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handsswritten · 10 days ago

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Should We Try Again? 1/2 (toxic!Rafe Cameron x toxic!reader)

Summary: Rafe tries to accuse you of cheating, and you did some snooping of your own. And when Rafe found out you went through his phone, you were in for it.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Topper is a really good friend in this fic, reader is black, dark themes (choking, threats, arguing, name calling, overall just toxic behavior)

If any of these making you uncomfortable, pls don’t read. Take care of yourselves.

You and Rafe had one of your fights again. The yelling match, screaming in each other’s face kind of fight.

The kind of fight where the police gets called because someone heard glass breaking and shouting.

This particular time, he logged into your Instagram and founded close to 50 DMs from guys commenting on your stories where you posted your OOTDs.

You never opened any of the DMs but there were too many to go unnoticed.

“Do you get off on having other guys want you or something? Huh?” He starts as he abruptly forces his way into the bathroom where you were showering.

“What are you talking about, Rafe?” You snark, ringing out the water from your hair.

“What the hell is this?” He rips the shower curtain open.

“Rafe!” You scold, shutting off the water so none leaks onto the floor. He shoves his phone in your face and repeats, “What the hell is this?”

“They’re DMs, Rafe. Why are you talking to me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did do something wrong by not blocking these sons of bitches. You like the attention, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut, asshole. It’s DMs. They don’t mean shit!”

You close the shower curtain so you can resume your shower when he ripped it open again.

“Oh it means something when they’re sending dick pics, Y/N! They want to fuck you!”

“It doesn’t matter if they want me because I’m with you, Rafe. Not them.” You tried to reason.

You were already exhausted from work and you really didn’t need this right now.

“You’ve been sending them nudes, haven’t you?” “Are you fucking serious, Rafe?” “Do I look like I’m joking right now?” He says flatly, his nose flaring angrily.

“No, I haven’t sent anybody nudes. I didn’t even know they sent me dick pics because I don’t open them, Rafe.” He gives you a pointed look and you crossed your arms as a challenge.

It was clear you weren’t going to shower in peace so why not add some fuel to this fire.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Shame on me for having fifty unopened DMs but everything is okay when you have hundreds of opened DMs?” You antagonize, slowly stepping out of the shower with suds still on your body.

You watch as his face fell for a few seconds before it hardens once again.

“You’ve been going through my phone?” He asks. “Of course I have! Because I know you’ve been in my phone, desperate to find secrets to use against me. So I figure why not dig up some secrets of my own.”

“Y/N,” he warns lowly, taking a step towards you.

“What did you find?” He wrote down a few things about the cross.

Like where he’s already looked and potential places where it might be. But he hid those notes behind a passcode in his journal.

There were also a few texts of Ward asking ‘if it was taken care of’. Garret’s body.

There was no way you could figure out the passcode, right?

“What are you so scared I would find?” You questioned, purposely being vague. There was no point in being specific, if he was going to connect the dots for you.

His anxiety got the best of him and he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a warning squeeze.

“Stop being cute and tell me what you saw.” He orders.

There wasn’t a constant pressure so you were able to breathe fairly normal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind.

“I only went through your social media and some of your messages. Nothing else.” His hand twitched around your throat when you mentioned messages.

“I just wanted to see if you were texting others girls.” You added, wrapping your hands around his wrist.

“What else?” “Nothing else, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.” “I’m not lying to you.” He pulls away from your throat and you instinctively touched your collar bone.

His gaze softens when you stepped away from him. He itched to get close to you and apologize for over reacting, but he still wasn’t sure that you didn’t know about the gold and the bodies.

So his hands remained by his sides, tightening every so often.

“What are you protecting?” You asked cautiously. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He states before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the front door of your house.

That was a few days ago, and you haven’t spoke to each other since. The most interaction you’ve had was him viewing your story. That’s it.

You’ve been going straight home after work, not wanting to interact with anyone unless you had to.

But a small part of you wished you’d come home to Rafe waiting for you on your door step or him come to see you during your break.

But he never did. That was enough for you to come to the conclusion that he stopped caring about you.

He was so worried about protecting something or someone that was willing to choke you out to protect it.

You’ve seen him anxious about a few things but nothing set him off like you did that night.

You were watching one of your comfort movies with your fleece blanket wrapped around you, eating some stir fry you ordered on UberEats when your phone chimed.

Topper: hey you doing okay?

Tossing the phone back on the bed, you used the chopsticks to dip a piece of beef into the speciality sauce before eating it.

Your phone chimed again.

Topper: We were friends before you started dating Rafe, remember? I care about you too.

You: I assume Rafe told you everything?

Topper: Just that you had an argument and you’re on a break

You: Well that’s an oversimplification.

Topper: I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come.

You: I’m not exactly in the mood to get hit on by a bunch of drunk dudes.

Topper: Stick by me and you won’t have that problem.

You: You’re right. Instead, you would have a Rafe sized problem.

Topper: I’m not scared of Rafe.

Topper: Just come by for a few. It makes me feel uneasy that you’re by yourself at home all this time.

Topper: Please.

You: Fine, Topper.

Topper: Great! I’m on my way.

You hated yourself for how quick your eyes locked in on Rafe as soon as he walked into the party wearing a navy blue shirt and a white hat that matched his white cargo shorts.

He dapped up a few guys that greeted him by the front door and looked straight up to where you were sitting next to Topper.

He found you almost immediately with an expressionless face.

Your heart skipped a beat that he looked for you but that feeling of elation left you as quickly as it came.

He didn’t reach out to you for three days. No call. No text. No apology. He was done and now it was your turn to feel the same.

“You two are like magnets,” Topper says from behind you. “Toxic ones,” he eventually adds with a chuckle.

“I knew you were going to say that,” you teased, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Sadness kicked your gut when two girls approached Rafe, one of them ran her hands over his chest as she went to whisper something in his ear.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” You said when you notice Rafe coming up the stairs with the girls.

“I’ll come with you,” you gave him a look. “What? I meant it when I said stick by me. Let’s go.”

He lets you lead the way and you go down the second set of stairs but you stopped abruptly, peering down at your jewelry.

Everything you were wearing was gifted to you by Rafe, even down to the earrings. You still wore the R golden plate necklace and matching anklet. You had his signet ring on your thumb because that was the only finger it could fit.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Topper questions. Rafe was watching the entire interaction from the loveseat you and Topper were just sitting on.

You bent down to take off your anklet and moved to take off your earrings next.

“Can you help me take off the necklace?” You asked, pulling off the ring and placing it with the other jewelry.

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing your passion twists out of the way.

You felt his warm hand brushing against the back of your neck when he unclasped the necklace.

He put the necklace in your outstretched hand. You walked back up the few stairs you crossed and approached Rafe whose eyes were still trained on you.

You let out a shaky breath before taking his warm hand into your own and giving him the jewelry. You were beginning to miss his touch.

Guilt flashed across his face, looking down at his hand. You avoided his gaze and left him without another word, rushing down the stairs and Topper followed after you.

“Well that was dramatic,” one of the girls says, rolling her eyes while her friend eyes the gold carat in Rafe’s hand that easily amounted to 75k.

“Can I have the earrings?” She asked and before Rafe could respond, she reached for them anyway.

Rafe caught her hand in a tight grip and she whimpers at the pressure.

“You’re hurting me,” she groans.

“No one told you to touch what’s hers,” he shoves her to the ground. “Hey! You asshole!” Her friend snaps, standing from the couch and helps her friend to her feet.

He doesn’t spare them another glance as he digs in his pocket for a baggie to do a few lines.

“Y/N,” Topper calls, finally catching up with you in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He asks you, examining your face for anything he could read.

“You should check on him,” you poured yourself a shot in a small solo cup and knocked it back, barely making a face.

“I’m checking up on you,” “It needed to be done, okay. All of it were just reminders of what I don’t have anymore.” You explain, pouring yourself another shot.

“That was very brave for you to do.” “Then why do I feel like shit?” You huffed after taking another shot and he stops you from pouring another one.

“Because the break up is still fresh, Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re going to fall apart before his very eyes.

His soft eyes examines your face for any micro expression that could give away what you’re thinking.

“Look, Top. I know you’re trying to help and all but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to cry.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I want to enjoy your party. Your birthday is tomorrow. You shouldn’t be spending it watching me cry.”

“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving you.” He shakes his head and you took his hands into yours, much like you did with Rafe.

But Rafe’s hand were warmer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend. I’ll find Sarah.” He studied your face once again and you gave him a soft smile.

“Go,” “Alright,” he says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’ll come find you in like ten minutes.”

“Take your time,” he leaves the kitchen and you let out a deep sigh. You shouldn’t be here.

But you didn’t have the heart to ditch Topper on his birthday rager.

You pressed your palms into the cool, granite countertop and bowed your head to release the tension in your neck.

You hadn’t realize someone was in the kitchen with you until you heard footsteps and someone’s low voice. To your surprise, it was Pope standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” You asked softly, the shot were slowly starting to get to you.

“I said you are too pretty and insanely smart to be treated like an option.”

That was the nicest thing anyone said to you. You haven’t felt valued in a long time.

“Thanks, Pope. That really means a lot.”

His mouth fell open at your words. “You know who I am?”

“Yes I know who you are. Your family makes the best seafood boils in town.” You explained with a chuckle.

“She knows my name,” he said to himself, which he quickly realized you can hear.

“I should haven’t said that out loud,” he admits and you let out a laugh.

“You’re cute,” he scratches the back of his neck to hide how flustered he way. “Um, are you hiding from Rafe in here?”

“Yes, I am.” You admitted, crossing your arms. “Well if you want some company, my friends are by the bonfire outside. If you want to join. O-only if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything or-“

You interrupted his rant to say, “Sure. I’ll go with you.” You took a solo cup and swung by the keg on the way out, offering some to Pope.

“By the way, what makes you think I’m insanely smart?” “I’m a TA for Mr. Patterson. He still uses your test as a grading key.” He explains after taking a swig of your beer.

“Of course he does. I loved his class.” You admitted with a chuckle. “What is this?”

JJ stands from the chair and motions between you and Pope with his ringed pinky.

“I told her she can hang out with us.” “Hey, JJ.” You greet with a small wave.

“‘Sup, sweetheart. Want a hit?” He offered a blunt to you and you graciously accepted.

He had a grin on his face as he watched you take a hit. He expected you to cough or at least have your eyes water from the potency but much to his surprise, you exhaled the puff of smoke slowly without a fuss.

The mix of the weed and the tequila was throwing your head in a spin. “Never pegged you to be a pothead,” “I’m full of surprises, Maybank.”

A drunk Rafe stumbles outside in search for you when he finds you laughing with Pope and JJ.

JJ noticed your shivering whenever there was a breeze and peeled off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Rafe wasn’t even aware what was happening until his vision started to blur.

He was crying.

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handsswritten · 12 days ago

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parties, enemies & desires [rafe cameron]

summary: you're a kook, sarah's best friend and rafe's ‘natural’ enemy. you two hate each other. or think that you do, until something happens at a party and your actions prove the opposite.

warnings: cursing, alcohol & drug consumption, violence (physical fights), rafe being rafe and a bit of a kinky bitch, shower sex [my english]

word count: 5.5K

click for my master list

requested: yes! here's the request

my requests are open (takes me around a week to write ‘em tho)

The Cameron family. They’ve been your next door neighbors for over 12 years. Your family moved to Outer Banks, specifically on the Figure 8 side, because your father is Ward Cameron's business partner.

As a result, your family and the Cameron family often had meetings, which meant you started spending time with the Cameron children.

From the first moment the two of you met, it was clear you and Sarah would be best friends, you had had an immediate connection, even if at that time had been over the latest Barbie model that had come out; it was a good connection.

And also from the first moment you talked to Rafe Cameron, you knew you and him wouldn't get along.

He was self-centered, annoying, cocky, towered over you way too easily, and had that stupid grin that made you want to punch him.

And that has not changed over the years.

You and Sarah are best friends, you're always attached to the hip, and that drives Rafe insane; he stands being around you as much as you stand being around him, which is nothing.

Sarah thought the whole situation was funny: you and Rafe hating each other for years and for no good reason.

You'd often tell her you didn't need a reason if it was her brother you were talking about, but Sarah would just laugh and nod her head in an ironic way, saying that you were in denial. Of what? You had no fucking idea.

Every time Rafe spoke, he would say something that would make your eyes roll. That's how much of an asshole he is.

Also, there was that stupid smirk that appears on his lips when he knows you're furious, and it makes you want to punch him and—no. Just punch him. Nothing else.

To everyone you could deny, but you couldn't deny to yourself how attractive Rafe is. When he was little, Rafe was a pretty boy, with those big blue eyes, dirty blond hair and that little smile.

But now? He's tall, lean, with that same ocean blue eyes, sharp jawline, and that smile that caused things in you that you didn't want to put a name to.

"You ready?" Sarah's voice startled you slightly, causing you to jump slightly and almost ruin your makeup.

"Yes." you said with a nod, putting your lipstick away in your purse.

Today's plan was to go to a party a few blocks away, you had every intention of having a good time. Of course, that meant you would have to ignore Rafe all night, since he would also be attending the party.

"Are you two ready?!" Rafe's voice was heard from downstairs, echoing through the house. "I don't have all fucking day. Hurry the fuck up!"

"We're coming!" Sarah shouted back, slightly desperate at her older brother's insistence.

"It's not our fault that you don't know how to dress up and always look the same!" you added after. You wanted to say 'look as ugly' but you knew it would be a lie, a very bad one at that.

"Oh, and you, out of all people, are supposed to know how to dress up?!" Rafe's tone was a mocking one, you couldn't see him but you knew he had that stupid little smirk you hate so much on his lips.

