loud groan, as she watches his adams apple bob as he cranes his neck back, dropping his arms which supported his weight and whispering praises inaudibly into her neck.

their sweat-slick bodies pressed impossibly close but still needed to be closer, with his slowly softening dick still inside her sopping pussy she takes a hand through the tangles strands of blonde hair and a kiss to his sweaty forehead, making him smile and press a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” he mumbles, making her blush crimson as he nuzzles his face into her neck and breathes out all relaxed.

[chiaraanatra]

i'm sorry...but i see it guys...i just see it...TELL ME

I CAN BE INSANE FOR THAT, SOMEBODY MATCH MY FRRAK RN PLEASE (OR CALL THE COPS BC SHOULD BE ILLEGAL THE WAY I LOVE CRAZY MAD MEN WITH DEEP DADDY ISSUES, FACE COVERED IN BLOOD AND BRUISES, MENTALLY INSANES. )

i love horror. i love when hot guys put the most freakiest duo together. let us think that rafe and jj be killers buddies, pretend to hate each others but love to kill people together.

lmao someone hear me please, someone sedate me.

[chiaraanatra]

dad pope? maybe? pretty please? with a cherry on top?

since you asked so nicely ! 🤍

tell me why pope would be the most supportive dad ever. there is no way he wouldn't be trying to do everything for his kid, and the minute you became pregnant, he was reading all of the pregnancy books, and then even getting the baby to listen to classical music because maybe that would make them smarter. you would always giggle when he got the headset out, and put it on your baby bump. it was always some sort of niche genre, sometimes rocking it out to indie, or soft lulluby, but always something that made you remember why you loved him so much.

but you had to admit, sometimes you got a little clingly. sometimes he was doing his little work, and all you wanted from him was a kiss. sometimes thats all you wanted.

pope would be so focused on putting on the small pink head set, making sure it didn't hurt you, eyes zoned in, tongue stuck out as he adjusted it gently, "that alright?"

you would nodd, before trying to kiss him. every time he did something like this for you, you had the biggest urge to just grab him and kiss him hard. unfortunaly for you, pope had more to say.

"now, listen here. so if the baby listens to this music, they'll know it—"

"damn it!"

pope raised his eyebrows, hands pulled out to touch you before suddenly looking back at you with alarm, "hey! you good?"

suddenly you felt guilty for giving him a scare, and gently pulled away the headset off your stomache. instead you looked ad him more gently. looked at the way his eyelashes fluttered, and how his adam apple bobbed as if he was really scared. all of a sudden you were frowning, looking down at the baby bump.

"hey..hey?" pope whispered, gently lifting your chin so you were looking into his eyes. "something wrong?

it was here you would pout, "enough of this talking, of this dad business. kiss me, damn it."

then pope grinned, "hey mama, if you wanted it so bad, you could have asked nicely."

"this is me asking nicely." then you grabbed him by his very nice shirt, and his very nice hair and, you know for all of you that you gave him a very nice kiss.

[chiaraanatra]

Foaming at the mouth, chewing the bars of my cage, YEARNING

[chiaraanatra]

hiii :)

could you do a rafe x reader where the reader has a panic attack in front of sarah for the first and she knows to get the reader to rafe and he immediately calms her down?

rafe cameron x reader | hurt & comfort | (pogue!reader, mean girls, panic attack, crying, comforting!rafe, insecure!reader.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

No one figured Rafe Cameron would go for a Pogue. For all his life he’d been the number 1 Pogue hater, the biggest Kook defender, and overall just a pretentious asshole. That’s why it was the shock of the island when you showed up on his arm to Midsummer’s, wearing a dress that costed more than your rent with an anxious smile on your face.

Your boyfriend had promised to stick by your side for the entire night, and you were sure he meant it when he said it, but he hadn’t taken into account just how enthused the elders were going to be to see him. He wasn’t that teenage boy they knew anymore, instead a man living alone and dealing with his troubles; thanks to you.

It was halfway through the night when you went to the bathroom, the few glasses of champagne had your head feeling fuzzy and your bladder full. You locked yourself in the cubicle and started to do your business, before you heard voices from outside.

“It’s strange though, right?” The door closed behind the girls that had walked in, making you flinch as you stood to sort your dress out.

“Rafe with a Pogue. Yeah, definitely weird,” a squeaky voiced girl agreed with a laugh.

