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itneverendshere · 2 days

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my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

just a lil something, completely self indulgent and inspired by miranda and steven in s2 of sex & the city 😔🥺

warnings: angst😤; a little fluffy; soft!rafe because i personally LOVE him

you did it without thinking.

it felt as if your body had a mind of its own and while your brain yelled at you to stay put and act normal, your heart simply didn’t allow it. your feet pounded against the street pavement, each step echoing the racing of your heart. you didn’t dare to look back, afraid that if you did, you’d crumble under the weight of your memories with him rushing back. the sound of your breath filled your ears, drowning out the chaos of the main street.

rafe.

the name echoed in your mind like some sort of haunted melody. you didn’t expect to see him, not after so many months without a single glimpse of his perfect face. you’d broken up months ago, you were supposed to be over him. and yet, despite all your attempts, his presence still stirred something within you.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.

you rounded the corner, trying to convince yourself that it was fine. so what if he was back in town? so what if he didn’t call you? so what if you two promised to stay friends and yet…it’s none of your business. you should be thankful.

but seeing him out of the blue, it was like a sucker punch to the gut, except it felt like it came from a hundred directions at once. maybe you just needed a minute to process all of it. maybe a venti latte and some retail therapy would do the trick.

except they didn’t and hours later, here you are, stuck to your couch wondering how the hell you are supposed to step foot outside knowing there’s a possibility you might run into him again.

your brain always goes into overdrive when you think of rafe cameron. and now you’re stuck here, overthinking every little thing. should you text him? would that be too desperate? but what if he's thinking the same thing?

and if he isn’t?

there's a sudden knock on your apartment door, the sound cuts through the haze of your mind, jolting you back to reality. you reluctantly peel yourself off the couch and shuffle over to the door, wondering if that amazon package you ordered this morning is here already.

you glance towards the peephole, debating whether to check who it is or simply ignore it. after a moment of internal deliberation, curiosity wins out, and you approach the door cautiously.

you peer through the peephole, half expecting to see a stranger or maybe the mailman with a package. but to your surprise—it's rafe.

holy fuck.

your breath catches in your throat as you take in his familiar face from up close, a jumble of emotions stirring inside you.

what's he doing here? how did he get your new address? you moved from your parent’s home just a month ago.

for a beat, you’re frozen. no one taught you how to proceed in these kinds of situations, but you are fairly certain letting an ex-boyfriend, the one you’re still in love with, inside your personal space is a big no-no.

should you open the door? pretend you’re not home? smash your head against a wall and pray it knocks you out instantly? before you can even begin to form a plan, there's another knock, this time a little more insistent, as if he knows you’re on the other side.

“i can hear you breathing.”

panic sets in.

summoning whatever fake bravery you have left, you take a deep breath and reluctantly twist the doorknob. with your hands trembling like crazy, you swing the door open, revealing rafe standing there.

you gulp, feeling like your throat's suddenly decided to go on strike “yeah-uh. hi!”

his hands are clutched behind his back and his eyes take turns between your face and the door. there's a slight furrow in his brow, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the curve of his nice cheekbones.

“that was a shitty thing you did. running away from me on the street.”

you feel a crazy amount of guilt wash over you. he’s not wrong. running away like that was cowardly, but did he expect you to run into him with open arms?

“i didn’t run?”

his lips, usually set in a determined line, now quiver ever so slightly, “you ran.”

the weight of what you did hangs over you like a dark cloud. could you have acted any more immaturely?

“well, i wasn’t expecting to see you-“ you manage to blurt out, your voice shaky, “and-and, i-“

“it really hurt my feelings.” rafe's finger points accusingly at his chest, and you feel like you’re about to shrink into the floor under the weight of his disappointment.

you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. you can feel your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears and you use every remaining strength inside you not to cry in front of him. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.

“i don’t deal very well with ex-boyfriends?”

his expression softens slightly, and he leans his weight against the doorframe, his eyes searching yours.

“hey, sweetheart, this is me.” his hand moves again and he gently places it on his chest, right over his heart, as if trying to convey the sincerity of his words “rafe.”

but he’s not your rafe anymore.

that’s the one thing you want to tell him. you chew on your lower lip wondering if honesty would do you any good right now. if it would erase all these months, weeks, days, hours, without him.

a moment of silence stretches between you, and then, after what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to utter a response.

"yeah..."

rafe's gaze remains fixed on you, “i held you while you were sleeping.”

if you weren’t crying before, you are now. it's like a dam has burst inside you. tears stream down your face like a leaky faucet, nothing strong enough to hold them back. they're not the dainty tears you see in movies, but big, ugly cries that leave your mascara streaked and your nose running.

you try to speak, but all that comes out are choked sobs and sniffles. it's embarrassing, really, how out of control you feel. but you can't help it even as your front neighbor comes into view.

you do quick 180 and bolt back into your apartment, hand pressed against your forehead as if holding it will stop the raging headache you’re about to experience. you don’t have to look back to know rafe’s following you, trailing inside and swiftly closing the door with a soft click.

"i’m sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "i’m really sorry. i’m so sorry-“

rafe's hands reach out, his palms open as if he's dealing with a wounded animal.

"hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance, "it's okay.”

“i hadn’t seen you in so long,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, “and i missed you and then i did that shit-“

his hand envelops yours, his touch grounding you. "hey, breathe," he urges softly, “it’s okay.”

tears well up in your eyes again, blurring your vision as you struggle to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "’m sorry," you choke out, voice breaking with each syllable. "i'm so sorry, rafe."

“it wasn’t that shitty, okay?” rafe's expression softens further, the way it does only for you.

“it was! i’m a shitty person.”

his thumb gently brushes away your tears as he shakes his head slowly. "no, you're not.”

