drewstarkeyswifehoe

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

Just gotta show you that I'm the one I

RafeCameron x Reader

In which you kiss Rafe during a game of spin the bottle, and he can't seem to leave you alone after.

wc: 7.1k

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The bass of the music made your whole body vibrate with adrenaline— that and the alcohol. It was the first party of the summer yet, everyone celebrated like it was the last. You rarely showed up to things like this, but after a difficult semester and a tough breakup, you figured you deserved to let loose. That’s what you kept telling yourself—to drown out the badgering thought that if you’d just been good enough, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself cheated on.

You shake your head like you were trying to get the thoughts to fall from your ears, and gulped down another Jell-O shot. Your fourth one of the night.

When you set the shot glass down, your arm was yanked and your body was being dragged over to the door leading down to the basement.

“Soph, where’re you taking me?” You giggled at the end of your question, which was confusing because nothing was funny. But you heard from friends that when you got drunk, it was a laugh fest.

“Basement— they’re playing spin the bottle.” She held you tight and guided you down the stairs. Leaning closer to whisper in your ear, she says, “maybe I’ll get to kiss Caleb.” She almost squealed with excitement.

Lots of people were laughing and chit chatting as they sat down in a poorly formed circle. You found an empty space next to Topper, who smiled politely at you. At that moment, you remembered that alcohol also made you very affectionate. You didn’t know Topper all that well and you still reached out and pinched his cheek in response. He was taken aback, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, everyone knows the rules. If the bottle lands on you, you gotta give the spinner a big ol’ kiss. Capeesh?” Kelce announced to everyone, and looked around to make sure they were on the same page.

Nods and hums filled the room and an empty corona bottle was placed in the middle of the circle.

Kelce went first.

Everyone stared at the bottle in anticipation. Some dreading it landing on them, while others prayed to a higher being that they’d get to kiss Kelce. You, on the other hand, just looked up and around the room at everyone since the spinning bottle was making you dizzy.

Cheers sounded through the basement as the bottle finally chose. It landed on Kelce’s ex-girlfriend, Madison. Everyone whooped and laughed at how unbelievably perfect it was. Kelce was in disbelief and Madison looked like she regretted coming to the party. But rules were rules and also, people were too drunk to realize they had free will and could back out.

A perverse smile was slapped across your face, along with everyone else, at the sight of Kelce and Madison leaning in. Their breakup was the talk of the town as neither of them were the type to keep a low profile. The arguments in the streets to screenshots posted all over social media made this whole situation funnier.

The two leaned in and kissed each other for a split second before going right back to their spots. The group booed at the lack of commitment, but the ex-couple didn’t seem to care.

Madison’s turn.

The group once again glued their eyes to the spinning glass bottle. Your eyes wandered and took in everyone’s appearances— just a bunch of horny kooks, and you were no different. It had been a while since you’d got some action— or any proper action. It was embarrassing to admit but, technically, you were a virgin. You’d done everything but the big “P” for penetration— always interrupted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t miss the closeness. Lips on your lips. Hands in your hair.

"Oh shit! Didn't know we'd get some girl-on-girl tonight!" A voice hollered from across the circle and you tuned back into the game.

Madison's bottle landed on Jade.

It was kind of perfect, actually. The one thing you remembered about Jade was how, one time in high school, you caught her checking you out after gym. You thought a lot about her after that— wondering what the curious stare meant back then.

Seeing her now—unflinching, ready to kiss Madison—confirmed your suspicions, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

The two leaned in pressed their lips against one another. The crowd cheered and whistled as the girls got deeper into it. Your brows raised slightly as you were surprised at how long the kiss was. It was messy too— you could see a little tongue. Madison was practically swallowing Jade like she was trying to get any trace of Kelce off of her. You took a deep breath and looked away as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Now that's what 'm talking about!"

The girls pulled away, sitting back down with shy smiles and flushed faces. They avoided each others' eyes and the group nudged them, finding the whole situation funny.

Jade's turn.

She spun the bottle without hesitation and stared at it intensely. She was quite attractive, with her dark hair and piercing eyes—so naturally, everyone was kind of hoping the bottle would choose them. You included. You laughed at the thought. God, I'm drunk.

The bottle began to slow its rotation and finally came to a halt. The loud, boisterous kooks somehow grew even louder and more boisterous. Your eyes trailed from the neck of the bottle to the legs of the person sitting cross-legged, up their torso, and finally to their face

Rafe Cameron.

The reaction of the crowd was understandable.

Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

What to say about him?

He was the personification of the word "kook". During his teenage years, he was like a tyrant. Most people stayed out of his way because of his unpredictability and short fuse. You always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt considering how he was raised, but he didn't always make that so easy. With all this in mind, it's worth mentioning that now, as an adult, he was doing better. His belligerent days were behind him, and he had calmed down quite a bit. You don't remember the last time you heard of him beating someone bloody. Nowadays, when he'd come back from college, he'd work with his Father during the day, and let loose during the night. Still, you didn't forget about the person he was. No one did. Tensed shoulders and hushed whispers still arose at the mention of Rafe's name, and it would be a while before that changed.

Rafe was nonchalant. When the bottle landed on him, he held up his index and middle finger to motion for Jade to come closer to him. You watched with your Jell-O shot riddled mind— which had you thinking he was very sexy at that moment. Jade licked her lips and leaned forward on all fours— ready for it. Rafe's hand found the back of her neck and he pressed his lips to hers. The room erupted in cheers and you covered your ears at the volume. Your eyes stayed on Rafe and Jade and you shamelessly wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Despite his rough appearance, his lips were soft and pink.

They look delicious.

The kiss was short and clean. Nothing like the one before, and a part of you was surprised. Rafe pulled away first and sat back down, taking a swig of his drink.

Now you were a little intrigued— more alert. Moving your pupils side-to-side, you counted the heads in the circle and rounded up to about fifteen participants. There were also lots more people in the room, just as spectators, and they were at the edge of their seats. There was like a 7% chance that you’d be the one the bottle landed on— slim odds, but not impossible.

“I hope it doesn’t land on me,” Sofia whispers in your ear.

You nodded, even though you couldn’t really hear what she said over the drumroll sounding through the room.

Rafe held the bottle with his left hand and spun it with a sharp flick of the wrist. He stared at it closely. You wondered if he was mentally hoping that it would land on someone specific. There was no way to tell just by studying his face.

Again, the bottle began to slow down in momentum, and everyone knew it was going to choose the next participant soon. It was an exciting feeling— a lot more amplified during this round than the ones before. And that was the power of Rafe.

The bottle stopped spinning.

You looked at it and followed its path. You heard Sofia gasp right next to you.

The bottle pointed right between you and her.

The crowd groaned and then started weighing in on what should be done. Everyone talked over one another trying to reach a consensus.

All this over a game of spin the bottle.

You swallowed and looked across the circle at Rafe, whose eyes were already on you. It made you flinch in surprise and you quickly averted your gaze back to the bottle. You pretended to think about a way to solve the impossible equation.

Hmm, maybe he could spin again?

While you were busy pretending to look deep in thought, Rafe had already made up his mind. Ignoring all the opinions of those around him, he reached forward and shifted the bottle an inch so it was pointing directly at you.

Now you were the one gasping, as Sofia let out a sigh of relief.

Your eyes remained fixed on the bottle as the crowd got rowdy once again. Because this wasn’t as uneventful as a re-spin. No— this time, the bottle didn’t choose you.

Rafe did.

It felt like the first time ever in spin the bottle history for something like that to happen. And that’s why everyone was shouting, cheering, and feeling oh so lucky to be witnesses. Because now there were layers to this game. It raised questions. Like, why did he choose you over Sofia? Or, had he been hoping it would land on you all along?

Whatever it was, you didn’t have time to think about it right now. Because the game was still ongoing.

And this time, Rafe was the one moving closer. He was actually putting in the effort to come to you. This had you slightly impressed and also feeling a little funny. You felt Sofia pat you on the back as a sign of encouragement. So you slowly moved towards him too. Quickly running your tongue over your lips, you scooted forward and he met you before you got to the middle.

Impatient?

Eager?

Coming face-to-face with him was— and you don't say this lightly— breathtaking. You could sit there for days trying to find a flaw, and still come up short. He was simply perfect. With alluring eyes and pink lips, it was no surprise that everyone fawned over him all his life.

The group chanted your names like you guys were athletes or something. It had your veins coursing with adrenaline, and you weren't sure if you enjoyed that feeling or not. You were never used to being the centre of attention, but Rafe was. And that somehow comforted you.

Rafe did everything at his own pace—peer pressure never got to him. Finally, with a curl of his lip, he tilted his head and leaned forward, closing the distance. His lips met yours and he corrected his angle to better feel them. Your initial instinct was to freeze and just let him do all the work. But then you realized that this opportunity wouldn’t present itself again— it’s not like you’d want to be anywhere near Rafe when you’re sober. So why not make the most of it now, and give people a show?

Your blood alcohol content provided you with the boost that you needed. While Rafe took his time to suck on your bottom lip, you brought your hands to the sides of his cheeks and held him like he was the most precious artifact in the world. When he felt your touch, he moaned all breathy into the kiss—just for you to hear. You took that chance to deepen the kiss and swipe the inside of his mouth with your tongue, which he gladly welcomed.

The crowd’s cheers didn’t die down once. If anything, they got louder.

When you felt satisfied with your little risk of the day, you pulled back. Rafe, for a moment, had forgotten where he was and reflexively leaned forward to catch your missing touch. But when it wasn't there, he opened his eyes and noticed you’d sat back down at your spot. Topper reached forward and shook his shoulder, exclaiming, “dude, that was crazy!” Rafe just took a few seconds to catch his breath and then returned to his spot. His fingers kept finding his way back to his lips to settle the tingling feeling that was so prominent there.

You were out of breath too, but the game wasn’t over.

So you reached for the bottle to continue your turn. Grabbing it between your fingers and thumb, you gave it a hard spin and kneeled before it.

It was hard concentrating on the game after what you just did, and your thoughts were now filled with Rafe Cameron. Just as your mind was occupied with him, your eyes wanted to be included too. So you briefly look away from the bottle, and to Rafe, only to see him standing up and leaving. A few people seemed to ask him where he was going, but he just shook his head in response.

It was almost like he didn’t want to watch you kiss someone else.

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The morning, or afternoon, brought the blaring sun and a miserable hangover. You barely stumbled out of your bed at half past noon, and threw up on your way to the shower. The regret set in as the water hit your skin, and you cringed as your mind played a recap of the night.

Images of the party, the solo cups, and the wasted kooks all came flashing through when you closed your eyes. However, they shot open when you remembered the spin the bottle game.

Oh god. I full on made out with Rafe.

You weren’t sure how you felt about the whole situation. Sure, it was just a game and there was no need for further complication. But you weren’t the type to just kiss anyone at anytime. All the people you’d been with were ones you’d intended to pursue, and date, and all that. Seeing as how that was the last thing you wanted with Rafe, it was hard to wrap your head around the act of doing something so intimate with someone who you’d never really talk to again.

Is this what adulthood is?

Is this what hook-up culture is like?

You didn’t care for it. But it made things easier that the only two people you kissed last night were ones you wouldn’t cross paths with again.

After Rafe left, your next kiss was with Caleb. Yes, the Caleb that Sofia was praying she’d get. It made things quite awkward and you apologized profusely to her before, and after, you quickly gave him a peck. You earned boo’s from the crowd but you didn’t really care because your friendship came before all that. So Caleb was off the table, and back to being a stranger.

Rafe is the same too. Before last night, the only time you remembered interacting with him was during chemistry (which he was repeating), when you got partnered up for a lab. It was mostly forgettable besides the part where he made you do the whole experiment and lab report on your own, which had you furious. But he made up for it by presenting it to the class, knowing you were too shy to do so. Oh, and he’d also grab you the goggles and lab coat every time. So… that was quite nice of him.

Nevertheless, that was almost four years ago. Now you two went to different universities and lived different lives. He took the business route, and you took arts— couldn’t be more different. There was nothing to worry about then. Last night would blend in with the rest of the nights to come and, soon, you would forget the feeling of his lips on yours, and the quiet desperation he had for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you felt a lot better. Cold showers were the cure to everything.

You headed down to the kitchen, trying to satiate the growling of your stomach. The fridge was full of leftovers from last night that your mom so kindly packed up for you. It was a shame you were too nauseous to eat anything too heavy. So you stuck to some cold cereal and walked over to the table to begin eating.

A doorbell made you flinch and stand up. You peaked out the window and noticed a van had dropped off a package for you. Maybe it was those shoes you ordered two weeks ago. Finally some good news.

Walking over to the front door you opened it to see the shoes truly had arrived. You bent down to pick up the box and noticed a small envelope leaned against the wooden railing of the porch. It didn’t seem to have come with the shoes. No, they were placed too far apart. And this envelope had your name written on it. Not in any fancy letters, just simple penmanship.

You furrow your brows, pick up both things, and head into the house.

The shoes could wait now that your intrigue was stolen by the envelope. It was black too. You didn’t even know they made them in that colour.

Slowly and carefully, you slid your fingernails under the flap and lifted it, trying your best not to tear anything. It felt expensive.

Maybe it’s an invitation to midsummer.

No, but then Mom and Dad would’ve gotten one too.

After successfully opening it without any damage, you peaked inside. There was just a slip of paper. Not just your common printer paper though— this was thicker. Like card-stock.

Your index and thumb pinched the top of it and took it out of the envelope. One side, the side you saw first, was blank. The other just had a small message written on it.

“That was some kiss.”

You stared at the card and read the words over and over again until you were seeing them in between blinks. Who could possibly send such a thing? And why?

Was it Caleb?

It was Caleb, wasn’t it?

Fuck, this is all so wrong! He’s not yours to claim and you weren’t his. Sofia would be distraught and the thought of that made you feel like you could puke again.

You slam the card down, and grab your car keys. Time to pay Caleb a little visit to nip this in the bud.

All you knew about him was that he recently started working the morning shift at the Wreck. He should still be there if you drove fast enough.

You pulled into the parking space and marched into the restaurant like you were on a life or death mission— which is what it felt like in the moment.

Your head turned from side-to-side quickly as your eyes scanned the place. They zeroed in when you spotted him behind the counter. Your legs moved and dragged the rest of you along. You placed the envelope on the counter and waited for him to notice you.

“Y/N, hey, what can I getcha?” Caleb picked up the plate from the customer before you and walked it over to the kitchen in the back. He returned with a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m not here to eat, Caleb.” You slid the envelope forward.

He furrowed his brows and looked down at it. “What’s this? Are you trying to bribe me or something?” He chuckles.

Look at him being all oblivious.

You narrow your eyes. “You know what it is. This- you can’t be sending me stuff like this.”

He was speechless, not having a clue of what you were on about. He looked down at the envelope again, then back at you and said, “Y/N, I have never seen this before. Ever.”

You scoff in disbelief. “At least own up to it— I mean come on! I came all the way here and—”

“Dude, I’ve been waiting for my sandwich forever.”

A voice cuts you off and steals Caleb’s attention. You turn to the sound and see Rafe behind you. Quickly you turn back and stare ahead, hoping he didn’t recognize you.

“Sorry, I’ll get on that.” Caleb shot Rafe an apologetic look and turned to you to quietly say, “promise I didn’t send you that.”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him. He could’ve just been too nervous to admit it. Maybe he wasn’t the confrontational type. Who knows?

With a sigh, and your head hung low, you walk out of the restaurant without glancing at anyone else.

If it was Caleb—and you knew it was—then your reaction would’ve made it clear to him that you weren’t into it. Which meant mission accomplished, because you only came to the Wreck to shut this down before it got out of hand.

On the drive home, there was still a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawing at you. Because, although, you were set on Caleb being the culprit, there was something about the sincerity in his voice that made you think otherwise.

He could've been a theatre kid— lots of time to perfect his acting.

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The next morning you were feeling a lot better without the life-altering hangover. To add to the great morning, you also woke up with zero thoughts of the mystery-of-the-card-giver— which sounded like poorly written Agatha Christie novel.

A new summer day came with so much potential, and so much daylight. You planned to run a few errands with your Dad and then catch a movie with Sofia. It was the perfect balance of productivity and relaxation, and you were ready to get on with it.

First on the list was picking your Dad up from the auto body shop a few blocks away. He had to leave his car with the mechanics because of a recent, harmless, fender bender.

