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whytheylosttheirminds · 5 months

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2)

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy.

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it.

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you?

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss.

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken.

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer.

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens.

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am.

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times.

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said.

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers.

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love.

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on.

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later.

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything.

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps.

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt.

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him.

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

If you asked to be on the taglist and I forgot you, I'm sorry and please let me know!!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @maibelitaaura @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @v0lturiaq

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crookedteethed · 6 months

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18+ Thinking about how the Rafe's would react to reader telling him she’s pregnant.

Season one Rafe would first definitely act like he doesn't remember sleeping with you, especially if you tell him while you're both at a party and all his friends are around, and he's got a cocaine nose job and he thinks everything's funny. You both know that this is a lie because the night you two had sex--straight up fucked--your cunt had Rafe totally whipped. He was coming back for more ( 4 more times, to be exact. Late nights on his boat, in secluded areas on the beach.).

Afterward, whenever you two would see each other on the island, you'd catch him staring at you; he caught himself trying to see if he could spot your baby bump; he'd totally deny this, though. When Topper goes to ask whose the chick he'd been staring down, Rafe would say:

"That's the slut that claims she's having my baby, but it ain't mine."

Season two Rafe would straight up tell you to abort it, and if you didn't listen to him the first time, he'd ask you if you wanted him to abort it for you. Also, I feel like he would go into a frenzy/have a panic attack when three months pass, and he sees you kept the baby. So now he has to explain to his father that he was the dope that got a chick pregnant during a one-night stand. But instead of taking the anger out on you, the baby, or even the pogues, he'd take it out on himself and go on a seven-day party bender.

Season three Rafe would like the idea of being a father and starting a family, especially with you, because you're the first girl he's been with for seven consecutive months (that's a lifetime for Rafe). He would get himself excited about the thought of having a baby (he hopes a boy) so he could officially embody the role of being the "Man of the house." (having a baby to Rafe is like an accessory to him.) He'd take the opportunity to raise his child differently than Ward had raised him, and then he'd show Ward how his offspring became such an outstanding person—something Ward could never do.

During your pregnancy, you both get yourselves excited about baby shopping and coming up with baby names; you and Rafe would also start thinking about marriage, I feel like he'd become more of a tits guy than an ass guy because of how plump your breast got, and I also feel like he would develop a slight breeding kink too during this time, touching and kissing your round belly whenever you two made love, knowing he's the one responsible for making you look like this.

But when the baby comes (It's a pretty little girl--he wanted a boy, but a girl would do. His logic: Girls are boys without a dick. He'd just have to make sure his little girl doesn't turn out such a pogue slut like his sister, Sarah.) Rafe realizes that he doesn't want to be a father anymore. It's too restrictive and time-consuming. How many years does he have to do this? 18?!

Honorable mentions: In each season, the word would spread to Ward, and whether or not Rafe wanted to keep the baby, Ward would force Rafe to take responsibility. "Take responsibility" in a Ward Cameron way; He'd bride you and your family. He is giving you all the desired amount of cash to either get an abortion or move away (or both) because he wouldn't want to ruin the Cameron image. Lord knows how the island would see his family if his bastard son gave birth to a bastard child.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #fem reader #pregnancy #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #the obx #rafe cameron headcanons #imagines #crookedteethed #crookedteethed thoughts #ward cameron #netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #dark! rafe cameron x reader

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princessbrunette · 7 months

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okay so hi! i wanted to send in a lil jj and rafe prompt myself for the kook princess.

so i lowkey think that she gets tired of the beefing one day and she’s just all upset because she doesn’t know what to do or who to chose in this whole situation, so she just pulls a “if i can’t have you both i don’t want either of you” which was hard enough for her to do anyway because let’s be so real standing on business with RAFE & JJ is hell in itself. so she like really stands on business doesn’t come around either of them avoiding parties the whole nine until she ends up needing to go to midsommars or something kinda much like kie in season one her parents are making her go, so word gets around fast that she’s going because people haven’t seen her in a while and jj leaps on the opportunity to work with pope & heyward, so he can see her and obviously rafe is gonna be there regardless. she doesn’t come until late which gave rafe and jj enough time to at least come to a certain level of an agreement, she still avoids them all night staying with her parents and drifting to sarah whenever she got the opportunity. so she finally ends up going to the bathroom and they basically corner her (teamwork 🤣) and they talk to her and they both end up fucking her in the stall.

this!!!!! this is perfect. i never brought the two of them together bc i just thought it was too unlikely because they really don’t like eachother — but if they’re kinda forced together by reader giving them no other choice it seems more likely.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

jj practically jumps you in the corridor, appearing frantically infront of you in his lil waiter get up and starts dragging you to the bathroom.

“jj, no — i already told you—”

“just five minutes just — just hear me out for five minutes okay — c’mon, in you go, chop chop.” he pushes you into the bathroom before turning round and blinking at passersby who worriedly witnessed the low level kidnap. “nothin’ to see here alright just, carry on…” he excuses awkwardly before closing the door.

upon entering, to your surprise rafe is stood in the centre of the room with his hands in his pockets and lips pursed like he was forced to be there too. he perks up a little on your entry, eyeing you over. he speaks your name and you glance between the two boys nervously.

“damn, you— you look really beautiful i mean—” rafe begins as he edges towards you and you all but nearly stomp your foot, pointing to him with an angry pout.

“don’t!”

the oldest boy holds his hands up, slowing his pace as he approaches you, showing he comes in peace. “alright, alright… look we… just wanted to talk to you. ‘that okay?”

your eyes slide over to jj, who’s gazing at you with this desperate plea that makes you soften a little. you cross your arms and nod, and naturally the boys close in on you, shielding you from the rest of the room.

“trust me, okay— the last thing i wanna do is share you with rafe freaking cameron but,” the blonde runs a hand through his hair frustratedly as the cameron rolls his eyes. “you went goddamn… radio silent on us and i was worried, okay? are you seeing the level of concern you caused right now? ‘cus i’m standing next to rafe and my hands aren’t around his neck—”

“yeah like you could reach, buddy.”

“i’m like three inches shorter than you asshole i’on even wanna hear it right now ‘cus—”

“guys.” you interject sulkily, huffing a sigh out your nose.

“sorry, sorry— yes, so uh— to cut this thing short, maybe until you like, make a decision or whatever… we can alternate weeks with you?”

you gaze up at them from beneath your lashes unsurely. “like… you get me this week rafe gets me next week… and so on?”

“yeah i’m not thrilled about this guy gettin’ you at all but i’ll… i’ll take it.” rafe scuffs his shoe on the floor, uncharacteristically bashfully.

you think, and honestly as it was the best case scenario you nod, gaze flickering between the two of them.