“i am! you would’ve never done something that shitty.”

the nagging feeling that you’ve let him down once again is eating you alive.

he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "what do you call showing up here, in your apartment, in the middle of the afternoon and calling you shitty, huh?" he asks, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, “t’s not the same.”

rafe reaches out, gently cupping your face in his palm as he brushes his thumb gently across your cheek. “yeah, it is.”

without even questioning it, you lean into his touch, closing your eyes as your allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. for the first time in months.

“i miss you,” you confess, “whenever something happens, i just want to tell you about it.”

“so, tell me.” the tender smile softens the lines on his face, "’m right here.”

you feel a rush of relief, a weight lifting off your chest as if he's just granted you permission to exhale. and yet, tears still well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and spilling over onto your cheeks in hot.

“i have a date.”

a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening with each syllable. your voice quivers with uncertainty, the words tumbling out like stones from a crumbling cliff. you don’t have to look to know your hands are shaking like leaves in a storm. you’re pretty sure if you held them up, they'd look like one of those ridiculous earthquake simulations.

rafe nods, doing his best to stop the cheeky grin growing on his face, as he shakes his head understandingly, “looking forward to it, are ya?”

but you only sob harder.

"hey, hey- sweetheart. it's alright.” he says gently, his voice soothing you better than any depressing song on your playlist, “just jokin’ around.”

but you can't shake off the feeling of shame, the burning embarrassment of admitting to something you wish you hadn't. of letting someone take you out, someone who isn’t rafe, your rafe.

"i just... i thought it would help me move on, y’know?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i get it.” he tries to smile at you again, but it looks sad, and it makes your heart hurt. his hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear from your cheek, “i’m not mad.”

but you are. at you. at him.

the words linger in the back of your mind, gnawing at your insides. you want to scream, to lash out at him for being so understanding, for not fighting for you the way you wish he would.

you push his hands away from your face, your voice cracking. that’s all it seems to do since he walked back into your life ten minutes ago.

"that's it?" you exclaim, "you're just okay with it? with me going on a stupid date with someone else?"

it was like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him, and he didn't know how to stand back up.

rafe’s jaw is set in a firm clench, "i just want you to be happy.”

“but i'm not happy!" you retort, your voice rising in volume as tears continue to stream down your face. "i'm miserable, rafe! and you're just standing there, doing nothing!”

his chest is rising and falling heavily, as if he’s trying to contain himself.

"i'm doing nothing?” he asks so quietly; you take a double take to make sure it’s still him. his eyes flicker with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. it feels like staring into a wildfire, all fierce and untamed.

you swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of your words crashing down on you. the way rafe looks at you, it’s like he sees right through you.

"i’m here, aren't i? i’m listening, okay? i'm trying to understand."

but his words only fuel the fire of your frustration.

"i need you to tell me that you still care. that you don't want me to go on that date because you want me for yourself."

you could see the anger draining out of him, leaving behind this raw, broken man. he slumps forward, shoulders drooping. his eyes go from blazing with intensity to just... empty. like he just flicked off a light switch behind them.

it’s heartbreaking, honestly, to see him just fizzle out into nothing.

“’course i want you for myself," he whispers, "but i can't force you to choose me. you left me.”

it’s a devastating sight, really. to see someone you love so deeply, someone who’s always been so strong, just fall apart like that. it’s like watching a building crumble to the ground.

and the worst part is, you know you’re the one who caused it. you’re the reason he’s standing there looking so broken, so lost. and you hate yourself for it, hate that you couldn’t be what he needed, hate that you had to go and ruin everything.

“i left because i didn’t feel good enough,” your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, “not because i stopped loving you.”

for a moment, the silence between you is deafening, stretching on through time. it’s like neither of you knows what to say.

and then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, something shifts in his expression, he looks as if you have hit him.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. “i never wanted you to doubt how much you mean to me.”

his words hang in the air, like they’re carrying the weight of all the things you two never said, all the things you wished you could take back. as if he’s putting it all out there, laying his soul bare for you to see, finally showing you everything he’s been keeping bottled up inside.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words a solemn oath sworn in the quiet of the night. “’m sorry for not being there when you needed me.”

“i’m sorry too,” you choke out. “i’m sorry for pushing you away.”

and then, without another word, without another moment wasted on regrets and what-ifs, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. it’s like coming home after a long time.

and yeah, you might have a shit ton of things and problems to sort through, but rafe cameron is worth that and more.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x kook!reader #obx rafe cameron

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itneverendshere · 2 days

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the smallest man who ever lived is SO rafe coded it kills me

#rafe cameron #am I the only one seeing this #do you get it #because im insane #and that bridge kills me #oh well

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itneverendshere · 4 days

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rewatching sex & the city and i’d pay big money to see rafe cameron handle a reader just like samantha jones 🤭

#hear me out #it makes sense #rafe cameron #do you see the vision

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itneverendshere · 5 days

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guilty conscience (+18)

chapter iii

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

summary: when ward cameron, a renowned business man and millionaire specifically requested your services through an escort agency, you assumed it would be just another job—brief and straightforward. however, your entire world shifted when ward disclosed his true intentions and rafe cameron stumbled into your life. there were rules, and rules were meant to be followed.

was money worth breaking someone’s heart?

taglist: lmk if you want to be added (comment down below! if you've already asked me to be here and I didn't tag you LET ME KNOW AGAIN CAUSE IM VERY FORGETFUL) : @tiaamberxx @haruvalentine4321 @maybankslover

Your phone buzzed in your nightstand, startling you out of your reverie.

With a sigh, you fished it out, glancing at the screen to see Ward's name flashing in bold letters. You’d just texted him an hour earlier but spared any details for your sake.