You pull on your shorts and a band tee of a group you couldn't name three songs of, and head out the door. You stepped onto the porch and noticed a black box at the last minute, which made you stumble and roll your ankle. "Ow shit!" Leaning against the doorframe, you reached for your ankle and rubbed the area with the shooting pain. After trying, and failing, to massage that pain away, you let go and reached for the box.

You were already annoyed, and you had a feeling that the contents of this box would only exacerbate that. Holding it in your hands, it wasn't too heavy or too big. It was sleek, rectangular, and... velvet? So definitely not cheap.

Great.

You walked over to the porch swing and placed it in your lap.

What is Caleb's game here?

Pressing on the small golden button to make the lid pop up, you were gasping at the sight before you. A gold chain bracelet. You recognized the motifs on it— five of them. All four leaf clover shaped. Black. A vintage Van Cleef.

Holy shit these are like seven thousand dollars.

You felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Quickly, you shut the box and place it next to you on the swing– afraid you'd break it.

Who in their right mind would carelessly spend money like this?

Caleb was rich, but not this rich. How could he shell out seven g's on you after just a peck that lasted like half a millisecond? He was clearly taking the whole "hopeless romantic" title too far.

Your phone buzzed and you checked to see that your Dad had texted you asking of your whereabouts. Snapping out of the daze, you put the box inside and leave for the auto body shop.

The whole day you felt a strange weight on your shoulders. Your love language wasn't receiving gifts, and so this made you very uncomfortable. The price too! You wouldn't accept it even if it was given to you by your husband of fifty years! (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still.)

And the worst part was that you couldn't talk to Sofia about it as it would kill her.

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You got no sleep last night. Just tossing and turning as the bracelet stared at you from your nightstand. Eyeing you with its slick chain and shiny motifs. It was truly a sight to see and you were already starting to feel upset at the thought of parting with it.

So you decided to rip off the bandaid, and give it back to Caleb right away. Did you try it on a few times? Yes. Did you consider just keeping it because it was a gift for you and you deserved something nice? Yes.

But ultimately, the cost of the thing made you too nervous, and returning it was the right thing to do.

You were dressed for the day and ready to head out. Before opening the door, you took a deep breath and mentally prayed that there wouldn't be another expensive present awaiting you. You didn't know what you'd do if there was just a Rolls-Royce in your driveway. Mainly because you wouldn't know how to return it.

Unlocking the door, and opening it just a teeny bit, you peaked your head out and looked down.

Shit.

Another box. This one was square shaped and it had a small envelope attached.

Where does Caleb find the time?

You reluctantly picked it up and brought it inside. A few moments of mental debate began to take place as you couldn’t decide whether to open it or not. What if you got too attached?

The envelope sat there on your coffee table and you were dreading the thought of another flirtatious line. You thought you had been stern with Caleb the other day. And yet here was evidence that your plan had backfired.

You bite the bullet and tear open the envelope without a care this time. Inside was a small note again.

“For your pretty neck.”

You furrow your brows and notice your stomach felt funny. You turn to the box, finally, and open it to find a matching necklace to your bracelet. Oh my. Oh no. Oh, this has gone too far.

Hitting up the Wreck twice in three days was rare for you. You typically didn’t like going there because of potential run-ins with old classmates you felt awkward around. But this was important stuff! You were being showered with expensive jewelry! And it had to stop.

On your angry march into the restaurant, you were mentally rehearsing a long and scary speech you’d say to Caleb. Drop words like “impermissible” and “cease!”

“Didn’t like the necklace, huh?”

You froze. It felt like the Looney Toons when a character was sprinting with smoke coming from their legs and then stop with that horrible tire screeching sound. A chill ran up your back because that voice… that voice didn’t belong to Caleb. No. It belonged to Rafe. You stood there for a few seconds, right in front of the doors. Then you took a deep breath, and turned around to Rafe who was standing behind you.

A million things could’ve been said but for some reason you settled on, “what— uhm— what’re you talking about?”

You flinched from surprise when he let out a short, but genuine, laugh.

“You know what.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks his brow at you.

Before you could respond, your phone rang in your pocket. You look down and fish out your phone, shooting him an apologetic look. It was Sofia.

When you glanced back up, Rafe had walked off with Kelce. And you were left with your hummingbird heartbeat and Sofia’s voice ranting about another annoying incident involving her coworker.

Her words went in one ear, and out the other. The only thing you could think about right now was how it was Rafe all along. The note. The jewelry.

For your pretty neck.

What in the actual hell.

You had never thought to suspect him because you didn’t think he actually had… feelings? Like human emotions? Like did he actually want you to like him? Was he capable of longing for a person? Unless that’s not what this was— maybe he just wanted to get laid. In the midst of this busy schedule, he probably didn’t have much time to get his rocks off. And maybe that’s why he needed you. To be there as a stress reliever. And he most likely thought you’d be more than up for it considering the way you kissed him. Like it was your last day on earth. Practically sucking face.

Oh god.

Later that night you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. There were too many questions on your mind. Along with those, of course, was a fluttering feeing in your stomach. Because even though you didn’t know his intentions, a part of you felt like you were actually being pursued. Like your attention was a valuable prize. A goal.

But this had already gone too far. And you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing something else on your doorstep tomorrow morning.

Maybe I should just stop leaving the house.

You shake your head and knock some sense into yourself. It’s time to take matters into your own hands! Sure, in person, you couldn’t get a word out to Rafe because of his intimidating presence (and hot face). But you could shoot him a text. There was more confidence behind the screen without his eyes swallowing you up.

You grab your cellphone.

You stood up and paced around your bedroom. Okay, all you have to do is send a strongly-worded text. Words. On a screen. You’ll be fine! It’s just a text! It’s not like he can reach through the screen and touch you, right? That kind of technology wouldn't come into existence overnight.

You took deep breaths as you typed his phone number into your cell. Okay. Okay. You can do this. Words on a screen. Words. Letters.

You stared at the message in horror, but sent it anyway. Why in the world were you texting like you needed a moment to talk about your lord and saviour Jesus Christ?

Why did you get so formal when you texted strangers? He’s going to think you’re the same goody-two-shoes all those years ago in chem class. But also, you didn’t need his approval. To be honest, you wanted nothing to do with Rafe. He was a big guy in many ways— his big personality, big presence, big impact. You weren’t sure you could handle it— or that you wanted to. You were quite content with the small circle of people in your life who helped maintain the peace. And Rafe? Rafe is… havoc.

But you also never knew he could be so smooth. All those years of girls chasing him you never thought it was because he had something to offer.

Clearly, you missed out.

The cell phone flew across the room and hit your headboard, plopping into the thin crevice between it and the mattress. His last text clearly had some sort of physical effect on you to the point where you thought that destroying your phone to bits would be better than responding.

Maybe this was a joke. Like a dare. Oh, that would be so cruel— but that was more up his alley, than being this sweet and generous loverboy.

You didn’t want to keep living in this fever dream, so you decided it was best to just call it a night.

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Day four.

You thought that after the text exchange last night, there would be a pause, a hesitance, a break.

But it seemed that Rafe only decided to crank things up. He didn’t see your texts as a sign to back down—no— he saw them as a challenge— to see how far he can push you; see how much you could take.

Outside your doorstep lay a large bouquet of tulips— red tulips. Knowing a little something about flowers and symbolism from English class during your senior year— these indicated love.

Love.

But maybe it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe they were just the first ones he laid his eyes on.

Attached was another note, and another box.

You shut your eyes tight hoping that you were just imagining things. But when you opened them again, the sight hadn’t changed.

Your muscle memory kicked in, and you carried all the presents inside, into the living room. You laid them on the coffee table and dissected each gift one by one.

The box, first.

It was smaller, like one for a ring. Which scared you— because rings could mean many things. Marriages, promises, friendships. None of which applied to you and Rafe.

The velvet box popped open and your assumptions were proven correct. A gold ring to match the necklace and bracelet. You stared at your reflection in the four leaf clover motif.

Your hands trembled and you took out the note next.

“Don’t freak out… just wanted to compliment the set.”

It was like he read your mind. Yes, it’s not like this was a proposal— no, this was a dire fashion choice.

Today was a busy day for you, unfortunately. You didn’t have time to show up at his door and talk some sense into him.

But then again, he clearly didn’t back down when you called him out. So maybe the best way to deal with this is to ignore him.

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By the fifth day—and your lack of reaction to the ring—Rafe was a little more desperate. After the last gift, he’d been sure you’d reach out and scold him like a Sunday school teacher. Which, disturbingly, he found kind of hot and made a mental note to bring up with a professional. Still, he was Rafe Cameron, and when he wanted something, he’d stop at nothing to get it. Nothing. So your silence didn’t make him recoil—it only enticed him more.

Like clockwork, you opened your front door and looked down on the porch.

A box and a note.

More fucking red tulips.

You picked them up and brought them inside. There was only one vase in your entire house which was already occupied by yesterday’s flowers.

The box contained a pair of earrings to match the set. You almost felt dizzy when you mentally calculated the total cost of all his gifts.

Earrings were your favourite accessory and the longer you stared at them, the harder it was to resist putting them on and strutting around your living room.

Next, the note.

“Playing hard to get?

Makes me want you more.”

You read the words again, and again, and again. They made you feel something— a feeling you couldn’t pinpoint.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, opening up your text messages.

Rolling your eyes, you toss your phone aside and got on with your day. You weren’t the type of person whose life is upended because of some guy.

Yeah, he’s just a guy— a guy who’s given you almost twenty thousand dollars worth of gifts without blinking. A guy who has been complimenting and pursuing you like his life depended on it. A guy who's making you feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

You take a deep breath, it’ll all blow over in a few days.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

Oh, how wrong your were.

You audibly gasped when you opened your front door the next day. It seemed that Rafe had run out of accessory ideas, because all there was on your porch was an envelope full of cash. You jumped and picked it up and brought it inside, immediately locking the door. Flipping it over, you read his messy handwriting you'd become so familiar with.

"Does this count as an atrocity or generosity?"

Smoke was coming out of your ears and you were red with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and fucking butterflies.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins had you stomping towards your car with all his gifts, or debts, in hand and placing them in the passenger seat. You were slamming doors left, right, and centre trying to make a statement, but when it came to the gifts, you gently wrapped a seatbelt around them. It disrupted your flow, but your bank account couldn't take the hit if anything was damaged.

White-knuckling the steering wheel all the way to Tannyhill, you took shallow breaths and practiced your assertive voice.

Today it would all end. Finally.

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed Rafe was outside, on the grass, speaking into his cellphone. Without a care in the world, you drove up his driveway and noticed his brows shoot up, wondering who you were. Then when you got out of the car, frantically, his brows returned to their spot and a smirk settled across his face.

You slammed the door and walked up to him with the envelope of cash clutched in your hand. He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket, without saying goodbye.

"What is this?" The assertive voice went out the window, and instead you sounded shrill. But Rafe didn't seem to mind at all— if anything, he was intrigued... and a little turned on.

He looked from your eyes, to your lips, and then to the envelope. "Generosity?"

You clicked your tongue in frustration and responded, "this isn't funny! I told you to stop."

He was about to say something, but you cut him off and began pacing on the lawn.

"— and this? Cash? Are you insane? What if someone saw? They'd think I was a drug dealer or something!" You ran your hand through your hair almost ripping it out of your scalp.

"No one would think that." He shrugged.

You stared at him like he grew a second head.

"Is that the only thing you took away from what I said?" The vein in your forehead was about to pop.

"No, I heard the whole thing— but I just had to let you know that you don't give off the drug dealer vibe."

"Oh!" You let out a short, hysterical laugh. "Oh, that is so good to know. I'm so glad we got that cleared up." You exclaimed with biting sarcasm.

Rafe was finding you more entertaining than any TV show he'd binged in the past, well, ever. He could watch you all day and listen to you yell at him for an embarrassingly long time.

He finally spoke up with the question he'd been meaning to ask since the night of spin the bottle.

"Go out with me."

You halted in your maniacal pacing— you were sure you'd dug a hole in his lawn at this point. You looked up at him with eyes basically bulging out of your head.

"What?" Your voice reached a pitch that only a dog could hear.

He chuckled, "go out with me."

He couldn't have been real. What human being was this shameless and infuriating? If you had told yourself last week that the Rafe Cameron would be acting like a lovesick child for you, you'd laugh and laugh until you fainted.

You scoffed in disbelief and replied, "are you serious?" You scoffed again and then just gasped like you were out of breath. "What— you— what? You think you can just buy my affection?"

His amused eyes never left you once. He didn't blink— not wanting to miss even a second of this conversation with you.

"No, but I can buy your attention right? Because," he smiled and stepped closer, "you're here."

Without hesitation, you took a step back and distanced yourself, to Rafe's dismay. But he was patient when it came to you, so he stayed still.

You were speechless. How does one respond to that?

He tilts his head, "cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head, "I only came buy to return everything to you. Nothing more."

With that, you head towards your car and bring out the stack of boxes from the passenger seat. You walk back to him to hand them off. But he doesn't budge, instead just putting his hands in his pockets with a smug look.

What a little—

"Rafe." You say sternly.

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

"Y/N." He mimics your tone.

You sigh and hold the boxes out again, "please. I can't accept them."

He shakes his head, "I bought them for you. I'm not taking anything back."

With a groan you reply, "I don't want them! I- I don't want this— whatever this is— between us."

Rafe was slightly discouraged with your words, but he told himself that you were just desperate, and would say anything to convince him. He knew a little something about that.

Light bulb.

"Okay," he crosses his arms over his chest.

You blink surprised, "okay?"

He nods, "I'll take them back if you go out with me—"

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily, but he continues.

"— just one date. One dinner. And I'll prove to you that you do want this— whatever this is— between us."

"Rafe, there's no point in going through all that hassle—"

"One dinner. And if by the end you still— for some reason— aren't completely in love with me, then I'll leave you alone."

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nods.

This is it. This was your shot.

"Deal."

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

This was initially supposed to be one-shot but got wayyy too long!! But there will be another part to this soon!

Thank you for reading <33

Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see in the second part as I'm still brainstorming what should happen :)))

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHTEEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader. chapter warnings: mentions of mental and physical health issues

You woke up to a ringing sound. The annoying buzz of the gate’s intercom yanked you out of sleep. You groaned, shifting your pillow under your head but the persistent ringing didn’t quit.

Who the fuck was buzzing the gate at 9:00 a.m.? No one in this neighborhood was ever stupid enough to wake you before ten, rich people had the decency to sleep in or mind their business.

You rolled over, swiping at your phone to see a stream of missed calls and texts — all from Rafe.

You frowned, heart stuttering for reasons you hated to admit.

Groggy, you sat up too fast. Regretted it instantly.

“Fuck,” you muttered, hand on your lower stomach as the morning nausea hit instantly.

You dragged yourself out of bed, shuffling to the front of the house where the security gate blinked its red light.

You pressed the button, and a man’s voice crackled through. “Good morning, ma’am. I got a few packages for you. I’d drop them here, but...they’re a lot.”

You frowned. “What, exactly, do you mean?”

“Packages. Big ones.”

That didn’t sound like you, you hadn’t ordered anything recently—no calls, no emails, no surprise deliveries on the app.

The gate clicked open, and the large delivery truck rolled slowly through. Minutes later, you were standing on your polished stone porch, blinking at a mountain of boxes stacked against your front door.

So many.

Big ones. Little ones. One was wrapped in branded tissue paper. Two from Target. One with a packing slip stuck to the front, which said "Motherhood Maternity " in bold letters.

They were ridiculous, way too many, from multiple stores, all addressed to you in your own name—except none of them were things you’d ordered.

RAFE: Did you get ‘em?

You stared at the boxes, then at your phone, confused and suspicious.

You tapped back. YOU: What the fuck is going on, Cameron?

Rafe called, and you answered reluctantly.

Right, this wasn’t weird at all.

“Did they drop ‘em off already? Said it’d be early.”

You were still standing barefoot in the open doorway, half a sleep, hair a mess.

“What are you talking about?”

“The packages,” He said, slower this time, trying to decide if you were joking. “You, uh—never mind. You haven’t gotten them?”

“I have.”

“Just open ‘em.”

“No,” You refused, brow furrowed. “I didn’t order any of this.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why would you send me half of fucking Target and something called Motherhood Maternity?”

Rafe exhaled on the other end.

“Because I can. Open them.”

“You know I got my own money, right?” You bristled. “I don’t need you blowing thousands on shit I didn’t ask for to prove a point.”