You didn't answer, and left the room along with Sarah, starting down the stairs quickly so as not to keep him waiting any longer.

Rafe was seconds away from making another mocking comment, but all thoughts went out of his head as soon as he saw you coming down the stairs in a red dress, which fitted all the right places of your body.

He let his eyes roam your body from head to toe without shame or reservation, which you noticed.

"Shut your mouth Rafe, you'll catch a fly." you teased, taking notice of the way he stared at you, which if you had to be honest, made you feel slightly warm.

"Oh, fuck you, Y/N."

"You wish." you said with an amused tone, brushing by his side as you too roamed his body with your gaze.

"Flirt later, we have to go now." Sarah urged, smiling slightly as she saw the 'disgusted' and 'horrified' faces both of you had.

The three of you arrived at the party not even 10 minutes later, Rafe disappeared in the crowd, and it didn't take a genius to know he'd gone back to either selling or using.

It was a good party at that, you had to admit it. There was all sorts of drinks and substances, good music and a perfect ambiance.

You were slightly drunk already, nothing to worry about though, only the kind of drunk where everything is... good. You were happy, and had this constant need to dance and smile, things that did not go unnoticed by Rafe, who'd been staring at you from across the room for almost an hour now.

He just couldn't keep his eyes away from you, you were an alluring sight in the midst of the dancing crowd, with your red dress, bright smile and electrifying dance moves. It made him want to be the fucking air just to be around you.

Rafe hated to admit it, but you were so fucking pretty it hurt. And sometimes, he was almost convinced he claimed to hate you just to avoid facing the truth of what he genuinely felt.

It was easier to declare hate, than... that.

"She's hot, isn't she?" a kook said next to him, Rafe could barely remember his name, something like Brad, or was it Chad?

"Yeah," Rafe nodded his head, as his eyes focused on you once again. "Yeah, she is."

"Hopefully I'll get to hit that tonight." the man commented, Rafe furrowed his brows at the unnecessary comment as the man gave a forceful pat on his shoulder, and approached you.

Rafe wanted to blame the alcohol and the drugs for it, but the wave of anger he felt was almost indescribable. He felt it surging inside him like an impulse he could barely hold back, his hands balled into fists at the sight and his jaw clenched.

He inhaled deeply, and looked away in an attempt to calm himself down and find something else to focus on, if you decided to get laid with that douche, it was not of Rafe's business. You two were nothing but enemies, so why was he so bothered by it?

He walked to the nearest table or surface he could find, and fished a little bag from his pocket, occasionally glancing at you, especially now that you were talking with the man.

"Leave me alone,"

Rafe heard your voice from afar, he raised his head, running a hand through his hair as he looked in your direction, as you talked with the man, arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

The smile had vanished from your face, you had stopped dancing and even though the music was unnecessarily loud, Rafe could tell your tone was serious. The guy said something, Rafe had no clue of what it was, but by the look on your face, it hadn't been good.

Should he do something? Rafe wasn't sure, but just in case he got closer to the scene, so he could hear what was being said. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt a normal conversation, and make you hate him even more.

The man placed a hand on your hip, which you slapped away, but the man did not relent and attempted to place a hand on your arm.

"Leave me alone, Brad." your tone was a serious one, which made Rafe understand that things were going south.

"Just once, c'mon," the man insisted and you shook your head. "If you dress like a slut, you'll get treated like one."

And that comment, mixed with the expression on your face, is what made Rafe snap.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Rafe approached the man, grabbed him by the shoulder to turn him around, and punched him square in the face, making sure his ring hit the man's nose.

"What the fuck man?!" the man on the ground questioned Rafe, as he put a hand on his nose to try to stop the bleeding.

"She told you to leave her alone." Rafe said firmly.

"Don't worry man, sluts are easy, you'll get your chance." the man had the nerve to say.

Whatever thread that had had Rafe's self-control in place snapped, and Rafe felt himself losing control as soon as he began kicking and beating the man up.

The party had long since stopped, people watched the scene intently, as if it were a reality show.

Rafe was beating the shit out of the man, who could barely cover himself to avoid the punches. You wanted to stop Rafe, but you knew that approaching him when he's this angry is a bad idea.

Kelce approached the scene, and at the same time, a friend of the man Rafe was beating up, attacked Topper.

The point is, in a matter of no time, a fight had broken out. And it was a mess.

People who had had nothing to do with it at the beginning were now involved, there were around 15-20 people fighting each other for unknown reasons, everyone else in the party was screaming or running, and as if that wasn't enough, it started to rain.

And sirens were heard.

You needed to get out of there, in desperation, you looked around for Sarah, but there was no sign of her, Topper wasn't on sight anymore, so you hoped his stupid ass had done something right for once and had gotten Sarah out of there.

Which only left Rafe, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

Any smart person would think twice and thrice before picking a fight with Rafe. He's 6'4 tall, has been going to the gym for over two years, has cocaine running through his veins most of the time, and over all—he has explosive rage, and no fear whatsoever to beat someone up.

You found him in the middle of the fight, still beating Brad up, who couldn't even strike him once, you knew you had to get Rafe out of there, Sarah would never forgive you if you left her brother behind.

"Rafe!" you called him, attempting to approach him, which was dangerous enough. "Rafe!"

"Stay the fuck back, Y/N!"

"We have to go!" you insisted, not caring what he had to say. "The police is here!"

That made Rafe stop mid-swing. He knew he was on thin ice, both with his father and the police, there was only so many offenses Shoupe could ignore, and his father had already warned him to stay out of trouble.

He aggressively let go of the man, making sure he fell to the ground before he kicked him one last time, and walked to where you were.

Without a word, Rafe grabbed you by the wrist with some force, and began dragging you out of the house, not caring about anything or anyone else.

"Rafe, let go of me."

"Shut your mouth and move."

Some people were after you, and honestly, you didn't want to find out if they wanted to fight Rafe or were just trying to leave the place, so you listened to him and hurried.

Both of you left the house and walked under the freezing, heavy rain, unfortunately Rafe had parked on another block, which meant you two would walk under the cold rain for an entire block.

By the time you made it to his truck, you dress was drenched as well as your hair, and you were a shivering mess, Rafe somehow seemed to be unbothered by the rain though.

"What about Sarah?" you questioned with slight urgency.

"Uh, Topper got her out of here," he said as he began to drive away. "I think."

"You think?!"

"A 'thank you' would be nice, y'know?!" Rafe snapped your way, his eyes burning holes in your exposed skin.

"Thank you," you admitted with a small nod, wrapping your arms around your own frame, attempting to warm up. "But I didn’t ask you to get into a fight for me."

"Well..." he shrugged carelessly, his eyes focused on the road ahead. "Try to be more grateful next time, yeah? I can't always go around, saving your ass."

Rafe wanted to add 'unless you want me to' at the end of that sentence, but he knew it would be in a top 10 lamest things to say, so he kept the thought to himself.

He really didn't mind getting into a fight for you, he'd do it again without a problem, but that doesn't mean his own willingness to do so doesn't bother him, why was he so willing to do this if he hated you? Does he actually hate you, for starters?

Knowing that you would be spending the night at Tanneyhill, Rafe drove home in silence. Once there, he got out of the truck without saying anything, and entered the house. You followed closely, still a shivering mess.

The house was empty. Ward, Wheezie and Rose were out for the weekend, and there was so sign of Sarah or Topper either.

"Shit," you mumbled, worried for your best friend's safety, you had tried to call her on the way here, but she hadn't picked up. "Are you sure Topper got her out of there?"

"Yeah," Rafe's voice was disinterested; and coming from the kitchen. "Stop worrying so much, is pathetic."

"You idi—" you insult was left incomplete when your eyes landed on Rafe.

It had been too dark outside and to messy in the party for you to notice how fucked up Rafe was, his brow, nose and lips had dried blood all over, and his knuckles were still bleeding.

"Holy shit, Rafe..." you mumbled in worry, approaching him quickly.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, staring at you and noticing how you were still trembling, your hair dripping down on his kitchen floor. "Go uh, go take a hot shower before you catch a cold."

"What?" you raised an eyebrow at him, wondering since when does he care if you catch a cold. "Let me—"

"No," he shook his head and pointed upstairs. "Go take a fucking shower or I'll drag you there."

It was supposed to be a threat, but it had felt far from that. Your body was pressed against his, faces close from each other and his voice had been low and raspy, in an attempt to intimidate you, but it only allured you.

"Let's make a deal," you proposed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. "I'll take a shower, only if you let me clean your wounds. If not—"

"Don't be fucking childish—"

"—and if I get sick, I'll blame you for it," you conditioned. "And you know that Sarah will get mad, right?"

"And do I care... why?" his tone was daring as he raised an eyebrow, ignoring the ache he felt.

"She will threaten to tell your dad that you went out, even though you were supposed to be grounded. And of course, you don't want Ward to know you gave two shits about his orders, do you?" you questioned, his silence was an answer already.

"You bitch..." Rafe mumbled.

Technically, you had done nothing but remind Rafe the predicament he'd be facing, but still, he wanted to blame you for all his problems, as always.

"So... will you stop acting like a little kid and let me clean those wounds?"

"Alright."

"Stop moving." you asked Rafe once again, making him grunt slightly at the feeling of the alcohol seeping into his wounds.

"Then stop being so fucking rough."

"Cry baby."

"Bitch."

"Idiot."

"Fuck you."

"In your dreams, Rafe." you mumbled over his lips, purposefully squeezing the cotton in between your fingers, so more alcohol would get in his lip wound.

You were leaning against Rafe's sink, he was standing right in front of you, both of you close to the mirror light so you could see his wounds more clearly.

You wanted to say it was because you were slightly drunk,—but the truth is that the effect of the alcohol had worn off—and you were left with your sole awareness of your actions, and your thoughts.

Having Rafe this close was incredibly tempting.

He had refused to sit down, so you'd started cleaning his wounds while standing up, and since the bastard is incredibly tall, he had to bend down so you could see what you were doing.

His face was inches away from yours, he had both hands resting on the edge of the sink, one arm on either side of your waist, trapping your body between the cabinet and his own body.

His body warmth had helped stop your shivering; still, Rafe could feel the cold, humid fabric of your dress against the skin of his arms, and he knew that if you hadn't taken a shower yet, it wasn't because you didn't want to, but because you're a fool and wanted to help him. He doesn't know why, and neither do you.

You were extremely focused on the cut in his eyebrow, while Rafe stared at you, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes.

There was only so much Rafe could take.

Without a second thought,—without thinking about what he would be admitting with this, —Rafe pressed his lips to yours.

Your first reaction was to freeze, unable to believe Rafe's lips were on yours, or that they felt so soft.

Feeling like an idiot, Rafe was about to pull away, but you quickly continued the kiss, dropping the bloodied piece of cotton into the sink, and placing your cold hands on his face. The coldness of your hands over his wounds made Rafe bite your lip, eliciting a soft moan from you.

Oh.

From there, things went smoothly, Rafe placed his hands on your waist, and with no effort required on his part, he sat you down near the sink, his lips still attached to yours. You spread your legs slightly, so he could stand between them; causing your dress to roll up around your waist, and up your legs.

Rafe was the one who broke away, looking directly into your eyes, searching for something, anything, to know that you were okay with this. You nodded at his silent question, wiping your lipstick off his lip with your thumb before he let out a little smirk and crashed his lips against yours again, placing both of his large, warm hands on your cold thighs.

With ease, your hands slid under Rafe's still wet shirt, the tips of your fingers caressing the skin of his abs, your nails clawing slightly on his pecs. Rafe's hands slid up your thighs and under your dress, taking it off your body with ease as you raised your arms over your head to make the job easier for him.

Your lips connected again once there were less layers of clothing between your skins, one of his hands wrapped the sides of your neck as you pulled him closer by the belt loops in his jeans, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He sneaked his right hand to your back, where he unlocked your bra and took it off, throwing it at the other end of the bathroom without a single care in the world. His lips trailed from yours, to your jaw, your neck and down your body, taking one nipple into his mouth as he massaged the other with his fingers.

You closed your eyes in bliss, feeling yourself getting wetter in your lace underwear, the one he'd yet to take off, so you'd do it for yourself.

You pushed him slightly by the shoulders, and he relented after a few seconds, giving you a confused look, the one that was replaced by one of lust at the sight of you taking off your underwear in front of him.

Rafe couldn't understand for the life of him, why you got down from the cabinet and started walking away from him. Had he done something wrong? Or were you just messing with his mind and his dick?

"What are you doing?" he asked you in confusion, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Me?" you questioned, playing dumb as you walked to his shower. "I'm gonna take a shower. You? Are free to join me."

You didn't even had to say it twice, Rafe took off his pants and underwear faster than he'd ever done anything in his entire life and followed you to the shower.

You turned on the shower just as you felt Rafe approaching you, his arms wrapping around your body and his lips going straight to your neck, one of his hands slid lower though, his middle finger slipped between your folds, making sure to graze over your clit, but not quite doing anything yet as the water hit your bodies.

It was cold as fuck, so both of you froze in place, you felt Rafe's chuckle over your skin before you heard it, and you shook your head in annoyance, biting your lip as he grazed your earlobe with his teeth, pulling it slightly.

The water soon got hotter and a thousand times more enjoyable. You attempted to turn around to face Rafe, but he didn't quite allow you to, in this position he had the upper hand, there was just no way you could turn the tables around, and for sure Rafe would relish in the dominance.

His thumb moved over your clit, doing circular motions over it while his index and middle finger teased your entrance, entering slowly, and pulling out suddenly, to then enter again, deeper this time.

And as if that wasn't enough teasing, his lips were sucking little spots all over your neck, especially under your ear, while his free hand twisted one of your nipples softly with the tips of his fingers.