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call, plastering on your most professional tone.

"Hey, Ward. How's it going?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Ward's booming voice, filled with impatience.

"Well? Did you find him? How's it going over there?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to tell him you royally fucked up. The truth was things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Rafe had slipped through your fingers not once, but twice, leaving you feeling more defeated than ever.

But you couldn't let Ward know that. Not yet, at least.

"It's... going." you replied vaguely, trying to keep your tone upbeat.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear Ward's mind whirring with impatience.

"Make it faster," he snapped, his tone sharp and demanding. "He’ll be at the golf course tomorrow, 9 sharp.”

The golf course?!

You had never golfed a day in your life, let alone attempted to blend in with a bunch of rich snobs on the green. For fuck’s sake. This was going to be a disaster.

On the other hand, you were nothing if not resourceful. You didn’t know the first thing about golf, but you were a quick learner. And if there was one thing you were good at, it was improvising on the fly.

“Sofia works there. Get his attention off her.”

Easier said than done.

“Ward, your son looks at her like she hung the moon and the stars."

"I don't pay you to play matchmaker, sweetheart," he retorted sharply, his tone laced with irritation. "I pay you to get the job done. Now, I don't want any excuses tomorrow. Make sure you're at that golf course bright and early, and don't screw this up."

With that, he hung up the phone.

Fucking assshole.

You slammed your phone down on the nightstand, cursing under your breath.

Ward might have been your current employer, but that didn't mean you had to like him. Dealing with his crap was like dealing with a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum. Except, you know, this toddler had a lot more money and power, which somehow made it even worse.

You were not some puppet he could just yank around whenever he felt like it, constantly ordering you around like some sort of lackey.

But you were not about to let Ward's ridiculous demands get the best of you. If he wanted you to be a professional golfer, you would give him just that.

The evening turned into a crash course on all things golf. Who knew there was so much to learn about golf etiquette? You spent hours glued to your laptop, absorbing every last detail you could find. And those YouTube tutorials? Let's just say you had never clicked on a video so fast in your life.

Then came the real fun—practicing your swing.

Spoiler alert: it was a hot mess. You must've looked like a total dweeb flailing around with that golf club in your hotel room.

And let's not forget about perfecting your fake smile. You must've spent a solid hour in front of the mirror, trying out different variations until you found the one that said, "I'm totally a golf pro, trust me."

By the time morning rolled around, you were as ready as you'd ever be.

You found yourself standing outside the gates of the local Country Club, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. You glanced down at your outfit, a bunch of preppy pieces that you hoped screamed "I belong here" rather than "I have no idea what I'm doing."

And hey, bonus points for the fact that it made your ass and legs look great. Confidence boost, check.

With a mental pep talk and a final adjustment to your collar, you stepped through the gates, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, mingling with the distant sound of clubs striking balls and polite laughter. You felt like a fish out of water in this sea of polo shirts and khaki shorts, but you refused to let it show.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the pro shop, hoping they had something available for a last-minute rental. Inside, it was bustling with old men browsing through rows of shiny clubs and chatting with the staff.

You stepped up to the counter, plastering on your best smile as you tried to appear confident.

“Hi there," you greeted the clerk, your voice coming out a little shakier than you would have liked. "I was wondering if you had any clubs available for rent?"

The clerk eyed you curiously, clearly noticing your lack of golf attire. "Sure thing," he replied with a friendly smile. "What kind of clubs are you looking for?"

You paused, realizing you had no idea what kind of clubs you needed. "Um, just something... basic?" you ventured, feeling completely out of your depth.

The clerk nodded understandingly and disappeared into the back room, returning a moment later with a set of clubs. "These should do the trick," he said, handing them over to you. "Just sign here, and you're all set."

You hastily scribbled your signature on the rental form, feeling a rush of relief as you finally held the clubs in your hands.

The course stretched out before you, lush green fairways bordered by trees and dotted with sand traps and water hazards. It all looked so pristine and posh, like something out of a magazine. You couldn't help but admire the luxury of it all, even though you felt like a total fish out of water.

Glancing around, you realized you were flying solo. No caddy to show you the ropes, no fellow players to offer tips or cheer you on. It was just you, your instincts, and the vast expanse of the course.

And let's not forget, your sheer power of delusion.

Taking a deep breath, you placed your ball on the tee and tried to remember everything you'd learned from those YouTube tutorials.

Grip firm, eye on the ball, swing smooth. Easy, right?

With trembling hands, you lifted the club and took a practice swing, hoping to shake off some of the jitters. Then, with a quick scan down the fairway, you drew back and swung.

The ball sailed through the air, arcing gracefully before landing with a satisfying thud on the fairway. It wasn't the most impressive shot in the world, but it was a start. You hadn't missed the ball entirely or accidentally hit someone in the head.

Small victories and all.

You grinned, feeling a rush of pride. Maybe this golf thing wasn't so bad after all.

You continued to take swings, each one feeling a little more confident than the last. It was all about finding that rhythm, hearing that satisfying "thwack" when the club met the ball, and watching it soar through the air.

You got lost in the game, forgetting all about the stress of the morning. The sun was climbing, spreading this warm, cozy light over the course, and all around you, there were these little moments of nature - birds chirping, clubs swishing, and the occasional "fore!" from nearby players.

It was kind of peaceful, in a way. All you cared about was nailing that next shot. Walking down the fairway, you couldn't help but grin to yourself. Sure, you weren’t exactly a golf prodigy, but who cared?

Just as you were lining up for another swing, a voice startled you from behind. "Hey new face, need a hand?"

“Fuck!” You blurted out, nearly dropping the club at the sound of his voice.

