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rafeskai · 6 months ago

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Not Now, Not Ever | Rafe Cameron

Summary: After a tense run-in with the cops, reader is injured while trying to escape, and Rafe reluctantly steps in to help. Though initially distant, Rafe's care and honesty break through the reader's defenses, revealing a vulnerability neither of them expected. As they face the aftermath together, the tension between them intensifies.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Profanities

Author's Note: Requested by Anon!

The thing about Rafe Cameron was that he always seemed untouchable. Born into privilege, raised on Figure Eight with a golden spoon in his mouth and a name that opened doors, he was the embodiment of everything you didn’t have. And yet, he was the storm you could never quite outrun.

You hadn’t meant to cross paths with him. Your world—chaotic, messy, and a little too close to the edge—didn’t belong anywhere near his. But life in Kildare had a way of throwing people together, whether they fit or not.

It started months ago, on a humid summer night at one of those wild beach parties you swore you’d stop going to. The sand was packed with bodies, the air heavy with the scent of salt and cheap beer. You were nursing your third drink of the night, watching the waves crash against the shore, when Rafe stumbled into your line of sight.

He looked like trouble—disheveled blond hair, a cocky smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and an energy that screamed recklessness. You’d heard the stories about him, the whispered warnings. Stay away from Rafe Cameron. He’s bad news.

You should have listened.

But when his sharp blue eyes locked onto yours across the bonfire, something shifted. It wasn’t a spark; it was a collision—two opposing forces drawn together by some unseen magnetism. He swaggered over, drink in hand, and before you knew it, you were trading barbs and sidelong glances, the tension between you electric.

“You don’t belong here,” he’d said, his tone teasing but laced with something darker.

“And you do?” you shot back, refusing to back down.

That was the first of many encounters. Somehow, despite your better judgment, you kept running into him. At parties, in the middle of town, even at the gas station late one night when you were buying snacks to fuel another all-night gaming session.

The dynamic between you was always the same: sharp words and stolen glances, a push and pull that left you dizzy. He got under your skin in a way no one else could, peeling back your defenses with a smirk or a well-placed comment. And yet, there was something about him—something vulnerable beneath the bravado—that kept you from walking away.

Rafe, for all his arrogance, seemed fascinated by you too. He’d ask questions he had no right to ask, dig into your life like he was trying to understand what made you tick. You never gave him straight answers, but you had a feeling he saw through your deflections.

One night, after too many drinks and an argument that left you both seething, he’d grabbed your arm as you turned to leave. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he’d spat, his voice low and dangerous.

You’d stared at him, something raw and unspoken passing between you. “No,” you’d said quietly. “I think we’re both just really, really fucked up.”

He hadn’t let go right away. And in the silence that followed, something unspoken settled between you—a fragile truce, an understanding that you were both running from something neither of you wanted to name.

But your worlds were still too different. While you spent your days trying to keep your life from spiraling further out of control, Rafe seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was fire to your gasoline, and every time you got too close, you felt the heat.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That the stolen glances and lingering touches were just part of the game he liked to play. But late at night, when the world was quiet and you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop wondering: What would happen if you let yourself fall?

You never got the chance to find out.

The months passed, and the tension between you remained unresolved.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow casting eerie shadows across the tangled maze of Kildare’s backstreets. You had been here before—ducking between alleyways, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. But tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just out of luck. You were out of time.

The piercing sound of sirens grew louder, echoing through the quiet night, chasing you like a predator. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only thing keeping you upright. Your knees ached from the sprint, but you couldn’t stop now. Not when the alternative was cuffs and a mugshot.

You cursed under your breath, your mind racing as you turned a sharp corner and slipped into a narrow alleyway. It was dark and cramped, but it gave you a moment to catch your breath. Pressing your back against the cold, damp wall, you counted the seconds, hoping—praying—that the cops would pass you by.

Then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots crunching gravel reached your ears.

Damn it.

Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to move, but in your haste, your foot caught on a loose brick. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you landed hard, pain flaring through your ankle and shoulder. You bit back a cry, clutching your injured arm as you tried to push yourself upright.

"Shit," you hissed, blinking back tears of frustration. There was no way you could outrun them now.

“Having fun down there?”

The voice came from above you, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. You looked up, squinting through the darkness, and your stomach sank when you recognized the silhouette. Rafe Cameron stood at the end of the alley, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His piercing blue eyes practically glowed in the dim light, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your blood boil.

Of all the people to stumble across you in this mess, it had to be him.

“Great. Just my luck,” you muttered, dragging yourself to your feet with a wince.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to your injured arm. “Looks like you’ve had a rough night.”