“Do you have any idea of the things I wanna do to you?” he whispered in your ear. “I’ve had years to imagine.”

In no time, you were a moaning, whimpering mess in his arms, your ass grinding on him in all the right places, quickly hardening him.

You tried to remain quiet in case someone else was in the house, and it bothered Rafe, as he wanted to hear you repeating his name like a prayer more than anything else, so maybe, after all, he should've admitted he asked Topper to take Sarah away, on purpose.

His fingers were deep inside you, you threw your head back against his shoulder, your back pressed against his chest as you bit your lip, Rafe had a perfect sight of your face, and lower down, a perfect view of his hand disappearing between your legs.

It made him feel so fucking powerful, even more so than money did.

"Oh fuck—" you mumbled as he curled up his fingers in such a delicious way it made you clench your walls in hopes of feeling more. "So good."

The praise made Rafe let out a low grunt as he curled his fingers again, faster and deeper this time, he focused his other hand on your breasts, massaging them softly and in the right way.

"Rafe, please." you begged, your voice so desperate and filled with bliss he swore he could've came just by the sound of his name coming out of your lips in such a way.

"What do you want, princess?" he mumbled in your ear, his fingers accelerating in pace.

"I-" you struggled to say, even more so as he added a third finger. "I need you."

"And you have me."

And you really did, not only now, but always. You've always had him wrapped around your finger, it’s just that now he was more than happy with the way you were wrapping him.

"I need you inside me." you begged, letting out a soft moan as he licked the side of your neck and blew cold air right after.

"You want my dick?" he questioned with a cocky tone, curling his fingers just as you we're about to answer, the tip of his fingers touching your g spot perfectly.

"Y-yes."

"Beg for it."

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head in a mixture of things, his fingers, his rough voice in your ear, and yes, annoyance as well. You couldn't believe (but weren't exactly surprised either) that Rafe was making you beg for his dick.

And as it always happened whenever he decided to start his little games— you would follow and play along, play better, smarter and dirtier.

"Rafe Cameron, I swear that if you don't get inside me right now and make me cum, I'll find someone else who will," you threatened and felt him tense behind you, his fingers stilling inside you, still curled against your spot. "I bet JJ would."

That made him snap out of his games, just as you expected him to. The victorious smirk that found its way to your lips didn't disappear, not even when he pulled out his fingers from inside you and turned you around.

His fingers gripped the sides of your jaw harshly, his eyes staring deeply into yours as the hot water splashed against your back and onto his chest, over your shoulder.

"You're gonna regret that."

Rafe's voice was low and raspy, and if it hadn't been for the lust darkening his eyes, then maybe you would've felt threatened by it. The truth is he looked hot as hell, his wet hair was slicked back, and the steam made his eyes seem bluer, his nose, plump lips and cheeks were red, his skin glistening under the light.

"Open." he demanded, you opened your mouth as he asked, he pulled you closer and without saying a word, he spat in your mouth, softening the grip on your jaw so you could close your mouth and swallow easier. "Good girl."

You tried to look away, but Rafe saw perfectly clear how your cheeks got covered in red, and made a mental note to call you good girl more often.

Rafe knew exactly what to do to get you to take back what you said, so he bent down slightly to wrap his arms around your thighs, and picked you up from the floor, wrapping your thighs around his torso, his dick now grazing your entrance.

“You sure you can take it?” he questioned over your lips, one arm wrapped around you as he teased your entrance with his tip.

Your eyes rolled at his words, and for once, it wasn’t out of annoyance, but because of how fucking hot he sounded.

“Please Rafe…”

Without wasting more time, Rafe aligned himself and sank you down on him, letting out a hoarse groan in delight of how tight you felt, both of you stilled for a second, giving you time to adjust to his size. You felt so fine around him he could’ve finished right there, but he owed you more than that.

You needed him to move, anything, so you clenched around him, trailing your nails down his back. That was his cue, he placed both hands in your hips and started to move your body with ease, the water that ran down on your bodies made your skins glide over one another easier, not to mention he was desperate to fuck you silly once and for all.

To keep you from slipping, Rafe put you against the wall, pounding into you, one of his hands holding your hips while his other arm pressed against the wall to get some leverage.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbled in your ear as he kept his relentless pace. “So fucking good.”

You wanted to say something in return, but he was hitting all the right spots, fucking you so well you couldn’t form a coherent sentence, all you could do was let out moans and repeat his name like it was all you ever knew.

It didn’t take long for you to start clenching around his dick, letting him know he was doing a good job and you were getting closer to your release, and so was he, but was holding himself back.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you asked in his ear, leaving a sloppy kiss on his jaw. “I’m almost there.”

“Come on,” he urged you, making an effort and picking up his pace, angling his hips differently so he’d hit the perfect spot, and slipping his hand between your bodies, the tips of his fingers going straight to your clit, circling and rubbing. “Come for me, princess. Come around my dick.”

It was almost as if your release had been waiting for his permission, because as soon as he said those words, you reached your highest point of pleasure, letting out a moan of his name as he kept thrusting his hips, riding your high as he too, found his release.

Then came silence, nothing but your accelerated breaths and the shower could be heard, Rafe barely held you up as he regained his breath, and your head was resting on his shoulder as you recovered from such high.

Slowly, you unwrapped your legs from his hips and pulled him out of you, but just as your feet touched the tiles, your legs shook and if it hadn’t been for his arm around your body, you would’ve fallen to the floor.

Sensing the cocky comment he would make, you turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Not a word, Cameron.”

“Wasn’t gonna say anything, Y/L/N” he shook his head innocently, wetting his lips slowly. “Who would’ve thought you’d be such a good girl for me, tho?”

The redness that coated your cheeks confirmed Rafe’s theory about your praise kink, information he would never forget, and would definitely use in his favour.

“Shut up…” you mumbled, slowly standing up straighter, your legs still shaking slightly.

“Need some help?” he asked in a cocky tone, which earned him a slap on the chest; courtesy of you. “I mean it this time, you look like you need some help.”

“Maybe.” you admitted.

“Fine,” he agreed, leading you to the little surface on the edge of the shower, originally designed to put bottles and such, but would serve as a seat for you. “Which one, mint scented or…” he narrowed his eyes at the bottle as he ran a hand through his wet hair. “uh, ocean breeze, whatever that shit is?”

You couldn’t believe Rafe Cameron was asking you about shampoo scents after fucking you till your legs stopped working.

“Mint.” you replied and he nodded his head, grabbing the bottle and getting closer to you.

“Because of the rain.”

“Both of you are wearing different clothes, his clothes, with matching wet hairs and mint shampoo scent… because of the rain?” Sarah raised an eyebrow at your explanation, trying her best to hide a smile.

Your lie sucked and you know it, after showering properly, Rafe had lent you an old shirt of his and an old pair of sweatpants that hung low on your hips.

“Yeah…”

“Next time you two want to…” Sarah made a hand gesture that made you clear your throat slightly. “Just ask me to leave, no need for Topper to take me away like that.”

“I—“

“And by the way, I told you so.” Sarah said with an amused smile, her eyes flickering from you to her brother and then back to you.

“Uh, whatever do you mean?” Rafe said in a bored tone, waiting for his sister to go away so he could finally settle things with you, talk about how things would be from on.

“I told you two that you didn't hate each other,” Sarah shrugged. “Turns out I was right.”

And with that victorious comment, she exited the kitchen, leaving you and Rafe alone to sort things out.

While there had been no verbal confessions, what had happened between the two of you made it clear that you and Rafe did not hate each other.

Rafe certainly wouldn't have washed your hair and body, lent you some of his most comfortable clothes, and prepared you something to eat right after if he hated you as badly as he claimed to.

Rafe knew exactly what he felt for you, he was tired of claiming to hate you just to have a feeling to declare for you, the truth is that he was almost sure he has loved you since he was 8 years old, but it would be something he would discover slowly with you. He couldn’t do this alone.

Love is not a feeling he is familiar with, he had no clue how it looked like, or what it felt like... but Rafe somehow knew he felt it for you. If not, then he can't fucking explain why he feels the way he does when you're around.

And after knowing what it's like to be inside you, how good you feel around him, and how good you make him feel, Rafe would have to be crazy to let you go.

Whether you two were enemies or lovers, you were his.

His to fight with, his to dance with, his to fuck senselessly, his to caress, his to hate, his to love.

3K notes · View notes

handsswritten · 12 days ago

Text

5 days, 1 boat.

summary: rafe gets you & him stuck in a boat in the middle of nowhere for 5 days, with no signal and having to wait for the patrol. ‘Accidentally’.

warnings: swearing, (rough) smut, manhandling, choking kink, rafe being a plotting lil shit, my english.

click for my master list.

word count: 8.2K [sorry it’s kinda long. went overboard w this]

DAY 0

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you analyzed the blond standing in front of you, your arms were crossed firmly across your chest. His eyebrows were raised as he awaited your answer, his back pressed against the kitchen island.

"And you want me to accompany you, why?" You questioned, waiting for a decent explanation.

"’Cause your brother has an event with Topper and Kelce," he explained quickly as he shrugged his shoulders with ease. "And I need someone to go with me."

For more context, Rafe Cameron had asked you to accompany him on a little trip on his boat, there is a very specific kind of fish he wants to catch passing through the waters near Outer Banks; Rafe justifies his need to get that fish because it is his father's favorite, and he wants to show himself capable of catching it.

"And why don't you ask your sisters for help?" you questioned him, with some suspicion still.

"Mm, because they are my sisters." he answered with obviousness, it was a simple but logical answer; the truth is that not even his sisters could stand his annoying ass.

And that's what brought him to you, or at least that's what he's implying. And while you don't actually believe him, it's not like you could perceive any hidden intentions. You should've, but you couldn't.

You see, even though Damien, your older brother, and Rafe have been friends for YEARS, your relationship with Rafe isn't precisely the best. He has always been annoying, selfish, egocentric, and an idiot.

A hot idiot; for that matter, which made it complicated to hate him.

The relationship the two of you shared was based in teasing, lots of it, but of course, over the years it has changed. It went from a young Rafe teasing you for crying over princess' movies, to letting his eyes linger in your lips for longer than usual, casual grazings, and shameless comments.

All that, combined with his idiotic attitude, made the two of you have a constant banter-based relationship; all you two did was bicker, tease and sass the hell out of each other. Just like an old, married couple. Except you two weren't married, and couldn't make up as easily.

It drove your brother insane. He didn't care what it was that would get you and Rafe to stop bantering. He just wanted the two of you to stop.

"So? Are you coming with me or..." Rafe insisted, you had taken way too long to answer a simple yes or no question.

You already knew it was probably one of the worst ideas he'd ever had, and considering it's impulsive, spontaneous Rafe we're talking about... it was indeed terrible.

"No." you replied simply, with no further explanation or motives as to why.

Rafe looked actually taken aback by that, not being used to getting 'no' for an answer, not even from you. Though, he knew the only reason you'd said no was to contradict him, and you, having no apparent reason to refuse, was an open invitation for Rafe to keep insisting.

"Come on, it'll only be two days out," Rafe insisted, using the nicest voice he could. "Out there in the nice sea, in the Druthers, with food, drinks and a nice AC system... yeah?"

"You do realise my family also has a boat with AC?" you cleverly added. "And if I wanted to, I could go out to the nice sea with snacks too."

"But uh, do tell me, does your boat have a double jacuzzi?" he questioned you with a raised eyebrow, and at that, you shut your mouth.

"I—"

"Uh huh, exactly."

"I can live without it."

"Oh, c'mon Y/N," Rafe sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a few seconds, as if recharging his patience before adding. "I'll give you whatever you want, whatever it is, I'll get it for you. The only condition is you coming with me."

That really got you thinking.

Your family had money and influence, but no more than the Camerons. What Rafe promised you could range from drugs, to designer clothes and handbags, to that sort of thing. It really was anything.

Rafe may be an idiot, too impulsive and lately, coked out 90% of the time, but he can have a way with words if he puts his mind to it, you had to give that to him.

Somehow, the idiot had made it sound like an enjoyable proposition, a good weekend. A great fucking idea.

Yes. You two, going out there to the middle of the sea, alone. Like a great idea.

You already knew it was the worst fucking idea you'd agreed to in your entire life.

"Fine."

"You won't regret it."

You probably would, but oh well. Mistakes are the best teachers out there.

DAY 1

When you'd told your mother you were on your way out on a boat trip with Rafe, she had seemed happy the two of you had finally figured out your differences. She didn't really mind you being gone for God knows how long with someone like Rafe, and that speaks volumes.

In any way, you left. Rafe had waited for you to arrive at the dock near his house, and had complained about you being late, even though you weren't and he knew it.

In no time at all, the two of you were out. Rafe told you it would take a day to get there, and if the fishing went well, then he could catch the fish tomorrow and return the same day.

It didn't seem like a bad plan, so you saw no reason to complain, it seemed fair. And if it wasn't so many days together you could easily ignore him.

Rafe had kept his word about the ship's commodities, there were all kinds of snacks, drinks, and he had brought other kinds of substances. It was actually very comfortable, and a part of you was glad you'd accepted.

"From uh, alright so, from here, we have to go north," Rafe explained briefly as he pointed to the map, he slurred his words and constantly ran his finger under his nose.

"Uh huh." you replied distractedly, comfortable in the booth, with a bowl of blackberries to yourself and not paying attention to what he said.

"And then we have to stay there for a few hours," Rafe added and when he noticed you weren't paying attention, he rolled his eyes so badly he could've sworn he saw the inside of his head. But he's also high, so not very reliable. "Look, if I'm telling you this, it's because I don't want you to act like a bitch, alright?"

"Excuse you?" that comment totally got your attention, your eyebrows were raised in his direction, your expression surprised. And that was exactly what Rafe wanted.

