rafessecret

[rafessecret]

i love you please don’t choke on a tortilla chip

i love you and i’ll try!!

[rafessecret]

I love the way you write omgg

omg whatttt? this is so sweet

[rafessecret]

soft return from me . . . hope we like

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! bsf!rafe . . . precious!reader

❛ rafe hates to see you laughing with another guy

Rafe thought you looked beautiful tonight – too beautiful. He’d lounged on your bed while you got ready, arms tucked behind his head, watching you through half-lidded eyes like you were a dream he hadn’t earned. His hoodie was already slipping off your shoulder before you left. Your lip gloss was perfect. He thought you’d keep laughing like that for him.

But now? Now you’re laughing like that for someone else. Some guy in a backwards cap, leaning too close. His voice is loud, but yours is softer. and sweet. God, it’s so sweet.

Rafe watches from across the room, posture slack but jaw locked, solo cup crushed in his hand. Barry says something. He doesn’t hear it.

He just sees you: pretty mouth smiling, knees crossed, head tipped back, eyes lit up like you’ve never looked at him that way.

Barry nudges him. "You good?" "Fine," he lies, already walking away. Outside, the night air stings. Fog coils at his ankles like it’s trying to pull him under. He's by your car, head down, fists shoved in his pockets like he's holding back something sharp.

You find him there. your breath visible, your voice careful. "Hey." He doesn’t look at you. "Are you mad?" You whisper, almost scared. His laugh is low. bitter. "Why would I be?" You tug on his sleeve, fingertips grazing his wrist. He flinches—then stills. Your touch is warm, grounding. You step in closer. His heartbeat stutters. He smells like wind and salt and jealousy.

"I only ever laugh like that with you, I promise," you whisper sweetly. Something in him breaks open. His chest caves in like a lung giving out. He turns to you slowly, like he's afraid you'll disappear. His eyes are soft now, full of hurt and heat and something he won’t say aloud.

He reaches for your hand. grips it like it’s the last thing keeping him steady. "Don’t do that," he breathes. "What?" "Act like you’re not mine." You don’t speak—you just rest your head against his chest, right over that frantic heart of his. His arms wrap around you with the kind of reverence that says, Please don’t ever leave.

just friends. But, God, how do you explain this kind of love?

ꪆ ˇ ⋆ ╱ tags @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle @loverliner @delicatelyquiet @rafeysbrat @amelialovesrafe

[rafessecret]

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! bsf!rafe . . . precious!reader

❛ rafe hates to see you laughing with another guy

Rafe thought you looked beautiful tonight – too beautiful. He’d lounged on your bed while you got ready, arms tucked behind his head, watching you through half-lidded eyes like you were a dream he hadn’t earned. His hoodie was already slipping off your shoulder before you left. Your lip gloss was perfect. He thought you’d keep laughing like that for him.

But now? Now you’re laughing like that for someone else. Some guy in a backwards cap, leaning too close. His voice is loud, but yours is softer. and sweet. God, it’s so sweet.

Rafe watches from across the room, posture slack but jaw locked, solo cup crushed in his hand. Barry says something. He doesn’t hear it.

He just sees you: pretty mouth smiling, knees crossed, head tipped back, eyes lit up like you’ve never looked at him that way.

Barry nudges him. "You good?" "Fine," he lies, already walking away. Outside, the night air stings. Fog coils at his ankles like it’s trying to pull him under. He's by your car, head down, fists shoved in his pockets like he's holding back something sharp.

You find him there. your breath visible, your voice careful. "Hey." He doesn’t look at you. "Are you mad?" You whisper, almost scared. His laugh is low. bitter. "Why would I be?" You tug on his sleeve, fingertips grazing his wrist. He flinches—then stills. Your touch is warm, grounding. You step in closer. His heartbeat stutters. He smells like wind and salt and jealousy.

"I only ever laugh like that with you, I promise," you whisper sweetly. Something in him breaks open. His chest caves in like a lung giving out. He turns to you slowly, like he's afraid you'll disappear. His eyes are soft now, full of hurt and heat and something he won’t say aloud.