“It won’t last, trust me. He’s only with her for the image, it makes him look good to do charity for a girl like that. I’m pretty sure she’s a waitress at the club,” the other one responded.

“I’ll be sure to find him later and remind him of that.” The two of them giggled to themselves, gushing over how hot your boyfriend was for a couple more minutes before leaving. You didn’t step out of the cubicle until you were sure that you were alone, hot tears running down your cheeks.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the fact those girls had said everything you’d been thinking for the last few months you’d been together, you weren’t sure, but something about their words had hurt your feelings; and had sent you into a spiral. You sat down on the plush purple chair, breaths coming out rapidly and shakily.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You hadn’t even heard the door open, but as you turned your head you found Sarah rushing at you. She knelt down next to you, holding your hands as you let out fearful whimpers. “Fuck. Okay, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” She ran back out and you stared at the door, holding your chest anxiously.

Only a minute later the door was swinging open and Rafe was storming in, striding over to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” he demanded, gentle but firmly as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Breathe for me, okay? Slow breaths, you got it.”

He’d seen you like this a few times, he’d learnt the best ways to get you to relax. He held your hand over his own chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm. He gave you a reassuring smile as you copied his breathing, gripping onto his fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawled, pulling you from the chair into his lap where he sat on the floor. He stroked your hair, leaving gentle kisses over your cheek. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s stupid,” you croaked out, still gripping onto his hand.

“No. It’s not. Tell me what happened, so I can sort it out and get the both of us out of the women’s bathroom,” he joked, making you giggle tearfully.

You gave him a wobbly smile. You didn’t have much of a choice now, it was time to admit to him the insecurities you’d had over the last few months; the ones that kept you up at night as he slept soundly beside you. “No one here thinks I’m good enough for you.”

“What?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Baby, what’re you talking about?”

“I— I’m a Pogue,” you whispered, as if you were admitting a crime.

“I know that,” he shrugged. “I’m not that oblivious, sweetheart. Why does that matter? Why are you saying this now?”

“Because everyone thinks it Rafe! I’m sure you have before, I know I have! Everyone here thinks you’re an idiot for being with me, that you’ve lost your mind. Maybe they’re right,” you cried out.

His hands grabbed your face firmly, leaning his forehead against your’s as he held you in place. “You’re the love of my life.”

“What?” You murmured.

“You are the love of my life. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Pogue, I don’t care that you eat pizza like you’ve not eaten in years, or that you swear like a pirate. You’re my girl, and I love you. I don’t care about other peoples opinions, because they’re irrelevant,” he explained slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. “Now, do you want to go home or do you want to get the biggest bottle of champagne and make fun of these losers?”

“The second one,” you whispered, staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

He smirked, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “That’s my girl,” he mumbled, biting down on your bottom lip lightly to make you giggle. “Now, next time you get some dumb shit in your head you gonna tell me? Or do I have to spend all our loving conversations in the bathroom?”

You laughed, wiping your teary eyes as he helped you off his lap and back to your feet. He adjusted your flower crown with a cheesy grin, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. If you didn’t believe his words before, you definitely did now. “You don’t like the bathroom?”

“Well… it’s definitely nicer than the men’s, I’ll give you that.”

[chiaraanatra]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ the language of roses

x FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: your entire life rafe had been giving you roses in different colours, but you never knew what he really wanted to say

WORD COUNT: 3956

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: english is NOT my first language, soft!rafe cameron, oblivious!reader

rafe cameron was the kind of kid who never sat still. always running, climbing, jumping off something too high just to prove he could. but there was one thing he always slowed down for: you.

you didn’t know why, back then. it wasn’t like you’d done anything special. you were just the girl who lived two houses down, the one who tagged along on all his adventures because you were good at keeping up. you’d follow him through the woods behind the cameron house, across the sandy dunes near the water, and even onto the roof of the clubhouse his dad had built in their backyard.

but every so often, he’d stop, like he’d remembered something important, and he’d disappear for a minute or two.

the first time it happened, you were seven. you’d been playing hide-and-seek in the cameron yard, and you’d been crouched behind the garden shed for what felt like forever, waiting for him to find you. when he finally did, he was grinning, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead. in his hand was a single yellow rose.