"I don't want you to start bitching around ‘cause we stop for hours or ‘cause I ask you to shut up while I focus."

"I won't," you said with a roll of your eyes, throwing a berry at him. "I can easily ignore you."

"Don't," he shook his head, as he picked the berry up from the table and ate it. "Need you around."

"What for?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" his eyes were focused back on the map as he leant over the table, trying to triangulate the perfect place.

"No, but I don't get you," you admitted with a frustrated tone. "You confuse the shit out of me."

"Well," he sighed heavily, waving you away with his hand. "You're always free to question me, and try to psycho fucking analyze me or whatever the hell you want, but in silence, yeah?"

"Then why did you bring me here?"

"I told you already," his tone was a tired one, as if he really didn't have the time or patience to say it again. "I can't do this alone. Someone has to watch over the boat while I fish."

"Right..." you narrowed your eyes at him, your suspicions being ignited again.

That excuse could've easily been bought by you, Rafe had a shitty luck when it came to trying to do something nice for his father; every time Rafe tried to prove himself, it totally backfired.

But it wasn't enough of an excuse. Only now is when you sense he's planning something else, you can only wish it's not a plan to leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere to finally get rid of you, which is a thing you believe he is very capable of.

DAY 2.

"Any time now," Rafe mumbled in utter concentration, his lower lip in between his teeth, his hands wrapped around the fishing rod. "Any time."

You nodded your head silently, you sat next to him, observing him closely while he attempted to catch the fish. Although, he'd been standing there for 20 minutes and so far, had caught nothing.

5 more minutes passed and still nothing, so Rafe sighed heavily and left the rod in its place, with the hook still underwater. Rafe moved to take a seat next to you as he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

"So, why exactly are you being such a nice son and catching a fish that, apparently, doesn't want to be caught, for your father?" You questioned him, handing him a bottle of water after he glared at you for not doing it as soon as he sat down.

"Because I uh, I fucked up, again." he admitted with a heavy sigh, taking a big gulp of water.

"Yeah, figured."

"You're such a bitch, you know that?"

"And yet, you like me enough to have me around, so..." you shrugged in amusement, causing Rafe to roll his eyes at your attitude, however he didn't contradict you or spoke against your words. "So tell me, what did you do this time?"

"What didn't I do," his eyes were closed again, his head resting against the booth as you stared at him, his side profile, the way the sun hit his skin and his hair got messy by the wind. "Bought a bike with the backup generator money, I tried to steal, almost crashed the truck after a bad trip. And yelled at his precious little Sarah."

"Oh wow, you're the example of a good son." you replied with sarcasm. "Always doing the right thing, aren't you Rafe?"

"Oh, you're telling me 'Miss-I-fucked-a-young-Italian-dad-during-my-trip-and-he-was-my-father’s-associate.'" Rafe teased you with a cocky smile, causing you to turn your head to look at him with such a speed it was a miracle your neck hadn't snapped.

"How do you even know about that?" you questioned him; slightly bothered by it as you hit his shoulder with your open hand.

"I may, or may not have heard your phone call with Sarah over the phone."

"You mean eavesdropped?"

"The same shit," he shrugged in indifference, not really bothered by it. "So you're into older guys, yeah?"

"Like you care." you snorted, taking a sip of your beer.

"Call it curiosity."

Just as you were about to answer his question, to let him know something he actually wanted to know, the fishing rod began to twitch and wobble, almost falling overboard, were it not for the fact that you reached out to hold it at the same time he did, your hands brushing.

Rafe cleared his throat and began to pull the line, as the fish tried to flee for its life. After a battle in which you just watched; having no fucking clue about fishing; Rafe caught the fish. It was surprisingly big and beautiful, definitely not the kind of fish you can get from inside of Outer Banks.

"Oh, finally!" you said with a tone of incomparable joy, you were so happy to finally be able to leave there.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "We can go now."

"Thanks! I'll go start the engine."

You were so excited to get home, and happy that the idiot had finally gotten something right, that you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying to put your things away.

Rafe stood still in place, feeling the ghost of your lips on his cheek as a small smirk appeared on his lips.

But Rafe knew you two wouldn't leave just yet, and it wouldn't be long before you realized it as well.

3,2,1...

"Rafe?" you called him from the cabin. "We have no fuel."

"What do you mean?" he asked as he walked down the stairs to where you stood, staring at the machinery.

"It says empty, we have no gas."

"Well uh, that's bad." he said with a nod of his head, and even though the situation was indeed very bad, Rafe didn't sound concerned, like at all.

"Yeah, no shit."

"I guess we'll have to wait for someone to find us," he shrugged and your eyes widened at how much he didn't care. "Hey! Don't you look at me like that. What the fuck do you want me to do? There's no fuel and no signal."

Now is when you started to catch up with what he was up to, without saying anything you walked to the little compartment where you knew the Camerons kept an extra gallon of gas, just in case. The compartment was empty, and the phone was nowhere to be seen.

Oh. Oh.

"You asshole!" you turned to look at him; with an accusing finger held up high, pointed at his direction.

"Watch your tone, princess."

"You got us stuck here—"

Rafe didn't say anything; but an amused chuckle left his lips as his eyes ran over your body, picking up on every display of anger you showed.

"It's not funny, Rafe."

"Oh, I know," he said with a nod of his head, but that annoying smirk didn't leave his lips. "I know."

"Then why are you smiling?"

Rafe's smile only grew wider, and without saying anything else, he went back upstairs to deal with the fish, leaving you back in the cabin, completely dumbfounded.

DAY 3.

To say you were angry at him was an understatement, but you were at that point of anger where you didn't even bother to show it, you immediately resorted to ignoring Rafe.

You knew it had been a bad idea to even listen to him, but you did it, and now you were dealing with the consequences.

Where exactly did you think listening and trusting Rafe would get you? He's as stupid as your brother, you really should've known better.

There was no way you two could go anywhere, and since there was no phone signal there, you two couldn't ask anyone for help.

The only option left was to wait for the patrol to... fucking patrol and find you two out there. The thing is... it's a festive day back in Outer Banks, and knowing just how 'competent' the police is... It would take the patrol 2 more days, if not 3.

Luckily, there was enough food and resources to last a whole ass month there, but that wasn't what worried you.

It's the fact that it wouldn't just be 3 days with him. But... 5 days stuck in a boat with Rafe Cameron. All by yourselves.

So you better make it worth it.

You had had your doubts about it at first, but now you were more than grateful that you had packed your swimsuit.

Since you were giving Rafe the cold shoulder, you would have to find another way to entertain yourself; and being that you two are in the sea and the weather is nice, the most logical and comfortable thing to do would be to lie down on your towel, put on your sunglasses, and at least get a good tan out of it.

Rafe on the other hand, was annoyed with himself. He knew it was among the possibilities that you would get mad at him and do just what you are doing now, which is ignoring him completely.

But the truth is that Rafe was hoping that the situation would have a different resolution, that this anger would not end in not talking to each other, rather, it would push you two to do something else.

He hadn't seen you since last night, when you two had an argument during dinner about what an idiot he'd been for not making sure the fuel was enough, and he'd made you more angry by asking you why it bothered you so much to be alone with him.

Rafe teased you and gloated at the fact that he could manage to get you so nervous with just staring at you.

He knew why you were nervous. It's the same reason why he seemed so hell bent on trying to get you to admit it.

However, it was his turn to be nervous and your turn to gloat now.

Rafe felt his heart almost leap out of his chest as soon as he saw you come out of the booth, in your bathing suit, the one that accentuated every curve of your body. You'd worn it around him before, and the last time you did, he had to excuse himself to take an ice-cold shower, to deal with the hard-on.

You seemed not to have seen him, or if you had, then you did a very good job of pretending he wasn't there.

Once you knew you were within his range of view and he could see you perfectly well, you bent over to lay your towel on the floor of the boat, feeling the fabric of your bathing suit slide slightly over your bottom. It wasn't much, but just enough.

Rafe's jaw tightened so bad he feared his teeth would crack, to keep from letting out a groan at the sight, he closed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white; trying to get the image of you, bent over a few feet in front of him in nothing but your bathing suit, out of his mind.

Rafe knew you were doing it on purpose, you knew how much he liked that bathing suit on you, after all, he'd flirt with you every single time you wore it. But today? Right now? You were playing very dirty games with his head.

And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way your skin glowed under the sun, how well your swimsuit fit, and the fact that you were doing this to provoke him, caused his shorts to feel too tight all of a sudden.

Rafe didn't even know what to do with himself, and decided to go take a cold bath; he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of messing with his head like that.

He exited the small cabin he was in, you lifted your head to see him walk. Rafe looked a little uncomfortable and you noticed how he slightly tugged the front of his shorts as he walked.

"What, do I make you nervous, Rafey?" you teased in a loud voice, causing him to turn around and flip you off. Without saying anything else, Rafe entered another door and slammed it shut.

And with that, a little smile of victory appeared on your lips.

LATER ON DAY 3

Eventually, tanning got boring. You looked down at your own body, and lifted the edge of your swimsuit slightly, the tan lines were just the way you liked them, on point.

Full of satisfaction and happy with yourself, you gathered your things and decided to go back inside, maybe to take a bath and eat something.

You entered quietly, not wanting to attract Rafe's attention. You walked down the hallway to the bathroom, and there was no sign of him so far.

Just as you grabbed the bathroom doorknob to open it; the door opened. Out of the bathroom came Rafe, with nothing but a towel tied around his hips. You stopped dead in your tracks in the hallway at the sight, which you couldn't deny; it was very good.

The towel was wrapped around Rafe's hips, low enough so that his prominent V-line was visible to a rather dangerous point, one you didn't want to let your eyes get to.

He was shirtless, you had a perfect view of his defined torso and muscular arms, some droplets of water still rolled down his body, making a path from his chest, down his abdomen, and getting lost under his towel.

His hair was still wet, with a middle part, framing his face perfectly. His blue eyes were fixed on you, and you realized, —too late already—, there was a little smile on his lips, prompted by the way you were undressing him with your eyes.

"What, do I make you nervous, princess?" he questioned you, using the same condescending tone and smirk you had earlier; as he took a step closer to you.

You genuinely felt your knees weaken at his voice and the way he looked, but you were too proud to let him know that, so you simply shrugged.

"Come closer and maybe I'll tell you." you teased with a low tone, letting your eyes travel through his body.

Rafe's smirk widened, he thought that finally you two were on the same page, thinking about the same thing, and more importantly, that it would happen. He took a confident step towards you, so this way he was towering over you, his chest barely inches away from yours, his lips basically hovering over yours.

You placed both hands on his body, letting them travel from his abs all the way to his chest, causing him to bite his lip at the feeling. Rafe leant down even more, his lips grazing with yours, breaths mixing and skin touching.

And then...

You pushed him out of the way and locked yourself in the bathroom.

DAY 4

By doing that, provoking Rafe in that way and then putting a door between the two of you; you had started a silent game, in which you were provoking each other in an obvious way, waiting for one of you to give in.

After hours of playing tease, any slight contact or brush from Rafe's skin against yours had you biting your lip to silence a sound, and any look you gave Rafe with your bedroom eyes had him on the verge of jumping your bones.

The staring game got a little too heavy for Rafe, so he stood up from the booth and walked to the kitchen, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up and immediately taking a drag.

You knew you couldn't let him get away with it, at least not without trying, so you stood up and walked to the kitchen as well, if he asked, then being dinner time would be a perfect excuse.

Rafe heard you walk into the kitchen, but paid no mind, deciding to focus solely on his cigarette, placing a hand on the kitchen island and letting his head hang low.

Funny enough, the drawer where pans are kept is right where Rafe is, by his left hand, and sure as hell you wouldn't ask anything from him. Which left you with an only choice.

You walked to where Rafe stood, which he noticed as he turned his head to look at you, and right when he took a step back, you found the perfect opportunity to slip right between him and the kitchen island, your body grinding on him, in all the right places.

The sound of Rafe's breathing picking up gave you a sense of victory, as you remained in front of him and bent slightly to take out the pan you needed, only to walk away right when you felt him harden behind you and the ghost of his hand over your hip.

He really thought he had you. Again.

Your smile of victory didn't disappear, not even when the stove wouldn't turn on and you had to resort to chopping fruit and hoping that was enough to rid your hunger.

Now is when Rafe found the perfect opportunity to tease you back, seeing as you were completely distracted while cutting fruit. He slowly walked back into the kitchen, making sure you couldn't hear him. You were completely clueless to his presence, even when he stood right behind you.

However, as soon as Rafe took another step closer; you did become aware of his presence. Very.

"Oh, don't mind me." he mumbled in your ear.

"What are you doing?" you asked, pretending to be completely unbothered, while the reality is that you're screaming on the inside. His chest was pressed to your back, one of his hands had found its way to your hips, and his breath tingled in your ear.

And right there was when he reached out to grab a glass; which was on the cabinet above your head.

The reality is that Rafe didn't have to stretch to reach the glass, it was just a matter of raising his arm. But where was the fun in that?

As he stretched, his body pressed even closer against yours, you could feel him hard against you, his breath now in your ear. And in an attempt to avoid his lips, you bent over, a move that only served in Rafe's favor, causing you to bite your lip in an attempt to silence the moan that would come from your lips.

Both were thinking the same thing. Of just how easy it would be for him to take you right there and then.

But you wouldn't give up just yet, no sir, you still had one ace up your sleeve. Which is why you picked up your fruit tray and slid out from the right space between the bar and Rafe's body.

***

Normally, you wouldn't care if Rafe decided to just watch you eat instead of eating something himself, but right now it had you on edge.

He was sitting on the seat in front of you, his legs spread slightly, his hands on his thighs, and his eyes fixed on you. He was basically manspreading, ocassionally lifting his hips from the chair to 'get comfortable', but you weren't stupid.