There he was, Rafe Cameron, looking all cool and collected in his golf gear like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. And of course, he caught you in the middle of your amateur hour on the course. You were hoping to find him during a break, probably around the bar, lurking around Sofia.

"Hey.” he said with a smirk, sauntering over to where you stood frozen in embarrassment. "Didn't mean to scare you.”

You tried to muster up a nonchalant response, but all that came out was a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. Just, you know, getting some practice in."

For the first time in my life, you’d like to add.

Rafe glanced down at the clubs in your hand, a glint in his eyes.

"Practice, huh? Well, you definitely look like you're giving it your all."

You wanted to die.

You forced a smile, hoping he couldn't see the panic swirling beneath the surface. "Yeah, well, gotta start somewhere, right?"

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Mind if I join you?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. This was not part of the plan, but you welcomed it anyway. You couldn't help but feel nervous at the thought of him witnessing your less-than-stellar golfing skills up close. But then again, you weren’t here to become a professional golfer, you were here to woo him off his feet and get paid.

Ward's words echoed in your mind—get his attention off her. And what better way to do that than by keeping him occupied with small talk on the golf course?

You shrugged, "The more, the merrier, right?"

"Exactly.” He said, falling into step beside you as you headed down the fairway. "So, how long have you been playing?"

You hesitated, not wanting to admit that this was your first time on a golf course. "Oh, you know, just getting into it recently," You replied vaguely, hoping he wouldn't press for details. "How about you?”

Rafe ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Been playing since I was a kid," he admitted. "It's kind of a family thing."

Of course, it is. Rich people. Nothing like a little golf for some family bonding time. But it gave you the opening you needed to make a personal connection. Nothing like sharing personal information to establish contact.

“That’s cute. My family thing was shoving pizzas down our throat every Friday.”

Rafe chuckled at your comment, the sound genuine. “Pizza Fridays sound pretty great, actually."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe this wouldn't be as awkward as you'd feared. "Yeah, they were definitely the highlight of the week," you admitted. "But I have to say, golf seems a lot more... sophisticated."

Rafe raised an eyebrow. "Sophisticated, huh? You must be hanging out with the wrong crowd."

You felt yourself relax a little more with each passing moment.

"Maybe I just need the right teacher," you said, giving him a sideways glance.

Rafe's smile widened, and he stepped a little closer, "Well, lucky for you, I happen to know a thing or two about golf."

"Is that so?" you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden flutter in your stomach.

Rafe nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you're interested, I'd be happy to show you."

You could feel every little detail, like how close you were and the intensity in his eyes, like they were trying to unravel some mystery hidden deep inside you.

No, no, no.

Pull yourself together! You mentally slapped yourself, shaking off the dreamy haze that seemed to cloud your brain whenever he looked at you. You had goals, a mission to nail, and getting all googly-eyed over some suave, wealthy guy was not on the agenda.

You flashed him this playful grin, trying to play it cool even though your heart was doing somersaults in your chest.

"Oh, I dunno," you teased, taking a little step back to collect yourself. "Golf lessons? Sounds like it could burn a hole in my wallet. Can't be going broke over a new hobby."

Rafe chuckled, his eyes lingering on you for a second before he backed off, “You think I’d charge you?”

The way he said it, so casually, it sent a thrill through you, but you knew better than to let yourself get carried away. This was part of the game, after all.

“You’re always this nice to strangers?”

His blonde, tousled hair fell just so, framing his angular jawline, while a subtle stubble added a rugged charm to his appearance. And his smile... ugh, it's like he knew how fine he was. Rafe had this smirk that was just... chef's kiss. And his eyes? Sparkling like he was up to no good but in the best way possible. You couldn’t stop staring.

“Only the pretty ones.” he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with flirtation.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, trying to maintain your composure despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach. But damn, if he didn't have a way with words.

"Well, lucky me then," you quipped, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. “But don't think you're getting off that easy. I’m not just some pretty face, you know.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, gaze fixed on your hands as you moved them to fix your ponytail, “Is that so?"

Ah, you have no idea.

"Guess you'll just have to stick around to find out,” you replied with a cheeky wink, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “But fair warning, I'm not exactly a pro at this.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Don't worry,” he said, his voice softening. “I'll go easy on you.”

His confident demeanor was infectious, and you couldn't resist playing along.

“Who said I wanted easy?”

He tilted his head slightly, his hair shifted with the movement, “You think you can take me?”

With that, he gestured for you to take the next shot. You could feel his eyes on you as you lined up your shot, the weight of his gaze fueling your focus.

Taking a deep breath, you blocked out all distractions and focused on the ball. Grip firm, eyes locked on the target, you swung the club with all the force you could muster.

The ball sailed through the air, soaring gracefully before landing with a satisfying thud on the fairway. You couldn't help but grin as you watched it roll to a stop, a surge of pride coursing through your veins.

Rafe let out a low whistle, his expression somewhat impressed. "Not bad," he conceded. "Let's see if you can keep it up."

“Sounds like you’re scared…”

His eyebrows practically hit the sky when you threw down the gauntlet, his lips curling up. "Scared?" he shot back, his voice oozing with playful doubt, “Of you?”

Oh boy.

“Of losing.”

“Pretty girl, I don’t lose.”

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

“And you’d swing a lot harder if you arched your back just a little.”

"How so?” you retorted, your tone teasing.

Rafe stepped up behind you, his presence suddenly much closer than before. His large hands gently adjusted your posture, touch gentle yet firm.

"Like this," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he guided you through the motion.

The warmth of his palms seeped through the fabric of your shirt, sending a wave of tingles across your skin. His fingers rested lightly against your sides, the pressure just enough to provide guidance without feeling intrusive. You tried to focus on his instructions, on the proper form and technique, but it was so fucking hard with him standing so close.