“okay… just… want you both. missed you.” you don’t know who to look at, so you cement your stare to your shoes. there’s some shuffling of feet through the tense silence before you feel a pair of fingers gripping your jaw lightly, tilting your head up to them.

“look… why don’t you uh, why don’t you give maybank here a little kiss. alright? i’m— i’m actively showin’ you i’m cool with it.”

even jj’s brows lift in surprise, licking over his rubied lips as he watches you for permission. you let rafe’s hand drag you closer, before bringing your mouth to jj’s, locking lips. rafe’s hand switches to cup the back of your head, supposedly feeling this was the most control he could have in the situation. his eyes flutter in irritation as he watches jj slip you tongue and after a moment he pulls you back, immediately bringing your mouth to his— to kiss you sloppier and dirtier than the blonde.

jj’s eyes roll, licking over his lips once more. “jesus, dude — okay.”

you let out a pleased moan after a moment, just happy to have your favourite boys back with you, this time together — and rafe tugs you back with a smug smirk. you watch his eyes flutter up to the cubicle behind you, before his gaze moves to jj.

“get the door, yeah busboy?” he slaps jj on the back, and with his tongue in his cheek — he pushes the cubicle door open for the three of you to fit inside.

“watch it, douche.” he glares as rafe leads you in. it’s a squeeze, but it’ll do for now. the competitive nature in them both was flared up to ten, set on using this time as a way to prove themselves to you.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

#anon #jj x reader x rafe

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undercovercameron · 1 year

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hole in one

summary: you're a server at the island club, and you may or may not have a favorite customer.

notes: i'm back baby! haven't written anything in a good while but i suddenly had this image of a girly reader and a flirty golfer rafe with that season 3 buzzcut... i HAD to make a pun with this title and i'm so glad i did. also i always write rafe a little more attentive and well-meaning than he is, so take this headcanon of nice rafe with a grain of salt-- and this shit is hella dirty so please enjoy and let me know what you think ;) (also im coming back to edit this fully in a little bit but i wanted to post just to prove i still love and use this account kajddjd)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 4453

Some things in Rafe’s life were simple pleasures.

A cocktail during dinner, a night where all the TV he watched was reality shows, a cigarette on a night out. The silence of his childhood home.

Golf, coincidentally, was also one of those things. The course he frequented was just a ten-minute drive from his house, and he had priority parking. As a donor and a club-member of course. The drinks were cheap, the company was even cheaper, and he had a killer swing. There was rarely an afternoon out on that green that he didn’t enjoy. He felt closest to peace when all he had to work for was getting that tiny white golf ball sunk into a hole.

They were often sweaty putting sessions, as the North Carolina heat in the summer was no joke, but the traveling drink cart was a brief respite from that.

“What can I get you?” You ask, bright and long-lashed. Your hair was done in a tight updo, your makeup was flawless, and not a single spec of dirt or turf lay on your uniform. You took pride in your appearance and the effects it had on the loose wallets of the Outer Banks’ finest real estate investors and offshore bank account holders. Most of all, you enjoyed a certain someone’s attention.

Rafe peeks under the overhang of the cart and stares at your selection. He stands with his hands on his hips, gold rings flashing in the hot sunlight. You take a look at him for the first time today, eyes taking over his bent form. He has gray slacks on with a dark blue polo stretched over his well-built back, unbuttoned to show the tiniest glint of blonde chest hair and his gold chain. He spared no expense when it came to his appearance, you’d come to notice.

“I think,” he starts, standing back up, and fixes you with his blue-eyed stare. It makes you hold back a shiver despite the heat. “A double tequila soda.”

He gives you a once-over, admiring the way your skirt hugs your waist and the sparkle of your earrings. He always likes when the girls have their hair up— gives him a sneak peek of what it’d look like if he pulled it.

“Three limes? Just how you like?” You ask, breaking his focus, and reach for a plastic cocktail cup. You have a freckle behind your ear, he notices.

“Exactly right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, and his face splits into a grin when you glance at him and blush. He could be back with his friends from highschool, talking shit about their shitty swings or increasingly high scores, but he’s not. He’s right here, watching closely as you carefully measure the ice and pour a perfect double shot.

“How’re you guys playing today?” You ask, a humiliating attempt at small talk, and you feel sweat bead on your lower back.

“Shit, honestly,” Rafe laughs. “These jack-offs couldn’t get a hole-in-one if it was right in front of their fucking faces. And I’ve been distracted all day.” He looks down at you over the bridge of his nose, liking the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Heat getting to you?” You squeeze the final lime and turn away from the cart, holding it out with a polite smile. He takes it carefully.

“Something like that,” he says, cocking his head, and takes a sip. Tart. Just how he likes it. “Hey.” He digs a hand into his pocket and the tips of your cheekbones heat again for some reason. “Keep the change.” He hands you a fifty.

You take it between hesitant fingers, peering up at him.

“The drink is $6, Rafe.”

He always does this. Pays cash with big bills and tells you to keep the change. He gave you a twenty for a packet of peanuts one time. “I don’t know if I can legally take this.”

He just shrugs.

“Consider it a personal donation.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Makes me feel better. I think you deserve a little extra for your services—it takes a lot of work to look that good for a bunch of old geezers in sweater vests and loafers. I know I appreciate it.” He turns and starts off towards his group, yanking his sunglasses out of his shirt and jamming them onto his face. “I like your bra, by the way. ‘S my favorite color.”

You glance down the collar of your shirt, heart thumping, and look back up.

That stupid fucking swagger he has. He’s going to throw out his back walking around like a peacock like that.

You tug your shirt up, hiding the red bra you’d chosen for today, and hop back on the cart. Off to another hole where another old man will look down your shirt and ask for his Manhattan with two cherries instead of one.

You think you’ll either quit this job or start wearing a fucking monk robe.

The next time you see him is back at the club. Your boss had you on pool bartender duty, opposed to the drink cart you favored, and you were a little out of your element.

The customer demographic was different, which you enjoyed, but they all seemed to want a lot more and a lot quicker. There was no loitering around to small talk; you had to work quickly and attentively to earn these housewives’ measly two dollar tip on margarita pitchers.

You had spilled raspberry purée on your company-approved golf dress more times than you could count in your six hour shift. Near the end of it, however, Rafe had made his way to the end of the bar and watched as you ducked to put away the umbrella toothpicks and quickly and secretly downed a shot of Tito’s. Drinking on the job. Hm.

(It’s not that you like to be drunk at work; it’s more of a little ‘fuck you’ to your boss, you think.)

“Hi,” you say on an exhale, coming over and wiping the already-spotless counter with a black rag. “What can I get you?” You have dangly earrings on today, and a different shade of lipgloss than he is accustomed to.