He reaches for your hand. grips it like it’s the last thing keeping him steady. "Don’t do that," he breathes. "What?" "Act like you’re not mine." You don’t speak—you just rest your head against his chest, right over that frantic heart of his. His arms wrap around you with the kind of reverence that says, Please don’t ever leave.

just friends. But, God, how do you explain this kind of love?

ꪆ ˇ ⋆ ╱ tags @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle @loverliner @delicatelyquiet @rafeysbrat @amelialovesrafe

[rafessecret]

Do you know any good obx stories on wattpad?

I miss the series so much an I need to fill the void😭

hello !!!! i haven’t read to many and when i did it was years ago soooo

but i do remember ❛𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒❜ ― 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 by -moncher

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 ➝ 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 by sydneyleggatt

𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑺 | 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 by h0e4rafe

i used to looked like ‘rafe wattpad’ on tiktok and you can finds loads of recommendations

[rafessecret]

posting tomorrow <3

[rafessecret]

Me to u fr

i love you

[rafessecret]

I came to send a photo but it’s not an option 😔

should be back on now !!

[rafessecret]

guys please go check out my recent new au’s

[rafessecret]

hi!! sorry, this is kinda random but what’s your pinterest account?

it’s just the same @ !!

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ if I could have done it all again, i would have loved you better. but I could not have loved you more. ❜

༉‧₊˚. TOXIC!RAFE . . . BITCHY!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! rafe’s never known softness until her. not in the way she blinks slow, like time waits for her command, or how her perfume lingers on his skin long after she leaves—roses and war. she ruins him with silence, with a cold shoulder that cuts deeper than her tongue ever could. and still, he kneels for her, every time. he could spend a lifetime fucking strangers and none of them would feel like her sighs in his bed. she’s his sweetest ache. the girl in dior who never looks back. but if she ever did—just once—he’d crawl, beg, rip himself inside out. she’s not his anymore. maybe never was. but he loves her like he lost something that used to be his.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she drinks champagne like water, laughs like it costs something, and walks like the world owes her pavement. he used to call her his girl—now he watches her from across the room, arms folded, jaw locked, dying inside while she’s on another man’s arm. and she knows. of course she knows. her gaze flickers to him like a dare, like a ghost of what they used to be. she’s venom in silk, love in a fur coat. but when the night ends and her mascara bleeds on his pillow, she’s soft again. she curls into his chest like nothing ever broke between them. and he holds her like it’s forgiveness. like he wasn’t the one who shattered her.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! every time she leaves she swears it will be the last she slams doors erases numbers changes locks yet somehow he always finds her tracing the constellations she left behind in his bed he knows her heart better than she knows herself how she needs to be held after storms how she prefers her tea silent and strong how she folds into the quiet corners of the night he will never deserve her and she will never admit that she misses him but at four in the morning in the stillness of his room she reaches for his hand as if it is the only thing that matters no apologies no promises only skin pressed close something sacred in the way they fall asleep tangled broken inseparable love for them is survival and survival alone

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! they don’t make sense. she’s dior blush and unreleased balenciaga, he’s blood on knuckles and nicotine teeth. but he kisses her wrists like he’s never sinned, and she lets him, every time. their love is a bruised fruit, rotten at the core, but so sweet if you bite slow. he leaves voicemails he never means to send. she screens his calls until she’s crying. they hurt each other in ways only soulmates can, and still—when she shows up barefoot in his hoodie, he folds like paper. they never talk about it. never name the thing that eats them whole. but in the quiet, when she’s in his lap, whispering don’t let go, he never does.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she was built to be worshipped he knows it always has been in the way she moves like the world bends around her presence from the sharp glint in her eye to the cold smirk that ruins him in front of everyone she wears pain like pearls delicate yet unbreakable and he carries guilt as if it were his own skin they break apart piece by piece shattering each other in a dance older than time but he has never loved anything as fiercely not even himself especially not himself she calls him pathetic like a cruel blessing and he smiles because it feels like the only truth when her tears fall he kneels silently before her no one else sees this king undone by the girl who rules him with a glance

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ if I could have done it all again, i would have loved you better. but I could not have loved you more. ❜