"Are you done flexing your muscles now?" you asked boredly, raising an eyebrow at Rafe.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed again as you stood up, his eyes followed your hand closely, especially when you drove your fingers to your lips and sucked the remaining fruit juice off them. The sight almost made him roll his eyes, but not in annoyance.

"I'm going to the jacuzzi," you announced, letting your eyes travel over him. "You do you."

Even though it had not been an open or direct invitation, you knew Rafe had understood the innuendo.

You hurried to the jacuzzi, taking off your clothes as the water heated up, you poured the bubble soap while letting your hair down, knowing that Rafe wouldn't be long in coming, although he wasn't hot on your heels to disguise how desperate he was, you knew he was coming for you.

As you stared at the steaming, bubbly water, a wicked idea found its way to your mind.

Meanwhile, Rafe paced back and forth in the hallway, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, especially when he stopped and had that urge to open the bathroom door where he knew you were.

He wanted this. He had been waiting for years for you to figure it out, but you never did and he wouldn't risk anything.

But now? Now you're just a door away, and what's holding him back is his pride. Knowing that if he opens that door, he's admitting his need for you. Proving that chasing after you is more important than his pride.

He cursed himself for what felt the longest time before giving in and opening the bathroom door. The first thing he saw was steam. Lots of it. It made him squint his eyes while they trailed over the place in search of you.

His eyes fell on the jacuzzi, it was filled with small bubbles, the room smelt like vanilla. Rafe just stood near the entrance, his eyes slowly travelling through the bubbles, for he knew he'd find you at the edge of the jacuzzi.

And there you were, your back pressed against the side of the jacuzzi, arms spread over the edge, the bubbly water covering your body, stopping right below your collarbone, just atop of your chest.

His mind automatically went places, but Rafe kept his thoughts at bay as he took off his shirt without a word. You did nothing but stare at him, your eyes following every move, from the way he gripped the edge of his shirt, to the way he slid it off his body and his torso came into view.

Rafe took a step closer, but he felt something soft under his foot, so he looked down. And what did he find?

Your swimming suit.

At first he didn't process entirely what it meant, but then his eyes widened. You were naked. In the jacuzzi that's just a couple of steps away from him. And he was just... standing there like an idiot? Rafe was embarrassed of himself.

A soft giggle escaped your lips when you noticed how flustered Rafe suddenly was, he actually struggled while taking off his shorts and if you hadn't been so amused by the view, you would have offered to help.

Eventually he stopped fumbling with its ties, and right when he pulled it down his hips, you looked away. Your tongue glided over your teeth as you felt the temptation to look, but you were stronger than that.

"Enjoying the jacuzzi you said you could live without?" Rafe asked in a calm tone as he got in it, sitting by your right side.

"Very much," you assured, running your hand through the water, moving the bubbles slightly, you really had no intention other than to distract yourself from how nervous you were, still, Rafe tried to see through the bubbles.

Rafe couldn't handle himself anymore, he had denied himself for so long that he wanted you. Told himself he was crazy. But now that he has you in front of him and has spent 4 days alone with you, he is more than sure that he wants you.

And he will do anything to have you.

He knew this would be pathetic, lame even, but it would work.

As both did nothing but enjoy the hot tub, and tried to ignore each other's bodies, Rafe discreetly slid his hand to the side control panel of the hot tub.

Although he would never admit it, Rafe spends so much time in the hot tub that he learned the controls by heart. So he knew exactly which buttons to push to disable two of the hot tub jets, the ones on your side, for that matter.

Your state of relaxation was interrupted as soon as you stopped feeling the hot water flowing on your side of the jacuzzi, the vibrations had stopped and you no longer felt the soft massages on your skin.

You raised your head and opened your eyes, noticing that indeed, the water stopped on your side. "What the..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe asked, his eyes closed as he did his best to hide a little smirk.

"The water just... stopped." you replied in confusion, not understanding why he was so calm.

"Oh, that's bad, my side is just fine." he replied simply, opening his eyes.

You rolled your eyes at his disinterested tone. You couldn't believe that you had actually gone out of your way to plan all this, and he couldn't even stop being an idiot for a second.

Utterly done with his bullshit, you slowly moved to the little steps that led out of the hot tub, the last thing you wanted was to slip and embarrass yourself.

However, before you could even reach them, you felt long fingers wrapping around your wrist, his skin was soft and warm due to the hot bubbly water. You turned to look at him, doing your best to keep your eyes focused on his.

"Come closer." his voice was calm, his fingers softly tugged your wrist; as if wanting to pull you closer but not quite to make you uncomfortable.

'Fuck it.' you thought.

You complied to his request and walked slowly to where he sat, the bubbles doing all the work and covering your body from his. You kept getting closer, Rafe slowly opened his legs, so you could stand between them.

The feeling of the skin of his thighs against yours was your cue to stop, knowing that if you took one step closer, you'd feel him against you.

His eyes bore on yours. The light blue of his eyes was darkened by the lust running through his body, his pupils were dilated, his lips plump and red. He was one hell of a beautiful man.

Your faces were inches away from each other, but neither would yield to temptation.

You bit your lip slightly as soon as you felt Rafe's large hands resting on your hips, while the grip wasn't too strong, it was firm, showing he wasn't hesitating.

Testing the waters, you took a step closer and he let you, the grip on your waist becoming firmer and more secure, you could even say you felt him pulling you into his body slightly.

Keeping eye contact; Rafe's hand began to slide lightly, letting go of your waist, brushing your hip with his fingertips. His hand moved down to your thigh, where he too caressed your thigh with his fingertips, drawing imaginary circles, which moved closer and closer to the center of your legs.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, you felt fire in the pit of your stomach. You wanted him. And you wanted him now. But you also didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Maybe after all you were as stubborn as he claimed you were.

You motioned to move your leg, and immediately, Rafe took a hold of your thigh, stopping you. A smirk appeared on your lips.

Without saying anything, you yielded to his touch and moved even closer, putting your leg over his thigh, and quickly bringing the other leg up as well, straddling him.

The direct contact of your skin with Rafe's, your core brushing against his dick... made him let out an agitated sigh right in your ear.

And you would have teased him about it, but the truth is that the contact of his hard dick against your body almost made you moan. He was right under you, all it took was for you to raise slightly and for him to align himself.

Ignoring how much you wanted to grind on him, you put your arms around his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck in the process, moving even closer, your chest pressed against his and your chin resting on his shoulder, wanting to enjoy the warm water a while longer before the inevitable happened.

Rafe didn't know if this was a gift or a punishment; either way, he was enjoying it as much as he was suffering from it. His arms wrapped around your body, your breasts pressed against his chest, your pussy brushing just the right places on his dick.

If this is the game you wanted to play, then Rafe would be just as good at it.

He lifted his hips slightly and at that you couldn't help but let out a gasp, which you prayed he hadn't heard, but he did, and it only fed his ego.

As his fingertips caressed your spine, Rafe moved your hair from your shoulders to get access, and brought his lips to your neck.

He started with innocent kisses, little brushes of his lips against your skin, while his fingertips caressed your skin.

However, Rafe was determined to break you.

He brought his lips to the small spot below your ear, where he sucked, receiving an audible moan from you. One of his hands had slid down your back until it ended at your ass, which he squeezed and used to push your body against his, grinding on him.

"Fuck..." you mumbled, throwing your head back out of mere instinct.

He had so many dirty comments to make, but he decided to concentrate on you. Since you had thrown your head back, he had more access to your neck. He brought his lips to your skin again, starting to leave little bites and kisses all over, while one of his hands traveled to your breasts, his fingers taking one of your nipples and giving it a twist on his fingers.

At this you squirmed slightly on top of him, your hips moving against his, rubbing his dick in such a perfect way that it made him growl against your skin.

"You like that, princess?" I murmur against your skin, voice husky. "Want me to do it again?"

"Yes." you mumbled breathlessly.

"Yes what?"

Oh, his bitch ass wanted you to beg?

Slightly annoyed by his cockiness, you purposefully grinded your hips against his; making sure to touch him in all the right places.

Rafe let out a mixture of a groan and a moan at that, your attitude only teasing him further. He slid the hand that had been on your nipple, now focusing on the space between your legs.

And as soon as you saw the cocky smirk on his lips and his lustful stare, you knew it was over for you.

His fingers moved deftly between your legs, as you grasped his jaw and moved his head to the side, so that you could have access to his neck and an efficient way to quiet the sounds he would elicit from you.

His index finger slipped between your folds, while his thumb searched for your clit until he found it, and began to give circular notions.

He had found it, and fast. That's why you were surprised and accidentally left a little bite on his neck, which was welcomed by Rafe, as he started to speed up his thumb and slid his middle finger inside you.

"Rafe," you murmured, your walls automatically tightening around his finger.

"Does this feel good?" he murmured in your ear as his thumb accelerated his movements, he slid his ring finger in as well, your walls clenching at his voice. "Oh it does, you're already clenching around my fingers, princess."

Now he had two fingers inside you, which he began to move in a come hither motion, hitting your spot, the one you didn't know existed, but Rafe (of all people) had found in a matter of minutes.

"Fuck Rafe-"

He could feel you, how your walls clenched around his fingers so tightly it was hard for him to move them, your kisses on his neck had become sloppy and wet, your eyes were closed.

And just when you felt you would reach the tip of ecstasy, Rafe pulled his fingers out of you.

You were about to insult him, but he spoke first, taking your jaw with one of his hands, fixing his eyes on yours.

"The first time I make you cum, it will be on my dick, yeah?"

And you swore you could've come right there. Just by his words.

"Yeah?" he questioned again, making you realize it had been more of a way to get your permission.

"Yeah." you nodded your head eagerly, and that was all he needed.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you and stood up, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, biting your lip in anticipation for what was about to come.

Rafe knew the boat like the back of his hand, so in a matter of no time, both were in his room, Rafe placed you down on his bed, not caring in the least that you were wetting it and dripping it with bubbles.

Rafe was soon close to you again, his lips on your skin. Your breathing started to become erratic, unable to control yourself in the face of the new sensations. His kisses traveled all over your neck, part of your shoulders and even on your jaw.

Without a word, Rafe grabbed you with moderate force by the jaw, and caught your lips with his immediately.

You lost yourself in the kiss completely, the sensation of his lips against yours being a new piece of paradise you had just discovered.

Forbidden paradise at that. Rafe Cameron himself was making you feel like this, it was wrong… but it felt so right.

You laid completely on your back as he hovered on top of you, his lips still on yours. The kiss wasn't like you imagined your first kiss with him would be, this one was.... More desperate, with lust.

Unable to stay still and wanting to discover your whole body, Rafe began to leave kisses and little bites on your neck, making your skin hot with desperation. You tried to grab his face to bring him back to your lips, but as soon as you tried, he pulled away from you, took your wrists and put them against the bed, his face was above yours, the room was barely being illuminated by the light that was filtering through the blinds, so you couldn't see much, only the shadow of his features.

"I'm done playing this little game." he said over your lips, his voice hoarser than usual, and his breathing was rapid. “You want me?”

"I want you."

You saw the shadow of a victorious smile on his lips, and felt them against yours again, he put both hands holding your wrists above your head, and held both of your wrists with one hand, having the other one free.

His kisses began to descend again, with a slowness that clearly had the sole purpose of driving you crazy.

You lifted your hips off the bed so you could feel some more of him, Rafe took advantage of this and positioned himself between your legs with ease.

He stopped kissing you momentarily, you could feel his breath on your skin, the light was enough to know he was staring at you.

Without warning, he returned his hand to between your thighs and now pushed three fingers inside you, while his thumb returned to your clit, you inevitably ended up letting out a moan, as his fingers had hit the right spot again. Having located the spot already, he began to move his fingers faster and deeper, curving them from time to time, accelerating the speed of his thumb as well.

Rafe wanted to engrave this image of you inside of his eyelids, to see you squirming under him every time he closed his eyes.

His lips went lower and lower, until his head was between your thighs and your hand was lost in his hair. His lips concentrated on your clit, sucking and circling it with his tongue, making you let out a moan you were ashamed of, because of how loud it had been.

His hand kept up that incredible rhythm, but what made you almost climax was the feeling after he sucked on your clit and bit down lightly.

"Rafe, Rafe I'm gonna—"

That was all he needed to know to remove his hand, he would keep up with his word. As soon as he moved his hand away from your pussy, you immediately felt the emptiness, but you were too busy getting back to normal to complain.

Rafe brought his fingers covered with your wetness to his lips and licked them clean, the sight of that, combined with the "mmm" he let out, was mouth watering.

Rafe pulled you closer to him, so that your legs were over his thighs, he placed his hands on the sides of your head. His dick rubbed against your entrance, which brought gasps to both of your lips.

He leaned over you and you could hear his breathing fast and heavy in your ear, it was almost like he was waiting for something.

"What's wrong?" you asked. "I'm on the pill—"

You didn't have to finish saying the sentence for him to enter you with a quick movement of his hips, making you moan immediately, it took a few seconds to get used to the sensation of having him inside you. He's... big.

He stayed still for a few seconds, letting out hoarse mumbles of how good you felt, directly into your ear. Once you felt comfortable, you tightened your walls around him, which made him let out a grunt and start moving his hips against yours.

You brought your hands to his neck and pulled his face to yours, bringing your lips together in a desperate kiss, as his hips moved incessantly, one of your hands tangled in his hair, and as if on reflex, he put a hand around your neck, squeezing the sides lightly, something that made you moan into his lips.

"You're mine, you know that, don't you?" he whispered in your ear.

"Rafe—"

"I'll ruin you for other men. No one will ever make you feel like this, mark my words."

His words and the movement of his hips made your eyes roll. "Don't stop."