Every subtle movement, every brush of his body against yours…goddamn. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, unable to believe how good it felt to have him so close.

"Alright, let's work on that swing.”

There was a confidence in his tone, a subtle reassurance that made you want to combust on the spot. The way his voice rose and fell with each word…it was difficult to do anything with the sensation of his touch sending your senses into overdrive.

You tilted your head slightly and threw out the question, "Like this?"

Before he could even answer, you couldn't resist the urge to push the boundaries a bit. So, you arched your back ever so subtly, pressing yourself back into him. It was a total spur-of-the-moment move.

There was a beat of silence that felt like an eternity. And then, oh my god, you felt his hands tighten slightly on your waist.

“Just like that.”

But then he stepped back and you couldn't help but feel disappointment at the loss of his proximity. You gave yourself a mental shake and got back into the swing of things – pun totally intended.

Grabbing the club again, you were all set to take your next shot. With Rafe's tips fresh in your mind, you took a swing, putting everything you had into it. And would you believe it? The ball actually went where you wanted it to, landing way closer to the hole than you expected.

Rafe's reaction was priceless. His eyebrows shot up again, and there was this look in his eyes like, this time he was genuinely impressed.

Score one for you.

But you weren’t about to get cocky just yet. So, you gave him a smirk and threw down the gauntlet.

“Funnily enough, I never lose either.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe x female!mc #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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itneverendshere · 6 days

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lorddd let me log out before i lose it

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #oh my god #oh wow #let me live in my delusions #please help

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itneverendshere · 9 days

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the way I dropped my phone

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #oh my god #im gonna cry

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itneverendshere · 12 days

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guilty conscience (+18)

chapter ii

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

was money worth breaking someone’s heart?

Outer Banks, paradise on earth?

More like hell.

The scorching sun beat down mercilessly upon you, it felt like walking into a sweltering inferno, leaving you gasping for relief in the oppressive heat. You had always been a sucker for warmer weather, but this? This was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Each step you took was a struggle, the air thick with humidity that clung to your skin like a suffocating blanket. Glistening beads of sweat formed on your brow as you trudged along the street, wondering if Ward’s money was worth solar insulation.

Yeah, it was. But it was also, kind of unsettling.

You weren’t paid to think about the morality of the entire thing. It wasn’t your problem, right? It wasn't like you were paid to think about that stuff. Who were you to turn down an opportunity like this?

In a world where money spoke louder than anything else, you had to look out of yourself first.

You remembered the way Ward's eyes gleamed with a calculated intensity as he outlined the details of his latest scheme.

"In a couple weeks, my company is hosting a charity event," Ward had explained. "It's an open invitation affair, no need for formalities. That's where you'll have your first encounter with him."

Ward's instructions had been crystal clear like he was laying out a step-by-step guide for some high-stakes mission. As he pushed that envelope filled with cash across the table, your heart skipped a beat.

The bills were crisp and pristine, practically begging to be spent. You couldn't mess this up. The pressure was on, but you weren’t about to let that fat stack of cash slip through your fingers.

And just like that, weeks later, you found yourself standing outside the venue. The sweltering heat seemed even more oppressive as you made your way through the throngs of people. The whole scene felt like a fever dream, with the air thick with humidity and the sounds of laughter and chatter echoing all around.

You had spent ages agonizing over what to wear, finally settling on a breezy sundress adorned with floral patterns. Paired with simple sandals and delicate jewelry, you hoped to strike the perfect balance between casual elegance and summer chic.

As you made your way through the crowd and stepped into the outdoor venue, you couldn't help but be dazzled by the sight. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting a warm glow over the pier, while colorful decorations danced in the breeze. It was like stepping into a postcard-perfect paradise.

Focus. You were there for one thing and one thing only.

Your mind raced as you scanned the crowd, searching for Rafe. You couldn't afford to let him slip through your fingers.

And then, just like that, you spotted him.

Wow, okay. That was surprisingly easy.

He looked nothing like the old picture Ward had pulled out of his Hermes wallet. In that photo, he was just a cute kid, probably around sixteen, with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. But now? Now he was something else entirely.

You could tell he was insanely attractive, even from a distance, in a way that made your knees weak. Tall, impeccably dressed, and oh! You could see how pretty his eyes were from where you stood. His sandy blond hair was covered by a baseball cap on backward. And yeah, it made him look insanely douchey but for some sick reason, it only made you find him more attractive.

No wonder Ward wanted to keep girl’s pawns off him.

He moved through the crowd with ease, flashing what you assumed was his signature smile. You knew it from the get-go, there was something about the way he carried himself, with a confidence that was both alluring and intimidating. It was like he knew he was hot, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

But you weren't there to admire him from a distance. With a determined set to your jaw, you pushed your way through the crowd, inching closer and closer to where Rafe stood.

As you approached, it was like this electric buzz was shooting through your veins, making your palms all sweaty. You blamed it partly on the weather. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for. You squared your shoulders, ready to deliver the best performance of your life.

But just as you were about to reach him, Rafe's gaze flickered in your direction, and for a moment, it felt like everything stood still. So fucking cliché.

His piercing blue eyes locked with yours, and it felt like he was peering into your soul or something. You felt this shiver run down your spine as if he could see right through you.

And just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, when someone blocked your vision.

You gotta be shitting me, you cursed to yourself.

As you looked up, you found yourself face to face with a blonde guy, his grin wide. He leaned in a little too close, invading your personal space.

“You're new. M’ JJ, you?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “Not interested.”

Yeah, he was cute. But you were working, and he was making your job a lot harder.

The guy—JJ, apparently—didn't seem to get the hint, his grin widening as he leaned against one of the tables.