༉‧₊˚. TOXIC!RAFE . . . BITCHY!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! rafe’s never known softness until her. not in the way she blinks slow, like time waits for her command, or how her perfume lingers on his skin long after she leaves—roses and war. she ruins him with silence, with a cold shoulder that cuts deeper than her tongue ever could. and still, he kneels for her, every time. he could spend a lifetime fucking strangers and none of them would feel like her sighs in his bed. she’s his sweetest ache. the girl in dior who never looks back. but if she ever did—just once—he’d crawl, beg, rip himself inside out. she’s not his anymore. maybe never was. but he loves her like he lost something that used to be his.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she drinks champagne like water, laughs like it costs something, and walks like the world owes her pavement. he used to call her his girl—now he watches her from across the room, arms folded, jaw locked, dying inside while she’s on another man’s arm. and she knows. of course she knows. her gaze flickers to him like a dare, like a ghost of what they used to be. she’s venom in silk, love in a fur coat. but when the night ends and her mascara bleeds on his pillow, she’s soft again. she curls into his chest like nothing ever broke between them. and he holds her like it’s forgiveness. like he wasn’t the one who shattered her.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! every time she leaves she swears it will be the last she slams doors erases numbers changes locks yet somehow he always finds her tracing the constellations she left behind in his bed he knows her heart better than she knows herself how she needs to be held after storms how she prefers her tea silent and strong how she folds into the quiet corners of the night he will never deserve her and she will never admit that she misses him but at four in the morning in the stillness of his room she reaches for his hand as if it is the only thing that matters no apologies no promises only skin pressed close something sacred in the way they fall asleep tangled broken inseparable love for them is survival and survival alone

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! they don’t make sense. she’s dior blush and unreleased balenciaga, he’s blood on knuckles and nicotine teeth. but he kisses her wrists like he’s never sinned, and she lets him, every time. their love is a bruised fruit, rotten at the core, but so sweet if you bite slow. he leaves voicemails he never means to send. she screens his calls until she’s crying. they hurt each other in ways only soulmates can, and still—when she shows up barefoot in his hoodie, he folds like paper. they never talk about it. never name the thing that eats them whole. but in the quiet, when she’s in his lap, whispering don’t let go, he never does.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she was built to be worshipped he knows it always has been in the way she moves like the world bends around her presence from the sharp glint in her eye to the cold smirk that ruins him in front of everyone she wears pain like pearls delicate yet unbreakable and he carries guilt as if it were his own skin they break apart piece by piece shattering each other in a dance older than time but he has never loved anything as fiercely not even himself especially not himself she calls him pathetic like a cruel blessing and he smiles because it feels like the only truth when her tears fall he kneels silently before her no one else sees this king undone by the girl who rules him with a glance

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ the unending paradox is that we do learn through pain. ❜

༉‧₊˚. DEALER!RAFE . . . POGUE!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she knows what she looks like to him. all soft edges and stained cutoff denim, sun-bleached hair tangled from the wind, bare feet dusted in sand. he says she smells like coconuts and salt, like trouble with a ribbon tied on top. sometimes she feels it too, that line between their worlds—the thick, invisible border between figure eight marble and pogue rust. she wears it like a secret, like shame pressed into her spine. but rafe never flinches. not when she stumbles over words, or admits she’s never been on a plane, or confesses she’s afraid of losing him to something shinier. “they got nothin’ i want,” he murmurs against her shoulder, arms around her waist. “already got the prettiest thing on this island.”