He pulled his face away from yours and placed his weight on the arm he has placed at the side of your head, speeding up the movements. You wrapped your legs around his waist to deepen things.

You noticed that he started to slow down, but his movements still had depth, you knew he was doing it so he wouldn't tire quickly, but maybe you could help.

You used a considerable amount of strength to be able to turn you both around, ending up on top of him, while he looked at you with his lower lip between his teeth.

Just to tease him further, you slipped his dick out of you and moved away, your body hovering over his thighs, he sat down on the bed, waiting for you to do something, but you only smirked at him.

Rafe sat there while stroking himself, and being done with your attitude, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back to him, starting to fill your breasts with wet kisses and hickeys, bitting your nipples from time to time, while you put your legs around him, slowly positioning yourself on top of him.

You knew you wouldn’t last too long away from him, anyway.

"Stop teasing me, princess."

"If not, where's the fun?"

He used the grip he had on your hips and pulled you down, entering you again, a hoarse moan came from his lips. You pushed him down by the chest so he’d lay down, and began to move on top of him, in circles and up and down while his hands were on your hips and yours on his chest.

You knew those moves were only satisfying to yourself, as you moved as you needed to, and Rafe was quick to notice that.

The grip he had on your hips began to increase in strength, a sign that he was getting desperate. Until he finally sat down in a rush, and began to move you at the pace he wanted, as the hand he kept on your hip guaranteed him control.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that?" he emphasised every word with a hip thrust. "My brat."

"Fuck, fuck- Rafe..."you weren't even able to say his name, or speak at all.

You placed one hand on his shoulder and another on his neck, starting to move faster, he left sloppy kisses on your chest and collarbone, you scratched his back, and sometimes left bites on his shoulder to stifle moans, especially when he murmured things in your ear, along the lines of "you're mine" "who does this pussy belong to?”

If you had known Rafe Cameron had such talent for dirty talk...

It didn't take long before you two began to lose rhythm, his movements were erratic, and your speed had slowed.

Until he finally came inside you, seeing the way his eyes closed tightly, as heavy breaths came from between his pink lips along with the "Shit, Y/N, you feel like heaven," he mumbled, was what made you climax too.

While both came down of your highs, there was nothing but silence, Rafe was still inside you, and remained like that when he collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around his body, both falling asleep without another word.

DAY 5

Boundaries.

Neither of you knew which ones were there and which ones had been erased last night, but you and Rafe knew that the relationship had changed.

You'd woke up with Rafe still buried inside you, and a set of awkward interactions followed.

When the police arrived for both in the morning, Shoupe asked how you've been, and said "sorry" for ‘being late.’

You already knew that Rafe had probably bribed him not to come earlier, though.

Both sat on the booth while the police officer refilled the gas tank, and the silence between both was slightly awkward.

"So," Rafe said, stretching his arm behind you, placing it around your waist and pulling you closer to him, not in a sweet way, more in a possessive one. "The Club, 9 o'clock?"

"Huh?" you raised your brow at him.

"You're mine, I told you," Rafe said firmly, his eyes locked on yours. "And I'm going to show you how there's no one better for you than me—"

"—After you fucked the shit out of me."

"— by taking you out to dinner. And from there, wherever you want, but together."

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handsswritten · 1 month ago

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handsswritten · 1 month ago

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I'm still salty about them changing his design after the first movie.

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handsswritten · 1 month ago

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“ I love you, Hic”

“Merida…I’ve always loved you”

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handsswritten · 1 month ago

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Saw @tatibyg 's post about rotg not getting anything while httyd became a proper franchise and... I blacked out and this appeared on my phone's gallery...

I didn't know how to phrase the last one lol

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handsswritten · 1 month ago

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Unmasked

summary: pretending to be rafe’s girlfriend to save his image, keep his dad off his back and improve his reputation? easy. keeping it fake and casual? much harder than you thought. [REQUESTED!]

contents: best friends to lovers, fake dating, fluff, hint of angst. | SMUT: unprotected sex (don’t do that irl), oral (fem receiving), fingering.

wc: 8k. [i got excited i’m sorry]

my masterlist! | requests are open

Tannyhill estate sat heavy under the weight of humidity, the sun spilling through the tall windows. Rafe stood just inside the study, jaw tight, one foot tapping silently against the patterned rug. He didn’t sit, even though Ward had gestured to the chair across from him. That particular power play didn’t work anymore—not since Rafe realized how little his father’s invitations actually meant.

Ward sipped casually from a lowball glass, his posture was the same as always, straight-backed, shoulders squared. His voice was syrupy sweet, too warm, that sticky-sweet brand of fake kindness Rafe could spot from a mile away.

“Oldest friend of mine’s getting married this weekend,” His father said. “Tommy Wexler. You remember him, don’t you? Used to bring you those little wooden boats when you were a kid.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Think I crashed one of ‘em into the dock.”

Ward smiled like Rafe’s confession was the most precious thing he’d ever heard, but his eyes stayed sharp. “Yeah, well, Tommy always said you had spirit.”

There was a brief pause, and then Ward slid in the real reason Rafe had been summoned, carefully wrapped in the guise of a casual comment.

“It’s going to be a big event,” Ward continued, setting his drink down with a soft clink. “High-profile. Press, old money, people I haven’t seen in decades. I told Tommy you’d be there, of course.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks for asking first.”

Ward ignored him, as always. “And I told him you’d be bringing someone.”

“Sorry, what?”

“A date, Rafe,” Ward said slowly, like the concept might be foreign to him. “A plus one. A girlfriend. Are you familiar with the concept? Someone who can sit beside you, smile at the right people, keep you looking… grounded.”

Rafe crossed his arms. “You mean someone to babysit me.”

“I mean someone to keep you from snorting coke in front of a senator after your third bourbon.”

There it was. The real Ward. The version that came out when he was worried about his perfect image getting smudged by the mess of a son he could never quite figure out how to parent.

“I’m not gonna ruin your friend’s wedding,” Rafe muttered, already annoyed.

“Wouldn’t be the first thing you’ve ruined.” Ward leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the warmth of his tone gone. “Look, I don’t have time to clean up another one of your messes, Rafe. The whole island’s been talking about you lately. Bar fights, late nights, whatever the hell happened with the police last month—”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Rafe snapped.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ward’s voice cut through the air like glass. “Perception is everything. Right now, you look unstable.”

He stood, smoothing down his blazer with practiced precision, adjusting his cufflinks like the conversation bored him.

“You want to keep having access to this family name? To the money? Hell, anything? Then you show up with a woman on your arm who makes you look like a man who’s grown the hell up.”

Rafe scoffed under his breath. “And who the hell am I supposed to ask?”

“You’ve got friends, don’t you? Or at least people who tolerate you.” Ward smirked, leaning back like he was already done with the conversation. Then, as an afterthought, he shrugged and added, “Though considering your track record, I’m guessing trouble’s the only thing that sticks around.”

There it was—the jab. Rafe had known it was coming, felt it circling like a vulture. But even so, it landed like a gut punch. He didn’t flinch, though. Didn’t give Ward the satisfaction.

Instead, he turned toward the door, teeth clenched, his mind already racing. There was only one person he could ask. The only one who’d been there through everything, who wouldn’t laugh in his face or make a scene.

And yeah, you might make him beg a little. But maybe—just maybe—you’d say yes.

Rafe didn’t say another word as he walked out, slamming the study door with just a bit more force than necessary.

The knock on your door came sharp and sudden—three quick raps like he was trying to convince himself not to bolt the second after. You barely glanced up from your phone. Only one person knocked like that.

You padded to the door, opened it, and, yep, called it.

Rafe stood there, looking like he’d either just committed a crime or was about to. Eyes darting, jaw tight, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

You leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised. “Well, this can’t be good.”

“I need a favor,” he said, tone low.

You crossed your arms, lips already curving. “No shit. You only show up like this when you need something. What is it this time—bail money or an alibi?”

Rafe let out a breath, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Cute.”

“I try,” you said sweetly. “Now spit it out.”

He shifted on his feet like the words were physically painful to say. Rafe was always composed around you, cocky, teasing, that irritating brand of charm that only worked because he knew how much it made people weak in the knees. But right now? He looked… thrown. Like he couldn’t decide if he should pace or run.

“There’s this wedding,” he finally said.

“Is that your way of proposing to me?”

He gave you a flat look. “Will you shut up and let me finish?”

You laughed, stepping aside to let him in. “By all means, come in and ruin my peaceful afternoon.”

He brushed past you, familiar in the way only someone who’s known you for years could be. Didn’t even wait for permission before flopping onto your couch like it belonged to him. Which, to be fair, it practically did—he’d spent enough late nights here, crashing after parties, fights, or those weird existential spirals he only ever let you witness.

You settled into the armchair across from him. “So? Wedding?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. My dad’s oldest friend is getting married this weekend. Big event. Press, old money. Some villa upstate.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Sounds fancy. What’s it got to do with me?”

“He told me I have to bring someone.”

You blinked. “Okay. So bring someone. Though I’m not sure any of my friends would—”

He looked at you like you were missing the point. “Someone who makes me look… put together. Grounded. Normal.”

Your eyes widened just slightly, a beat of silence passing before your mouth twitched. “Wait—wait, are you asking me to be your plus one? Like a fake girlfriend?”

Rafe sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Oh, like what?” you teased. “Like it’s the beginning of every bad romcom ever?”

“I knew this was gonna be a mistake.” He groaned, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

You grinned, legs folding underneath you. “No, no, I’m loving this. Rafe Cameron, asking me to play pretend at some bougie wedding because daddy’s embarrassed of his little boy? I should frame this memory.”

“Will you just—” He sat up again, tone almost pleading. “Can you just… be serious for like two seconds?”

That gave you pause. You didn’t hear that tone from him often, not unless things were actually weighing on him. And sure enough, behind the irritated front, you could see it. He was stressed. Probably more than he wanted to admit. Probably more than he even knew.

You softened a little. “Okay. But what’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

You hummed, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… maybe that surfboard you stole from Kelce and never gave back?”

“You don’t even surf.”

“Yeah, but it would look great on my wall.”

He rolled his eyes, but then something shifted in his expression, like he just remembered something.

“I’ll get you the internship.”

You hesitated. “What?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice lower now. “That program you’ve been trying to get into. The one with the research grant and travel stipend? My dad’s one of the donors. He could put in a word—hell, he could handpick the participants if he wanted.”

You stared at him, caught off guard. That wasn’t just a throwaway favor. That was… something you actually wanted. Something you’d worked for, scraped together applications for, lined up references for. And here he was, offering it like it was candy.

“Wow,” you said slowly. “You’re really desperate, huh?”

Rafe gave you a look. “So? Do we have a deal?”

You leaned back, still teasing because, well, that’s who you were with him. “Guess I better practice pretending, baby.”

His groan was immediate and theatrical, like your voice physically pained him. “Don’t ever say it like that again.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, grinning. “You’re gonna have to get used to it if I’m supposed to play your loving, devoted girlfriend. Should I start now? ‘Rafe, sweetheart, do you want another mimosa?’”

He tossed a throw pillow at your head. You ducked it easily, still laughing. And even though you hadn’t said it outright, the answer was already clear.

You were in.

And maybe Rafe didn’t realize it yet, but so was he.

(***)

The villa looked like it had been pulled straight from a luxury magazine—a coastal estate perched high on a cliff, all sweeping balconies and ivory columns, framed by swaying palms and that golden kind of light that made everything look cinematic. Staff in crisp uniforms were already swarming the circular driveway, unloading trunks, offering drinks, speaking in that overly polite tone reserved for guests who wore expensive cologne and carried family names like legacies.

You stepped out of the car behind Rafe, eyes sweeping across the manicured grounds.

“Okay,” you murmured, tugging your overnight bag higher on your shoulder. “So when you said fancy wedding, you weren’t kidding.”

Rafe snorted under his breath. “Yeah, well. Tommy Wexler’s been kissing my dad’s ass since the ‘90s. Place screams midlife crisis money.”

“Midlife crisis money buys some damn nice tile,” you muttered, eyeing the sprawling entrance and towering French doors. “You think the bathroom has a gold toilet?”

Rafe cracked a grin, grabbing your suitcase from you before you could protest. “We can check. I call dibs on trying it first.”

Inside, the villa was even more ridiculous. Polished stone floors, oil paintings of people who probably never smiled in their entire lives, chandeliers that looked like they’d cost more than your car. You tried not to gawk. Tried.

The concierge handed Rafe a keycard with a tight smile. “Mr. Cameron. Your suite is at the end of the east corridor. Room 310.”

“Suite,” you echoed, once you were in the elevator. “Look at you, all grown up and fancy.”

You walked down the quiet hallway together, heels tapping, bags dragging, and Rafe fumbled with the keycard before finally getting the door open. You stepped inside—and paused.

“Rafe.”

“Hm?”

“There’s one bed.”

He tossed his bag onto the end of it and walked right past you like he hadn’t just ruined your peace of mind. “Yeah. So?”

Your head snapped toward him. “One bed.”

He flopped down, arms behind his head, totally unbothered. “You scared you’ll fall in love if we cuddle?”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face. “You’re insufferable.”

He caught it one-handed, smirking. “And yet, here you are. Sharing a bed with me for a whole weekend. Weird, hm?”

“Ward did this on purpose,” you muttered, dropping your bag near the armchair. “This is, like, rich dad psychological warfare.”

“Oh, definitely,” Rafe said, already kicking off his shoes. “He probably thinks you’ll tame me. Or I’ll marry you. Either way, he wins.”

You glanced at the bed again, then gave him a dry look. “No funny business, Cameron.”

He raised a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Details.”

”Details? It undermines its value.”

”Does it?”