“and I can do whatever I want with my money,” he refuted. “Open them.”

Your mouth opened, ready to argue, to say something and remind him he didn’t get to do this after choosing to leave when you needed him. But your eyes caught on one of the boxes. A sticky tab stuck to the top.

Your name written in his handwriting—open this one first.

Fucking soft asshole.

You tore the box open, scowling the whole time.

“…Pregnancy-safe bath oils?” And beside them, a box of ginger chews for nausea, a neck pillow, a ridiculously soft pair of socks, and a folded onesie that said: Coming soon… in pirate font, complete with a tiny skull and crossbones.

You held it up to your phone.

“What the fuck is this?”

Rafe hummed. “Which one?”

You snorted. “Are you serious with this cheap pogue-ass onesie?”

“They’re your...friends, aren’t they? I dunno. Thought it might make it easier if you tell them.”

“Hold on. You’re suddenly being thoughtful, sentimental, and considerate about my new pogue friends—did you hit your head?”

You could envision him rolling his eyes. 

“It’s not for them. It’s for you. I’m being nice to you. Move on.”

You despise how his voice made your chest hurt, how you weren’t hanging up when he called lately, and how it felt so normal, as if no time had passed and he hadn’t ripped your heart out.

“So you bought me a pirate onesie to soften the blow when I tell them I’m carrying your child?”

You held the phone between your shoulder and ear, fingers already flying across the screen to text someone who had to hear this immediately. Sarah. Pogue royalty.

The first person you trusted when everything else had collapsed.

You typed fast:

YOU: your brother just sent me enough shit to fill a nursery YOU: i’m talking like six boxes

The read receipt popped up almost immediately, and her typing bubble appeared just as fast, nearly like she’d been waiting for something this unhinged to happen.

Rafe was still rambling in your ear.

“I thought you said you were low on ginger chews last time. I got a bunch—ones without that weird aftertaste. And the socks are for swelling, not cozy movie nights. I mean, unless you want that too, I guess—”

You made a face. “Rafe.”

You could sense him freeze, panicked that he said too much.

Sarah’s reply buzzed in while he hesitated. SARAH: HE HIT HIS HEAD. HE HIT HIS HEAD FOR SURE. SARAH: are the socks cute tho???

“I figured,” he went on, ignoring your exasperation, “you’d want to tell ‘em soon, and I don’t know. Perhaps you'd like to do it in a way that doesn’t trigger an emotional breakdown at the Chateau. If you can call it that..”

You huffed. 

“I’m not going to stand on the kitchen table and scream, ‘I’m pregnant’ into a beer can.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Yes, Sarah,” you said aloud, not realizing it until it was already out of your mouth. “The socks are cute.”

“…What?” Rafe asked, confused.

You smirking slightly. “Not you. I’m texting your sister.”

“Of course you are.” He sighed. “She’s gonna make fun of me for the pirate onesie shit, isn’t she?”

“She already is.” You glanced at the open box again, now laughing despite yourself. “Hard.”

Conversations such as this one made you want to scream, kiss him, and throw something directly at his stupidly big head.

“…You liked the socks?”

You reached into the box, pulled out the stupid stretchy fabric, and stared at them.

“They’re really fucking soft. But this one box that says fragile is—”

“The foot massager.”

“The foot massager.” Your lips parted in disbelief. “You got me a foot massager?”

“Yeah. And heating pads. And those compression sock things. And one of those bougie water bottles that tells you when to drink—”

“…Are you nesting?” You squinted at the box, genuinely bewildered.

He groaned. “Open the snack box.”

You reached for the one labeled Midnight Cravings and peeled back the tape to find: Oreos, dill pickle chips, sour candy, chocolate-covered pretzels, a jar of Nutella, three types of instant noodles, and a sticky note on top that just read:

If you eat all of this in one night, I won’t judge you, but I will send reinforcements. – R.

Your eyes welled up, which was so stupid, but also inevitable.

You sniffled. “Rafe.”

“No crying,” he added quickly. “You’re hormonal and I’m not equipped for that right now.”

A watery, ridiculous chuckle. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You wiped under your eyes and muttered.

“God, I wanna punch you in the face again.”

You stared at the boxes, his voice still ringing in your ear, your fingertips brushing over the ridiculous little onesie that had no right being as soft as it was.

Rafe had been coming over lately, with food, vitamins, with that frustrating way he always said hi to your growing belly like it could understand him. You hadn’t even done that yourself.

“Y'feel like shit today, huh?” He tried to make small talk one afternoon while handing you a smoothie through the window (you refused to open all the way). “Kid’s probably taking after me. Sorry in advance.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m kinda funny.”

He took your silence as permission, sat on the porch steps, and stayed until the sun went down.

There was one thing you hadn’t told him; it made your throat close every time it hovered near your lips.

That the baby was a boy.

You didn’t know how to approach the subject, even though you’d already imagined how the conversation would go. You could picture how his face would fall, his eyes would drift somewhere far off—haunted by the last name he never asked to inherit.

Rafe understood who Ward was now. He did before, too, you think; but he tried to lie to himself. And no matter how many times he fought to separate himself from Ward, there was always a part of him that was still terrified he’d turn out the same, that the blood in his veins was filled with the wrong legacy.

A boy would mean—what if he failed? What if he hurt him? What if he loved him and still fucked it all up? You didn’t think you could stomach watching Rafe lose himself again.

You could smell the pretzels in the snack box, and it was somehow both mouth-watering and nauseating. Your back ached. Your belly ached. Your heart ached worse.

It didn’t make sense. You were pissed at him.

And yet…you were also kind of happy?

Well, not happy, exactly, more like warmed. Annoyed. Confused.

Stinging in all the places that used to feel cold.

You didn’t know what the fuck you were feeling anymore, hormones were scattering your brain to bits and pieces, turning you into a walking contradiction.

You were mostly sick of this mental back and forth, still caring and pretending you didn’t care.

Because clearly, you did care.

Your fingers tightened on the onesie and your brain spat out a bitter thought before you could stop it: Why do you care if he spirals again?

After what he did? After he left you bleeding and scared and alone? After you cried so hard you gave yourself a shit ton of migraines, after you screamed into pillows, after Sarah had to crawl into bed beside you just so you’d eat?

The resentment lived in your chest like rot, mold in the drywall, no matter how much he tried to patch it up with smoothies and snack boxes, you still couldn’t quite breathe right in this house you were trying to rebuild.

It made you split in two. On one hand, you hated him for it, and on the other…you were terrified of having to do this without him.

Wasn’t it deserved? The possibility made your stomach hurt worse than the nausea ever had.

Truth was, you didn’t want him to crash out ever again. You didn’t want to watch Rafe Cameron burn himself down again to prove he’d never be worthy of fatherhood. You didn’t want him to hate himself more than he already did.

You wanted him to get it right.

You’d felt cornered into motherhood; you hadn’t chosen this life, your body had been another prison. And that you—angry, helpless, bitter as fuck—was still clawing around inside you, looking for something to break.

Except, simultaneously, you started…dreaming again.

Enough to remember bits and pieces of how, when you were younger, you used to doodle baby names in the margins of your notebooks. You always wanted to be a mom; you pictured yourself in a big sunny kitchen, tired but soft-eyed, a baby on your hip, love blooming from every corner.

The juxtaposition of those two selves made you constantly glitch—love, hate, warmth, bitterness, hope, grief, spinning on a loop until you couldn’t tell which emotion was yours and which one was a hormonal hallucination.

You looked down at your belly, then at the box labeled Midnight Cravings, then at your phone warm in your hand.

Rafe hadn’t hung up, he was breathing into the line, not sure what to say.

You didn’t trust him fully, you hadn’t let him come to your appointments yet, you were terrified of telling him the baby was a boy because he would look at you with those hollow blue eyes and walk backwards off a cliff. But you would, eventually, right?

You cleared your throat.

“You trying to bribe your way into Lamaze class or something?”

You liked the version of you that held a grudge better.

“No,” he said. “Trying to remind you I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You shut your eyes.

You wanted to believe him, say okay! Wanted to let him in and fall asleep on his chest feel his hand on your stomach. 

“I used to want this,” You whispered, more to yourself than to Rafe.

But he heard it. “Yeah?”

You nodded to yourself. “Yeah. I used to think… I'd be good at it.”

“I think you will be.”

You let out a short laugh.

“If I don’t die, you mean. Or the kid.”

It slipped out, half a joke, half a jab, fully your bitterness running out of your tongue before you could swallow it. Your voice twisted around it in that biting way you’d perfected these past few months: sarcasm as armor.

“Don’t say that shit,” Rafe nearly growled.

You leaned your head back against the doorframe and closed your eyes.

“Please don’t say it like that.”

You wanted to be cruel. You almost were; it’d be easier to keep him out if he stayed wounded. If he walked away again.

“I’m not pretending it’s not scary. Or that it’s not serious. But you, saying it like that—you’ve already decided how it’s gonna end—” He took a deep breath. "I can’t hear that, okay? I just got you back a little.”

You picked at a seam on your sleeve, “I’m trying to be prepared.”

“I get that.”

“It’s easier,” you admitted.

Rafe lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, easy’s never been our thing.”

That was a good line, infuriatingly so.

You smiled—barely, “And what was our thing, Rafe Cameron?”

“…Chaos,” He snorted. “And bad timing.”

You hummed along.

“And sex in places we shouldn’t have,” he added, trying to win you back with humor. 

“That’s nasty.”

“The sex part?” he muttered. “I mean—yes, but—not that,” Rafe fumbled.

You rolled your eyes, a practiced drag that only came from being raised around country club brunches and sugar-laced insults. 

“Mm, okay. So it’s chaos, poor timing, and public indecency kink. Sounds stable.”

“Add sarcasm and pink throw pillows, and that’s us.”

“You think I still own those throw pillows? I burned half my stuff when you left. Donated the rest.”

You could hear him grimacing through the line.

“I deserved that.”

“Yeah. You did.”

You could’ve ended it there. Gone back inside and stacked all the ridiculous boxes in a neat pile like your feelings. Organized and balantly ignored half the time.

But instead, you asked the question.

“You’re sure you want this?”

Your voice sounded smaller than you meant, meaner too.

“I want you,” he said finally. “And this is part of you. I want it too.”

You should’ve rolled your eyes and scoffed, biting back with something cruel like you always did. You blinked fast and bit your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“That’s not a real answer,” You told him, even though it was. “You know I didn’t choose this,” you said, one hand falling to your belly. “And I’m—” You cut yourself off. “And he’s coming.”

Rafe’s voice trembled like a leaf when he spoke. “He?”

You stilled.

Fuck.

You hadn��t meant to say it.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“I didn’t—” you started, “Forget I said that.”

But he didn’t. You both knew he wouldn’t.

“Have you told your family it's a boy?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

You looked down at your belly, rubbed your palm over the curve of it, smoothing out the emotion rising inside you. It was a gentle question, but he didn’t mean Topper’s side of the family.

He meant your parents. Your sister. The gravestones on the hill, the same ones he used to help you clean off when the weather turned; the cemetery visits where you'd bring flowers and talk into the silence like the dead could still hear.

He meant his mom, too.

“No,” you said, the word brittle in your throat. “I haven’t been up there in a while,” you added. “Feels weird going without them already knowing.”

“They do. I think they know.”

You tried not to cry. Again.

“Do you want to go together?”

The you from a few weeks ago would’ve said no out of spite. You would’ve slammed the door, tossed the boxes in the bin, told Sarah to pass on the message to him that you didn’t need his pity. You would’ve rolled your eyes at his attempt to be tender, sliced it open with sarcasm, and walked away before it could heal into anything real.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“That’s okay,” He reassured instantly. “We don’t have to go today. Or this week. Or at all. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I didn’t say no.”

You imagined the way his expression would turn into, perhaps hope slipping through the cracks. You hated how much you remembered his face even when he wasn’t in front of you, how perfectly you knew the shape of his silence.

“I’ll bring the flowers,” he said after a second. “Those white ones your mom liked.”

Your chest caved a little. “Lilies.”

“Yeah. Lilies,” Rafe echoed.

You curled your fingers in the hem of your sleeve and let yourself picture it for a moment—him beside you, carrying the bouquet in one hand, standing quietly while you talked to stone.

Maybe his hand would brush yours. Or he’d just stand there, keeping your grief company.

“I think they’d like to meet him. Even if it’s just… us telling them he’s coming.”

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

“They’ll probably yell at me first,” You tried for humor. “My mom always said no boys like you.”

“Your mom also said I had nice manners.”

“You bribed her with flowers.”

“She liked them.”

“You gonna tell your mom, too?”

 “Of course I am.”

The simplicity of it stole your breath.

“Yeah?”

“I always tell her everything, even when I—you know. I mean—I don’t know if she listens. I don't think she’d be proud of me right now. But I go. I talk to her.”

Your chest pulled tight.

“I’ll tell her,” He repeated, softer now. “About you. About him.”

"I'll help."

Rafe sat alone in the darkened study of Tannyhill, blinds drawn against the late afternoon sun, the house silent for its size.

The phone was still in his hand, he hadn't moved in hours, clearly.

Your voice rang in his ears like the aftershock of a bomb. 

“He’s coming.”

A boy.

He dragged his palms over his face, fingers digging into his scalp, heart thudding so loudly it made him deaf to his common sense. His throat felt hot, choking on memories he’d buried beneath every line, bottle, every punch thrown, every door slammed.

His son.

Rafe stood abruptly, knocking over the half-empty glass of water on the table. It spilled soaking into the rug. Nothing in this house mattered to him anymore; it all felt stolen—a staged life someone else curated for him. Ward’s furniture. Ward’s antiques. Ward’s blood still in the walls, metaphorically and otherwise.

He paced back and forth. Back and forth. One hand pulling at his shirt colar, it was suffocating him.

A boy. A son. His son.

His mind was stuck in the same loops: Would he have Ward’s eyes? That clipped tone of voice? Would he scream when he got angry? Would he break things like Rafe did? Would he get that darkness in his chest that made everything feel like it was exploding?

What if he hit someone? What if he—

Make me stay. Make me better.

Make me a father who doesn’t fuck this up.

Rafe kicked the edge of a chair, sending it skidding, rattling against the wood floor. His vision blurred, not with tears, but with fury at himself, at Ward, at God, maybe, or whatever twisted fate had handed him this chance when he’d proven time and time again that he ruined every good thing he touched.

He didn’t want to be like Ward.

He didn’t want his son to flinch when Rafe walked into a room or raised a hand in greeting. He didn’t want you to leave, and he didn’t want to give you another reason to.

He sat there, thinking about what it would take to be someone that little boy could run toward, not away from.

Thank fuck he’s got a therapist appointment tomorrow.

The thought came out of nowhere, muttered by the version of himself he was trying to build—plank by shaky plank, appointment by appointment, a scaffolding that might one day resemble a man who could be good.

Rafe had never understood what people meant when they talked about “breaking the cycle” before. It sounded vague, one of those dumb motivational posters laminated on school counselor walls.

He got it now. 

The fear in his chest was a feral thing, it howled that he was too broken to be anyone’s anything.

He wiped at his face and stared down at his palms, hoping they could hold this, all of it, the fear, the future, the fragile thing growing, your health. He didn’t feel ready. 

His baby was a boy. Unless he died.

The thought devastated him more than the weight of fatherhood or his fear of turning into Ward.

What if the baby never made it? What if you didn’t?

Rafe had looked it up after that night. He’d read about what could happen when it got too bad—when your blood couldn’t carry enough oxygen, when your heart worked overtime to keep you conscious, when your body started choosing between you and the baby.

You in a hospital bed, pale and still. Machines. Doctors saying words he couldn’t understand fast enough.

Him—standing there, helpless, again. Failing you again.

The baby didn’t scare him half as much as the idea of losing you.

Losing you would destroy whatever was left of him. He’d be Ward’s son again, fully and without question—burning everything down in his wake because what else would there be?

So yeah.

Thank fuck for that appointment tomorrow.

Because he was going to need every tool he could get to survive this intact.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

18+ mdni.

PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN ── RAFE CAMERON

SERIES MASTERLIST

𓇼 ⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS ── when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friend-with-benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin’s upcoming wedding in Italy, and even more out of control when he says yes. ── fake dating, friends with benefits, she fell first but he fell harder, college au. ── contains fluff, angst, occasional smut (chapters marked*).