“No shit,” you snapped, brushing dirt off your jeans. You glanced nervously toward the street, where the sirens seemed to be growing louder. “And I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move. Just leaned against the wall, watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression. “You’re not going anywhere like that.”

“I’ll manage.” You tried to take a step, but your ankle buckled beneath you, sending you stumbling forward. Before you could hit the ground again, a strong hand shot out to catch you.

You stared up at him, startled, as he steadied you. His grip was firm but careful, and for a moment, his usual arrogance was replaced by something almost… concerned.

“Careful,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “You’re gonna hurt yourself worse.”

You jerked away from him, your cheeks burning. “I don’t need your help.”

“Right,” he drawled, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Because limping around on a busted ankle is working out so well for you.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” you shot back, glaring at him. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly the Good Samaritan type.”

He shrugged, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe I just don’t feel like watching you get arrested.”

“Touching,” you said dryly, but the truth was, you were too exhausted—and too hurt—to argue. The pain in your ankle was unbearable, and your shoulder wasn’t much better. If you didn’t get out of here soon, you’d be spending the night in a cell.

Rafe must have seen the resignation in your eyes because he sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Come on. My truck’s around the corner. I’ll get you out of here.”

You hesitated, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you do that?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes before.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t like you had any better options. With a reluctant nod, you let him drape your arm over his shoulders, his other hand sliding around your waist to support you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite everything, a strange warmth spread through you.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered as he helped you limp toward his truck.

By the time you reached it, the sirens had faded into the distance, leaving the night eerily quiet. Rafe opened the passenger door and helped you climb in, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.

As he started the engine, you leaned your head against the window, exhaustion overtaking you. You didn’t trust him—probably never would—but for now, you were grateful.

“Where are we going?” you asked softly.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

The rumble of the truck's engine filled the silence as Rafe drove through the dark, deserted streets. You fought to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline of the chase fading and leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through your injured shoulder and ankle, but you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the sharp sting in your shoulder said otherwise.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, we’re almost there.”

You didn’t bother asking where “there” was. Arguing with Rafe Cameron was like shouting into the void—completely pointless. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the familiar streets give way to the isolated backroads of Figure Eight. The trees grew thicker, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the only light came from the truck’s headlights slicing through the darkness.

When Rafe finally pulled into the driveway of a small, secluded cabin, you frowned. “This… isn’t your house.”

“Nope,” he said, cutting the engine. “It’s a place I use when I need to get away. No one’s gonna find us here.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or relief. You didn’t exactly trust him, but you were too tired to care. If this was some kind of elaborate trap, you’d deal with it later.

Rafe came around to your side of the truck and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer than before. “Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t argue as he helped you out of the truck, his arm steadying you as you limped toward the cabin. The interior was surprisingly cozy, with worn furniture and a stone fireplace that cast a warm glow across the room. It felt lived-in, though you doubted anyone else knew about this place.

“Sit,” Rafe ordered, guiding you to the couch. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

You sank into the cushions, wincing as the movement jostled your shoulder. The pain was worse now, no longer dulled by the adrenaline. When Rafe returned, he carried a small, battered kit and a bottle of water. He crouched in front of you, his expression unreadable as he set the supplies on the coffee table.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pulling a pair of gloves from the kit.

“Great,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop him as he carefully peeled back your sleeve to examine your shoulder. His fingers were warm against your skin, and you cursed the way your breath hitched when he touched you.

“You dislocated it,” he said after a moment. “I’ll have to pop it back in.”

Your stomach flipped. “Can’t we just… leave it for now?”

Rafe gave you a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “If we don’t fix it, it’ll get worse. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Trust him. The words felt foreign, almost laughable. But as he positioned himself beside you, his hand bracing your arm, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice.

“On three,” he said, his voice low and steady. “One—”

Before he even got to two, he pushed. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred your vision as you gasped for breath, the pain slowly ebbing to a dull throb.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I hate you.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the cleanup was quieter. He wrapped your ankle with surprising care, his touch almost gentle as he worked. You watched him in silence, noting the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. It was strange, seeing him like this—focused, almost… kind.

When he finished, he leaned back, wiping his hands on a towel. “There. You’ll live.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling awkward under his gaze. “For… everything.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away. He just stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out what to say. The air between you grew heavy, charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

You bristled, narrowing your eyes. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you’re still a jerk.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, getting into all this trouble, and for what? You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for once, there was no edge to his voice. “But I do.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unexpected. You turned back to him, your heart racing as you searched his face for any hint of a joke. But there was none. Just the truth, laid bare between you.