He raised an eyebrow, undeterred. "Aw, come on, don't be like that.”

You sighed inwardly. You had more important things to deal with than fending off unwanted advances from some wannabe player. He was probably a nice guy, but you really didn’t care.

You leaned your head to the side, standing on your tiptoes as you refocus your attention on Rafe. Except when you turned back to where he had been standing, he was nowhere to be seen.

Ugh, motherfucker.

Panic began to bubble up inside you. You scanned the crowd frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was gone.

Great. Just great.

“You lookin’ for someone or somethin’? I can help you.” He’s still flashing that cheesy grin like he's auditioning for a toothpaste commercial.

“Doubt it.” You shot JJ a withering glare, hoping to convey just how uninterested you were in his advances. But instead of taking the hint, he just grinned even wider, like he thought he was being charming or something.

"Goddamn, no need to be rude," he said, unfazed by your icy demeanor. "Just trying to be friendly."

Friendly? Yeah, right. You were about to brush him off again when you caught sight of movement out of the corner of your eye and then a hand was suddenly landing on JJ’s shoulder, pulling him away from you with a surprising force.

“We got a problem here?”

You glanced up to see Rafe standing there, swooping in like some sort of guardian angel, but with a serious case of resting bitch face.

He was even prettier up close.

“They let you out the mental institution for this, huh?”

Rafe's gaze remained fixed on JJ, blue eyes cold and calculating as remained. You found yourself holding your breath, unsure of what would happen next. You were just standing there, wondering if you should start taking bets on who was gonna throw the first punch.

Rafe's lips quirked up into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it.

"That’s a good one. Why don’t you walk away before I let it loose on you?”

Oh. These two were definitely not friends.

Your eyes darted between them wondering how the fuck you managed to get stuck in between a cat fight.

“I don't take orders from you, kook.”

Rafe's smirk only widened at JJ's defiance, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes as he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Rafe was not backing down; it was like he was enjoying every second of this showdown with JJ. And you had to admit, there was something kind of hot about the way he was standing his ground.

But you needed to stop it.

“He was just telling me where to find the bathroom.”

Rafe's eyes flickered to you, “’M sure he was. Next time, maybe try being a little less persistent, huh?"

JJ bristled at Rafe's words, his expression darkening with frustration as he shot you a glare before reluctantly backing down. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the way Rafe effortlessly commanded the situation. Your mind wandered to other scenarios where his demeanor would be a very pleasant surprise.

"Yeah, whatever," JJ muttered, “Fucking kook.” his tone sullen as he shot one last scowl in Rafe's direction before turning on his heel and stalking off into the crowd.

You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension slowly dissipate from your body. If Ward caught wind of what just went down, he'd probably lose it and boot you from the gig faster than you could say "summer job."

It wasn't like Rafe was about to throw fists for your sake specifically; you were pretty sure he was just itching for a brawl and JJ happened to provide the perfect opportunity. But hey, whether it was for you or not, the fact remained: you were smack dab in the middle of it all and Ward would kill you.

“You new around here?”

His voice had a rugged quality to it, with a hint of a southern drawl that added to its charm. You turned to see Rafe looking at you, his eyes no longer cold but instead holding a hint of curiosity.

The smell of his cologne nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Visiting for the Summer.”

As Rafe nodded, and your gut clenched as his gaze remained fixed on yours.

“I’m Rafe.”

A slow grin grew at the corner of your mouth, “Rafe? Is that short for anything?”

As Rafe's lips curved into a half-smile, he shook his head slightly. "Nah, just Rafe. What about you?”

You told him your name. Ward made sure any trace of you was deleted from the web, which unfortunately included your instagram account. No social media for you this summer. An unfortunate sacrifice.

Rafe repeated your name, committing it to memory. "Nice to meet ya.”

And then, the walking nightmare that sucked you into this, walked in. Suddenly, the stakes felt higher, the competition fiercer.

"Rafe, there you are!"

You turned to see a girl approaching, Sofia, you assumed. She was prettier than what Ward had let on and you quickly realized why Rafe had been so smitten with her. She was gorgeous, in a way that made you feel suddenly self-conscious, like you were standing in her shadow. Until you remembered who the fuck you were and snapped out of it.

Rafe's face lit up as he turned to greet her, a genuine warm smile taking over his whole face. A complete contrast to his posture earlier.

Fuck.

The way her dainty fingers wrapped around his neck when he hugged her made you want to curse Ward out for writing her off as some sort of fling. This would be harder than you thought. It was clear that they knew each other very well. They had history, a connection that clearly ran deeper than just friendship.

You plastered on your best smile and stepped forward, ready to make your move. But before you could utter a single word, Rafe's attention was pulled away once again, this time by a group of friends who had just arrived.

Embarrassing much?

“I’ll see ya around, yeah?”

You watched helplessly as he disappeared into the crowd, swallowed up by the sea of people.

The whole situation turned out to be a hot mess. It felt like the universe was conspiring against you. Plus, the heat was making everything feel ten times worse.

But you were not about to throw in the towel just yet.

Not when there was cold hard cash waiting for you at the end of that dumpster fire. You just needed to keep your cool and come up with a new game plan.

Rafe Cameron wouldn’t even know what hit him.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe angst

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itneverendshere · 14 days

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itneverendshere · 15 days

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thank you for reading 😙😙💗

guilty conscience (+18)

chapter i

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

was money worth breaking someone’s heart?

When your agency informed you that Ward Cameron was interested in hiring you for the entire summer, you weren’t the least bit fazed.

A millionaire spending money on escorts? Groundbreaking.

But you were pleased to be the one getting paid.

The prospect of being hired for the entire summer by a millionaire was more than appealing, especially since it meant a steady stream of income without having to worry about searching for new clients.