“what’s that for?” you’d asked, wrinkling your nose.

“it’s for you,” he said, holding it out like it was no big deal.

“why?”

he’d shrugged. “just ‘cause. you’re my best friend.”

that became his thing.

when you scraped your knee climbing a tree, rafe handed you a yellow rose from his mom’s garden and said, “it’ll make you feel better.”

when you had to spend a week at your grandparents’ house and came back sulking about missing the beach, there he was with another yellow rose.

“what does it mean?” you’d asked one day, sitting cross-legged on his bed as he sorted through his pokémon cards.

“what?” he asked, not looking up.

“the roses. why do you always give me yellow ones?”

he paused, his hands stilling. “it’s just… you know. the prettiest one i could find.”

“oh.”

he’d gone back to his cards, but you’d stared at the flower on the bedside table, something about it making your chest feel funny.

by the time you were ten, the roses felt like part of your routine. if you had a bad day at school, rafe would show up with one tucked behind his ear, waiting for you at your front door.

“here,” he’d say, handing it over with a grin. “it’s magic. makes everything better.”

“that’s not how magic works,” you’d reply, but you always accepted it anyway.

it wasn’t just the big moments, either. sometimes he gave you roses just because. like when you’d meet him at the playground on a sunny afternoon, or when he’d knock on your window late at night to tell you about a new fort he wanted to build in the woods.

“another one?” you’d tease, twirling the stem between your fingers.

“yep.”

“what’s it for this time?”

“i dunno. just wanted to give it to you.”

you never questioned it. rafe was rafe. the roses were just part of the deal.

but one day, when you were twelve, something changed.

he’d been quiet all afternoon, which wasn’t like him. usually, rafe was the loudest person in the room, always cracking jokes or talking a mile a minute. but that day, as you sat side by side on the dock near his house, he barely said a word.

“what’s up with you?” you asked, nudging him with your elbow.

“nothing,” he muttered, staring at the water.

“you’re lying.”

he looked at you then, his blue eyes serious in a way that made your stomach flip. after a long moment, he reached into his bag and pulled out another yellow rose.

“here,” he said quietly.

you took it, studying his face. “rafe, what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he said again, but this time, he gave you a small smile. “i just wanted you to have it. that’s all.”

you didn’t push him. instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, the rose resting in your lap.

“thanks,” you whispered.

“anytime,” he replied.

by the time you were twelve, the yellow roses were a part of you. a part of him. they showed up in places they didn’t belong—pressed between notebook pages, tucked into old shoeboxes, even wilting in jars on your windowsill. you didn’t really know why you kept them, but you couldn’t throw them away. they were yours.

but then, something changed, again.

it happened on a random summer afternoon. the sun was blazing, and you were sprawled out in the cameron backyard, sipping lemonade while rafe fixed the broken tire swing.

“you’re gonna break your neck,” you called out, watching him balance precariously on the wooden frame.

he rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. rafe never did listen to you when it came to stuff like this.

when he finally hopped down, covered in dirt and grass, he didn’t head straight for the lemonade like you expected. instead, he disappeared into the house without a word.

“what are you doing?” you shouted after him, but he didn’t answer.

a few minutes later, he came back, holding something behind his back.

“close your eyes,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

“why?”

“just do it!”

you sighed but obeyed, covering your face with your hands. “this better not be another bug.”

“it’s not,” he promised, laughing. “okay, open.”

when you did, he was standing there with a single white rose.

“what’s this for?” you asked, staring at the delicate petals.

he shrugged, looking almost shy. “just thought you’d like it.”

“but… why white?”

“i dunno,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

you didn’t know what to say, so you just smiled and took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for half a second. you didn’t notice the way his cheeks turned pink, or the way he stared at you a little too long before turning back to the swing.

that was the first white rose.

after that, the yellow roses didn’t come often anymore. instead, you’d find white ones—on your doorstep, in your locker, or handed over with a casual, “here, this is for you.”

you never asked why.

by the time you were fourteen, white roses were the new normal. rafe had grown taller, his voice deeper, his confidence sharper. but when he gave you roses, he was still the same boy you’d known forever.

“for me?” you asked one day, twirling the stem of yet another white rose.

“who else?” he replied, grinning.

then came your sixteenth birthday. you didn’t expect anything big—just a day at the beach with rafe, like always. but when he showed up at your door, he wasn’t empty-handed.