“Two grapefruit High Noon’s.” He folds his arms and leans on the counter, so close he could smell your perfume. “I could report you for that, you know,” he says, voice as low as a whisper. You peer up at him, lips pursed, and scan his face. No ill intent. Just an easy smile and dirty eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” You reach for the fridge underneath the mixing mats and pull two cold cans from the shelf. You sit them on the counter and stare up at him. “You’re a real upstanding customer, huh?”

“Mhm.” He twists his pointer-finger ring mindlessly. “You owe me.” The corners of his lips quirk up.

“Oh, do I?” You ask, giving him your best ’I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. You know he likes that.

The fact is that you and Rafe had countless conversations exactly like this one. Whether it be at the drink cart, on the way out of the building, or back inside in the restaurant bar. He always somehow leaned over you, smiling like the flirtatious bastard that he was, and making you feel like he’d like nothing more than to take you to his car and show you how much he actually enjoyed being served by you. That’s how you imagined him in bed, at least. Proving a point.

He takes the two cans in one hand and straightens up, fixing you with a dangerous look.

“Your shift ends in ten minutes, yeah?” He asks.

“Yes.” You square your shoulders and stare back.

“Good. I’ll take you home. Well, mine.” He backs up closer to where his friends are sitting at a covered patio table, mischievous smile flashing white in the sun.

“I have a car, you know,” you say, leaning on the counter with folded arms. You ignore the hot rush of blood in your veins from his words. “And I have to shower.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a shower?” He purses his lips, faking the wildly confused look, and turns back around to his friends.

You just sigh, exasperated with him, and work on cleaning up your station. God, it has to be him? The boy you had a crush on in elementary school? You’ve had plenty of hookups in your adult life, but none as close to home as this one. (Literally. You live down the street.) You feel his eyes on you as you scrub a particularly defiant streak of Grenadine from the counter, and feel his gaze on your back when you turn around to get a fresh rag. It makes your face burn hot.

You know he’s not talking about just hanging out at his place. He probably has a huge shower, for God’s sake, and probably a humongous bed. California king if you can guess.

You bet he tastes like summer.

After your replacement comes to the bar, you take your lanyard to get into the staff locker room from a hook under the bar and make your way slowly through the gaggles of people to your designated locker. It takes a brief conversation with your boss Angela about if you left the tip jar or took the contents to finally shoulder past the last group of people.

You tug your bag from the hook, a change of clothes and your shower stuff already packed (as you had been planning to go to the gym after work). You now know you have other forms of exercise coordinated. You give yourself a final look in the little mirror on your locker. Here goes nothing.

Rafe is waiting outside the swinging door when you push past it, button up shirt and shoes haphazardly thrown on. He immediately takes your bag from you and slings it over one massive shoulder, starting for the exit.

“I can carry my own things, Rafe,” you say, slightly out of breath with the effort it takes to catch up to him.

“Yeah, well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He casts a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised seriously. You roll your eyes.

His bedroom door pushes open and you stumble back, hand tight on his bicep as he walks you further. His hand circles your waist as he ducks to kiss you again, mouth hot and commanding over yours.

He tastes exactly how you imagined.

His room is bright with sunlight and slightly messy when you glance behind him, but you’re pretty fucking sure you won’t be focused on how his room is decorated when he keeps grabbing at you like this.

The back of your knees hit the bedspread and you fall into a sitting position, posture curved up into his as he leans and holds you by the side of the neck. You make a pleased noise into his mouth and tug at his shirt, suddenly irritated that he is wearing so many clothes. You snake a hand up his shirt and claw at his skin with your sharp nails.

“Save that for my back,” he breathes, and your fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt as you finally pull it down and off his body. You rejoice at his newfound lack of clothing and smooth a hand over his chest, eyes trained on his toned and tan stomach.

He’s huge like this, up close, and the warmth radiating from his skin makes your heart jump into your throat. Your fingers splay across the middle of his abdomen, just appreciating the way he breathes under your touch, and you lean back up for his mouth.

He threads his fingers in your hair and pulls your face so hard to his own that your neck smarts. Between your legs throbs. You protest, grabbing at his wrist, but settle when he shuffles closer to the bed and tilts you back into the sheets.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. Your back meets silk, and he lifts your open legs up and around his hips as he settles between your thighs comfortably. Right where he should be.

The feeling of his heavy weight where you’ve been needing it makes your back arch. He breaks away from you and slides a hand down your chest, laying the route that his mouth will take.

“You smell like cherries,” he says as he presses his mouth to your collarbone and sucks.

“I know.” You shudder through a laugh and bring your hand up to the back of his head as encouragement. “Spilled Grenadine.”

He hums noncommittally and shoves the hem of your dress up past your hips and to your midriff in one fluid motion. You wriggle for a second, so exposed so fast, but sigh contentedly when his lips meet your stomach. His mouth is so unexplainably hot, and as his tongue meets you your whole body erupts in goosebumps. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s even better than you imagined.

“Knew you’d taste so good,” Rafe practically moans, eyes darting to yours, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of your underwear as you watch. Your cheeks flush at his word. You’re honored to be the recipient of words like his— it’s not often Rafe finds himself giving someone a compliment. He lays a final kiss on your stomach and surges back up towards your chest. He mutters gibberish to himself, probably something like “I hate this fucking dress” and yanks your dress up past your tits.

His fingers find your left nipple and squeeze as his tongue finds the other. You arch again, unused to the sensation, and let loose a groan. His fingers are so soft and light, but his teeth nip.

You make a noise of surprise, eyebrows furrowing, and tug at the short, blunt locks of his hair.

“Impatient,” he reprimands, tongue rolling as he glances up at your pink face. You’re strung so tight you might snap. “Needy.” He releases your nipple with a pop. Your lips are so pink and shiny, he just has to kiss you again. You whine into his mouth when he comes back, fingernails scratching at his scalp, and your legs wind around his waist.

But he lets go of your hip with his left hand and creeps closer to the crotch of your underwear, fingertips dancing. Your grip on his hair tightens. Between your legs pulses with heat and need, hot on his clothed crotch, and he knows he could calculate your BPM just by laying with you like this.

“Rafe,” you breathe, staring up at him as your chest heaves.

“Relax,” he shushes, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck, and you gradually relax the muscles that lock your legs to his abdomen. “There you go.” You think you hear a “good girl” fall from his soft lips but it’s in that moment that he pushes past the cotton and digs his hand into your underwear.

You immediately spur into motion, back arching and mouth dropping into an ‘O’, and he just bites his lip and watches. You’re so responsive, and it makes his dick fucking ache.

“Thought about this? Hm?” He pants, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, and grins. “So wet, this pussy’s been begging for me for weeks.”