You hoped that he wouldn't turn out to be a creep, like a few of the clients you had encountered in the past. While most of them were respectful, aware of the rules, and simply seeking companionship, there were always a few who made the experience an absolute nightmare.

But you remained optimistic. Ward Cameron's reputation preceded him as a successful and influential man. Nonetheless, it was wise to keep your guard up.

“Ward Cameron? As in the millionaire?!" Serena's surprise was palpable even through the phone. You called her the moment you got the email, your brain barely functioning.

"Yeah, that's the one," You confirmed, "You think I should take it? It’s just... it's a whole summer commitment. What if he's, like, super weird or something?”

“Do I think you should take it? Do I think—, duh, yes! Worst-case scenario, you bail after a week and come crash at my place.”

Serena's response came through with all the enthusiasm you expected from her. She was always the one to push you out of your comfort zone, in the best possible way.

"Pretty girl, you gotta seize the opportunity!" She continued, her excitement contagious even over the phone. "A millionaire summer gig? That's like winning the lottery, but, you know, better!"

You couldn't help but laugh, "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Serena."

"You know me, always the supportive friend," she a quipped back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You've got a point," you chuckled, shaking your head. "But seriously, what do you think?"

Serena's tone softened. "Honestly, it sounds like a sweet deal. A whole summer with a rich man? Sign me up. I mean, come on," she insisted. "Think of all the fancy parties, luxurious fits, and who knows what else! Plus, hello? Ka-ching!" She added, and you knew she was making a money gesture with her hand even though you couldn’t see her.

You couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, the paycheck isn't too shabby either."

"Just be sure to keep your pepper spray handy. You never know with these rich fuckers."

"Got it," you replied, rolling your eyes. "But hey, if he's anything like his reputation, it could be smooth sailing."

"Here's to hoping," Serena said, sounding genuinely hopeful. "Just promise me you'll spill all the juicy details when you get back."

"You know I will," you replied, already picturing the gossip-filled catch-up session you'd have with her at the end of the summer. "Thanks for telling me off the ledge."

"Anytime, babe," she said, her voice warm with affection. "Now go get 'em”.

The evening to meet him eventually arrived, and you found yourself seated at a luxurious table in a fancy restaurant nestled in the heart of Beverly Hills, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the sophisticated decor. You were clad in a backless gold Dior gown that shimmered under the soft lighting. Your first big splurge years ago.

The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, its sleek silhouette exuding elegance. The plunging neckline revealed a hint of décolletage, adding a touch of allure to the ensemble.

It was a statement piece, designed to turn heads and command attention. You knew what you were doing, how to play the game.

There was no rookie move on your part, ever. You’d chosen it carefully, wanting to make a lasting impression on Ward without overshadowing the refined ambiance of your surroundings.

No matter how many times you did it, how confident you became in your craft, you still felt your heart pounding as you waited for him. He was certainly the most influential man you had ever encountered, and that kind of power freaked you the fuck out.

Moments later, he sauntered into the restaurant, every inch the epitome of sophistication. His suit was impeccably tailored to fit his frame. Each stitch seemed to scream, "I have money to burn."

Which he did.

You couldn't help but wonder just how much that suit cost.

Hundreds? Thousands? It was probably more money than you made in a month, maybe even two. Yet, there he was, wearing it like it was no big deal.

As he approached your table, a subtle smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Good evening, Mr. Cameron," you greeted him, rising to your feet with a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Ward, please," he replied smoothly, extending his hand for a handshake. "The pleasure is all mine. You look even more stunning than your photos."

You accepted his handshake, "Thank you, Ward. Shall we?" You gestured toward our table, and he nodded in agreement.

You found yourself scrutinizing his every move, trying to break down his intentions behind that charming facade.

“So tell me, what drove you into this…industry?”

The way he said it rubbed you the wrong way. His tone seemed condescending, which didn’t surprise you at all. It seemed like there was more behind his question than just casual curiosity. Was he testing you?

It felt as though he was probing, searching for something beyond the surface level. His demeanor carried a hint of arrogance that grated against your nerves.

And honestly, you had punched men for lesser.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you maintained your polite smile.

"Well, Ward, it's a combination of factors, really," You began, choosing your words carefully. "I've always been intrigued by the dynamics of human connection and the opportunity to create meaningful experiences for others."

Bullshit.

You almost wanted to laugh at how easily the lie came out of your lips.

You did this because it was easy money. After all, men were stupid enough to pay for you to sit next to them at events, they were pawns, a means to an end, always.

You watched his expression closely, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor. It was as though your response had piqued his interest, just like you planned. But you couldn’t underestimate a man of his caliber, surely, he wasn’t as easy to manipulate as the guy next door.

Ward nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

"Interesting," he mused, his tone neutral. "It's rare to find someone who approaches this line of work with such... philosophical perspective."

You resisted the urge to bristle at his comment, choosing instead to deflect.

"Well, I've always been a romantic at heart," you replied, injecting a hint of playfulness into your tone. "I suppose it's just part of my charm."

Again, bullshit. But he seems more interested in your shiny pink lipgloss than the words coming out of them.

Men.

To your relief, Ward chuckles softly, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

"Indeed," he conceded, a hint of warmth softening his features. "Charm certainly seems to be one of your many qualities."

The dinner went smoothly. You let him show off and order for the both of you, complimenting his choice of wine even though it tasted like absolute shit, and you would have rather drown a beer than drink that ever again. But alas, there was a façade to maintain.

Ward regaled you with stories of his business ventures, his travels, and his philanthropic endeavors. You listened attentively, nodding and smiling at all the right moments, even if you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than listen to another white savior tale of his.