“Rafe—”

“I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t stand seeing you like this. You drive me insane, and half the time I don’t even know why I bother, but… I care about you. More than I should.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a confession you’d never expected. But as you looked at him, his usual mask of arrogance stripped away, you realized something else.

You cared about him too.

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might close the gap.

But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back, running a hand over his face as if to steady himself.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The cabin felt different in the light of day. The warmth from the fire was gone, replaced by a cold chill that seeped into your bones. You hadn’t slept at all the night before—your mind too restless, too tangled with the memory of Rafe’s confession. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Rafe’s voice echoed in your mind, his words hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. “I care about you. More than I should.”

The way he’d said it—quiet, raw, and unguarded—had unsettled you. You weren’t used to that kind of honesty, especially not from him. Rafe Cameron wasn’t supposed to care. Not about you. He was supposed to be the reckless, untouchable bad boy that everyone warned you to stay away from.

So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as untouchable as you thought?

You stretched out on the couch, the pain from your injuries still a dull throb in the background, but nothing compared to the weight of your thoughts. The first light of dawn had barely crept through the curtains when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow.

“Morning,” he said gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.

You barely acknowledged him, your gaze fixed on the floor. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” he asked, stepping into the room. He’d changed into a worn flannel shirt and jeans, looking as effortlessly put together as always, despite the tension between you.

“Act like nothing happened,” you muttered. You pushed yourself upright on the couch, wincing as you adjusted your shoulder. “We both know that you didn’t mean what you said last night.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “You think I lied?”

“No,” you said quickly, though it didn’t feel entirely true. “I think you said it in the heat of the moment. Maybe you were trying to fix things or—”

“Or what?” Rafe cut you off, his voice sharper than usual. “You think I can’t feel things just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?” His jaw tightened as he took a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t lie. I said it because I meant it.”

The air between you thickened, the words hanging heavily in the space between you. You could feel the pull, the electric tension that seemed to coil tighter with every breath you took. But you were too stubborn to admit it—too scared to believe it was real.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it. But I can’t pretend like I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You stood up, a rush of emotions flooding through you. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Rafe. People like us don’t get to have happy endings.”

His eyes softened for a moment, the hardness in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable. “Maybe we don’t need a happy ending. Maybe we just need to get through the mess we’ve made together.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words hung in the air, leaving you caught between something you couldn’t quite define and something you were terrified to face.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming now. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust yourself. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

His words struck a chord deep within you. You’d always prided yourself on being independent, on handling everything on your own. But the truth was, you were tired—tired of running, tired of pretending you didn’t need someone. And maybe, just maybe, Rafe was the person who could help you put the pieces back together.

But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective gesture. “I need space, Rafe. I’m not ready for this.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you space. But don’t think for a second that I’m going anywhere.”

The words were both comforting and suffocating all at once. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you knew you couldn’t keep pretending like this—like nothing had changed between you.

“I don’t need saving,” you said quietly, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

Rafe didn’t flinch. His eyes softened as he took a step back. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

“I’ll be outside,” Rafe said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “If you need anything.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze already drifting to the window. As he walked out of the cabin, you sank back down onto the couch, your mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, none of which made sense.

But one thing was clear—no matter how hard you tried to push him away, Rafe wasn’t going anywhere.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently staring out at the woods surrounding the cabin. You hadn’t heard Rafe move around, but when you looked up, he was standing in the doorway again, his gaze gentle.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice tentative. “You’re in a lot of trouble right now, and I can help. My family... well, they know people. Good people. I can have my lawyers handle everything, get you out of this mess. You won’t have to run anymore.”

The offer hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sincerity. You hadn’t expected him to offer something so personal—so vulnerable.

You blinked, still processing the offer. “You’d really do that? For me?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

You hesitated. The idea of being free from the constant fear of being caught was tempting, but something inside you still resisted. “But... why? Why help me, after everything?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, vulnerability flashing through his eyes. “Because I don’t want to see you suffer. I don’t want you to keep running, thinking you’re alone in all of this.” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “And because, despite all the chaos, I care about you. More than I ever thought I would.”

The silence between you was thick, but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like something fragile and real, the kind of thing that could grow if you let it.

You met his eyes, the weight of his words settling over you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be as messed up as you’d convinced yourself they were.

“I don’t want to keep running either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe gave you a soft smile, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “Then let me help you. Let me fix this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at him, the air between you warmer than it had been in a long time. You didn’t have all the answers, and maybe things weren’t perfect, but for once, it felt like you were on the edge of something real.

“I’ll take your help,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a hesitant warmth. “But only if you promise not to bail when things get messy.”