You struggle to nod, movement interrupted by the slew of noises and ramblings of “please” and “yes” and “Rafe” falling from your lips. His middle and ring fingers push past the slick resistance your pussy gives him, and you go silent and slack-jawed as he pushes all the way to the hilt.

And he’s got big fingers. You wonder if they’re the same size as his dick. If so, you might be in trouble.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, head falling back into the sheets, and you’re slammed back into reality and consciousness of your surroundings. The coolness of the AC makes your nipples peak again, and the sweat on your lower back cools almost as soon as it’s created. But Rafe makes you hot. Your chest and cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and your lips are swollen into a bigger size and slick with his saliva and your own. We don’t even have to discuss how flushed the other parts of your body are—he already knows.

His fingers curl slightly up and to the right, and your abdomen jerks at the unfamiliar feeling. You curl up slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and try to catch a glimpse of his large hand in your underwear. God, you wish you could take a picture. You lock gazes with him momentarily but fall back down at the look in his face. It’s nearly animalistic.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands. You meet his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out, and clambers off of you for a second. You sit up, quickly ridding yourself of the dress bunched up to your shoulders, and watch as he rips his shorts off and nears the bed. You don’t even have enough time to gape at the size of him before he’s grabbing your bicep and jerking you onto your stomach.

You have half a mind to protest his man-handling of you but stay silent as you look up at the angle he positions you.

There’s a full length mirror opposite this side of his bed, and you just stare at the pair of you as you catch your breath.

“Like it, huh?” He asks quietly, dipping down and pressing a kiss to your hair. His hand finds your neck and he moves you to face the mirror head on, watching your face closely. You really like the feeling of his fingers around your throat. He can tell, now; your shoulders relax and your lips move into the shape of a smile when he squeezes.

“You always keep this here?” You ask, head falling onto your folded arms when he releases you to just admire your body. His fingers trace your spine and the curve of your ass, never losing focus.

“I moved it this morning,” he murmurs, gaze never straying from you.

“Oh, so you knew you’d be fucking me tonight.” Your face splits into an easy grin, head tilting mischievously. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and he bends again to press his mouth to your lower back.

“Always teasing me.” His voice is muffled by your smooth skin. He can’t get enough. “Knew it’d happen sometime soon. You can’t stay away forever, you know.” He straightens up but doesn’t find your eyes in the mirror. His large, warm hand maneuvers your hips into a tilted position, and you move up onto your feet. He has you flat on your stomach on the bed, but your ass and legs hang off and the soles of your feet just barely press flat into the floor. “Knew this pussy would get me at some point.” He smacks at an asscheek lightning fast; and your whole body jiggles with the force of his hand. You squeak involuntarily.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder as the other one jerks himself steadily. Once, twice, three times, and then he’s spreading you open and pushing into you.

Your spine stretches and relaxes when he gets halfway in, and your thighs start to shake when you’re filled all the way to the hilt.

“Shit, Rafe, you’re fucking big,” you complain, but the tail end of your protest bleeds into a desperate whine. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and your head falls onto your folded arms. “Please,” you say, reaching back to frantically find his hips. “Go slow.”

“Stretching you out, hm,” Rafe comments, breathing hard already, and relieves the pressure by sliding almost all the way out. His tip almost breaches the seam of your slit but he pushes back in, pulling your asscheek away with a thumb to watch. “Fucking sexy.”

You squeeze around him like a vice, but the intrusion is welcome. You will yourself to relax and accept his huge fucking dick, and the thought of yourself getting fucked by him sends a gush of slick between you two.

“There you go,” Rafe sighs, and pulls out only to fuck back in to you quickly. You cry out, fingers squeezing extra tight on the sheets, but you will yourself to look up.

His chest is flushed in the mirror as his chain swings in the open air, and the pure concentration and pleasure on his face prompts a pleased noise from your throat. You tentatively jerk back into him and his head whips up in the mirror, blue eyes meeting your own.

“Oh, yeah?” He mutters, teeth catching his lip, and his hips snap into yours. Your mouth drops open only momentarily before you close it and tilt your head to the size coyly, biting your own lip and pushing back into his hips. He watches you carefully in the mirror with squinted eyes, half-impressed and half-challenging. “You think you can take it?” His fingers squeeze at your shoulder tight.

You just silently nod. Cocky.

His emotionless gaze locks with yours and his blood pumps hot in his veins. He’s going to make you eat your words.

His hips surge forward in a suddenly-steady rhythm, skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. You just stare at him, defiant, and push back with every thrust he gives.

Rafe grunts and lets go of your shoulder, replacing his touch with an arm slung around your neck and the other hand between your legs. His warm fingers nudge your clit, finding it immediately, and his hips snap punishingly quickly into yours.

It’s brutal, having him like this. You hope you bruise. But you challenged him, and somebody has to lose. Except it’s not really a loss when Rafe fucking Cameron is genuinely fucking you into next week.

“Shit,” you exhale, choking on the inhale that accompanies it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers rub you in circles. “Fuck, Rafe, that’s so good.” Something hot coils tight in your stomach and your thighs suddenly warm almost in preparation for the wave of sensation.

“Yeah?” He pants, hot in your ear. “You like that?” His chest sticks to your sweaty back, gluing you together as his strong hips and legs pound you into the mattress. You stay strong, along for the ride, and provide all the verbal encouragement he needs. Your stomach feels hotter and hotter and your throat runs dry.

“I love it,” you whine, head tilting up as if you’re praying he won’t stop. “Fuck me like this forever.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, too lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him and the warmth your body grants him. You pulse even more, so close.

You gather some strength and struggle to push up into an elbow, head tilting further and further until you can feel his forehead brush the crown of your head. Your muscles strain.

“Just like that. Just like—God, shit, right there.”

You squeak when the hot coil in your abdomen snaps and you fall twitchingly onto your stomach. His fingers rub quickly at your clit and you feel suddenly a hundred pounds lighter, eyes rolling back into your head. It’s so fucking good you wonder how you’ll ever masturbate happily again. Your fingers don’t compare in the slightest to this fucking dick. Your chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill your lungs with clean air, and your legs start to shake miserably underneath him. Your thighs feel like jelly and you barely did anything.

“Please, Rafe,” you beg, turning your head to the side to look innocently up at him. “Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He pants and leans down to kiss you messily. You groan into his mouth and push back once more into his hips. Your pussy is still buzzing with feeling, and it fades slowly into a pleasant ache the more he fucks into you. “You want it on your back or in your mouth?”