𓆉 ⋆.˚ CHAPTERS

| 01 ─ 02* ─ 03* ─ 04* ─ 05 ─ 06 ─ 07* ─ 08 ─ 09* ─ 10 ─ 11 ─ 12 |

𓆡 ⋆.˚ NOTES ── This is a Rafe x fem!reader story. No use of Y/N. ── The only OC-leaning detail is that she has an Italian speaking grandmother (or grandmother-like figure) and can speak the language. ── This story is 18+. Do not interact if less than.

© 2025 salem-s please do not copy or replicate my work unless given permission from me. mdni.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

LOST AND FOUND — rafe cameron, 05

pairing . . . rafe cameron x routledge!reader in which . . . rafe cameron was a peculiar human being. he's grotesque, a kook, rude, but above all, he's your best friend, or at least he was. abruptly and without warning, he pushed you away, you'd love to understand why, since you were seventeen. but after many dead ends, you came to accept that maybe rafe didn't belong in your life, that he was just a thorn in your shoe and that he was just like all the kooks. or was he? ch warning .ᐟ . . . curse words, rafe being an ass, kook v.s pogue shenanigans

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

LOST AND FOUND. — 04 . 05 . 06

kissylec says . . . two chapters in a row now can you see how much i love u guys 🙄🙄

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© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

you want me to pretend | six

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, college au, smau/irl, cursing, inaccurate basketball talk

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count:

authors note: oops! anyways I won't be posting until saturday or sunday, I love this fic as much as you but I need to lock in for college. taglist is still open so let me know.

05 | 06 | 07

Today

Economics hadn’t been your favorite class during high school, but college had given you a new perspective. More like, you actually understood it this time, so you enjoyed it. This class was one of the others you shared with Rafe. He was the only one there you could consider a friend, so when the professor paired everyone up and he called out his name and yours together, it was a relief. You knew how to work with him, and he knew how to work with you.

“I think the universe is forcing us together,” he joked, sitting next to you.  

“Oh, so you believe in the forces of the universe now?” you replied with a soft smile.  

“I think there is a bigger power that is pushing us together. This is the second presentation slash project we have to do together, and it’s the third class we share.”  

“It’s just coincidence.”  

“Is it now?” he smirked.  

“Let’s just decide what we are going to do with this, and we can work through it during the week.”  

“Whatever you say.”  

“Thursday, let’s get together. Now that you’ve been to my house, we can work there.”  

“Is this just an excuse to get me to play your boyfriend again?” he smirked. “Because if you want that, just say so.”  

“Oh, screw you! Not everything is about that,” you rolled your eyes. “I prefer working at my house, but if you don’t want to, let’s do it somewhere else.”  

“I never said I didn’t want to,” he chuckled. “I’ll be there at five?”  

“Yeah, okay.”  

After that, class was over, and you said goodbye to each other. You made your way to your car to drive back home while Rafe walked toward the basketball court.  

“Oh, captain, my captain,” JJ teased, and the rest joined in.  

“You need to stop doing that shit.”  

“And not piss you off? That’s not happening.”  

He was about to leave for the dressing room, but the coach called them.  

“We have a home game on Thursday, so tomorrow you need to clear your schedules. I’ll write a letter for you guys to send to your professors. Tomorrow is full basketball; I don’t accept no’s. So no practice today, and you guys have the afternoon to prepare.”  

A part of him was relieved he didn’t have to practice today, but he knew he had to cancel on you. That wasn’t going to work, so he grabbed his things and left the gym, headed straight to his car, and texted you.

At 2:40 PM, he arrived at your house. You didn't even have time to protest because he was already on his way when he texted you. You welcomed him into your home with Coco, the dog you were dog-sitting that week. Your neighbors had gone on a work trip, and they knew you loved dogs and that Coco loved you, so she was at your house.

Coco was a friendly dog, and the moment Rafe set foot in your home, she threw herself at him. You knew Rafe liked dogs, but you had never seen him with one. You noticed how he smiled and sat on the floor with Coco. She didn’t waste a second and lay down between his legs.

You both settled to work in your living room, sitting on the floor because, according to him, if not, Coco would feel too alone. You didn’t debate him on that because you didn’t care where you were as long as you got things done. While starting to work on the presentation, you both were on your phones texting people until finally, you both put them down. You continued chatting about what to do, and then silence fell. You hated working in silence.

“I will play some music,” you said.  

“Yeah, go ahead.”  

“Just a heads up, there’s probably going to be a lot of Taylor Swift,” you smiled.  

“I figured as much,” he chuckled.

You hummed along with some of the songs or silently sang them. Rafe didn’t mention it. You were so focused, and he was trying his best to accomplish what he needed to do. He was struggling to concentrate, but your soft hums and quiet singing were making it impossible. Don’t get him wrong; it’s not that he found it annoying; it was actually the opposite. He was enjoying it a lot more than he would ever admit to himself.

After a while, both your phones pinged at the same time; it was the BeReal notification. You just looked at him, and he nodded, silently communicating that he was okay with showing up in yours. You both took it and then continued working on the presentation, now talking a bit more about anything that came to mind at that moment.

You lost track of time, and the door opening along with your mom’s voice asking you a question brought you back to the moment. It was five o’clock.  

“Honey, whose car is that?” she said, walking in, and the answer to her question had Coco on his lap. “Oh! Rafe, hi! I didn’t know you were coming today.”  

“Hello, Mrs.—”  

“Don’t Mrs. me; call me Laura,” she smiled at Rafe. “Looks like Coco likes you… Anyway, honey, I brought you the ingredients to try that new cookie recipe.”  

“Oh, thanks, Mom,” I smiled at her, helping her with the items and bringing them to the kitchen. 

You didn’t hear, but Rafe had walked right behind you. While your mom was putting some things in the fridge and you were taking out the ingredients, he hugged you from behind. You tensed up a bit at the sudden motion but then relaxed.  

“Are you baking something now?” he asked, his face right next to your ear. You hated the effect he was having on you.  

“Maybe; do you want to help?”  

“Yes, I would very much like to,” he kissed your temple and took a step back. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking back to sophomore year; if this had happened back then, you would’ve died.  

“You two are so cute,” your mom said before leaving the kitchen.  

You took a deep breath and started preparing all the things you needed.  

“I think you deserve to play music now,” you said to Rafe, and he chuckled.  

“I’m honored.”  

The cookie-baking session had gone well. You had laughed a lot, and having Rafe in your house didn’t feel weird anymore, even though it hadn’t been that long since he first set foot in. You knew he had taken a picture of you, so you made a mental note to ask for it later.  

You were cleaning up the kitchen when "Carnival" by Kanye started playing.  

“Rafe, can I change the song?”  

“Yes, princess; my phone is on the counter,” he said from the living room, where he was picking up his stuff.

You could swear your heart stopped after seeing that notification. Was he dating someone? Why had he said yes then? Was this considered cheating? Did she know? You changed the song and set the phone back on the counter. 

The sound of your dad’s voice mixed with Rafe’s brought you back to reality. Rafe walked back into the kitchen, continuing his conversation with your dad. Your head was elsewhere, and he seemed to notice your expression. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m just tired.” You tried to sound convincing; he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push your boundaries. 

“Okay,” he said, kissing your cheek a few times before returning to talk to your dad. You grabbed your phone, opening the chat with the only person you could talk to at that moment.

He stayed for another forty minutes. You were hardly there anymore; you were aware you needed to keep up the act since your parents were around, but the anxiety just grew more as the minutes kept passing by. You took a deep breath and decided you would deal with this later because again, you didn’t even know how to start the conversation. 

Before he left, you packed some cookies for him to take back to his house. You walked him out of your house, and after that, you went to your room. On the bright side, the presentation was done for next week. You played the same song over and over again until you decided to grab a book to think about something else.

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[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

killing me softly (masterlist)

genre: she fell first, he fell harder; fluff with hints of angst; drama; no explicit smut

!!! image is not depicting reader’s appearance !!!

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and you were paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if you weren't awkward as hell and well ... if there weren't your big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron was intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and your mind? that shit was even more tangled. but you hadn't spent all these years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through your fingers ... right?

a/n: this doesn’t directly fall under the slow burn genre bc well reader’s already crushing on him but i still wanna try doing things organically. this fic will include fluff but also some anxious/jealousy/etc. scenes + at some point there’ll def be some mildly suggestive scenes and hints at intimacy but probably nothing too explicit (i’ll def put a cw or try to make it skippable);; and i’ll try to post regularly (currently always uploading on sundays)

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight (23rd March)

...

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

Friends Without Boundaries (part 5)

Rafe Cameron smau texting based series rafe being a manwhore cause he doesn't want to realize his feelings for his best friend anything dark mode is Rafes pov

@my-name-is-baby, @lili-swagalicious , @drewsswifeyy

guys are we digging the name or should i try something else, drop names in the comments please

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

riding the edge (smau): thirty-six

R.C x Reader

Synopsis: Rafe Cameron is a "bad boy" motorcycle creator known for his thrilling rides and shameless thirst traps, which attract a massive following. Y/N is a thoughtful and passionate Bookstagram influencer who thrives on sharing deep literary insights and reviewing the top trending books.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 5

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Previous Parts Here

Summary- You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 5- Blurred Lines

•••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on the sand as the ocean stretched endlessly before you. The air smelled of salt and sunscreen, a familiar mix that always came with days like this—long, lazy afternoons spent by the water, where time felt slower, conversations easier, and worries faded with the tide.

It had started as a casual plan. A few people mentioning the idea last night, and before you knew it, a group beach day had come together. No drama, no hidden agendas—just an excuse to soak up the sun and pretend, for a little while, that life was simple.

And yet… something felt different.

For the first time since this whole thing with Rafe had started, Alex and Amelia weren’t around when you were hanging out with your friend group. There was no need to play pretend, no reason to cling to Rafe’s side, no excuse to blur the lines between real and fake.

And yet, you still found yourself next to him.

You weren’t sure how it happened. One minute, you were laying out your towel, the heat of the sand warming your skin, and the next, Rafe was dropping down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours when he stretched his legs out.

“You look like you’re actually enjoying yourself,” he mused, tipping his sunglasses down slightly as he glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Shocker.”

“Just saying,” he smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “No Alex. No Amelia. No fake relationship to maintain. And yet, here you are, still basking in my presence.”

You scoffed, turning onto your side to face him. “Says the one coming to sit by me.”

Rafe grinned, something lazy and amused in his expression. “I think it’s mutual.”

“What’s mutual?” Brooke’s voice cut in as she dropped onto the towel next to you, raising a curious brow between the two of you.

“That she’s obsessed with me,” Rafe answered smoothly, earning a shove from you.

Brooke snorted. “Right. Because that’s so believable.”

“Did the Rafe Cameron basically just admitted he’s obsessed with me?” You shot back, making Brooke laugh from where she was lounging on her towel.

“Jesus,” Brooke called over. “You two are really committing to this act, huh?”

You glanced at Rafe, your expression unreadable. “What act?”

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “I don’t buy it. You two went from barely tolerating each other to suddenly being joined at the hip. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird,” Rafe shot back, reaching for his drink. “Maybe we just realized we have good taste.”

Brooke made a face. “Yeah, or maybe you’re both just full of shit.”

Mia studied you for a moment, but she didn’t press the subject. Instead, she just smirked. “Well, whatever it is, I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

Did you?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

At some point, Rafe got up to grab drinks from the cooler, and when he came back, instead of sitting beside you like before, he sat behind you. Legs stretched out on either side of your towel, back resting against his arms as he took a sip from his beer.

You shot him a look. “Comfy?”

“Extremely,” he said, grinning as he nudged your back lightly. “Besides, this way, you get a nice little seat.”

You rolled your eyes, but when you leaned back against him, you didn’t move away.

Not long after, his fingers started lazily tracing shapes on your thigh, the touch light, almost absentminded. Your skin burned under his fingertips, and you hated that it made your stomach flip.

It was fake. Wasn’t it? Rafe was just enjoying this too much.

——

By the time the sun started to set, someone had built a bonfire further up the beach. The sky turned soft shades of pink and orange, the ocean reflecting the colors like glass. The air smelled of burning wood and smoke, the crackling flames casting shadows across the sand.

It was the kind of night that made everything feel a little lighter.

You sat cross-legged near the fire, the warmth licking at your skin as the group passed around drinks and retold old stories. Someone had a speaker, soft music blending into the sound of the waves. Rafe sat beside you again, and even though the crowd was big enough for you to be somewhere else, you didn’t move.

It was almost too easy, slipping into these moments with him.

“You cold?”

His voice was low, just for you, cutting through the murmur of conversation.

You shook your head, but before you could say anything, Rafe draped his hoodie over your shoulders again, like it was instinct. His fingers brushed against your arm in the process, sending a small, unexpected shiver down your spine.

You glanced up at him, raising a brow. “You trying to be a gentleman or something?”

Rafe smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze, something unreadable. “Trying to make sure you don’t freeze to death. Don’t make it weird.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, but something about the moment stuck with you.

You got up to grab another drink from the cooler when you felt someone step into your space.

Amelia.

She crossed her arms, looking you up and down. “So, what’s your endgame here?”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Using Rafe to make Alex jealous.” She smirked. “I gotta admit, it’s a bold move. Desperate, but bold.”

You stared at her, caught off guard. “That’s not—”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “You think I don’t see it? You’re using Rafe as some little rebound so Alex regrets dumping you. Pathetic, really.”

Your jaw clenched. “First of all, Alex didn’t dump me, we were never official. Second of all, I’m not using Rafe for anything.”

Amelia took a slow step forward, her voice dropping lower. “He’s just a placeholder for you, isn’t he? Some little safety net to make yourself feel better.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “We both know he’s not the type to stick around. He’s just going with it to get in your pants, But hey, enjoy it while it lasts.”

Before you could respond, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you away.

Topper.

He shot Amelia a glare before steering you toward the group. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just pissed Rafe doesn’t give her the time of day.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the sting of Amelia’s words. “She’s a bitch.”

Topper chuckled. “Welcome to the club.”

He walked with you back toward the fire but then glanced over at Rafe, who was already watching you, his expression unreadable.

Topper smirked. “You know what? Let’s get out of here.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Let’s go to Rafe’s,” Topper said. “Bonfire’s dying out, and I can guarantee she’ll keep trying to get under your skin if you stay.”

You hesitated.

Rafe caught on to the conversation and raised a brow. “You guys talking about me?”

Topper grinned. “Yeah, I just decided we’re going to your house.”

Rafe smirked, looking at you. “That so?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest. Anything was better than staying here with Amelia’s words lingering in your mind.

So, naturally, you ended up there.

By the time you got to Rafe’s house, the music was softer, more background noise than anything else. The lingering tension from the bonfire slowly faded, replaced by the comfort of familiarity. The smell of the ocean still clung to your skin, and the warmth of the fire had been replaced by the cool night air that drifted in through the open doors.

You were curled up on the couch, still in Rafe’s hoodie, your head resting against the back of the couch. The fabric smelled like him—cologne, a little bit of salt from the beach, something undeniably Rafe. It was oversized on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the hem bunched up against your thighs as you tucked your legs beneath you.

“She’s out,” Brooke observed from across the room, her voice hushed but amused.

You weren’t completely asleep, but close enough that responding felt like too much effort. Your body was heavy with exhaustion, the kind that came after a long day in the sun, after too many drinks and too many emotions you didn’t have the energy to sort through.

“Yeah, and she’s taking my hoodie hostage,” Rafe muttered, but there was no annoyance in his voice. If anything, there was something almost… fond.

You felt movement beside you, the couch shifting slightly as Rafe sat down. He didn’t hesitate before leaning back, before letting his arm drape over your waist, his hand resting lightly against your hip. He was warm, the kind of warmth that made it easy to sink further into sleep, the kind of warmth that made you not want to move.

Brooke smirked, arching a brow at the sight of the two of you. “That’s cute.”

Rafe let out a tired huff, barely lifting his head. “Shut up.”

Kelce, who had been scrolling on his phone, barely spared a glance. “At this point, just date already and put us all out of our misery.”

Rafe didn’t answer.

Instead, his fingers absentmindedly traced over the fabric of his hoodie where it bunched around your stomach. It wasn’t intentional, wasn’t something he seemed aware of, but you noticed. Even in your drowsy haze, even with the pull of sleep, you noticed the way his touch lingered like he didn’t want to let go.

And then, a quiet whisper, meant only for you.

“Stay.”

One word. Barely audible over the hum of the music, over the quiet murmur of conversation.