“If you don’t mind, Ward, I’d like to discuss our arrangement.”

His eyebrows rose in curiosity as he set down his wine glass, turning his attention fully to you. "Of course, my dear. Straight down to business, I like that.”

Ew.

You leaned back in your chair, “I’m sure you’ve been informed about the agency’s policy. I’d just like to know what events you’d like me to attend.”

Ward's only stared at you for a moment before he leaned foward, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, yes, the agency's policy. Quite straightforward, isn't it?" He mused, swirling the wine in his glass absently.

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, though inside, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Indeed.” you replied evenly, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil.

“I’m afraid this job is going to be a little different from what you’re used to, honey.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. What the hell was that supposed to mean? You had encountered your fair share of peculiar clients in the past, but something about Ward's demeanor sent a shiver down your spine.

Suppressing the urge to bolt from your seat, you forced a polite smile and nodded, trying to maintain an air of professionalism, “I see. Different in what way?"

He sighed, running a hand through his greyish hair, “Truth is, I didn’t hire you for myself.”

You blinked, trying to process Ward's words as your mind tried not to jump into the worst possible case scenario. What did he mean he didn't hire you for himself?

“I don’t understand?”

Ward studied you with a calculating gaze. "I apologize for any confusion," he began, his tone measured. "You see, I didn't hire you to be my companion for the summer."

A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. You hated people who can’t just jump straight to the point, circling the subject like a stupid party trick.

"Then who did you hire me for?" you asked.

Ward's lips curled into a knowing smile, and for a moment, you felt a surge of panic coursing through you.

"I hired you for my son."

Okay, what the fuck.

You were positive your face probably gave away your exact thoughts, because he was speaking again before you could spit out the words.

Ward continued, his tone taking on a note of urgency. "You see, my son has been going through a difficult time lately.”

You only hoped you were not about to get roped into spending the entire summer with a man-child.

“Define difficult.”

“Two years ago he recovered from a drug addiction.”

You didn’t want to sound like an insensitive bitch, but drug addiction problems were more than common among the rich kids.

“Okay. And?”

“And he’s better now. He’s great, actually—“

“But?” You interrupted with a tilt of you head, “What’s the catch?”

“Recently, he’s been spending time with a girl, who I do not approve of.”

Roping you into a situation like this felt incredibly manipulative, not to mention unfair to both you and his son. You were not born to put up with other people family drama.

“Why don’t you approve of her?”

Ward snorts, wiping his lips with the napkin, “She’s not good enough for him. Hangs around with the kind of people that ruined his life.”

"And you think hiring me to spend time with your son will somehow fix…this?" you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“You’re not just spending time with him, honey.”

“Excuse me?”

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing, “I need you to date him.”

He must be out of his fucking mind.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. The absurdity of the situation struck you harder, “Date him?" you repeated between cracks, shaking your head in disbelief.

The man was clearly going through a mid-life crisis because there was no fucking way he was being serious.

Ward's expression darkened, his brows furrowing in irritation as your laughter filled the restaurant.

"Is something amusing?" his voice cut through the air like a blade.

You struggled to stifle your laughter, the weight of his serious tone finally sinking in.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say between chuckles, though the amusement still lingered in your voice. "I thought you weren’t serious.”

Ward's jaw clenched, “You think I’d be here if I wasn’t serious?” he snapped, his tone stern. "My time is money.”

"Well, forgive me for finding the situation...unexpected," you reply, exaggeratedly flicking your gaze upward. "But hiring someone to date your son? That's not exactly normal.”

Ward's eyes narrowed slightly, his irritation palpable. "It's necessary," he retorted, his tone sharp. "My son's well-being is at stake here.”

Fucking dramatic. Rich people would never fail to amuse you with their hobbies.

Paying someone to date his son? It sounded like something straight out of a soap opera. But you knew better than to let your mouth get the best of you, especially when there was money on the line.

You held his gaze, unflinching. "And you think that hiring me to date him is the solution?"

“Yes.”

Ward's answer was curt, leaving no room for further discussion.

Dating his son was definitely not what you had signed up for, but the allure of the paycheck had you second-guessing your morals.

Realistically, Ward's son would probably never like you, you’d date for a few weeks, keep him away from the girl of his dreams, get paid and ta-dah.

"Alright. I'll hear you out, what exactly do you expect from me in this...arrangement?"

"You’ll be staying in the Outer Banks. I’ll pay for your tickets and accommodations. You’ll be paid weekly, extras will be included.”

“Extras?”

The word lingered in the air. It sent alarm bells ringing in your mind.

“Listen, your agency’s has a policy, I don’t care if you break it or not, you do whatever you gotta do.”

You snap, tired of biting your tongue, "I'm not a prostitute."

Ward's brows shot up, his expression momentarily taken aback by your bluntness. "Pardon me?"

You could feel the weight of his stare, analyzing your every move, every expression. But you refused to back down. You had principles, lines you wouldn't cross, no matter the paycheck.

"I said, I'm not a prostitute," you reiterated, "I don't engage in any activities that cross the line of professional companionship.”

Ward's jaw clenched as he assessed you, as though trying to decipher whether you were bluffing or not.

Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with thinly veiled frustration. "Fine," he relented, his tone icy. "But do remember you're replaceable."

Of course, he would resort to threats when he didn't get his way.

Typical.

"I'm well aware of that," you replied coolly, refusing to let him see any sign of weakness. "But if you want me to do this, it's going to be on my terms. Take it or leave it."

Ward's lips tightened into a thin line, "As you wish," he bit out, his tone dripping with irritation. "But don't expect any special treatment."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, hiding the satisfaction bubbling inside you. "Wouldn't dream of it."

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you

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itneverendshere · 17 days