You blink wildly and push onto your palms, signaling that you want to turn over. He pulls out but jerks himself steadily until you scramble onto your knees in front of him, face level with his pelvis and tongue out. You look up at him with the most earnest and well-meaning eyes, and he just has to close his eyes when the tip of his dick finally meets your tongue and he fills your mouth. His chest loosens with the most pathetic noise he’s ever made, a mix between a raw groan and a whimper. Your soft mouth accepts him and cleans his dick, humming contentedly, and when he catches his breath and manages to open his eyes you’re staring up at him, an immensely pleased look on your face.

You crawl closer and lift onto your knees, arms coming around his neck and pulling him to you. You press a kiss to his mouth. He can almost taste himself on your tongue, and he smoothes a hand down your side to grab onto your asscheek as you just kiss him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to give your face a once-over. “You haven’t even showered yet.”

“And whose fault is that?” You sigh, exasperated. “Someone couldn’t make it up the stairs without shoving his hands up my dress—we barely even made it to the bed.” You smooth a hand down the back side of his head, liking the way his hair feels.

Rafe just purses his lips.

“Sounds like a really cool guy to me.”

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes, and sit back on your heels.

This room is a mess.

The corner of the well-made bed’s sheets and bedspread is yanked from the far corner and lies bunched up in the middle, dark with sweat. It smells like sex in here, the ceiling fan doing nothing to mitigate it, and your work dress is hung haphazardly on the closet door handle. With a dark Grenadine stain down the middle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe says, interrupting your inner monologue. His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“What?” You ask, eyebrows drawn.

“Don’t even think about putting on clothes.”

You scoff.

“Like those would do me any good right now.” You wind your arms around his neck and smirk up at him. “I still haven’t even shown you what’s in my bag.”

His smile grows.

“What’s in your bag, baby?”

#obx #obx 3 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x afab!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 1 year

Text

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting. Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it)

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA! I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets. Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody, a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys.

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

“What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?”

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss. Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke. Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks.

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you.

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body. The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close. His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free. It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you. The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender. "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me. You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence. You didn’t know how to finish the sentence. You were so hurt and confused. That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?”

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.” he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that. Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you. “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours. The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,” he whispered, as he looked down at you. His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own. “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so. Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek. With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes, slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft. Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own. He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline. His other hand on your chest continued its exploration. It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater. The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that? Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me. I wanna hear you moan for me.”

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat. “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses. “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase. Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you.

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there.

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“This is too much.” you said hoarsely “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

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Thank you for reading. Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe #obx #obx rafe cameron #selfreblog #timezone reblog

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goldenroutledge · 2 years

Text

next to you

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x reader

word count ⤜ 1.1k

summary ⤜ mornings with your husband, rafe.

warning(s) ⤜ this work contains a MAJOR season three spoiler! but other than that just fluff? might be on the hurt/comfort side just a smidge

a/n ⤜ he looks so BOYFRIEND in this outfit! i’ve been having so much writer’s block i haven’t written in a year at least, but my babygirl mila @msgorillagripcoochie inspired me with this idea <3 this isn’t canon rafe btw literally none of my work is canon compliant

rafe cameron masterlist

Steam fogged the mirrors of the en-suite bathroom, slowly dissipating with the cooler air being let in from the bedroom. White towel hanging around his hips, Rafe sat at the edge of the bed you shared, staring down the vast space of the walk-in closet.

Fidgeting with the ring on his finger, nerves coursed through his body, and it was in times like these that he remembered the days of drinking scotch before 11am. But that was a thing of the past, he reminded himself just as quickly as the thought popped into his mind.

Today he was meeting with an old teacher from his alma mater, who grew to be one of his favorites. Probably his only favorite.

Rafe was never a scholar or anything, something Ward didn’t allow him to forget. He just learned differently, from someone like Sarah who could barely show up to school three times a week and still pass every exam.

It wasn’t until Rafe found himself with a 67% in his social studies class and less than a month left in the semester to turn his grade around that he was forced to attend office hours.

The first day was embarrassing. He felt like an idiot in the first place, seeing as his horrible grades pretty much spoke for themselves. But even more so now that he had to stay longer at school because he was an idiot.

Rafe stayed silent for the most part. Letting the professor do most of the talking, letting him know which assignments and topics he needed to perform well on to end the class with a passing grade.

It wasn’t until that Friday, his professor knocked some sense into him.

« “You know you’ll never learn anything if you don’t ask questions, right?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of sitting prisoner in the chair of his teacher’s office. “What do you want me to ask?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t have questions.” He lied unconvincingly.

“Every time I teach you, Rafe, I can see the gears turning in your head. You’re a smart kid. But I can’t help you excel if you don’t engage. I get it, alright. I felt stupid asking a bunch of questions in front of everyone in school too but I need you to be receptive. Help me help you, Mr. Cameron.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. We can start with assigning you a peer tutor.”

Rafe wanted to laugh. Or cry, he wasn’t sure. The whole thing was just ridiculous to him at this point.

“She’ll be someone you can talk with about the material, ask questions to, someone you can trust to help you get back on track. Are you familiar with Y/n Y/ln?” »

Little did he know, Mr. Murphy would be getting the boot by the school board. Something about budget cuts, as if the kook parents of the island didn’t give enough donations to the school to keep the water fountains at a perfectly cold temperature.

Not because their books were falling apart or because their desks were chipping. Because people are selfish, and the new headmistress of the academy felt like the money could be better spent remodeling her office. It was laughable, really.

Today, that professor was back on the island, and reached out to Rafe to meet with him following the news of Ward’s death. Not that he mentioned that specifically in his email, though it was mostly implied that he’d wanted to check up on Rafe after everything.

And with all the questions he’d probably be asked today during this lunch with his old mentor, all he could ponder over was what he was going to wear. Perhaps it was a method of procrastination, to get his mind off of everything else.

Rafe sighed. “Y/n?”

At hearing his voice echoing through the house, you slid your bookmark in between the pages and followed his voice upstairs into your shared bedroom.

“You called?”

“I need your help.”

Your eyebrows raised involuntarily at the sight before you; no matter how many times you’d seen Rafe almost naked (and actually naked), he never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Help getting dressed?”

He nods, confirming that you’re always good at reading his mind. “Dress me, please?”

You chuckled, pulling some articles of clothing from the hangers and drawers. It was just lunch, so it wasn’t like he needed anything too business-y. His striped blue and orange shirt had always been one of your favorites, though he seemed to look good in almost anything.

You threw a pair of boxers over to him, keeping your back turned as you still rummaged through the closet. No matter how irresistible he was, there wasn’t any time for funny business this morning.

“There’s no need to be nervous, y’know. Mr. Murphy has always liked you.”

How do you always know what he’s thinking, damnit. “Yeah. I guess.”

He pulled the striped shirt over his head while you found pants for him to wear.