Maybe if you had been more awake, you would’ve overthought it. Maybe you would’ve made a joke, brushed it off, reminded him that this wasn’t real.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let your body relax against him, let your eyes drift shut, let yourself sink into the warmth of him without thinking too much about what it meant.

And just like that, the choice was made.

So you stayed.

————

The house was silent when you stirred awake, the soft hum of the speaker still playing some faint melody in the background. Your body felt heavy with sleep, your mind sluggish as you shifted slightly—only to realize you weren’t alone.

Rafe’s arm was still draped over your waist, his body pressed against yours in a way that should have felt uncomfortable but didn’t. His breathing was steady, slow, the warmth of him radiating against your back. Sometime during the night, you must have moved closer, because his chest was against your shoulder, one of his legs tangled with yours.

Your heart picked up, your breath catching as you took in the feeling of him, the quiet closeness of it all.

Everyone else was asleep—Kelce sprawled out in one of the armchairs, Brooke curled up on the other end of the couch, Topper somewhere on the floor with a pillow over his head and everyone else sprawled out in random places. The soft glow from the kitchen light was the only thing illuminating the darkened room, casting long shadows across the furniture.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from Rafe, moving slowly as you slipped out from under his arm. He stirred slightly, brows pulling together like he could sense the absence of you even in his sleep, but he didn’t wake.

You padded quietly into the kitchen, your throat dry, your body still warm from being wrapped up against him.

You reached for a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water from the sink, but before you could take a sip, you felt a presence behind you.

“You were just gonna sneak away?”

You turned, finding Rafe leaning against the doorway, his hair slightly messy, his voice thick with sleep. His eyes were still heavy-lidded, but there was something else in them too—something unreadable.

“I was just getting a drink,” you murmured, lifting the glass to your lips.

Rafe took a step closer, running a hand through his hair before exhaling softly. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“You were asleep,” you said quietly, setting the glass down on the counter. “I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Rafe studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face, like he was trying to figure something out. Then, without thinking, he reached forward, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

His fingers lingered, his eyes dipping to your lips before flicking back up to meet yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The air between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge but couldn’t seem to ignore.

And then, he leaned in.

It was slow, hesitant—like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop it before it happened.

But you didn’t.

Not at first.

Your breath caught, your heart hammering, the warmth of him so close, too close—

And then her voice echoed in your mind.

‘We both know he’s not one to stick around.’

The words settled like a weight in your chest, an anchor pulling you back to reality.

Your stomach twisted, hesitation creeping in, doubt sinking its claws into you.

Rafe must have sensed it because he stopped just before your lips could touch, his brows furrowing as he studied your expression.

You stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “You don’t have to—” You hesitated. “You don’t have to try to make me feel wanted after Alex.”

Rafe blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to frustration in an instant.

“Is that what you think this is?” His voice was low, rough with something you couldn’t quite place.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just—”

“You just what?” Rafe demanded, jaw clenching. “You think I’m doing this out of pity? Out of some fucking obligation to make you feel better?”

You didn’t answer.

Because deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

You knew Rafe wasn’t the kind of person to do something he didn’t want to do. You knew he wasn’t the type to pretend—not like this.

But that didn’t stop the fear.

The fear of falling for him.

The fear of getting hurt again.

The fear that this was temporary, that eventually, he’d wake up one day and realize you weren’t what he wanted.

So you stayed silent.

Rafe let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Rafe—”

“I’m going to bed,” he cut in, turning away before you could say anything else. “You can have the couch.”

And just like that, he was gone.

You stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, the weight of his absence settling heavy in your chest, the feeling of his almost-kiss still lingering on your lips.

————————————

What do we think will happen next ? 🤔

Taglist: @rafecameronsbaeee @drewwhor

@wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz @wtfdudesblog

@yasmin-oviedo @yourmomdotcom42069

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@rrosiitas @my-name-is-baby

@rafecameronsslut1234 @ggraycelynn

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

LOVE YOU GOODBYE — rafe cameron, 07

pairing . . . rafe cameron x pogue!reader in which . . . being a secret is hard, and even more when prince kook himself is the one hiding you. a bittersweet wheel of emotions comes to you when you decide to put an end to a situationship that is hurting you, not taking into account how difficult it would be to get away from the oldest of the cameron siblings. ch warning .ᐟ . . . curse words

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

LOVE YOU GOODBYE. — 06 . 07 . 08

kisslec says . . . last chapter of the day omg, hope you guys LOVE IT!! love you so much everybody mwah

taglist . . . @lil-sparklqueen @pillowprincess4him @ihydeja @drewstarkeyslover @angelicameron @stylestarkey @frankoceanluvr11 @thepopcultureaddict @luvrclub @wtfisastiles @faephoria @maybankslover @yktayy9669 @bucksbvck @bee-43 @drewrry @harryzcherry @bsenpai @dreamybabbyy @ggyuslovie @magicalflowerstranger @wintercrows @rafeysbabydoll @starsval @maddiebaddie1 @mrsdrewstarkeyy @giouvarlakia @jjmaybankmylovee @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @sleepiibunniiii

© kissylec. please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

MEDDLE ABOUT - CHAPTER 3

MASTERLIST

His body tensed for a split second, his breath catching in his throat. Then, instinct kicked in. His hand tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss with a hunger that’s been simmering under the surface all night. It was not soft—it was rough, desperate, fueled by too much whiskey, too much weed, and pent-up frustration.

You kissed him back just as hungrily, your body shifting without thought as you moved to straddle his lap.

Rafe groaned into your mouth as you settled on top of him, his hands gripped your hips like he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. When he finally pulled back, his forehead brushed against yours, his breathing uneven. His pupils were blown wide, his voice husky. "What the fuck, Pogue?" He exhaled a breathless laugh, still in disbelief.

You smirked slightly, lips brushing against his. "We’re so gonna regret this in the morning," you whispered before crashing your mouth back onto his.

Rafe smirked against your lips, his hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingertips dragging along the bare skin of your lower back. He pulled you closer, letting you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against you through his jeans. "Probably," he breathed, "But fuck it. We’re high and drunk and…"

You hummed against his lips, feeling the heat between your bodies. Your hands roamed over his bare chest, tracing the definition of his muscles.

Rafe broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck, Pogue…" he muttered, his voice strained. "You’re making it really hard for me to remember why we shouldn’t do this."

"Then don’t remember…" you whispered, your lips brushing his again.

A low sound escaped him, something between a groan and a curse before he captured your lips in another heated kiss. His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs as he lifted you slightly, grinding himself against you. He was too far gone now—his body running on instinct, not logic. His hands shoved your sleep shorts down slightly, palming your bare bottom. "Condom?" He asked, his voice rough.

Your breathing was already uneven as you lifted your hips slightly, enough for him to slide your shorts down your thighs. Without breaking eye contact, you reached toward the nightstand, pulling out the last condom.

Rafe watched you grab the condom, his heart pounding in his chest. He was so fucking turned on right now, he could barely think straight. "Good," he rasped. "Now put it on me before I lose my fucking mind."

You bit your lip as you unbuttoned his jeans, helping him tug them down along with his boxers. He lifted his hips to make it easier, and when he finally kicked them off, you swallowed hard. He groaned softly as he sprang free, already hard, the tip glistening.

You stood briefly, sliding your shorts and panties off completely before climbing back onto his lap. Taking the condom from his fingers, you rolled it down over him, feeling just how thick he was beneath your touch. The fit is snug, almost too tight.

Rafe inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as he watched your hands move. His grip on your thighs tightened. "Fuck me," he groaned, his voice strained, his head tilted back slightly. "Before I explode just from this."

You bit your lip, aligning yourself before sinking down slowly, taking him in inch by inch.

"Ah—!" Your moan escaped before you could stop it, your head tilted back as pleasure surged through you.

Rafe’s eyes rolled back, his fingers dug into your skin. "Shit, Pogue…" His head fell back against the headboard as he struggled to breathe. "You’re so fucking tight… fuck."

"Fuck, Kook," you whimpered, dragging your nails down his chest.

Rafe let out a low hiss at the feeling of your nails. His hips buckled slightly beneath you, testing just how deep he could go. Watching your body, the way you reacted, the way you threw your head back in pleasure—it was almost too much. His thumb moved between your legs, finding your most sensitive spot. "Damn…" His voice was softer, almost mesmerized. "Do you always feel like this?"

You nodded breathlessly, your hips rolled as you started to move.

Rafe’s breath caught as he watched you, completely lost in the sight of you. Your shirt rode up slightly, exposing your stomach as you moved, your hair falling messily around your face. His fingers dug into your thighs, guiding your movements, his teeth grazing against his lower lip as he let out a gravelly groan. "Fuck, Pogue…" His voice was raw, wrecked, full of something neither of you was ready to name.

"Ah— yeah…" Your head tilted back, pleasure heightening everything, the mix of alcohol and weed making you bolder, looser.

In the dimly lit bedroom, Rafe's fingers, bold and urgent, grazed the hem of your shirt, his breath caught in his throat as he realized there was nothing underneath. His touch became deliberate, his fingers teasing, exploring the soft curves of your skin. "Holy shit… you weren't wearing a bra?" escaped his lips, a mixture of surprise and arousal thick in his voice. His hands moved with growing intensity, gliding over your bare skin, his moan a low, rumbling sound, "Fucking gorgeous…"

Rafe leaned forward, lips latching onto your skin with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His kisses were a blend of tender sucking and playful nipping, his other hand kneaded your breast roughly, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His own body was already fighting to hold back, "Mmm… these fucking tits..." he groaned, the words laced with primal hunger.

"Fuckkk, ahhh!" Your gasp was a testament to the pleasure surging through you, your hips instinctively arching against him, seeking more.

A deep groan ripped through him as you began to move slowly atop him, the rhythm deliberate and sensual. He could feel every ridge inside you. His thumbs spread your thighs wider, his eyes fixated on the sight of himself disappearing within you. A soft slap to your ass punctuated the moment, his teeth gently sinking into your breast. "Goddamn…you're so slow…" he breathed.

"Want me to speed up?" you asked, your voice laced with a playful challenge.

Rafe nodded, his head resting against your chest, his hand possessively encircling your throat. "Fuck yeah… and to see these tits bounce while you fuck me." The light squeeze on your neck was a thrill, his eyes darkening with a possessive desire that sent shivers down your spine.

Your moan was a fluid sound as he tightened his grip, and you responded by bouncing faster, your rhythm mirroring the growing intensity of his passion.

A loud, harsh groan tore from him, a sound born of pure pleasure and the need for release. His hand tightened slightly around your throat, the other hand slapping your ass in a steady, rhythmic beat. "Fuck yeah…fuck…fuck…oh fuck!" he choked out, his eyes rolling back in his head, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

"Aaahh fuck yea…aaahh!" Your own pleasure was unrestrained. Your breasts bounced provocatively in his face as you rode him.

Rafe buried his face in your bouncing tits, his tongue lashing out to taste your skin. He left hickeys across your chest, his hand sliding from your throat to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh, guiding your movements, urging you faster. "Holy shit…holy shit…"

"You like it?" you asked, your voice a breathy, high-pitched whisper.

He smirked, his eyes glued to the intoxicating sight of your bouncing breasts. "Jesus Christ yes…" he mumbled, his hands rising to cup your breasts, bringing them together. His face was pressed between your breasts, muffling his groans as his hips began to meet yours—a brutal, rhythmic pounding that intensified the pleasure. "Fuck…fuck…fuck…"

"Aahhh!" You squeezed your breasts against his face, your rhythm intensifying, a frantic pace that matched the growing urgency.

He inhaled sharply, his nose nestled between your soft flesh. He tried to lick your skin, but his tongue was squished between your breasts. He felt you tightening around him, your movements becoming wilder, faster. "Dammit…"

"Aaahh fuck, you feel so fucking good!" you cried, your hips slamming down on him with hard, relentless force.

Rafe's eyes rolled back as you slammed down on him. His hands flew to your hips, his grip firm as he held you in place. He began thrusting, his cock hitting your deepest spots with a primal force. "Fuck…fuck…fuck…you're gonna make me cum…"

"Aahh! Yes, like that," you leaned forward, grabbing the headboard for support, your body arching provocatively.

He watched you with hooded eyes as you assumed the new position, the angle allowing him to slide even deeper inside you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up hard. "Goddamn.”

"Aahhh!" You moaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, as he slammed into you repeatedly.

He grunted with each thrust, his abs clenching as he pulled you down onto him again and again. He could feel you tightening around him, your inner walls squeezing him like a vice. "You're so loud…" he groaned, his face contorting with pleasure.

"Fuck…fuckk…" you cried out, moving your hand between your legs.

Rafe's eyes widened, understanding instantly what you were doing. He watched, mesmerized, as your fingers found your clit, your pussy clenching even tighter around him. "Holy shit…"

You rubbed your clit furiously as he slammed upwards into you, your breasts buried against his face.

He inhaled deeply, the soft warmth of your breasts muffling his groans. He felt you tightening, your sensitive flesh pulsing, his release building rapidly, his hips bucking up with brutal force.

"Aaahh I will—" you moaned, the word cut short by the onset of your orgasm. You shook violently, pleasure radiating through your entire body, squirting onto his stomach and dick.

As you shook and squirted, Rafe's eyes rolled back. A deep, primal roar erupted from his throat. His hips jerked one last time, burying himself deep within you as his cock pulsed, shooting load after load of thick, hot cum inside the condom—a wish fleeting through his mind about not needing to wear one.

"Mm…ah!" You panted, your body relaxing atop him, your pleasure spent.

His hands found your back, rubbing soothing circles. He loved the way your body went limp after your orgasm. He could feel his still-hard cock inside you, your inner walls milking him gently. "Damn…" he muttered softly, gently stroking your hair. "You squirted."

"Yeah," you said, catching your breath, your forehead resting on his chest.

Rafe chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking your hair. "You're so fucking adorable when you're high and horny." He kissed the top of your head, his other arm wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Stay like this for a bit, okay?"

"I can't move anyway," you said, breathless.

He smiled at your lazy, sated tone, one hand continuing to stroke your hair while the other traces delicate patterns on your bare back. His fingertips glided over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth that made you shiver slightly. “Good. Stay put.” His voice was low, almost a purr, as he shifted his hips just enough to keep himself inside you. “Your pussy feels way too good around my dick to pull out yet.” His semi-hard length twitched inside you, and you let out a soft, involuntary sound. He could feel your breasts pressed against his chest, your legs thrown carelessly over his hips, the weight of your body grounding him in the moment.

“You get horny often when you smoke?” he asked, his tone curious but playful. He knew how weed could heighten sensations, how it could strip away inhibitions and leave you craving touch. His fingers splay out on your back, possessive and warm.

“Hell yeah”, you breathed out, your voice husky and lazy. The sound of it made him chuckle, his chest shaking with quiet laughter.

“So like, every time we smoke together, you’d be down to have high sex like this?” His mind was already wandering, imagining the next time you’d be stoned and tangled up in each other like this. The idea of it sent a jolt of anticipation through him.

“Shit, now that I know your dick game is this good, yeah.” You nodded against his chest, and he couldn't help but grin.

“Damn... I’ll have to keep a steady weed supply just so I can fuck you like this regularly.” His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles near your entrance, where he was still buried inside you. The proximity made you shiver, and he felt it, the way your body responded to him.

“Mmhm”, you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper. His thumb pressed more insistently now, and you arched slightly into his touch. He could feel the way your body tensed, the way you were already craving more.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “Now I kinda want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight for days.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and you felt it, the way your body reacted to him, the way he seemed to know exactly what to say to unravel you.

You placed your chin on his chest and looked up at him, your eyes hazy and half-lidded. “I don’t have any more condoms.”

His thumb froze mid-circle, and he looked down at you, his expression shifting slightly. “You mean... unprotected?” he asked slowly, his voice careful. His mind races, piecing together the details—he knew you’re on birth control, he saw your pills in your bathroom. “No diseases, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t have it. You?” you asked, your voice steady though your heart is pounding.

“No, I’m clean too.” He said it reassuringly, his thumb pressing against your entrance more insistently now. “So, you’re saying if I wanted to, I could slide inside your little pussy raw?” He swallowed hard, the idea of it sending a jolt of heat through him.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his. “Yeah, you could.”

“Fuck... okay.” Rafe breathed out, his mind made up. He removed his thumb from your entrance and looked down at you with hooded eyes. “Turn over. I’m gonna stretch you out and fill you up with my cum.”