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! rafe watches her laugh, tucked into the passenger seat like she belongs there. like the leather warms just for her. sun drips down her bare legs, her hand lazily trailing out the window, catching the breeze like a child chasing fireflies. she hums along to a song she doesn’t know the words to, voice sweet and a little off-key. he keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles. she smells like strawberry chapstick and dryer sheets. every now and then, she glances over at him, eyes glazed and dreamy. like she sees something soft in him no one else does. like she knows he’d do anything to keep her floating just like this.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she sits in his lap like it’s second nature, legs curled up, fingers tangled in his hair. they aren’t saying much. just breathing in sync. her cheek rests against his neck, warm and soft, while he traces the curve of her spine under his shirt she’s wearing. outside, barry’s yelling at someone, but it all feels far away. rafe kisses her temple like it’s a prayer, a rhythm. she sighs into it, like the weight of the world slips off her shoulders every time he touches her. he whispers something against her skin—maybe a joke, maybe forever—and she laughs quietly, burying her smile in his collarbone. there’s no space between them. not physically. not spiritually. just a silence that feels holy.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she giggles mid-kiss, too high to keep it serious. rafe just grins, forehead pressed to hers, eyes heavy-lidded and hazy from the joint burning out in the ashtray. her lips are pink and swollen, her voice slurred like honey. she tells him he’s pretty when he laughs. tells him his laugh sounds like music. he huffs out a quiet sound of disbelief, because no one’s ever said that to him. no one’s ever looked at him like he’s anything more than chaos. but she’s still looking, tracing the line of his jaw like it’s poetry, and rafe lets himself believe it. just for now. her bare legs are tangled with his. her fingers are on his chest. her love is soft, but it holds him tight.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! barry tells him she’s a distraction. that she don’t belong here, curled up in rafe’s lap while they weigh bags and count bands. rafe doesn’t answer—just wraps an arm tighter around her middle and presses a kiss to her neck. he’s been colder lately. more careful. more dangerous. the weight of the world sits in the glovebox next to his gun. but when she shows up, eyes wide and lips glossed, he softens like sugar on a flame. she asks too many questions. plays with the chains around his neck like they’re just jewelry, not warnings. barry rolls his eyes when she giggles. but rafe watches her like she’s the only clean thing in the room. like he’d burn it all down if she asked.

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ the unending paradox is that we do learn through pain. ❜

༉‧₊˚. DEALER!RAFE . . . POGUE!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she knows what she looks like to him. all soft edges and stained cutoff denim, sun-bleached hair tangled from the wind, bare feet dusted in sand. he says she smells like coconuts and salt, like trouble with a ribbon tied on top. sometimes she feels it too, that line between their worlds—the thick, invisible border between figure eight marble and pogue rust. she wears it like a secret, like shame pressed into her spine. but rafe never flinches. not when she stumbles over words, or admits she’s never been on a plane, or confesses she’s afraid of losing him to something shinier. “they got nothin’ i want,” he murmurs against her shoulder, arms around her waist. “already got the prettiest thing on this island.”

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! rafe watches her laugh, tucked into the passenger seat like she belongs there. like the leather warms just for her. sun drips down her bare legs, her hand lazily trailing out the window, catching the breeze like a child chasing fireflies. she hums along to a song she doesn’t know the words to, voice sweet and a little off-key. he keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles. she smells like strawberry chapstick and dryer sheets. every now and then, she glances over at him, eyes glazed and dreamy. like she sees something soft in him no one else does. like she knows he’d do anything to keep her floating just like this.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she sits in his lap like it’s second nature, legs curled up, fingers tangled in his hair. they aren’t saying much. just breathing in sync. her cheek rests against his neck, warm and soft, while he traces the curve of her spine under his shirt she’s wearing. outside, barry’s yelling at someone, but it all feels far away. rafe kisses her temple like it’s a prayer, a rhythm. she sighs into it, like the weight of the world slips off her shoulders every time he touches her. he whispers something against her skin—maybe a joke, maybe forever—and she laughs quietly, burying her smile in his collarbone. there’s no space between them. not physically. not spiritually. just a silence that feels holy.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she giggles mid-kiss, too high to keep it serious. rafe just grins, forehead pressed to hers, eyes heavy-lidded and hazy from the joint burning out in the ashtray. her lips are pink and swollen, her voice slurred like honey. she tells him he’s pretty when he laughs. tells him his laugh sounds like music. he huffs out a quiet sound of disbelief, because no one’s ever said that to him. no one’s ever looked at him like he’s anything more than chaos. but she’s still looking, tracing the line of his jaw like it’s poetry, and rafe lets himself believe it. just for now. her bare legs are tangled with his. her fingers are on his chest. her love is soft, but it holds him tight.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! barry tells him she’s a distraction. that she don’t belong here, curled up in rafe’s lap while they weigh bags and count bands. rafe doesn’t answer—just wraps an arm tighter around her middle and presses a kiss to her neck. he’s been colder lately. more careful. more dangerous. the weight of the world sits in the glovebox next to his gun. but when she shows up, eyes wide and lips glossed, he softens like sugar on a flame. she asks too many questions. plays with the chains around his neck like they’re just jewelry, not warnings. barry rolls his eyes when she giggles. but rafe watches her like she’s the only clean thing in the room. like he’d burn it all down if she asked.