“what’s this?” you asked, staring at the bouquet of pink roses in his hands.

he shrugged, but his usual confidence was missing. “birthday gift,” he said, thrusting them toward you.

you took them, your heart racing. “they’re… really pretty.”

“yeah, well. so are you.”

the words hung in the air, heavier than they should’ve been. you stared at him, your cheeks burning, and for the first time, you didn’t know what to say.

by the time you were seventeen, things had changed. it wasn’t just the way you and rafe had grown up—it was the way he’d changed.

you could see it the moment he introduced her—lily, the new girl with the perfect hair and the perfect laugh and the perfect smile. she was everything you weren’t, and you hated how easily rafe seemed to fall for her.

but that wasn’t the worst part.

the worst part was that the roses stopped.

it was a sudden thing. at first, there were other flowers—a bouquet of daisies here, a random tulip there—but never roses. not the yellow ones you’d grown used to, not the white ones or the pink ones that had become a quiet declaration between the two of you. just... no flowers.

at first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. it didn’t. rafe had a girlfriend now.

he didn’t owe you roses anymore.

but you missed them. you missed the thoughtfulness, the friendship, the feeling that, no matter what, you still had a place in his life.

and then the your biggest fear came true—he stopped being your friend altogether.

lily didn’t like how close you and rafe had been. she didn’t want him hanging out with his girl best friend anymore. so rafe, being rafe, did what he always did when he felt cornered: he let go.

you didn’t get it at first. he’d stopped answering your texts, stopped showing up at the usual spots. at school, he’d walk by you without even looking up. you’d sit at lunch, watching him and lily from the other side of the cafeteria, and it made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

there were no more texts to plan beach trips or late-night talks. no more spontaneous hangouts. nothing.

you tried reaching out once, twice, even three times, but it was always the same—short answers, distant replies, the kind that made it clear he didn’t want to try anymore.

it was too painful. so you stopped trying.

instead, you focused on other things—other people.

it wasn’t like you didn’t have friends, but the friends you had before had always been people who had fallen into your life by default. you had never needed to work for them. they were always there, easy to hold on to. but now, as you walked down the hallway of your high school with a new group of girls—girls who wanted to be your friends, who made an effort to include you, to laugh with you, to spend time with you—you realized something important.

you were learning to let go too.

the girls were different. they were fun and supportive in ways you hadn’t realized you were missing. no one ever told you to back off from their boyfriends. no one ever gave you that uncomfortable look when you were laughing too loudly with one of the guys in the group.

it was easier, in a way. no complications. no unspoken feelings. just fun, carefree friendships.

but you couldn’t help but feel that gnawing ache in your chest whenever you saw rafe and lily together. it was like a quiet reminder that everything between you and him was over.

and then, one day, you saw it.

lily posted a story on instagram—a picture of a vase of flowers. they were bright and pretty, but there was something painfully obvious about them. they weren’t roses.

never roses.

they were daisies. lilies. tulips.

anything but roses.

you looked over at your new group of friends—laughing at something ridiculous, pulling you into their conversation—and for the first time in a long while, you realized something important: you were okay.

no, you weren’t fine. you missed rafe. you missed your best friend. but you weren’t going to stay in the past.

there was a part of you that hoped rafe would realize what he’d lost, that maybe, one day, he’d come back and apologize. but for now, you had other things to focus on.

and maybe that was enough for now.

but still, you didn’t expect to see rafe cameron waiting for you after school.

the day had been uneventful—just the usual classes, the usual laughs with your friends, the usual reminder in the back of your mind that rafe wasn’t part of your world anymore.

but there he was. leaning against the wall near the parking lot, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his hair a mess like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.

your first instinct was to ignore him. he hadn’t spoken to you in months. months. he’d chosen lily, chosen her rules, chosen to let go of everything you’d shared.

but something about the way he looked—lost, broken, sad—stopped you.

you stepped closer, hesitant. “rafe?”

his head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. for a second, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“hey,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your tone sharper than you meant it to be.

he flinched, but he didn’t back down. “i... i needed to see you.”

“why?”

“because—” he broke off, running a hand through his hair. “because i screwed up. and because i didn’t know where else to go.”

you crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. “what about lily?”

he laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “she’s gone. we broke up.”