You climbed off him, his dick slipped out, and you laid on the bed on your stomach, your body splayed out for him. He stood up and removed the condom, tossing it to the floor. He looked down at your small, round ass and smirked. “You have such a cute little butt.”

You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled, your cheeks flushed. He climbed back onto the bed, kneeling between your legs, and ran his large hands over your curves, spreading your cheeks apart. “Damn, it’s so cute…” He murmured, his fingers digging into your flesh, possessive and firm.

He pressed one thick finger against your entrance, slowly pushing inside. “So tight…” He groaned, beginning to pump his finger in and out. He added a second, stretching you open, and his other hand wrapped around his dick, stroking himself as he watched you.

You moaned as he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching you wider, preparing you for him again. He pulled his fingers out and gripped the base of his dick, positioning it at your entrance. He pressed the head of his thick dick against you, gradually pushing forward. “Fuck…” He hissed, watching as your tiny hole slowly stretched to accommodate his size. “You’re killing me here…” He kept pushing slowly, and the head popped in just slightly. “Shit…”

You cried out in pleasure, your fingers gripped the sheets tightly. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he started to push deeper. “Damn, you’re so tight, I can feel every inch of you squeezing around the head of my dick.” He panted, his voice rough with need.

“Fuck…” You breathed out, your voice trembling. “Just push more…”

Rafe looked down at your back, smirking as he tightened his grip on your hips. “You sure?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Spread your legs wider”, he added, his tone firm. “And arch your back.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, doing as he said, spreading your legs and arching your back, offering yourself to him completely. With your legs spread wider and your back arched, he gripped your hips tighter and started pushing forward again, his thick dick slowly entering you inch by inch. “Fuck... Fuck... FUCK!” He hissed, his face contorting in concentration. Finally, with a loud grunt, the last inch of his dick disappeared into your pussy, burying himself to the hilt.

You moaned loudly into the sheets, your face pressed down, your body trembling with the sensation of him inside you. Your moan made his body go rigid. “Damn…” He muttered, realizing how sensitive you were. He could feel your pussy contracting tightly around his length. He pulled back slightly, almost slipping out, then slowly pushed back in. “Jesus…”

“Aaahh, clit—” you whimpered, your voice breaking.

He got the hint. One hand left your hip to snake around and find your clit. He rubbed tight circles around it while slowly picking up his pace, sliding his big dick in and out. He started fucking you harder, his fingers working your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. “Your pussy is fucking heaven…”

“Oohh god…” You cried out loudly, your body writhing beneath him.

He chuckled breathlessly, slamming into you harder. “Fuck yeah, take this dick…” His fingers were slick with your juices, smearing them all over your clit as he rubbed in firm circles. He leaned over your back, nibbling at your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Aahh! ahh! Mmm!” You moaned, your voice rising with every thrust.

“You like getting your pussy pounded like this, don’t you? Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight…” He adjusted his angle slightly, hitting the spot deep inside you that made you scream even louder. His wet fingers continued their assault on your clit. “y/n…”

“Oohh fuck yea…” You cried out, your body arching into the sensation.

He smirked. "You're making those noises again.." He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in hard, making your body jerk forward. He spread your cheeks wider apart and watched his length disappear inside you again and again. He couldn’t believe how loud you were, how your body responded to him. He growled softly, "You take this dick so well…God…" He pulled out slightly again, then shoved back in hard.

“Aah yeaa!” You moaned, gripping and biting the sheets as your body trembled with pleasure.

He chuckled darkly, watching you writhe and scream. “Fuck, look at you... So pretty, so loud, so fucking mine.” He reached around with his free hand and started squeezing your throat gently, cutting off your air supply slightly as he fucked you even harder.

He groaned as he felt your tight pussy clench around his dick when he squeezed your throat. “Fuck, you are so tight... I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.” He started thrusting faster, his pace erratic and desperate. His hips slammed into you with a rhythm that felt almost primal, each thrust pushing you deeper into the mattress. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your muffled cries.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop”, you begged, your voice ragged and desperate as you clutched the sheets for dear life. Your body trembled beneath him, every nerve alight with the intensity of his movements.

He let out a low, guttural growl, his hand tightening around your throat just a fraction more. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill this slutty pussy up”, he rasped, his voice thick with desire. His thrusts become relentless, each one driving you closer to the edge. The sensation was overwhelming—his thickness stretching you, the heat of his body pressing into yours, the way his hand on your throat made you feel completely at his mercy.

“Aahh fuckk-” you screamed, your voice cracking as another wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock as if begging for more.

He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. “You like that?” he growled, his voice dripping with dominance. “My big dick splitting your little pussy apart? Answer me.” His hand tightened around your throat again, cutting off your air just enough to make you gasp.

“Yesss!” you choked out, your body writhing beneath him. Your answer seemed to fuel him, and he picked up the pace even more, his hips slammed into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

“Mmm, such a good little whore for me”, he murmured, his voice low and dark. His thrusts become erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own climax. “I’m gonna come, baby…”

“YESS!” you screamed, your body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. The pleasure was all-consuming, your vision blurred as your pussy clenched and spasmed around him.

He let out a deep, guttural moan, his cock pulsing inside you as he reached his own peak. “Goddamn… such a slut for my cock”, he growled, his hand squeezing your throat one final time as he emptied himself deep inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the faint wet squelch of his cock still buried deep inside you. Slowly, he released your throat, allowing you to take a deep, shuddering breath. His other hand was still on your pussy, his fingers gently stroking your soaked folds as he came down from his high.

“Fuck… look at you”, he murmured, his voice hoarse. He smacked your ass cheek softly, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “You’re so loud and sensitive.” He gave your ass another smack, watching as a red handprint began to form on your skin. “Spread your legs wider”, he ordered, his voice soft but commanding.

You obeyed without hesitation, spreading your thighs further apart for him. He chuckled darkly as he noticed your pussy leaking onto the sheets, a mixture of your juices and his cum. “Damn”, he muttered, his gaze fixed on the mess he made of you.

“I need-” you started, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“You need what, baby?” he asked, his voice teasing as he looked down at your dripping pussy. “Tell me what you need.” His gaze was intense, almost predatory, as he waited for your response. “Maybe I’ll give it to you. Maybe I won’t.”

“I need to come again…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you feel his cum and your own juices sliding down your thighs. The idea of another orgasm felt both impossible and necessary, your body still thrumming with pleasure.

He smiled, clearly amused by your desperation. “You’re so fucking wet because of me, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone smug as he reached down to spread your pussy lips apart. He stared at your glistening hole, his thumb brushing over your clit teasingly. “Look at this mess you’re making… so much fucking juice.”

“Please, I need to…” you begged, your voice breaking as another wave of need rolled through you. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending begging for release.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured huskily, “Aw, poor baby. So desperate to come, huh?” Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers deep into your soaked pussy, curling them just right to hit your G-spot.

“AAHH!” you screamed, your body arching off the bed as he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sensation was overwhelming, his fingers working you ruthlessly as he rubbed tight circles on your clit with his thumb.

“Is this what you needed, slut?” he growled, his voice rough with desire as he watched your body writhe beneath him. The wet squelching sounds filled the room, mingling with your loud moans. “Fuck, your pussy is grasping so needily…”

“YES YES YEAAA!” you cried out, your voice hoarse as your body trembled with pleasure. The intensity of his touch was too much, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you felt another orgasm building.

“Such a greedy cunt…” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he added a third finger, stretching you wide. His thumb pressed firmly on your clit, the pressure just enough to push you over the edge. “Come all over my fingers, you filthy fucking whore.”

The moment he said it, you lost control. Your body convulsed as another orgasm ripped through you, your pussy clamped down hard on his fingers as you squirted your juices all over his hand and the sheets below. He kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you were trembling and gasping for air.

He chuckled darkly as he watched your legs give out, leaving you sprawled helplessly on the bed. “Goddamn, that was hot”, he muttered, pulling his soaked fingers out of your pussy with a wet pop. He brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while maintaining eye contact with you. “Fuck, you taste so good…”

You lay there, completely spent and boneless, your body twitching with aftershocks.

He watched you panting and twitching on the bed, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Look at you… completely fucked out, lying there like a messy little whore who just took the best pounding of her life”, he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. He reached out to softly trace your lips, his touch almost tender.

Then he reached over to grab his phone, unlocking it to snap a picture of you in your post-orgasmic state, looking disheveled and satisfied beyond belief.

“Mmmh…” you murmured softly, your eyes still closed as you tried to catch your breath.

His body tensed as you murmur, completely unguarded and sated. He realized that you were completely unaware that he just took a dirty picture of your spread out and twitching after coming hard. His fingers spread out on your inner thigh possessively. “You’re like a cat when you purr like that…” he laughed softly. “So loud and needy when we fuck.” He swallowed hard, watching you again.

You weren’t able to form words after he wrecked you, laying on your stomach and coming down from your highs—sex, drugs, and alcohol all melding together into a hazy euphoria. He smirked at your lack of words, knowing he completely destroyed you with his touch, his words, and his dick. “You’re so fucking out of it right now…” he murmured, his voice almost amused as he watched you.

You felt him as he moved to lay beside you, positioning himself against the headboard. He propped up a pillow behind his back, getting comfortable to enjoy the view of you in your post-coital bliss. He ran his fingertips along your spine, making you shiver. “Do you even know what state you’re in right now?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Mmhm…” you whimpered, your voice barely audible as you tried to muster the energy to respond.

“That’s not an answer”, he chuckled darkly at your inability to speak coherently. “Look at you. High as fuck, drunk as hell, and completely fucked out.” He traced small shapes on your back, enjoying how your skin pebbled under his touch.

“You fucked me so… good…” you managed to breathe out, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to convey just how wrecked you felt.

A smug grin spread across his face as he heard your breathy words of praise. “Mmm, that’s right. I wrecked this pretty little pussy”, he murmured, tapping your ass almost teasingly. “You came SO fucking hard, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember the last time I came like this…” you admitted, your voice still trembling from the intensity of your orgasms.

He let out a bark of laughter, clearly amused by your drunken admission. “Damn right you don’t. I fucked you into oblivion”, he growled, leaning down to murmur in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Your cunt was squeezing me so tight like she never wanted to let go.”

“Mmmhhm…” you shivered, your body still sensitive to his touch as he traced patterns on your back.

He bit down on your earlobe, tugging gently before releasing it. “You’re so goddamn responsive, even like this”, he murmured, his hand moving down to grip your hip possessively. “I could keep you like this all night, fucked out and high as a kite.”

You slowly turned on your back after a few moments, your body still trembling with aftershocks. You looked over at him sitting against the headboard, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you met his gaze. “Mmhm…” you murmured softly, your voice still thick with pleasure as you tried to find the words to express just how good he made you feel.

He watched you roll onto your back, his eyes roaming over your naked body appreciatively. The soft glow of the room caught every curve, every subtle shift of your skin as you breathed. When you smiled up at him, a flicker of something strange passed through his chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with the drugs or alcohol. He pushed it aside, not wanting to examine it too closely. Instead, he focused on the way your lips curved, the way your eyes held his for a moment too long.

You moved to lean against the headboard, your body shifting lazily as you reached for the glass of whiskey on the nightstand. The liquid sloshed slightly as you brought it to your lips, draining the last of it in one smooth motion. The burn slid down your throat, and you let out a soft sigh, the taste lingering on your tongue.

Rafe watched intently, his gaze locked on the way your throat worked as you swallowed. He grabbed the empty glass from your hand, setting it aside with a soft clink. His eyes never left yours, and there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thirsty little thing, aren’t you? Drinking like that after getting fucked stupid.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m thirsty,” you sighed deeply, your body sinking further into the mattress. The warmth of the whiskey spread through you, mingling with the afterglow of what just happened.

A husky chuckle escaped him as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s what happens when you scream as loud as you did. Probably dried out your whole fucking throat.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a spark in his eyes that said he was not just joking.

You breathed deeply, closing your eyes as a chuckle escaped you. “I wish this happened earlier…”

He traced a finger down your chest, between your breasts, his touch light but deliberate. His eyebrow arched skeptically, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at you. “Oh yeah? Wish you got fucked stupid sooner, huh?” His fingers drummed lightly against your forearm, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. “Yeah, but we’ll probably go back to hating each other after we sober up.”

Rafe let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. His hand stilled on your arm, and his smirk softened just a bit. “Probably fucking will.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “But right now, I can’t seem to remember why the hell I disliked you so much in the first place.”

You laughed as well, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, your dick made me forget why I hated you too.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against your lips. “Looks like we’re both forgetting a lot of shit tonight.” His hand moved up to tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug. The action was possessive but tender, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

As he tugged your hair, your head tilted back, and your eyes fluttered closed. His lips found yours in the darkness, kissing you deeply as he pulled your hair gently. The kiss was slow, almost lazy, but there was an undercurrent of hunger that neither of you could ignore. He broke away briefly, panting softly. “Damn it… We’re gonna hate each other again in the morning, aren’t we?” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke, his voice a low murmur.

“Mmhmm,” you murmured as you kissed him back, your hands moving to his chest. The warmth of his skin beneath your palms was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but want more.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. The hazy mix of weed and whiskey still lingered in his gaze, but there was something else there—something deeper. “Fuck it,” he muttered before kissing you again, harder this time. His hand gripped your hair tightly as he lost himself in the kiss. “We’ll worry about hating each other tomorrow,” he murmured against your lips.

You kissed him back just as hard, your hands gripping his face with a desperation that surprised even you. He groaned into the kiss, his hands roaming over your body possessively. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through you with every movement. He broke the kiss only to start trailing his lips down your bare chest, his teeth grazing your skin as he moved lower.

“I’m gonna hate you so much in the morning…” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.

“I’m gonna hate you too…” you whispered breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued his exploration.

He chuckled darkly, his hands slipping lower to trace the curve of your hips. His touch was firm, almost possessive as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. He leaned in to suck a bruise onto your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he pulled away. “But right now, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Rafe,” you whined, your voice trembling as his hands moved lower still.

“Yeah?” His voice was low and husky, his lips moving to your ear. “You gonna miss this dick tomorrow, sweetheart?” His hands slipped lower, tracing the lines on your stomach before moving even further down. “Gonna regret all these noises you’re making?” He nipped at your earlobe, the sharp sensation making you gasp.

“Probably both,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his fingers splaying out over your stomach possessively. “Good, because I’m gonna remember every little detail of this when I’m ignoring you tomorrow.” He nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent before pulling back to look at you. His gaze was intense, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name.

You didn’t have time to think about it though, because his lips were on yours again, kissing you with a desperation that made your head spin. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you tightly as he pulled you closer. The heat between your bodies was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t help but grind against him, seeking more friction.

“Fuck, Pogue,” he groaned against your lips, his hands moving to your ass. He squeezed roughly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer still.

TAGS: @hannieskzzz @rafeslvttygirl

CHAPTER 4 (soon)

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

♡ not only is rafe cameron your mortal enemy, but he’s also, unknowingly, your nsfw tumblr mutual??

warnings: mean!rafe, enemies to ???, sexting, dirty talk, sending and receiving of nudes, mentions of death, very light angst, mentions of social status, insults used as flirting loll, small time skip

a/n: this is sorta canon, only in the sense that ward is dead and rose is off somewhere with wheezie. i might just make this a mini series, let me know what you think <3

wc: 1.8k

rafe hated you.

maybe not all of you, because in his eyes, along with everyone else’s.. you were hot as shit. there was no denying that. your bitchy attitude not only amused rafe more than half the time, but it turned him on too. he’d watch you from a distance as you cleared the couch for you and your friends to sit on with a single glance, everyone making way for you like you were some kind of princess. which you clearly were, he just couldn’t understand why.

why did you turn him on so much? his best bet was because while everyone bent to his will, he knew that you’d never even spare him the time of day, and if you did it was because he had to work for every single ounce of your attention. no one else on this island would ever make him do that, no one on this island wouldn’t dare challenge him, but you? he’d take your bossiness and catty remarks any day.

the real question is; why did he hate you at the same time?

for starters; you had your family. your picture perfect mommy and daddy were plastered on every single newspaper in both the island and the mainland, the two of them getting praised for their line of successful businesses and work ambition. you were the only child, which was something rafe fantasized about being when his dad was still here. it irritated him that you had all of the attention and recognition that he never had. he felt even worse about it because unlike him, you didn’t even have to do anything in order to get praise and appreciation from your parents. you just got it for simply existing.

rafe on the other hand was nothing but a disappointment to ward when he went above and beyond just to get nothing, not even a single ‘i’m proud of you, son.’ before his dad up and died. rafe was already fueled by rage, but now? now that he had an entire island looking at down on him everywhere he went with false pity? he was out for blood. getting in meaningless fights, purposely doing stupid things that he knew he’d get hurt doing just to feel something.

he grew reckless and raised hell in every establishment and party he attended, figuring there was no use in keeping the family name squeaky clean with a good reputation when he technically didn’t have any family anymore. rose took wheezie and dipped as soon as rafe got tanneyhill and his hefty inheritance, and sarah decided to leave the island altogether and live her own life in god knows where.

everyone left him.

rafe was simply just a bystander now, an observer, and you had it all. the popularity, the socialite status, the family, the friends, the list could go on. it wasn’t long before he had to find some kind of outlet; something where he could express things and share thoughts to an audience that didn’t know him.. little did he know, you had also seeked out the same thing.

your distaste for rafe came about once you heard he was going around the island calling you a ‘spoiled little brat’ and a ‘prissy bitch’ whenever your name came up in conversations. obviously, what he said was true, but who was he to speak about you? he didn’t even know you. “call me a bitch to my face next time, ‘cameron. i hate pussies.” you had went up to him in the midst of him having a conversation with topper, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the way your hips swayed when you walked away, your mini dress paired with those heels of yours had him tonguing the inside of his cheek.