You rolled your eyes, heading into the bathroom to start getting ready. “I’m warning you, in case you start spooning me in your sleep. I bite.”

From the other room, you heard him laugh. “Kinda hot.”

“Rafe.”

By the time you finished your makeup and zipped up your dress, the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a hazy gold glow through the sheer curtains. You stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting your earrings.

Rafe had been half-asleep on the bed, but the second you walked out, he froze.

His eyes tracked you from head to toe, slow and deliberate, and he didn’t say anything for a second too long.

“What?” you asked, self-conscious all of a sudden.

He sat up, propping his elbows on his knees. “Damn.”

“What?”

Rafe tilted his head, a smug little grin tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you could clean up like that.”

You folded your arms. “I always clean up like this. You just only see me in sweatpants.”

“Exactly,” he said, like he’d won something. “This is new. And distracting, like goddamn.”

“Distracting?” you echoed, dry.

He stood, walking over and reaching out like he might fix the way your strap was sitting. Or maybe just to make you nervous. “Yeah. Gonna be hard to fake a relationship when I’m this close to catching feelings.”

You gave him a look. “Rafe.”

“What? I’m joking.” But he wasn’t. Not entirely. There was something else in his eyes—something quieter, a little unsure, like even he wasn’t sure how much of that had been a joke.

You cleared your throat. “You ready?”

He straightened his blazer, stepped back, and looked at you again—this time more serious. “Yeah. Just… try not to catch too many eyes tonight, alright?”

You raised a brow. “Jealous already?”

He smirked, holding the door open for you. “Let’s just say if anyone tries to flirt with you, I’m legally required to commit at least one felony.”

You brushed past him with a grin. “God, this is gonna be fun.”

And neither of you said it out loud—but in that tiny space between sarcasm and eye contact, something new had started to stir.

Something that felt a lot less fake than either of you were ready to admit.

It was a blur of champagne flutes, strings of fairy lights, and a breeze off the ocean that made everything feel just a little too perfect. You weren’t sure who designed the wedding, but it was the kind of scene Pinterest addicts would kill for: flower arches that looked like they belonged in a perfume ad, candlelit pathways, people who smelled expensive and smiled like they knew they were being watched.

Rafe fit into it too well. Charcoal suit, tailored within an inch of its life. Hair perfectly messy, like he didn’t care even though you knew damn well he spent fifteen minutes in the mirror while you did your makeup. He looked like trouble dressed up in a bowtie, effortlessly in a way that made you forget you were supposed to be faking it.

“Relax,” he murmured, low and close, his hand resting at the small of your back as you walked into the reception. “You’re clenching like someone just insulted your shoes.”

“Someone did insult my shoes last week. It was you.”

“And I stand by it,” he whispered, smirking. “But tonight, I’m your very devoted, very charming boyfriend. So you can forgive me later, babe.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “If you keep calling me babe like that, I might actually slap you.”

“Careful,” he said, his fingers pressing slightly against your waist, warm even through the thin fabric. “I might like that.”

You turned your head to hide the smile that was definitely not part of the act.

The night went on, a blur of soft jazz and silverware clinking against china. Rafe was all confidence, casually pulling your chair out, his hand never straying far from your body. When you leaned in to say something, he leaned closer. When you laughed, he looked at you like you hung the damn stars.

It was dangerous. Worse, it was convincing.

You saw the way people looked at the two of you, sneaky little smiles, nods, elbow nudges between old friends and family members who thought they were in on some secret. At one point, someone’s mother actually said, “You two are just darling together,” like you’d already sent out save-the-dates.

You weren’t sure when it started. Maybe when he brushed a loose hair behind your ear during dinner, fingertips skimming your cheek. Or when he whispered some offhand joke into the shell of your ear during the best man’s speech, and you had to grip his thigh under the table to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

But somewhere in the middle of pretending, it stopped feeling like an act.

You’d known Rafe your whole life—shared secrets and sarcasm and stupid, reckless nights that never made it into anyone’s stories. But this… this was different. This was Rafe being soft without trying. Protective without the bite. The kind of intimacy that came from knowing someone, not just wanting them.

You were standing beside Rafe near the bar, nursing your drink and lowkey glowing from the avalanche of compliments. Apparently, the two of you made a great-looking couple. Who knew? Your cheeks were warm, maybe from the wine, definitely from the way Rafe kept brushing his thumb along your lower back whenever someone glanced your way. Like a warning. Like a claim.

Then Tommy Wexler stumbled over, tie askew and champagne in hand, smiling like the reception was just an extension of his legacy. He looked like someone who drank expensive bourbon and told stories that started with “Back in my day…”—the kind of man who probably gave Rafe his first cigar and his first hangover.

“Rafe, my boy!” he boomed, clapping him on the shoulder. “And look at you,” he said, turning to you with a grin so charming it should’ve come with a disclaimer. “Even prettier than Ward said.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and laughed politely. “Thank you. And congrats, Tommy. Everything’s gorgeous.”

“Seriously,” Rafe added, casual as ever. “Didn’t think you had a romantic bone in your body.”

Tommy let out a laugh that probably echoed through the marble halls. “Takes one to know one, huh?”

His gaze flicked between you both—how close you stood, how Rafe’s hand didn’t move from your waist, fingers resting like he’d always had the right. Something in his expression softened.

“About damn time,” he said, with the kind of fondness that made your stomach twist. “Always figured you two would end up together. Hell, thought I’d have to play matchmaker myself.”

You laughed. Sort of. It came out late and a little too breathy. Rafe’s grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. And for a second, you wondered if he even realized it.

Tommy raised his glass. “To getting it right.”

You clinked glasses, smiled on autopilot, and watched him disappear into the crowd. But the moment stuck like humidity—thick and lingering, settling into the space between you.

Neither of you said anything. Neither of you moved.

Rafe’s hand was still on you. Firm. Present. Steady. And when you finally glanced up at him, his eyes were already on you.

(***)

The reception had shifted into its second wind, the music slower now, warmer. Couples swayed under the fairy lights, heels kicked off, bowties loosened. Somewhere between the champagne and midnight, the whole villa felt like it had exhaled.

You’d been standing near the edge of the terrace, enjoying a brief moment of quiet, drink in hand, hair falling in soft waves down your back. And that’s when he showed up.

Liam fucking Carlisle. He was tall, charming in that polished Ivy League way, with a smile that had probably made half the bridal party blush earlier. You recognized him vaguely—a Kook adjacent, the kind who only summered here now and then but always made sure people remembered him when he did.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Liam said with a smooth grin, leaning in just enough to be noticed. “But I’m glad I did. You look… wow.”

You smiled politely. “Thanks. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, honestly. You’ve always been hard to miss, but tonight? Damn.”

You felt your cheeks warm, though you were more amused than flattered. His flirtation was shameless, charming in the way expensive cologne is. You humored him with a laugh, letting him talk, sipping your drink. He wasn’t being creepy, just bold.

Across the courtyard, Rafe saw everything.

He hadn’t meant to stare. Had told himself to be cool, to let the act ride out and not let anything slip. But then he saw that guy—all white teeth and tailored confidence—leaning in like he knew you.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. His grip on the whiskey glass tightened until the ice inside cracked.

He watched you laugh. Just a quick, polite laugh, but it undid him. Because Rafe knew that laugh. Knew the real one, the one that came out when you were with him, at 2 a.m., tangled in nostalgia and sarcasm. And now this guy was getting it?

Nope. He was already moving.

Crossing the terrace with that walk—shoulders tense, jaw set, the kind of energy that made people instinctively step out of the way. The candlelight flickered in his eyes, sharp and unreadable.

You caught the shift in the air right before Rafe appeared at your side. Without hesitation, he stepped between you and Liam, smooth as hell. His arm slipped around your waist like it belonged there, possessive, protective, like he was marking territory.

“There you are,” Rafe said, low and even, eyes never leaving Liam’s. “Was wondering where you wandered off to, babe.”

The way he said babe wasn’t playful this time. It was a warning.

Liam blinked, clearly clocking the shift. “Rafe. Didn’t realize you two were—”

“We are,” Rafe said before he could finish, smile all teeth. “Thanks for keeping her company, though.”

His tone was polite, but there was no mistaking the edge under it. Like he was daring Liam to test it.

Liam raised his hands in surrender. “No problem, man. Just catching up.”

“Mmhmm,” Rafe said. “You’ve caught up. Now beat it.”

Liam gave a stiff chuckle and backed off with a half-hearted, “Nice seeing you,” before disappearing into the crowd.

The moment Liam backed off, the air between you and Rafe was thick with something unspoken. The polite noise of the reception faded as you stared at him, your mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. Rafe’s hand still rested possessively on your waist, his touch solid, sure.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice low, tight with confusion. Your heart was beating a little too fast, and you weren’t sure if it was from what had just happened or from something else, something else you weren’t ready to face just yet.

Rafe didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on you, his jaw set in that stubborn, trademark way, like he wasn’t about to back down. His thumb stroked the curve of your waist absently, but the gesture felt too intimate in the moment. Like a reminder of just how close he was.

“That guy was trying to make a move,” Rafe said casually, as if that explained everything.

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “So?”

“So, I couldn’t just let it slide. We’re supposed to be dating, right? Can’t just have some guy coming in and hitting on my girlfriend, can I?” He gave a half-shrug, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You blinked, not sure whether to be annoyed or just plain confused. “That’s not part of the act, Rafe.”

“I know it’s not part of the act. But we’re pretending to be a couple, right? So, of course, any boyfriend worth his salt is gonna step in when he notices his girlfriend getting hit on. It’s no big deal.”

The way he said it, all casual and dismissive, didn’t quite match the fire burning in his gaze. The way he was still standing way too close, the way his fingers tightened just slightly around your waist.

“Are you jealous, Rafe?” You couldn’t help yourself.

The question hung in the air between you, but Rafe didn’t flinch. His eyes flickered for just a moment—long enough to catch his breath—but then he was back to his usual cocky self.

“Jealous? Nah. I’m just looking out for you. That guy?” He waved a hand dismissively, his tone shifting, suddenly colder. “Bad news. I’ve heard things. Guy’s got a rep, you know? Likes to go after girls in relationships, fucks with their heads. Can’t be trusted.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to make sense of the way his jaw tightened, the way he was almost… defensive. “Really? You’re pulling rumors out of thin air now?”

“What do you want me to say?” he shot back, his voice dropping just enough to show how serious he was about this, even if he was still playing it off. “Guy’s trouble. You deserve better than him.”

You looked up at him, trying to figure out whether he was serious or just trying to play the whole thing off like it was no big deal. You almost asked more—almost pushed him for the truth, for that raw honesty he had a habit of keeping buried—but something in his expression stopped you. Maybe it was the heat in his gaze, or maybe it was the way he was holding you, like he wasn’t going to let you go.

And that was when it hit you—harder than the whiskey in your hand.

Nothing about this felt fake anymore. The line between what was real and what was pretend became more blurred than ever.

(***)

The silence was a war in itself.

Your heels clicked sharply against the tile. Rafe walked beside you, jaw tight, gaze straight ahead like he was trying not to feel. The tension had stretched thin during the reception, but now? Now it was choking the air.

He unlocked the door with a sharp flick of his wrist, stepping aside so you could enter first. You didn’t thank him. Didn’t even look at him. The second the door shut behind you, it felt like the whole room exhaled—except neither of you did.

You crossed your arms, pacing once near the foot of the bed—the one bed you’d barely acknowledged earlier, and finally spun on your heel to face him.

“You wanna explain what that was back there?” you asked, voice low but tight with heat. “Or are we still playing pretend?”

Rafe dragged a hand through his hair, frustration clear in the sharp scoff under his breath. “I already told you. He was a dick. I was protecting you.”

“Right. Protecting me from a guy telling me I looked nice?” You let out a bitter laugh. “God, you can’t even say it. You can’t admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you’re jealous.”

Rafe let out a humorless laugh, scoffing as though he couldn’t believe you were even asking. “This again?”

“Yes, again!” you snapped, stepping closer. “Because you don’t get to act like that and then brush it off like it was all part of the plan. You looked like you were two seconds away from punching him, Rafe.”

He didn’t answer. His chest was rising and falling faster now, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“And if we’re just pretending—if this is all one big performance for your dad or whoever the hell—then what the fuck are we doing?” you asked, quieter now, but your voice wavered, betrayed by the weight of everything you’d been holding back. “Because it doesn’t feel pretend anymore.”

Silence.

Rafe’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He turned away, walked to the far end of the room like putting distance between you would help, but it didn’t.

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” he asked, voice rising with frustration, breath coming faster. “Huh?”

“The fucking truth!”

He spun back around, his voice rough and raw, like the words were being ripped from him. “I’m fucking in love with you, alright? Is that what you want to hear?”

The words hit like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from your lungs.

Rafe’s chest heaved, and for a moment, he looked almost… defeated. Like saying it had taken the last of his resolve.

“Then why are we pretending?” you asked softly, voice cracking just enough to betray everything you’d kept hidden.

His eyes met yours, heavy with things unsaid.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice low, thick with frustration. “Because I was scared, okay? Because if I told you how I felt and you didn’t feel the same way, I’d lose you. And I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Rafe stepped closer, slow but sure, like he was done holding back. Done pretending.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he said, his voice lower now, raw, broken open. “I’ve watched you date other people, laugh with other guys, and I’ve just stood there—like a fucking idiot—because I didn’t think I had the right. And now we’re here, playing this fucked-up version of what I’ve wanted for so long, and I can’t do it anymore. Not when I have to watch someone else touch you. Not when I finally get to hold you, and I know it’s still not real.”

Your heart slammed in your chest. The rush of blood, the pounding in your ears, the warmth rushing to your face, it was all too much.