“Just don’t want him to think I’m still the same loser I was back then.”

“You’ve never been a loser, Rafe.”

“Maybe not in your eyes.” His lips stretched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put on the pants you picked for him, sitting back down to look up at you.

“Definitely not in my eyes.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so his head rested on your stomach. The tips of your fingernails lightly scratched the back of his neck as you embraced.

“Do you remember the science fair? Freshman year?”

Rafe hummed in response. “Ward thought it was stupid. I asked him to come and he didn’t. Said he would be too embarrassed when I lost.”

“And then what happened? You won the whole damn thing.”

“I won the whole damn thing.” He smiled against your skin, repeating your words softly.

“You’ve never been a loser.”

Kneeling down, you placed your hands on his thighs, and gave him a sweet kiss.

“You’ve already accomplished so much.” You affirmed, reminding him of the businesses he had taken over since Ward died. Still, Rafe was unsure if he could rise to the occasion.

You took the ends of his jeans and cuffed them, knowing he’s terrible at doing it himself. They always come out uneven. And conveniently enough, he likes spending these quiet moments together. Neither of you would trade them for anything.

“I married you.” He cooed, taking your left hand in his and letting his thumb glide across the ring on your finger. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“That it was.” You cheesed, letting him pull you up to straddle him. “Next time you think you’re not accomplished, Rafey…” You peppered soft kisses to his jawline. “Remember that you’ve got me.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneylaneylaney @jjpouggues @pogueslandia @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @amourology @luversgirl + rafe cameron taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @chrisevansfuturewife @drewstarkeysbitchh @littlementalpolaroids @destourtereaux @kookkyra @iammirrorball

it’s been a while since i’ve posted writing so if anyone wants to be removed from/added to the taglist please don’t hesitate to let me know! 💌

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #outer banks fic

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seriesxwriting · 2 years

Text

Give us a chance

W Rafe Cameron

Series- outer banks!

Summary- He’s been ignoring you lately? But now you and Rafe get stranded in the middle of the sea. Just you two. Alone. You can’t both hide your feelings foreverrr.

Warnings- swearing, kissing, Rafe saving your character from boys taking advantage.

(No season three spoilers in this)

Request are open for all and anything🫶

“Are you serious right now” Rafe stormed over to me pulling me away from some guys lap. I don’t even know who he was but- alcohol makes you do stupid things. “Rafe- get off me” I giggled pushing him away from me. “Are you serious y/n” “what are you moaning about now” my eyes rolled as my arms folded. I tried to look at him but my eyes began falling shut.

“Your fucking hammered- you can barely stand up” he stepped over catching me with one arm around my waist. “That’s because you dragged me up from my seat too fast” I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m taking you home” “Rafe no! I’m havi- having fun” I shook my head trying to pull back.

“Y/n!” “Why! Why are you taking me home why are you looking out for me- you do it all the time I see you watching me at parties, you’ve been watching me all night here” I frowned raising my voice slightly. “Because we’re friends” he frowned stepping close to me again.

“We were friends!” I scoffed, turning away from him as my eyes filled up with tears. “Before you so randomly started blowing me off and ignoring me- I’m not leaving with you unless you tell me why”. Rafe stared at me blankly before bringing his hand up to rub the side of his head. “Fine we will talk but on the way home” he bargained with me throwing me a stern look.

I gazed around at the rest of the party on the little near by island we had found. “Fine- how did you get here” “my boat” Rafe nodded his head towards it. “Come on- on then” I stirred spinning around a bit too fast, as I took my first step my legs began to wobble. Rafe lifted me in one Swift move, holding me in his arms walking to the boat.

“Unnecessary” I whispered wrapping my arms around his neck, kind of liking being up here. He stoped at the steps of his grand yacht to look down at me with his baby blue eyes. Holding the eye contact. Hot. How easy it would be to lift my head up right now.

“C-can you climb up?” Rafe shook his head tearing away from me. “Yes- yeah” I nodded gripping the ladder as rafe put me down on land. We both climbed up and went to sit in the wheelhouse. “I’m going to make you a coffee first- sober you up” “are you just delaying your answer?” I curled up in a ball on the sofa removing my shoes. Rafe looked at me with a knowing look and smiled before disappearing.

The music was fading when Rafe closed the door, the sounds of the party drowned out while I waited for him to return. He took about ten minutes before coming back with a blanket, slippers and a coffee in his arms for me. I smiled when I saw him, that was cute. “Five sugars?” Rafe smirked putting the cup down on the side table. “You remembered?”.

“How could I forget that, I’ve never met anyone else that takes five sugars” he chuckled, laying the slippers on the floor and opening the blanket for me. “Thank you Rafe” I nodded my head once. The boy kinda brushed past it, he wasn’t much of a sappy person and he couldn’t take a compliment or a thank you from anyone. Ever.

He started up the engine on the boat and slowly we started sailing away while I sipped my coffee and watched the island fade away. “So tell me” I looked over at him after a few minutes of silence. “What did I do wrong” “nothing” he replied bluntly staring into the pitch black ocean. “So what happened then? Why did you start pretending like I didn’t exist”

“We’re not doing this, I just said that so i could get you home” “I know” I answered softly. “it was worth a try” my shoulders shrugged sadly. “I also know I haven’t done anything wrong, because I’d never do anything to upset you rafe” I told him truthfully. “What ever it is you can talk to me we can sort it out- I don’t want you to stay away from me”

“That’s easier said than done, even if I wanted to I clearly couldn’t stay away from you” he told me in the exact same tone and facial expression. “Did- you want to?” I asked lowly hoping for a no. “No” Rafe turned to look at me now for the first time in this conversation. “I had to- I have to”.

“Why?” I questioned feeling full of confusion. “Why” Rafe laughed looking back into the night. “Why did you get so drunk tonight, there’s many why’s” he replied.

“I- had another argument with my parents” I told him after a few seconds looking at the floor. “That still happening?” “They want me to follow in the family business- I don’t want to, it’s never going to be solved” “well, I want to be in the family business- I feel like my dad doesn’t want me there sometimes” Rafe laughed to himself.

I looked over at him smiling at our similarities, just as I did the boat engine began to stop. Rafe frowned and hit the petrol sign on the panel like that was going to solve something. “What the fuck” he whispered to himself turning the key again and again. “Out of petrol?” “No I’ve still got half a tank- something must be caught it’s too dark to go out and see” he sighed putting his head in his hands.

“Fuck!” The boy slammed his hand into the steering wheel making me jump and spill the coffee down the blanket. “Shit- im sorry” Rafe jumped up when he noticed to grab a pack of tissues. “It’s- its okay, we just have to wait right? until the morning” “yeah” he nodded wiping the coffee off me whilst knelt down. He looked up at me and chuckled raising a hand with his thumb out.