“did she just bitch you out, bro?” topper looked genuinely shocked as rafe laughed. “nah, she’s flirting.” from then on, you two would shamelessly stare at each other from across the room, keeping your eyes locked on one another even while you had people at your side who were more than interested in taking you home. rafe would pass by, muttering an insult just loud enough for you to hear and you’d laugh, dismissing him as if he was nothing but a fly on the wall.

you’d be lying if you said the so called ‘princess’ treatment didn’t get old after a while. rafe was the only person who seemingly didn’t care about your feelings. and you liked it. naturally, you craved something different, something that no one out here in the real world had the guts to do— degrade you and make you feel small. like you were nothing. turning to the only thing you could in order to keep your anonymity, you made a tumblr blog, easily racking up followers by posting your deepest and darkest desires and fantasies.

not even your best friends knew this side of you. you could be as depraved as you wanted to be on the app, and even if the whole point in you making your blog was to be anonymous, you still posted your own photos on there. of course your face wouldn’t be showing in any of them, but reading the comments as they flooded in filled the void you didn’t realize was there to begin with. a particular user, however, always left comments on your posts that had your thighs rubbing together.

it wasn’t long before you decided to check out his account, deciding to follow him back once you read through some of his posts. truthfully, you were the only girl he followed on the platform, he couldn’t help but feel like a lot of other accounts were ran by robots. you actually interacted with people on your blog, you had a personality. when he got the notification that you followed him back, he wasted no time in sending you a message.

[10:01 PM] countryclub: wsp

[10:15 PM] brattydiaries: ew.

[10:16 PM] countryclub: ???

[10:16 PM] countryclub: i just want to talk to you.

[10:25 PM] brattydiaries: yeah i can see that lol

[10:26 PM] brattydiaries: ‘wsp’ is so icky though. it kinda gives me high schooler vibes

‘high schooler vibes’ rafe snorted when he read your reply, internally cringing as he read back his previous message. you had a point.

[10:28 PM] countryclub: can i start over?

[10:30 PM] brattydiaries: can you?

[10:31 PM] countryclub: may i?

you smiled when he corrected himself.

[10:33 PM] brattydiaries: ugh i guess..

[10:38 PM] countryclub: 1 attachment

[10:38 PM] countryclub: hey i cum to your pictures all the time. here’s a picture of my cock and the mess you made me make.

usually you’d immediately block when an unsolicited dick pic found its way to your dm’s, but this one was unlike any others you’ve received.

your jaw was on the floor.

this wasn’t the ordinary ‘no-effort’ kind of picture. he wasn’t obnoxiously holding his length as if he was presenting it to you, instead he had his fist wrapped around the base, his aching tip standing on its own as his cum adorned his abs. his skin was also glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, your chest blooming with pride as you realized just how much your blog riled him up. he was very well groomed, the underside of his cock slick with the aftermath of your most recent photos.

this was just different. you felt your bitchy resolve crumbling down with every second you stared at the details, the sight of the veins in his arms and hands had you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your brain going blank as you tried to come up with a response.

[10:50 PM] countryclub: you done being a bitch and acting like i’m not good enough to talk to you? or do i have to send you more pictures of what you do to me?

yeah. you were totally fucked.

from that point forward, you two sexted day and night, your phone basically living in your hands as you went about your everyday life. soon, all of your posts became about him, both you and rafe seemingly dancing circles around each other. while you two lived for pissing each other off and did everything to be a nuisance to one another in real life, you were actually, literally getting each other off behind the screen.

you were surprising him with photos throughout the day, his dirty talk making you fall asleep with a sticky mess between your thighs. it was only a matter of time before he started wanting to hear your voice, even going as far as asking for your number so you could call and actually talk to one another. of course, you were hesitant, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish to hear those filthy things he says in your messages in your ears instead.

so you agreed. you gave him your number and waited for him to call.. and nothing. for the first time in your life, you waited for a phone call from a man, and he never delivered. your ego was in shambles. even after you came up with excuses as to why he didn’t call, none of them made sense. the next day you woke up to no new messages, your heart clenching in your chest when you went to his profile and saw that he deleted all of his posts.

what the fuck?

deciding to stay off of the app for the time being, you hated how a few months of sexting made you think about him every chance you got.

you didn’t even know his name for crying out loud!

if your friends noticed something off about your attitude, they didn’t point it out. even rafe was more irritable, both of you getting in full on arguments if you two spent too much time together in a social setting. your comebacks would have him on the verge of dragging you out of the room by your hair, wishing so bad that he could just put you in your place. it wasn’t until you got home from another one of topper’s parties that your phone lit up with a message.

from him.

[1:00 AM] countryclub: hey

you scoffed. ‘hey’ that was all that he could say? after all of the time that passed, he could only spare you one fucking word? you were about to block him before you got another notification.

[1:07 AM] countryclub: i’m really sorry for ghosting you, alright? i just freaked out.

[1:09 AM] brattydiaries: you sent me a picture of your dick when we first messaged each other and you’re barely freaking out now? don’t you think we’re far past that point already?

[1:12 AM] countryclub: we definitely are, it’s just when you sent me your number, my heart dropped to my ass.

[1:12 AM] brattydiaries: you asked for it and i gave it to you. i’m confused rn.

[1:14 AM] countryclub: no it isn’t that

[1:15 AM] brattydiaries: then what the fuck is it?

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

TEAL

childhoodbsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

part five // part six // part seven

warnings: brief mentions of drugs and relapse

a/n: kook playdate, a fight, and drama!! hope yall like this one, drop predictions and stuff in the replies if you wanna🙈 and thank you all so much for the love that teal has been getting omg, you’re such sweeties ily ily

🏷️: @rafesdrew @gibson-g1rl @ietss @sttaejoon-blog @my-name-is-baby @multisection @rafes4 @akobx @highladyofhogwarts @amel1ee @sexualparkour @jjmaybankmylovee @yesshewrites1 @flvredcas @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @chillgal135 @jamimers @wtfisastiles @bee-43

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

Love Island

This season of Love Island is set to be full of surprises. With stunning new pairings and explosive confrontations, the villa is sure to be filled with tension and drama. The chemistry between the islanders is electric, leading to passionate moments and unexpected connections. As friendships are tested and alliances shift, no one can predict how things will unfold. Every twist and turn will challenge the contestants, and the pressure will mount as they try to navigate the complicated dynamics. Only time will reveal who will rise to the top and who will find themselves caught in the chaos. Are you ready for it...?

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

content: fluff, angst, smut (a bit of everything lol)

warnings: sexual innuendos, cuss words, 18+ content, smut, drinking, verbal arguments, breakdowns, drama

episodes:

episode 1

extras:

meet the islanders (girls edition)

meet the islanders (boys edition)

meet the islanders (y/n & rafe edition)

introductions: rafe edition

introductions: y/n edition

𖹭 if you wanna be added on the taglist for this series comment/reblog or click here!! 𖹭

inspo for this series: @finelinevogue @rafecameronssl4t

A/N: this is my favorite thing i have ever created, i am so excited for all of you to see this project. it is something i have dreamed of for so long, that i put off for too long as well and now...it's here!! hope you love these characters and this crazy, very drama filled, steamy love story as much as i do!! love you all<3

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

road trip!

with the insufferable Rafe Cameron

-> Rafe x F!Reader

You should’ve seen this coming.

I mean, first, your car broke down and had to be taken to the shop.

So, when your best friend called in a frantic apology about car trouble, food poisoning, and possibly a minor curse, you knew you were doomed. Flights were sold out, rental cars were booked, and every other friend headed to the wedding was somehow already out of town.

Which left you with one horrifying, soul crushing option.

Rafe Cameron.

You stare at his name on your phone screen like it personally offends you. Your thumb hovers over the call button as if pressing it might burn your skin.

There has to be another way. A bus? A miracle Uber? A very fast bicycle?

But deep down, you know the truth. If you don’t find a way to get there, you’ll be missing out on one of the biggest moments of your friend's life. And there’s no way in hell you’re going to let that happen.

You take a deep breath, swallow what’s left of your pride, and hit call.

It rings. Once. Twice.

Then...

“Wow.” Rafe’s voice is impossibly smug, like he already knows why you’re calling. “Didn’t expect to see your name pop up. What, did hell freeze over? Pigs start flying?”

You clench your jaw, already regretting this. “Don’t start.”

“I haven’t even said anything,” he says, which is a lie because his tone is practically dripping with amusement. “So? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You inhale sharply through your nose. Just say it. Rip off the Band-Aid.

“I need a ride.”

There’s a pause. Then, the unmistakable sound of him laughing.

It’s not just a small chuckle. It’s a full-bodied, downright delighted laugh. You swear you can hear him grinning.

“Oh, this is amazing.”

“Rafe—”

“No, no, let me enjoy this. You. You, of all people, need me?”

You press your fingers to your temples. “Do you want gas money or not?”

“Gas money? Sweetheart, I don’t need your gas money. What I need is for you to say it one more time. Just so I can fully appreciate the moment.”

You grit your teeth. “I. Need. A. Ride.”

Another pause. Then—

“Yeah, alright.” He says it so easily, like he wasn’t planning on saying no in the first place. Like he was always going to say yes. “I’ll pick you up in twenty.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all choked up about it. Just be ready.”

He hangs up before you can respond.

You stare at your phone, debating whether it’s too late to back out entirely. Maybe getting a bike wasn’t such a terrible idea.

But then, twenty minutes later, Rafe Cameron rolls up in his car, window down, smirk in place, and the smuggest glint in his eye as he calls out:

“Ready for the best road trip of your life?”

This is going to be a long ride.

...

The first hour is tense.

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of road ahead. Rafe, for his part, lounges behind the wheel like he has all the time in the world, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other adjusting the radio.

“Jesus,” you mutter as he flips through stations again. “Can you just pick one?”

He clicks past another song. Then another.

“I could,” he says, like it’s a thoughtful decision. “But then how would I find the perfect song to fit our current mood?”

You scoff. “And what mood is that?”

He smirks. “Deep, unresolved sexual tension.”

You whip your head toward him so fast it’s a miracle you don’t get whiplash. “You’re insufferable.”

He laughs. “I mean, you did beg me for a ride, so...”

“Beg is a strong word.”

“Practically groveling.”

“Oh my God, Rafe.”

You sink lower into your seat, face burning in suppressed rage as he chuckles under his breath, clearly enjoying every second of this.

For a moment, there’s silence... until Rafe reaches for the GPS and completely ignores the route you mapped out earlier.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demand.

“Taking the faster way.”

You frown. “That’s not the faster way.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t! I literally checked last night. My route is better.”

He glances at you like you’ve personally offended him. “I think I know how to read a damn GPS.”

“And I think you have the directional skills of a blindfolded himbo.”

Rafe scoffs, gripping the wheel. “That’s rich coming from someone who almost got lost inside a Target last week.”

Your jaw drops. “I did not—”

“You called me from the home goods aisle panicking.”

“It was a big Target!”

He grins, looking far too pleased with himself. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You glare daggers at him, but before you can fire back, the GPS’s robotic voice chimes in:

“Recalculating route…”

You turn to him slowly, a smirk curling at your lips.

“Oh?” you say, mocking surprise. “What’s this? The GPS thinks I was right?”

Rafe clenches his jaw, white knuckling the wheel.

“I hate you.”

You beam. “No, you don’t.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh. Then, before you can bask in your victory, he suddenly cranks up the radio obnoxiously loud, blasting some overplayed pop song.

You groan, sinking into your seat.

...

The gas station is a godsend.

After what feels like hours of bickering, you practically fling yourself out of the car the second Rafe pulls into the lot. The fresh air is a relief, or at least, it would be, if Rafe weren’t right behind you, stretching obnoxiously like he’s never known a single hardship in his life.

“God, I love road trips,” he says, grinning as he watches you roll your shoulders like you’re shaking off his entire existence.

You ignore him and push through the glass doors, the too-cold AC blasting you in the face. The fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead, and the aisles are stocked with the usual: chips, questionable hot dogs, and enough sugar to give an elephant heart palpitations.

You head straight for the snack aisle, Rafe following too closely behind.

“I’m thinking—" you start, reaching for a bag of your favorite chips.

Rafe makes a disgusted noise.

“Oh, absolutely not.” He plucks the bag from your hands like it personally offends him. “We’re getting road trip snacks, not whatever this garbage is.”

You snatch it back. “Excuse me?”

He gestures vaguely at the bag. “That’s the worst possible choice.”

Your mouth drops open. “Are you insane? This is objectively the best snack in the entire store.”

“Objectively wrong.”

You glare. “Okay, genius, what’s your expert pick?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Beef jerky.”

You actually recoil. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re one of those people?”

Rafe smirks. “One of what people?”

“The kind of people who sit in the car, chewing on some nasty, dried-up piece of cow like it’s fine dining?”

He scoffs. “It’s protein.”

“It’s disgusting.”

He places a bag of jerky in the basket anyway. You dramatically shove your chips in beside it, like it’s a battle of good versus evil.

“What else?” he asks, scanning the shelves.

You grab a candy bar. “This.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow. “That’s just straight sugar.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs, tossing in a pack of peanut butter crackers. “Balance.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are you, my dad?”

Rafe ignores you, moving toward the drink coolers. You trail behind him, still fuming about the beef jerky situation.

He pulls open the glass door and grabs a bottle of water.

You squint. “Water? That’s your road trip drink?”

“Yeah?” He frowns at you. “What’s wrong with water?”

You shake your head in disappointment. “You’re so boring.”

Rafe glares. “Oh, I’m boring? What are you getting, then?”

You grab the brightest, most radioactive looking energy drink you can find and hold it up triumphantly.

Rafe looks deeply unimpressed. “That is going to take years off your life.��

“And?”

He just shakes his head, tossing his water into the basket. “If your heart gives out mid-drive, I’m not pulling over.”

You grin. “I knew you cared.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, marching toward the counter to pay. You follow, watching as the bored looking cashier scans your deeply incompatible snack selections.

When Rafe pulls out his wallet, you immediately reach for yours. “I can pay for mine.”

He tuts, shoving his card into the reader before you can argue. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says, smirking. “You can owe me.”

You narrow your eyes. “Owe you what?”

His smirk deepens. “Haven’t decided yet.”

You cross your arms, but he just grabs the bag of snacks and saunters out of the store, looking far too pleased with himself.

You sigh, trailing after him.

This road trip is going to kill you.

...

The rain starts suddenly.

One second, the road is dry and clear, then, out of nowhere, the sky splits open, unleashing a torrential downpour so intense that Rafe has to crank the wipers up to their highest setting. The world outside turns into a blurry mess of gray and streaking headlights, and even he slows down, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Great,” you mumble, pulling your hoodie tighter around you. “Just perfect.”

Rafe barely spares you a glance, both hands gripping the wheel. “Relax. It’s just rain.”

It is not just rain. It’s an apocalypse. The wind howls, trees sway dangerously, and the GPS chimes in, completely unhelpful:

“Rerouting… rerouting…”

Rafe exhales sharply. “Fantastic.”