You took a step forward, slow, tentative. “You think I haven’t felt it too?” you whispered, voice trembling now. “You think this hasn’t been driving me crazy? It has, Rafe. Every time you touch me, every time you look at me like that—I don’t know what’s real anymore either. I feel the same, why do you think I’m so worked up about this?”

Rafe’s breathing hitched, and for the first time, you saw his control crack. His hand reached up, brushing your arm gently, like he couldn’t believe he had the right to.

“But if we do this,” you said, barely above a whisper now, your voice fragile with the weight of it all, “it changes everything.”

His gaze was searching yours, hand sliding to cradle your jaw as if this was the only thing that made sense anymore.

“Good,” he said, his voice thick with certainty. “I want it to.”

In a second, his lips were on yours and you didn’t even get time to process it before you started to kiss him back, the kiss was deep, desperate, hungry. Years of longing accumulated, it felt as if the suite’s temperature had increased.

His mouth devoured yours, a hungry edge to every slant and slide of his lips, as if he were trying to consume every piece of you. Years of pent-up want poured out, unrestrained, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance of possession. His hands roamed your body with a frantic edge, fingers digging into the curve of your hips, sliding up the arch of your spine, desperate to map every inch of you. They found your hair, tangling in the strands, tugging your head back with a gentle but firm pull that exposed the tender column of your neck. His lips followed, hot and relentless, grazing the sensitive skin with a scrape of teeth that sent a shiver racing through you.

He guided you backward, his body pressing into yours, a wall of heat and muscle. Your legs hit the edge of the bed, and with a fluid, practiced motion, he eased you down onto the plush mattress, the silk sheets cool against your fevered skin. His body hovered over yours, a predatory grace in the way he held himself, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light of the room. His eyes—those piercing blue eyes—burned with a hunger so fierce it bordered on worship, the pupils blown wide with need. He broke the kiss just long enough to lean in, his breath hot against your swollen lips as he rasped, “I need you. Right now. Tonight. Every fucking way I can have you. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words hit you like a spark to dry tinder, igniting a pulse of molten heat that pooled low in your belly. Your core throbbed, your panties already clinging to your skin, soaked through with the evidence of your desire. You shifted against the sheets, trying to get comfortable, your voice trembling with want. “Oh-okay, okay.”

His hands, eager and trembling with barely contained restraint, reached for the zipper of the dress you’d chosen so carefully for him, the one you’d worn as his plus-one at the wedding. His fingers hooked the metal tab, dragging it down with agonizing slowness, the soft rasp of the zipper loud in the charged silence. The fabric parted, slithering off your shoulders like liquid, pooling around your waist in a cascade of silk and chiffon. He paused, his gaze raking over you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin, the soft swell of your breasts, the curve of your collarbone. His eyes darkened, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he took you in, like you were a masterpiece he’d waited years to unveil.

With a quick tug, he pulled the dress the rest of the way off, leaving you in nothing but a lacy bra and panties that were already embarrassingly drenched. His own clothes followed in a blur of motion—tie yanked free, shirt buttons popping as he tore it open, slacks shoved down with impatient hands. The fabric hit the floor in a careless heap, and he stood before you, gloriously bare, his cock hard and straining, the tip already glistening with precum.

He returned to you, his blue eyes black with want, his hands mapping your body with a reverence that bordered on obsession. His palms cupped your breasts through the thin lace of your bra, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His fingers slid lower, teasing the damp fabric of your panties, a low growl escaping him as he felt how wet you were. “Fuck,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His lips found your neck again, kissing and sucking with a fervor that left faint, tingling marks in their wake. His hands moved to your bra, deftly unhooking it with a practiced flick, and the fabric fell away, baring your breasts to his hungry gaze. He froze for a heartbeat, his eyes locked on your nipples, stiff and begging for his touch. Then, with a low groan, he leaned in, his hands cupping the soft weight of your breasts, thumbs circling the sensitive peaks before his mouth descended. He drew one nipple between his lips, sucking hard, his tongue flicking and swirling in a way that made you arch off the bed, a moan spilling from your lips. The wet heat of his mouth, the sharp graze of his teeth, sent pleasure spiraling through you, your core clenching with need. He released the nipple with a slick pop, his voice a low purr against your skin. “So perfect, baby. So fucking good, just for me.”

He lavished the same attention on your other breast, his mouth relentless, kissing, sucking, biting, licking—everything he’d fantasized about since that first summer he saw you in a bikini, your curves barely contained by the fabric. He was lost in it, worshipping every inch of your soft, feminine flesh, his tongue tracing patterns that left you trembling. When he finally pulled back, his chest heaved, his lips swollen and red, his blue eyes blazing with a need so primal it stole your breath.

His hands slid down your ribcage, fingertips grazing the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips, before settling on the waistband of your soaked panties. “Now, baby,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, thick with lust, “I need these off. I need to taste you.”

You hesitated, your voice soft, almost shy. “Are you sure?” You wanted it—God, you wanted his mouth on you, his tongue buried in your pussy—but you could see the painful strain of his cock, the way it twitched with every beat of his heart, and you worried he was pushing himself too far.

His eyes locked onto yours, burning with a desire so raw it was almost tangible. “Fuck yes, I’m sure,” he growled, his voice strained, like he was holding himself together by a thread. In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into your panties and yanked them down, the delicate lace tearing under the force. He tossed the ruined fabric aside, his gaze dropping to your bare, glistening pussy. The sight of you—swollen, slick, dripping for him—drew a ragged curse from his lips. “Christ, look at you,” he breathed, his voice thick with awe and hunger. “So fucking wet for me already.”

He lowered himself between your thighs, his broad shoulders spreading you open, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. His tongue darted out, licking a slow, indulgent line from your entrance to your clit, savoring the taste of you. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your core, and then he dove in, his tongue plunging deep, lapping at your folds with a hunger that bordered on feral. “Fuck me, you’re delicious,” he murmured, the words muffled against your skin.

Your moans were unstoppable, loud and wanton, as he devoured you, his lips closing around your clit and sucking with just the right pressure to make you writhe. He ate you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling, flicking, probing, every movement deliberate and precise. He’d wanted this for years, and it showed in the way he worshipped your pussy, relishing every drop of your arousal. One hand slid up your body, pinching and teasing your nipples, while the other gripped your inner thigh, keeping you spread wide for him. You squirmed, overwhelmed, your hips bucking against his face as the pleasure built, but he only pulled you closer, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass to anchor you to his mouth.

He could feel you getting close, the way your thighs trembled, the way your breaths came in sharp, desperate gasps. He doubled down, his tongue plunging deeper, his lips sucking harder, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles. Your body tensed, your back arching off the bed, and then you shattered, a cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your walls clenched, your pussy pulsing as waves of pleasure ripped through you, and he lapped at you greedily, drinking in every bit of your release.

When your tremors finally subsided, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He pressed a soft, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, his blue eyes dark with need as he looked up at you. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly to ease the ache, his voice rough as he asked, “You sure you want this, baby? Because if you say yes, I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

You were still catching your breath, your body humming with aftershocks, but you nodded, your voice soft but certain. “Yes. Yes, I want it.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in him snapped. He positioned himself between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging your slick entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, searching for any trace of doubt, but all he found was want—pure, unfiltered need. He bit his lower lip, a silent vow, and then he pressed forward, sinking into you inch by agonizing inch. The stretch was intense, your walls fluttering around him as he filled you, and he groaned, low and guttural, his hands gripping your hips to keep himself steady. “Fuck, baby, you feel incredible.”

He bottomed out, his hips flush against yours, and paused, letting you adjust to the fullness of him. His cock twitched inside you, hot and heavy, and you clenched around him, already oversensitive from your earlier orgasm. “Ready for me to move?” he asked, his voice strained, every muscle in his body taut with the effort of holding back.

You nodded, a soft whimper escaping you, and that was all he needed. With a low grunt, he started to move, his hips rocking in a deep, sensual rhythm that had you gasping. Each thrust was deliberate, the glide of his cock through your tight, wet heat driving him closer to the edge. His hands roamed, fingers digging into your hips, your thighs, your ass, as he fucked you with a mix of reverence and desperation. The headboard slammed against the wall, the sound mixing with the lewd slap of skin on skin, the creak of the mattress, your breathless moans.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging deep, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts. He tasted of you, of sweat and desire, and it sent another wave of heat through you. “Fu-fuck yes, right there,” you gasped when he shifted, hitting that perfect spot inside you, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.

Rafe groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin as he nipped at your neck. “Yes, baby, just like that,” he panted, his voice rough with need. “You were made for me, weren’t you? Fuck yes, you’re mine.” He hooked one of your legs higher, draping it over his shoulder, the new angle letting him sink even deeper. The stretch was exquisite, bordering on too much, but you craved it, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on.

His thrusts grew more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with a frantic edge. The room was a symphony of sex: your moans, his grunts, the wet, rhythmic slap of his cock driving into you. To make sure you came again, he reached down, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles. The added stimulation was too much, your body already primed from your first orgasm, and you felt the pressure building again, fast and unstoppable.

“Rafe—fuck, I’m gonna—” you gasped, your walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

“That’s it, baby, come for me,” he growled, his thumb pressing harder, his thrusts relentless. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your body shaking, your pussy pulsing around his cock as you cried out, lost in the intensity. The sight of you falling apart, the feel of you milking him, pushed him over the edge. With a guttural curse, he buried himself deep, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He collapsed onto you, his weight grounding you as you both fought to catch your breath. His cock softened inside you, his cum dripping out in a warm, sticky mess. He rolled to his side, pulling you close, his arm wrapping around you possessively. “That was… fuck,” he panted, still reeling, his voice hoarse. “I’ve never—fuck, it’s never been like that.”

He tilted your chin up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. “I know,” you murmured, sleepy and sated, your body heavy against his. “It was insane. So good.”

Rafe’s arms tightened around you, his nose brushing the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent, now mixed with the musk of sex. His heart still pounded, but there was a new steadiness to it, a quiet certainty. This wasn’t just lust, not just a release of years of tension. It was something more—something he wanted to hold onto, to build on. He wanted you, all of you, and he’d spend every day proving it if you’d let him.

For now, though, he was content to bask in the afterglow, to hold you close and savor the knowledge that you are his.

(***)

The Morning After

The light poured in slowly, golden, and soft. It crept across the villa’s hardwood floors and spilled over the tangled sheets, bathing the bed in warmth. One long curtain had slipped from its tie, fluttering gently with the breeze drifting through the cracked window. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out. The rest of the world, for now, was quiet.

Rafe didn’t move.

He lay still, propped on one elbow, the sheet slung low on his hips, sunlight dappled across his bare chest. His other hand rested lightly on your waist, fingertips tracing slow, absent circles against your skin like he was trying to memorize you.

You were still asleep, face half-buried in the pillow, lashes soft against your cheeks, lips parted in the kind of sleep only people who felt safe ever got. He hadn’t meant to watch you like this. He really hadn’t. But something about you, lying beside him, real and his—it felt like a goddamn dream.

His gaze trailed down the line of your back, over the curve of your spine, the sheet barely hanging onto your hips. And yeah, sure, he could be a cocky bastard on most days—but this? This left him stunned.

He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers slow, almost reverent. You stirred. Your brow scrunched slightly as your body shifted closer, instinctively chasing his warmth. Your leg slung over his, your arm draped across his stomach.

“Creep,” you mumbled into his chest, voice still thick with sleep. “You’re staring.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your temple. “Can you blame me?”

You cracked one eye open, catching him with a sleepy half-smile. “You’re just buttering me up so I’ll let you make me coffee later.”

“Coffee?” he scoffed, smirking. “I just gave you the best sex of your life, and I’m making you coffee?”

You smacked his chest with the back of your hand, laughing. “You’re such an ass.”

But before you could pull your hand back, he caught it—his fingers curling around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles. The smirk faded, just slightly, replaced by something softer. Something a little scared.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and you felt the shift in him instantly. “This wasn’t just a one-time thing, right? Last night… that was real to you?”

You met his eyes—blue and unguarded, the kind of vulnerable Rafe rarely showed. He didn’t ask for reassurance. He didn’t admit fear. But here he was, tangled in sheets and honesty, waiting.

You leaned in and kissed him—slow, certain—your hand resting over his heart.

“It was real,” you whispered. “It’s always been real.”

He exhaled—long, shaky—like he’d been holding that breath for years. Then he pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. Not like a guy who’d just gotten laid—like a man who’d finally come home.

By the time the two of you stepped out of the villa, the sun had climbed higher, casting sharp shadows across the stone path. You were freshly showered, hair damp and curling at the ends. Rafe’s shirt hung loose on you, sleeves rolled, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. His hand was laced with yours, warm and steady.

You didn’t let go.

No more pretending. No more polished lines. Just you and Rafe, real, raw, unfiltered.

In the courtyard, laughter echoed from the breakfast table. The Kooks were half-drunk on mimosas, sunglasses crooked, music already playing from someone’s speaker.

And then there was Ward.

He stood off to the side, arms crossed, coffee mug in hand. His eyes scanned the two of you—specifically your joined hands. The way Rafe stood just a little closer than necessary, like distance was something he wasn’t willing to risk again.

You felt Rafe tense beside you, barely.

Ward didn’t say a word. Just raised one eyebrow, his gaze locking with Rafe’s a beat too long. Then he gave a single nod. Quiet. Reserved. His version of approval. Maybe even emotional growth. Rafe didn’t say anything either. But his grip on your hand tightened, and you swore you felt his thumb trace slow, steady circles against your skin.

Then he leaned in—lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m all in.”

And somehow, you knew he meant it. Every messy, complicated, beautiful part of it. For once, nothing was fake. And everything was ahead of you.

#i literally clapped when i finished reading this

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