He dragged it across my cheek wiping the splashes of coffee off me. I caught his hand when he tried taking it back. In this moment it was just me and Rafe in the world. The sounds of the sea were the only thing that could be heard. He was staring into my eyes and I did it back. I didn’t want this moment to end.

But something had to ruin it. A boat noise appeared and it sounded like someone was parking next to us. “Who’s- that?” I whispered feeling a sense of fear take over me. “Stay here” Rafe rubbed my hand with his thumb before standing up to go and see who it was. He opened the door peering down the side of the boat.

“Rafe? That you?” A voice yelled up “yeah” he called back down. “It’s just Tommy” Rafe told me when I stood up. I walked over to the side of him to see a very drunk Tommy, Daniel and Carl in the little speed boat beside us. “Y/n? What you doing here” Tommy asked loudly. “going- home” I answered.

“So Why are you guys parked in the middle of nowhere- you Two been up to something?” Carl giggled swigging the bottle again. “Nah engine is fucked we’re just waiting it out” Rafe told them taking precautions it looked like. Seeing Rafe looking at them like that made me feel kind of scared. What was he thinking, what were they up to?

The three boys started giggling and whispering to each other about something. “Tell you what, we will take y/n home, take real good care of her for you so she’s not stuck out here huh” Tommy offered up with a grin. I didn’t want to go with them something was off, but I didn’t know how to say no. I moved forward to go down the stairs but Rafe cut off my exist with his arm. Thank heaven. No thank Rafe Cameron.

“Yeah i Don’t think so” he shook his head with a smiled on the corner of his mouth. “What’s the problem Rafe? Don’t you want her safe at home” Carl laughed wiggling his eyebrows “she’s safe here, you can go now” “all kinda threats out here” “I said you can go, or are we going to have a problem? Because I promise you will lose” Rafe leant over the rail of the boat.

“It really should be the ladies decision- we could have some real fun together” Tommy smirked undressing me with his eyes. “Of course that part probably wouldn’t have been the ladies decision” carl shrugged and the three boys laughed. Rafe slammed his hand down on the pole before racing down the stairs. Tommys face dropped and he tried starting the boat up again.

Rafe reached over the side grabbing Carl by the neck. “You talk about her like that again I’ll fucking drown you” Rafe spat, as he drew his arm back to punch Tommy started the speed boat and Daniel held onto Carl. Rafe dropped him watching closely as they sped off panicking. My heart pounded against my chest and when Rafe turned around he saw it in my face.

“Your okay there gone” he told me walking back up to me. I ran down the stairs meeting him half way. I’d hugged rafe a thousand times but this time, he instigated it. His arms were open. And I hugged him tight as a tear fell onto his top. “I won’t let anyone lay a fucking finger on you y/n, ever” he whispered into my hair running his hand though it.

“How can you say that to me when your never with me anymore” “I’m always watching out for you, I’d never let anything happen” Rafe told me pushing my head up by my chin. “But yet you still can’t tell me why you can’t even be seen with me” I pulled away drying my eyes. “Y/n it’s in your best interest if you don’t know” he told me sadly and tried to walk up the stairs.

“No it’s not Rafe! I need to know what’s going on it plays on my mind constantly!” “You don’t, you think you do but you don’t want to know” he shook his head gently moving my arm so he could ascend to the top. “How can you possibly know that!” “Because if I tell you y/n! Everything is ruined everything changes!” Rafe shook his head, I noticed his eyes were a little watery too.

“I’m a big girl rafe, i might take you by surprise” I called out desperately still waiting on the steps. “You really… you really want to know?” Rafe chuckled shaking his head. But I just folded my arms and raised one eyebrow up. Rafe looked at me for a second before bolting it down the stairs. He stopped inches away from me, inches away from my lips. “Do you get it yet?” He whispered looking at my lips and then back up to my eyes.

My heart pounded against my chest as I leant in hitting his lips. Rafe pulled back instantly and looked at me with wide eyes. I held my breath waiting for him to say something but instead he came back to me pulling me towards him by my hip. I held onto his neck as we kissed for the first time ever. Rafe was right, this had ruined something. But this could be way better than what we had, change can be good.

He moved a hand to my faces as we pulled away breathless. I didn’t know what to say, neither did he apparently. So we kissed again until one of us knew how to react. “I’m still going to need an explanation here” I told him smiling not letting go of him. “Only if I get one too” Rafe shrugged holding onto me tight. “Can we sit down?”. He nodded taking my hand and we made it to the sofa. Rafe pulled me down by my waist on top of him as I squealed.

“We just kissed” he giggled like a boy with his first crush. “I think I’ve liked you for a long time rafe, I just didn’t realise until you stopped talking to me” I ran my thumb up and down his arm. “That’s why I stopped talking to you” “that doesn’t make sense? Why didn’t you just tell me?” His eyes dropped as if he didn’t want to talk about it. “Didn’t think I stood even a one percent chance really”

“What?” I frowned pushing his face to look at me. “I’m fucked up y/n, you can do better” “your not fucked up rafe! I won’t have you talking about yourself like that- I don’t want anything else I- I only want you rafe” I whispered playing with the bottom of his hair. “Your sweet you just don’t let people see it, but I see it and I always have” “so I haven’t ruined anything?” He questioned holding my face too.

“You made it better- presuming you make me your girlfriend of course” I giggled excitedly. “That was a given the moment I kissed you- I don’t kiss anyone like that” Rafe told me seriously. “I want you, your all I want all I’ve ever wanted” “I want you too rafe” I leant our foreheads together.

“You’ve got me”.

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cameronspecial · 9 months

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I Will Explode With Joy, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Rafe loves to make the Holiday season the best for his angel.

Masterlist

Rafe loves to go all out with presents during the Christmas season. He has to stop himself from filling the living room with presents from his angel. But this Christmas, he has found the perfect excuse that allows him to buy her a gift that costs at least two thousand dollars. The cost doesn’t phase him; his fiancée deserves the world with how hard she has been working on her Master’s. As soon as he feels her heavy breath meets the skin of his chest, he carefully untangles himself from her hold. He places a pillow with one of his shirts on it underneath her so she has something to cuddle. He heads down to the basement to start bringing up the things he needs for her gift. It takes him about three hours to get everything together, but it’s going to be worth it once he sees how excited she will be when she sees this gift. Because, of course, he will have more than this for her Christmas presents. The minimum he can spend on her is five thousand. He puts the final touches on the gift and makes his way back upstairs to bed with the woman he is going to marry.