“oh.”

you didn’t know what else to say. part of you wanted to walk away, to tell him it wasn’t your problem anymore. but the other part—the bigger part, the one that still cared—couldn’t do it.

“come on,” you said, jerking your head toward your car.

he blinked, surprised. “really?”

“yeah,” you muttered. “let’s go.”

the drive back to your house was quiet, the air between you heavy with things unsaid. when you got home, you led him to your room, just like you always used to.

he sat on the edge of your bed, looking around like he couldn’t believe he was there again. “you changed it,” he said, his voice soft.

“yeah,” you replied, sitting cross-legged on the other side. “it’s been a while.”

he nodded, staring down at his hands. “i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“for everything. for shutting you out. for choosing her. for being an idiot.”

you didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch between you.

“i missed you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and you saw it—the boy you’d grown up with, the one who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who always brought you roses.

“i missed you too,” you admitted.

his head snapped up, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling faintly. “but you’re still an idiot.”

he laughed, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

you talked for hours, just like you used to. about everything and nothing, about the way life had shifted and the things you’d both been through. it was easy, familiar, like slipping back into an old rhythm.

when he finally stood to leave, you followed him to the door, your heart heavier than you wanted to admit.

“thanks for... for letting me in,” he said, his hand lingering on the doorknob.

“you’re always welcome,” you said softly.

he nodded, gave you one last look, and then he was gone.

when you turned back toward your room, something caught your eye—a splash of color on your bed.

frowning, you walked closer, and your breath caught in your throat.

a single purple rose rested on your pillow.

you picked it up, your fingers trembling as you held it to your chest.

you sank onto the bed, staring at the flower, your mind spinning.

he hadn’t said it, but he didn’t need to. the rose said everything he couldn’t.

and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you and rafe weren’t finished after all.

by the time you were eighteen, you and rafe had found your way back to each other.

it hadn’t been easy, not at first. there were awkward silences, half-finished sentences, and moments where you both stumbled over how to act around each other. but slowly, the cracks healed. the space between you shrank. and before you knew it, you were best friends again, just like you’d been before everything fell apart.

except now, things were different in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. it wasn't different as in your roses changed from yellow to white, it was just... different.

rafe spent more time with you and your friends than he did with his own. he’d show up at your place unannounced, invite himself to girls’ nights, and make himself at home in your little world. your friends loved him—who wouldn’t? he was funny, charming, and could win over just about anyone with a crooked smile and a well-timed joke.

and then there were the roses.

at first, it had felt like slipping back into an old routine. rafe had always given you flowers—yellow for friendship, white for something deeper, pink for gratitude and love. so when he started showing up with four roses every time he saw you, you didn’t think much of it.

a pink rose, soft and sweet. a white rose, pure and delicate. a yellow rose, bright and cheerful. and a dark pink rose, richer, deeper, full of meaning you didn’t quite understand.

“what’s this for?” you’d ask every time, your voice teasing.

“do i need a reason?” he’d reply, smirking as he handed them over.

you’d roll your eyes, tuck them into a vase, and move on.

it wasn’t until one friday night, when rafe wasn’t there, that your friends brought it up.

you were sprawled out on your living room floor with your two best friends, abby and jen, eating popcorn and flipping through magazines. the absence of rafe’s usual presence was noticeable, but you didn’t mention it.

“so,” abby said, sitting up and tossing a kernel into her mouth. “are you and rafe, like... a thing?”

you blinked, startled. “what?”

jen raised an eyebrow. “you and rafe. are you dating?”

you laughed, the sound a little too loud. “no. what? no way. we’re just friends.”

“just friends?” abby repeated, her tone skeptical.

“yes,” you said firmly. “we’ve been best friends since we were kids. that’s all it is.”

jen exchanged a look with abby, then turned back to you. “okay, but... the roses?”

“what about them?”

“he gives you flowers every time he sees you!” abby said, throwing her hands up.

“so? he’s always done that.”

“always?” jen asked, her eyes wide.

“yeah,” you said with a shrug. “since we were six.”

both girls gaped at you like you’d just confessed to a crime.

“you’re telling me,” abby said slowly, “that rafe cameron has been giving you flowers for twelve years, and you’ve never thought it was weird?”

“it’s not weird,” you said defensively. “it’s just... a thing we do. it doesn’t mean anything.”