You frown, glancing at the map. “Uh… I think we missed our turn.”

“We did not—”

Lightning flashes. The GPS glitches. And then, as if the universe itself wants to prove a point...

THUNK.

The car jerks. Rafe curses, fighting the wheel as he pulls over to the shoulder. The rain slams against the windshield, making it nearly impossible to see, but you already know what’s wrong.

Flat tire.

You both sit there for a second, staring at the dashboard like maybe, somehow, this is just a bad dream.

Then...

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rafe mutters.

You sigh, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ll fix it.”

Rafe’s head whips toward you. “Excuse me?”

You shrug. “I know how to change a tire.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“I do!”

He gives you a deeply skeptical look. “Alright, fine. Let’s see it, then.”

You roll your eyes and push the door open, stepping into the absolute nightmare that is the current weather situation. Rain instantly soaks through your hoodie, the wind nearly knocking you off balance as you march around to the trunk.

Rafe follows, watching as you pull out the spare and drop to your knees to inspect the damage.

You try to focus, really, you do, but the rain is relentless, blinding and cold and miserable. Your fingers slip against the wet metal as you wrestle with the jack, struggling to get it in place.

And then, before you can stop him, Rafe crouches down beside you, scowling as he physically moves your hands out of the way.

“What the hell—”

“You should’ve let me handle it.” His voice is low, grumbly, but not in his usual mocking way. It’s different.

Protective.

You blink up at him, shivering slightly as he moves closer, blocking some of the rain with his body.

“I had it,” you argue, but it comes out softer than intended.

He doesn’t look at you. Just focuses on loosening the lug nuts, his jaw clenched like he’s irritated... but not at you. At the fact that you were out here, in the freezing rain, doing this yourself.

The rest of the job doesn’t take long, and when he finally lowers the jack, he stands, reaching down to haul you up without warning.

You stumble slightly. He catches you easily.

For a second, you just… stand there.

Close.

The rain drips from his hair, his hoodie completely soaked, but all you can focus on is the way his hands linger: one on your wrist, the other still at your waist, like he’s making sure you’re steady before he lets go.

It’s… unsettling.

Not in a bad way.

Just in a way that makes your stomach feel weird and your heart do something stupid.

But then he exhales sharply, like he’s snapping himself out of something, and steps back.

“Next time, just let me handle it,” he mutters. Then, before you can argue, he’s already moving, tossing the tools back into the trunk.

You watch him for a moment before shaking yourself off and climbing back into the car.

The ride after that is… different.

Quieter.

Not in a tense, waiting-for-the-next-argument kind of way, but in a way that feels oddly comfortable.

Rafe leans back in his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually behind your headrest.

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel annoying.

It just feels… warm.

Familiar.

At some point, he reaches over to mess with the radio again. This time, when he flips through the stations, you don’t complain. You just glance at him, shaking your head, lips twitching slightly.

He catches you looking. Smirks.

And you don’t roll your eyes.

Not this time.

...

After the flat tire, the rainstorm, and the unfortunate realization that there were no motels nearby, you and Rafe had been forced to crash in the car overnight. Literally. Him in the driver’s seat, you curled up in the passenger seat, both of you grumbling about how much this sucked before eventually passing out.

Now, you wake up to the smell of coffee.

For a second, you’re disoriented, blinking against the golden light pouring through the windshield. Your neck is stiff, your hoodie is bunched in all the wrong places, and the leather seat sticks to your skin in the worst way.

And then...

A voice.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

You groan, rubbing your eyes. Rafe leans against the open driver’s side door, arms crossed, a smug but noticeably softer smirk on his face.

“We’re at a diner,” he says, nodding toward the neon sign outside. “Figured you’d want real food instead of gas station snacks.”

You blink at him. Then at the diner. Then back at him.

And that’s when you see it.

In his other hand: a cup of coffee.

Your coffee.

You sit up straighter. “Wait, is that...?”

He shrugs. “You take it with two sugars, right?”

You stare at him, momentarily speechless.

Rafe Cameron, your mortal enemy just yesterday, remembers how you take your coffee. And brought you one before you even woke up.

“Uh.” You take the cup hesitantly, fingers brushing his for a split second. “Thanks?”

“Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, turning toward the diner. “Come on. I need real food before I lose my mind.”

You follow him inside, still thrown off by… whatever this is.

The place is quintessential roadside diner. Vinyl booths, checkered floors, an old jukebox in the corner playing a song that sounds straight out of a ‘90s romcom. A waitress with a pen tucked behind her ear waves you to a booth near the window.

Rafe slides in across from you, stretching his arms over the back of the seat. “So,” he says, smirking again, but there’s something different about it this time. “What’s the move? Classic pancakes? Or are you one of those avocado toast people?”

You scoff. “Avocado toast? What do I look like, a health influencer?”

He grins. “Hey, you give off the vibe.”

You kick him under the table. He chuckles.

The waitress reappears, flipping open her notepad. “What can I get y’all?”

You glance at the menu quickly before ordering the pancake combo. Rafe orders an omelet, then, as the waitress starts to walk away, he calls out:

“Oh, and... can we get extra syrup?”

You freeze.

You always ask for extra syrup. You were literally about to say it.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How do you...”

He just shrugs. “You like extra syrup. You always complain when there isn’t enough.”

Again, you’re momentarily speechless.

Rafe doesn’t just remember things about you. He notices them.

And now, in the warm morning light, with his hoodie slightly rumpled and his hair messier than usual, he looks…

Less like the cocky nightmare who laughed when you asked for a ride.

More like the guy who fixed a tire in the rain without hesitation.

Who made sure you had coffee before you even woke up.

Who just ordered extra syrup for you.

“Okay, who are you,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, “and what have you done with Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe tilts his head, considering. Then, lazily, he smirks. “Maybe you just bring out the best in me.”

You roll your eyes, but this time, it’s harder to ignore the way your stomach flips.

And when the food arrives, when he casually slides the syrup your way before you can even reach for it, you’re pretty sure you’re screwed.

...

By the time you finally pull up to the wedding venue, a sprawling lodge tucked into the mountains, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. It looks ridiculously picturesque, like something out of a movie.

You, on the other hand, look less picturesque.

“I swear to God,” you grumble, twisting around in the passenger seat to grab your overnight bag, “if my hair is permanently flattened from sleeping in the car, I’m blaming you.”

Rafe snorts, shifting the car into park. “Please. You’ve looked worse.”

You turn to glare at him, only to find him already looking at you. Except this time, there’s no evil Rafe smirk. Just… something else. Something softer.

It throws you off so badly that you almost forget to respond.

Almost.

“Thanks,” you deadpan. “That’s exactly what every girl wants to hear before walking into a wedding.”

Rafe chuckles, shaking his head before pushing his door open. You follow suit, stepping out into the cool mountain air.

Up ahead, the venue is already buzzing with activity: people unloading suitcases, music drifting from somewhere inside, laughter echoing across the lot. Your best friend is probably freaking out over last minute details.

And you?

You’re standing beside Rafe Cameron, staring up at the lodge like you haven’t just spent the past twenty four hours begrudgingly trapped in a car with him.

Like you haven’t spent the past two hours noticing little things you weren’t supposed to.

Rafe stretches, rolling his shoulders before glancing at you. “You good?”

You nod, but before you can take a step, he reaches over and tugs your hoodie into place.

It’s nothing. Just a small adjustment, fingers barely grazing your shoulder. But the second it happens, your breath catches.

It’s stupid, really. After everything, the bickering, the bad directions, the gas station argument, this is what gets you?

A two second fix?

But when you glance up at him, there’s something unreadable in his expression. Something that lingers for half a second too long before he clears his throat and steps back.

You swallow. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quieter than usual.

For the first time since this whole trip started, you have no idea what to say next.

So instead, you hoist your bag higher onto your shoulder and nod toward the lodge. “We should… probably go find everyone.”

Rafe nods once. “Yeah.”

Neither of you move right away.

And when you finally do, when you walk side by side toward the entrance, the glow of the venue lights spilling onto the gravel path, you can’t shake the feeling that something just shifted.

Like maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t over yet.

[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

late night talking // part 2

wrong number rafe cameron x pogue!reader

smau

warnings: language

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[drewstarkeyswifehoe]

𝐁𝐅𝐁, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

SUMMARY you've had a crush on your best friends older brother for at least three years now. but he's always been so far out of reach that the thought of the two of you together just sounded wrong to others. for starters, he's three years older than you. and while that isn't a problem now that you're 19 and hes 22, which is not illegal, it was always a problem at the beginning of your crush. another bump in the road happens to be the fact that you're a pogue, and not just any pogue, john b routledge's twin sister. it wasn't necessarily his distaste for pogues though, it was more of a reputation thing. but after a party one night, maybe he can put his reputation aside.

rafe cameron x routledge!silly!reader 💌

au where he's not a murderer and he + sarah have a regular sibling relationship 🫡 also smau, along with irl

warnings: suggestive, slight age gap

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you sat at the edge of your bed, scrolling on your phone as you awaited the arrival of the cameron siblings. you'd never been the type to be any form of secretive about a crush, in your eyes, there was other fish in the sea. if you're not madly in love with them, then rejection isn't that big of a deal. but rafe cameron rejecting you would be absolutely humiliating, considering you were so delusional about him that you qualified for a padded white room and possibly even a straight jacket. and well, now that you know he's aware of your crush on him, you are not looking forward to seeing him.

so as you hear the honking of rafe's truck, you jump slightly, pinching the bridge of your nose and exiting your room, making your way into the living room where your brother john b was. "farewell jb." you spoke. he sat up from his spot on the couch, leaning over to look out the window with furrowed eyebrows. "did sarah take rafe's truck?"

you sighed, sliding your converse on. "no, rafe's taking us." you grumbled, pulling on the laces of your shoes and tying them. "this is the only time i've ever dreaded seeing rafe cameron." john b chuckled. "good luck." 

as you stood up and gathered yourself, you turned to the door, calling behind you to your brother as you opened it. "thanks g. be back soon!" you didn't wait for a response as you exited the home. a smile erupted on your face as you made eye contact with sarah through the windsheild of rafe's truck, waving and jogging over to the vehicle.

you climbed in the back seat, sitting in the middle. "hi sar-bear." you said normally, in an effort to put up a front that you didn't care about the whole rafe knowing you like him thing. it wasn't really the fact of him knowing, but more of the fact that you seriously genuinely never had a chance.

but.. now that he knows, whats the harm in flirting? "hey beautiful." you said to rafe, to which he sighed through his nose. "hi yn." he grumbled, putting the car in reverse, his right hand going to the back of the passenger seat to help himself turn around, and god did he look good.

you were going to open your mouth to address his slutty actions, but you decided against it, silently sitting in the back of the truck until you pulled into the parking lot of the mall.

you and sarah unbuckled your seatbelts and began climbing out, ready to thank rafe for the ride but you paused as you noticed him getting out. "what are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows knitted together. he shrugged as you climbed out. "what? thought i was gonna drive all the way here just to drop you off? i need new swimming trunks anyways."

great. just what you needed. not only did you have to have an awkward car ride in the presence of the finest man alive being aware you thought he was the finest man alive, but now he'd be walking around the building with you—or at least you assumed, saying a silent prayer to yourself that he'd wander off alone.

he didn't, though. but he didn't really make his presence unbearable, either. he didn't say much—like at all. he did separate himself once or twice, also never really directly talking to you when he did choose to open his mouth. until sarah saw one of her old friends from highschool, that was. obviously, with you being a pogue, you did not go to the kook academy. so when sarah ran off to greet her friend that you'd never seen a day in your life, you stayed back, sipping on the auntie anne's lemonade with an h&m bag sitting in your hand, along with a bath and body works bag

last week you'd worked overtime at the wreck, so you figured you'd treat yourself with the extra money. though everything was insanely expensive these days, so you didn't get much. "so..." you mumbled at an attempt to break the silence. you were gonna follow up with something about the weather, or whatever it is people like rafe talk about. probably stockmarkets or something. but you couldn't help yourself from flirting just a little. i mean look at him, anyone who can control themselves around rafe cameron has the self control of a literal saint. "be honest, you only came in to be in my presence."

you wanted to say something a little more unsettling like 'hows that dick', but you managed to keep a bit of dignity. obviously you knew he was absolutely not there for you, but you did not expect him to play along. "you caught me." he said, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

you chuckled softly. "it's okay, don't be embarrassed. i'm used to guys being obsessed with me." you continued jokingly, eyes trained on his insanely beautiful face. "oh i'm the obsessed one?" he asked, his buff arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head slightly, a very slight smirk on his lips now. "cus... if i recall correctly, you're the one who has sexual fantasies about me."

your cheeks burned bright red, not expecting him to bring up the message from earlier. you played it off by rolling your eyes, but it was clear to him that you were embarrassed. it gave him a sense of accomplishment. he couldn't explain it, but making you flustered felt nice in way.

thankfully, sarah walked up before the conversation could go any further and get any more awkward. "hey guys." she said with a smile. "sorry, old friend from highschool. what store next?"

you shrugged, knowing your budget was getting low. "theres a new shop over on the other end of the building. kie went recently, she said i'd love it." sarah smiled, beginning to walk in that direction, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks and the smug state rafe seemed to be in, but she chose to ignore it. "lets go then."

the walk to the shop was short, you and sarah talking about random things while rafe still followed silently behind, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. the moment you entered the store, you knew you'd be coming back. 

your eyes immediately landed on a pair of dark denim shorts with a pretty floral pattern embroidered on it that reminded you so much of adrianne lenker's album cover for songs and instrumentals. you rushed over to them. "oh my god i need these immediately." you looked at the size, seeing they were your size. "this is fate. hallelujah thank you god." you said in a more humerous manner, going to look at the price tag. your smile faltered a bit as you saw the price tag, and you sighed, placing them back on the shelf. "okay, nevermind, apparently god hates me."

you always struggled with money growing up, but rafe and sarah were apart of one of the richest families on the island. i mean, they lived in the tannyhill mansion for fucks sake. sarah was your best friend, so you knew she'd absolutely never judge you for your financial state being so different from her's, but you were still ashamed of it. you were so different from her in so many ways. and obviously you were even more embarrassed with rafe there, who you'd flirted with a mere 5 minutes ago. it wasn't getting you any closer to getting in his pants, thats for sure.

sarah giggled softly, picking them back up. "it's okay, i'll sugar mama you." she winked. you smiled at her. "well thank you, but i'm not letting you buy me a $32 pair of shorts." she dismissed you with her hand. "don't be silly, yn." sarah reached for her wallet, opening it, and her smile was the next to falter. "shit. i don't have enough cash left and i forgot my card on my desk. i promise i'll come back and get them when my car gets done later."

you were the one dismissing her with your hand now, making a "pssht." sound. "its okay sar, i don't need them. i'm serious. i'll come back and get them when my next paycheck hits." she sighed. "fine. but only because ward put me on a limit until i get a job anyways." 

you chuckled, making your way to the vinyl section of the store, shopping through. you caught a glimpse of rafe in the corner of your eye, unable to resist yourself from looking at him as you turned your head, not even trying to hide the staring. he was standing at the place the three of you just were, seemingly shopping through the woman's clothing right there. 

you sighed, assuming he probably had a girlfriend or something that he was shopping for. rafe absolutely never posted on social media, and he was also never really at any parties or bonfires anymore. he was so mysterious, and it unfortunately made him a million times hotter.

after a moment, you went back to shopping through the vinyls and conversating with sarah about some of the albums you'd found. it wasn't long until you were climbing back into the backseat of rafe's truck with sarah shotgun. once rafe climbed into the drivers seat, instead of immediately turning on the car like you'd expected, he turned to you and handed you a bag from the store earlier. you furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing the bag cautiously. "whats this?" 

he turned back and started the car, beginning to drive. "i bought you the shorts. now you don't have to spend your next paycheck on them." he shot you a smile through the rear-view mirror then just went on about his day. "well thank you." you said softly, looking inside of the bag. "hot and thoughtful. how am i your only current bitch? against your will, too."

he rolled his eyes, but you could see the small hint of a smile on his face. it was like he was purposely trying to make himself look more boyfriend material than he already did.

v speaks: hi this was lowkkkkk ass but its just cus its an intro part i'm sorry like i have nothing from a previous part to build off of or anything💔 ill be better #swear also im shaking in my boots i havent published any writing since 2023