Rafe chuckled, that familiar spark in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

And just like that, the walls between you crumbled, replaced with something new—something uncertain, but full of promise. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe in a future where you weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

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rafeskai · 7 months ago

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Game On | Gamer!Rafe Cameron x Gamer!Reader

Leveling Up

Summary: After your first game of Call of Duty with Rafe, what began as a casual gaming session quickly turned into a growing friendship. Rafe’s support and encouragement not only helped you improve but also gave you the confidence to explore a new world of gaming. When he introduced you to his squad, you found a place where you truly belonged, forming bonds with the group and deepening your connection with Rafe.

Pairings: gamer!reader & gamer!rafe

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: Another random 'chapter' to this AU

The next day, you sat down at your console, still buzzing from your game with Rafe the night before. It was your first time playing Call of Duty, and you had to admit—having Rafe guide you through it had made all the difference. You didn’t expect much out of gaming, but somehow, it had turned into something more.

As you scrolled through your friend requests, you spotted a notification: killshotking had added you. You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. You had a feeling he might, but seeing it pop up made it real. You quickly accepted the request.

Almost immediately, a message popped up from him.

killshotking: “Yo, it’s Rafe. You on? Want to play again?”

You hesitated only for a second before typing back.

angelhunter201: “Definitely. You up for a rematch?”

A few seconds later, he replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

killshotking: “Let’s do it. I’ll invite you to the party.”

The sound of an invite popped up, and you joined the party chat, ready for round two. As the game loaded, Rafe's voice came through your headset, smooth as ever.

“Ready to kick some ass today?” he asked, his voice playful but with that underlying competitive tone.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, your fingers gripping the controller with a little more confidence than before.

The match began, and this time, you were on your own a bit more, but Rafe still guided you when needed. There was something comforting about his voice, a mix of experience and encouragement that helped ease your nerves.

“Good job on the flank,” he praised after you took out an enemy trying to sneak behind your team. “You’re getting the hang of it fast.”

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. I think I’m finally starting to understand the map a bit.”

The game flowed better this time, and you were making plays you hadn’t thought you could. Between the gameplay, you started talking more—asking Rafe how long he’d been playing, what other games he liked, and just getting to know him. You were still figuring out how to talk to him without sounding like a total noob, but Rafe seemed easygoing, never making you feel less-than.

“So, you’re pretty good at this,” you said between rounds, still not fully used to talking while playing. “How long have you been playing?”

“Been at it a while,” he replied casually. “Started when I was a teenager. It’s just kind of stuck with me.” He chuckled. “Kinda like a second job, but more fun.”

“You must be really good then. I’m still just trying to get the hang of everything.” You laughed lightly, not wanting to make it sound like you were fishing for compliments, but Rafe took it in stride.

“Hey, you’re killing it already,” he reassured you. “You might not realize it yet, but you’re picking it up fast. You should see the people I started with—no offense to them, but they weren’t as quick as you.”

You felt a rush of pride at his words. It was easy to get lost in the game, to forget how new you were when Rafe made you feel like a natural.

As the match wrapped up—another win for your team—you noticed that you weren’t just feeling good about the game. The conversations between rounds, the joking back and forth, had been... fun. You found yourself smiling more than you had in a while.

“So, uh…” You hesitated a little, not sure how to make the transition, but you figured it was worth a shot. “Do you have Discord? I was thinking it might be easier to chat there.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. You were starting to regret asking when Rafe’s voice came through, casual and a little surprised.

“Yeah, I do. That’s actually a great idea. It’d be easier than the in-game chat.” He sounded like he was already pulling up his app. “I’ll send you my handle.”

He quickly sent over his Discord username, and you added him right away. The second he accepted, the familiar ping of a new message appeared.

killshotking: “Yo, you good to play again soon?”

You quickly typed back, excited at the thought of playing with him again, but also eager to chat more outside the game.

angelhunter201: “I’m down. I’ve got some free time today if you want to team up again.”

The conversation flowed easily in Discord, and for the first time, you felt like you were building something more than just a gaming partnership. Rafe wasn’t just a player to you; there was something about him that made the whole experience feel different. He was kind, laid-back, but also competitive—exactly the kind of person you could enjoy spending time with, whether it was playing or just talking.

The next few hours passed in a blur, more games, more conversation, and as you logged off for the night, you couldn’t help but feel like you had just started something new.

You’d gone from a nervous newbie to someone who was excited to game again with someone who wasn’t just a teammate but maybe even a new friend... or something more.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next couple of weeks felt like a blur, but in the best way possible. You and Rafe had quickly settled into a rhythm of gaming together. What started as a casual invite to play Call of Duty turned into nightly gaming sessions, each one filled with laughs, playful banter, and some surprisingly deep conversations in between rounds.