“it definitely means something,” jen said, crossing her arms. “guys don’t give roses to their best friends for over a decade unless they’re in love with them.”

“he’s not in love with me,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“babe,” abby said, leaning forward. “dark pink roses? those mean, like, admiration and gratitude, but also... y’know. romance.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words stuck in your throat.

“and white roses? purity. pink? love. yellow? friendship. he’s literally giving you every part of him in flower form,” jen added.

you stared at them, your mind racing.

“he’s... he’s just being rafe,” you said weakly.

“exactly,” abby said. “and rafe is in love with you.”

their words echoed in your head long after the conversation ended, and when you went to bed that night, your eyes drifted to the vase on your desk.

four roses. pink, white, yellow, dark pink.

you’d never questioned them before. but now, for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was more to them than you’d ever let yourself believe.

your nineteenth birthday was minutes away, and you were already in bed.

well, technically you were sitting on your bed, legs crossed, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the clock to hit midnight. your hair was twisted into perfect curls, your nose strip was firmly in place, and your face was freshly moisturized—your skincare routine impeccable as always.

you weren’t expecting anything. your friends had already promised to make a big deal out of it tomorrow, and you figured the actual moment of your birthday would pass quietly, just you and your phone and a sleepy smile.

but then you heard the faint scrape of your window.

at first, you froze. was someone trying to break in?

“relax,” came a familiar voice, low and teasing. “it’s just me.”

“rafe?”

you slid off your bed, rushing to the window to find him perched on the ledge, one hand gripping the frame, the other holding something behind his back.

“what are you doing?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice down. “it’s midnight!”

“exactly,” he said, flashing that boyish grin that always got him out of trouble. “happy birthday.”

you blinked, completely thrown off. “you climbed up here for that?”

he shrugged, effortlessly pulling himself through the window and into your room. “you’re worth it.”

“you’re insane.”

“and you’ve got... something on your nose,” he said, his gaze locking onto the strip.

your cheeks flushed. you’d completely forgotten about your skincare situation.

“oh my god, i look ridiculous,” you muttered, turning away from him.

“no, you look... like you,” he said, his voice softer now.

you glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i like you better like this,” he said simply. “no makeup, no filters, just... you.”

before you could respond, he brought his hand forward, revealing the bouquet he’d been holding.

“here,” he said, holding it out to you.

you stared at it, your heart doing a strange little flip. the roses were beautiful—soft pastel purple, deep dark purple, a single vivid red, and of course, the familiar yellow.

“rafe,” you whispered, taking them from him. “you didn’t have to—”

“yeah, i did,” he cut you off. “you deserve them.”

“rafe...” you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

he shrugged like it was no big deal, but the way he looked at you told you otherwise. “happy birthday,” he said again, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

you stared at him, your heart thudding in your chest. the weight of the flowers in your hands, the warmth in his gaze, the fact that he’d climbed through your window just to be the first to see you on your birthday—it was all too much and somehow just enough.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice unsteady.

he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as you clutched the bouquet.

“you’re everything to me, you know that?” he said, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

your heart stopped for a moment, then started again, faster, louder.

“rafe...”

he shook his head, his hands moving to gently frame your face. “you don’t have to say anything. just... can I—?”

he didn’t finish the sentence, but you understood.

“yes,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

he leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didn’t. when his lips brushed yours, it was soft at first, tentative, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

but then you kissed him back, and something inside both of you broke free.

the roses slipped from your hands onto the bed, forgotten as you melted into him, your arms winding around his neck, his fingers tangling gently in your curls.

when you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily, the world outside your room completely forgotten.

“happy birthday,” he whispered again, his smile so full of affection it made your chest ache.

“best one yet,” you replied, your own smile matching his.

and as he stayed by your side, your head resting on his shoulder, the roses scattered around you, you couldn’t imagine a better way to start a new year of your life.

and for years, you kept them all—pressed between the pages of your favorite books, tucked into jars on your windowsill, little pieces of rafe that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

because to him, you were.

[chiaraanatra]

God…the size difference…I just know his dick is as thick as a statue I JUST KNOW ITTTTT

[chiaraanatra]

i wish ao3 allowed people to give kudos per each chapter. These 100k word NOVELS need more love than 200 tiny digital hearts ☹️