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ to be lucid, to feel the knife and still not let go, / is that weird? ❜

༉‧₊˚. OLDER!RAFE . . . LAMB!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he is too old for this. for her. for the way she slips her hand into his like it belongs there, her fingers tiny and trusting. she doesn’t understand the weight of it, how it undoes him. she is untouched in the way that makes him feel filthy. like the calloused fingers he rests on her cheek should not be allowed near something as soft as her. she tilts her head, asking if he’s okay, and he almost tells her no. he almost tells her he’s been aching since she first smiled at him. but instead he kisses her knuckles and says nothing. lets her hold his hand like it’s innocent.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! her lip is trembling. not from fear, not even from nerves, but from something tender and aching and too new to name. he kissed her. just once. soft. slower than he should’ve. and now she’s looking at him like she’s still trying to understand what it meant. he thinks about how much older he is. how many things he’s done that she’s never even heard of. how she’s never had anyone before him. and still she’s here, shaking like a little bird, waiting to be held. waiting to be taught. he brushes her hair from her face like it’s glass and tells her it’s okay. tells her she did so good. and she smiles like it matters. like his words are gospel.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he watches her sleep the way you watch rain fall—soft and slow and like you’re not supposed to see it. her bed is too small. her nightlight is still plugged into the wall. she has a stuffed bear curled into her arms. and he’s lying there beside her, trying not to touch, trying not to ruin. her skin is bare beneath his t-shirt. she asked if she could wear it. he almost said no. not because he didn’t want it—god, he did—but because of what it would mean. but she’s here now, and his shirt is swallowing her whole, and she’s dreaming with her lips parted, and he knows he’s already ruined. already hers. already in too deep to climb out.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she tells him this is her first time sleeping beside someone. not just in a bed. in every sense of it. the nearness. the quiet. the way his breath moves her hair. and he just hums, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. she keeps inching closer like it’s instinct, her thigh brushing his, her fingers searching for his even in the dark. she doesn’t know the things he’s done. the people he’s been. she only knows the version of him that holds her purse when she ties her shoes. and still she chooses him. still she’s here, whispering goodnight into his shoulder, falling asleep like he’s safe. he doesn’t know what to do with that kind of softness. except hold it and try not to break it.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she asked if it’s normal. to feel warm like this. down there. when he kisses her neck. she was nervous when she asked it. cheeks pink, breath caught, lashes low. he answered slowly, carefully, like speaking to a candle flame. said it’s normal. said it’s good. that it means her body trusts him. she nodded, quiet, her hand finding his wrist. she said she’d never felt it before. not once. not ever. and he had to breathe through it. had to close his eyes and think of something else because she was looking at him like she’d give him everything if he asked. but he didn’t ask. he only kissed her temple and whispered that they’d go slow. slower than slow. until she bloomed for him.

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ to be lucid, to feel the knife and still not let go, / is that weird? ❜