You had learned so much from him—not just about the game but about life in general. Rafe had a laid-back attitude, but there was an undercurrent of determination in everything he did, whether it was playing a match or talking about his goals outside of gaming. It was that same energy that made you keep coming back, eager to talk to him and team up again.

One evening, as you logged in for another session, Rafe had a surprise for you.

"Hey, got a minute before we queue up?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of excitement.

"Yeah, what's up?" you replied, adjusting your headset.

"So, my boys are on tonight. Figured I’d invite you to squad up with us." He paused, adding, "I think you're ready to hang with the crew."

You hesitated for a moment. It was one thing to game with Rafe, but meeting his friends—especially if they were anything like him—was a whole different level. You hadn’t expected to be introduced to anyone else, but it seemed like Rafe trusted you enough to bring you into his circle.

"Uh… sure, why not?" you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "I’m down."

"Sweet," Rafe responded with a grin you could practically hear through the mic. "It’s gonna be fun. Just hang tight."

Within a minute, you were in a party chat with Rafe and three other people. You could hear them laughing and chatting already, their voices blending into one cohesive, casual atmosphere.

"Alright, guys," Rafe spoke up, and the chatter quieted down a bit. "This is (Y/N). She’s been playing with me for a while now, and I think she can hold her own. (Y/N), this is Topper, Kelce, and JJ."

“Yo, welcome!” Topper’s voice came through loud and friendly. "Glad to have another one in the squad."

"Hey, hey," JJ added, a bit more laid-back but still welcoming. "Don’t worry, we go easy on the newbies. For the most part."

Kelce’s voice followed, quieter but still friendly. "Glad to meet you. Let’s see what you’ve got."

You smiled to yourself, feeling instantly at ease with their friendly, easygoing banter. Rafe had definitely picked a good group of people to hang out with. You quickly introduced yourself, and the group dove right into the match.

As the game progressed, you found yourself getting comfortable with the group dynamic. JJ’s dry humor kept everyone laughing between rounds, while Kelce was surprisingly tactical, always offering suggestions on strategy. Topper was the most competitive, always pushing everyone to play harder, but you could tell he respected the effort each person put in. And Rafe—well, Rafe was still your go-to teammate, always ready to guide you and make sure you felt included.

It wasn’t long before you had your own little moments with each of them. You had a blast joking with JJ, asking Kelce for tips on how to play smarter, and even getting a competitive streak going with Topper. But the best part? You felt like you were becoming one of the boys—like you’d found your place in this tight-knit group. Rafe had made sure of that, introducing you as a real member of the squad and not just a tagalong.

That night, after an especially intense match where your team pulled off a clutch win, Rafe messaged you on Discord.

killshotking: "See? Told you they’d like you. You fit right in with the crew."

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

angelhunter201: "Honestly, I didn’t expect to get along so well with everyone. You guys are great."

angelhunter201: "Yeah, we’re a good bunch. And you’re holding your own out there, so that makes you one of us for sure."

You felt a little burst of pride at that. It felt good to be accepted, not just as a gamer but as part of a team—part of Rafe’s circle.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of late-night gaming sessions. You had started to improve drastically, and the more you played with Rafe and his friends, the more you started to feel like you truly belonged in their group. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was about the camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the way Rafe always had your back.

As you spent more time with them, you couldn’t deny that something had shifted. Your connection with Rafe had grown deeper. There were those little moments during gameplay where you’d catch him looking out for you, giving you an extra boost of confidence or a tip to help you improve. You weren’t sure if it was just the way he was, or if there was something more there, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced when he smiled or the way your stomach fluttered when he complimented you on a play.

One evening, as the game wrapped up and the team started to log off, you stayed behind, wanting to talk to Rafe.

“Hey,” you started, feeling a bit nervous. “You, uh… you’ve been really cool to me. I just wanted to say thanks for introducing me to the crew. It’s been a blast.”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm and easy. “Of course, (Y/N). You fit in with us. You’ve earned your spot, no question.”

You felt that familiar flutter again, but you brushed it off. “I guess I’ve still got a lot to learn, huh?”

“Don’t worry,” Rafe said, his tone softening. “We’re all learning. Just having fun along the way.”

You smiled, but this time, it wasn’t just about the game.

The connection between you and Rafe was becoming undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it might look like outside of the game, in the real world. But for now, you were content—content with your spot in the group, and more importantly, content with the way you and Rafe had begun to level up, both in the game and in getting to know each other.

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