༉‧₊˚. OLDER!RAFE . . . LAMB!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he is too old for this. for her. for the way she slips her hand into his like it belongs there, her fingers tiny and trusting. she doesn’t understand the weight of it, how it undoes him. she is untouched in the way that makes him feel filthy. like the calloused fingers he rests on her cheek should not be allowed near something as soft as her. she tilts her head, asking if he’s okay, and he almost tells her no. he almost tells her he’s been aching since she first smiled at him. but instead he kisses her knuckles and says nothing. lets her hold his hand like it’s innocent.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! her lip is trembling. not from fear, not even from nerves, but from something tender and aching and too new to name. he kissed her. just once. soft. slower than he should’ve. and now she’s looking at him like she’s still trying to understand what it meant. he thinks about how much older he is. how many things he’s done that she’s never even heard of. how she’s never had anyone before him. and still she’s here, shaking like a little bird, waiting to be held. waiting to be taught. he brushes her hair from her face like it’s glass and tells her it’s okay. tells her she did so good. and she smiles like it matters. like his words are gospel.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he watches her sleep the way you watch rain fall—soft and slow and like you’re not supposed to see it. her bed is too small. her nightlight is still plugged into the wall. she has a stuffed bear curled into her arms. and he’s lying there beside her, trying not to touch, trying not to ruin. her skin is bare beneath his t-shirt. she asked if she could wear it. he almost said no. not because he didn’t want it—god, he did—but because of what it would mean. but she’s here now, and his shirt is swallowing her whole, and she’s dreaming with her lips parted, and he knows he’s already ruined. already hers. already in too deep to climb out.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she tells him this is her first time sleeping beside someone. not just in a bed. in every sense of it. the nearness. the quiet. the way his breath moves her hair. and he just hums, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. she keeps inching closer like it’s instinct, her thigh brushing his, her fingers searching for his even in the dark. she doesn’t know the things he’s done. the people he’s been. she only knows the version of him that holds her purse when she ties her shoes. and still she chooses him. still she’s here, whispering goodnight into his shoulder, falling asleep like he’s safe. he doesn’t know what to do with that kind of softness. except hold it and try not to break it.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she asked if it’s normal. to feel warm like this. down there. when he kisses her neck. she was nervous when she asked it. cheeks pink, breath caught, lashes low. he answered slowly, carefully, like speaking to a candle flame. said it’s normal. said it’s good. that it means her body trusts him. she nodded, quiet, her hand finding his wrist. she said she’d never felt it before. not once. not ever. and he had to breathe through it. had to close his eyes and think of something else because she was looking at him like she’d give him everything if he asked. but he didn’t ask. he only kissed her temple and whispered that they’d go slow. slower than slow. until she bloomed for him.

[rafessecret]

@scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle @loverliner @delicatelyquiet @rafeysbrat @amelialovesrafe

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ your father didn't love you, so you assume no one else would either. ❜

༉‧₊˚. FRAT!RAFE . . . BAMBI!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she held his face when he twitched through the comedown, when the sweat soaked his shirt and the world bent sideways. she kissed the corner of his mouth, whispered things like “you’re safe, baby” and “i’ve got you.” he wanted to die like that—in her arms, with her voice in his ear, small hands stroking his jaw like he wasn’t something dangerous. like he wasn’t already gone. she loved him in pieces. and somehow, it made him feel whole.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he was all shaky hands and silver lighters, jaw clenched too tight, heart held together with duct tape and denial. she touched him like he was something precious, like bruised things still deserved to be held. her fingers found his scars without flinching. he kissed her wrists like they were glass. in her lap, he softened. in her breath, he found silence. he didn’t believe in angels—until she tucked herself under his arm and whispered his name like it was the only word that ever mattered.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she cried too easily. at commercials, at sunsets, at the way he kissed her like he might break. she smelled like sugar and childhood, always a little warm, always holding snacks in her purse for him. and he—god, he was wrong. too loud. too high. too much. but she never looked away. never backed off. when the world blurred, she was still there, doe-eyed and gentle, grounding him with her soft little voice and that stupid oversized cardigan that smelled like safety.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he swore he didn’t deserve her. not when his hands shook like that. not when his knuckles were split and his nose still burned. but she curled up beside him anyway, forehead to his, whispering nonsense about stars and breathing in threes. she made him laugh until he forgot why he was angry. made him feel real when everything else was fog and fire. he wanted to be good. just once. just for her. just long enough for her to believe it.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he was the knife, and she was the ribbon tied around the handle. people warned her. said he’d ruin her. but she only smiled—slow and secret, like she knew something they didn’t. because he kissed her like a prayer. because when she said his name, he listened. when she cried, he wiped her tears with shaking hands and said “don’t. i’ll do anything, just don’t cry.” and god, maybe that was enough. maybe love didn’t need to be clean. maybe it just needed to be theirs.