———

Y/N wakes up before Rafe does and she stays in bed until he does too. His eyes flutter open with a massive grin forming on his face at the same time. “Merry Christmas, Angel,” he whispers, kissing her nose. She matches his facial expression, “Merry Christmas to you too, Rafe.” His arms reach out to pull her closer to him. “Are you ready to go open presents?” he asks with excitement laced in his voice. Her lips pucker a little, “I am, but with how you are acting, I’m scared of finding out what you did this year.” Rafe chuckles and kisses her forehead. He gets out of bed, holding out his hand for her to take. He guides her downstairs and her eyes almost bulge out of her head at the sight of the most obvious gift.

It is a five-foot-tall Christmas tree made out of books, like the one she has seen on social media. The books overlap each other like bricks to make rows and rows of circles that meet at a point at the top. Ornaments rest on small book ledges alongside a light garland. At the very top, is a decorative book that has the pages forming a heart. It has to be at the very least one hundred books and she knows they are all new books because she recognizes some of the books from her to be bought list. She doesn’t walk further into the room; instead, she opts to stand in the doorway with her mouth agape. Her silence causes Rafe to panic. Did he get the wrong books? Did he go too far? Should he have made it taller? He knew he should’ve made it six feet. “Angel, do you like it?” he frets, placing a hand on her shoulder. Tears start to form in her eyes, “I don’t like it. I love it. I will explode with joy, Rafe. This is amazing.” She jumps into his arms, bringing warmth to his face by attacking him with her lips. Her legs wrap around him and he lets out a sigh of relief. “Good because I really wanted this to show you how much I love you,” he confesses. She gives him a final kiss on the lips, “You always show me how much I mean to you, but this really does take the cake. I love it and you, Rafe. Thank you.” Satisfied with her reaction, Rafe places her on the couch so that she can open her other presents. He’ll help her move all her new books into her library later today. She’ll probably need a new bookshelf too.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama

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authoreetea · 10 months

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𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 (pt. 2)

pairing ; rafe cameron x reader

summary ; you come back to the obx three years later for a work thing, and rafe is adamant on trying to get you back. it's the christmas season 🫣

warnings ; i don't know 😭 THIS IS MY LONGEST WORK EVER? feminine terms maybe. reader is a fashion designer and probs ooc rafe

note! it's december, once again, so i thought why not give losing you a happy ending. part two! I'm in my christmas feels, ill make a part three. you can kinda end it at the first part but christmas feels gets me wanting happy endings so here i am 🫣

Being back at Outer Banks after three years brings back the good and bad memories. It wasn't just a stroll down memory lane; it was a strong plunge into the depths of shared history. The salt air greeted me, it carried whispers of laughter and echoes of heartache.

My return wasnt purely for nostalgia, I had to be here on a work obligation. One of my clients live here, and apparently needed me here for the whole december.

Figure Eight was decorated with festive christmas lights, the holiday spirit clashing with my uncertainty that lingers in the air. I've debated with myself over and over again, that going back was a bad idea, yet I can't turn down my clients.

Unfortunately, the only hotel by figure eight is fully booked and I have nowhere else left to stay. I thought about Rafe's sister, Sarah, but I don't even know where she is now. We've fallen apart since then and I don't know anyone here, but him.

Taking a deep breath, I swallow my pride and went to the Cameron estate. I repeat 'it's for work' in my head as if it's a mantra.

The place I used to call home, the place where Rafe and I share all kinds of memories. It looked sad, it was the only house around the neighborhood that had no christmas decorations, yet it was still clean.

I compose myself, and knocked on the door three times. I hear shuffling and a slightly muffled "hold on" from the inside. I can recognize his voice anywhere, I only now felt the anxiety rushing back to me.

He opened the door, his hair damp and messy. He was in a navy blue polo shirt, with black shorts and his scent wrapped around me. Rafe smelled fresh and citrusy, my body felt comfort and resentment at the same time.

I muster up a small smile, you can barely even see it. Rafe looks shocked, his eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. Time had etched its mark on his face, a complex canvas of emotions hidden behind those familiar blue eyes. "You're back," he stated, his voice a mixture of surprise and a vulnerability he couldn't quite conceal. He looked as if he just saw a ghost.

I give him a curt nod. "Yes, for a work thing. The only hotel near here is fully booked, and this was the only place I could think of. I can find something else, if you mind."

Rafe shook his head and opened the door wider. "You can stay, it's just me, anyway." He said, the shock still evident in his voice. I gave him a quiet thank you, smiling at him as I walked in.

The inside felt cold, the ghost of our past danced around every corner of this place. It looked fine, it was obvious Rafe re-decorated and made it more- him.

"Thank you, really, for letting me stay. I didn't know figure eight was such a tourist spot at Christmas." I said, a slight hint of humor in my tone in attempt to lighten up the mood.

He gives a half-hearted chuckle, yet I could sense his guarded demeanor. "Uh, yeah. Ever since I finally took over, I made a few tweaks and this place became a tourist attraction." He said, scratching the back of his neck.

God, he looked so good.

I smile, trying to contain my thoughts. "You're doing really well, Rafe."

He smiles and thanks me. "Anyway, I have to excuse myself. You can take Sarah's old room for the time, you know where it is." He says, grabbing his keys, wallet, and phone, before walking to the door.

"I'm glad you're back, y/n." And with that, he left.

I felt my cheeks getting warm and I sure as hell looked red as a tomato. I think I'm gonna be sick, He looks so good and it's so hard not to miss him. In those three long years, all I could think about was if he was doing well. And I'm glad that he is.

Over days that blurred into nights, work obligations mingled with the tentative reconnection between us. Small talk and shared glances became the thread by which we delicately wove our way through unresolved emotions. Rafe's eyes held an unspoken plea, a desire to mend what had been broken.

It has been 14 days since I've been back, and it was already starting to get cold, only 10 days away from christmas. It was midnight at the Cameron estate as I went down to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa. I've been working all day figuring out new designs for this "gala" thing my client is asking for.

I prepared my ingredients, reaching for a mug when I was interrupted by a deep "Hey" from Rafe.

I gasped and held onto my chest. "Jesus, Rafe, don't sneak up on me like that!"

He smiles sheepishly, and mutters a soft sorry. "Sorry, can't sleep. What are you making?"

"Hot cocoa, you want one?"

He replies "sure" and sat by the kitchen island. It's been like this lately, small conversations with tension lingering in the air. It felt like something heavy was being put above our heads, threatening to fall down in a second.

Rafe looks deep in thought as I made his cocoa and mine. His eyebrows always go upward when he's thinking and he gets fidgety with his hands. Until today, I have all his mannerisms memorized. He wasn't someone I could ever forget.

"Y/n, look. I owe you an apology." He says, quietly as he still fidgets with his heirloom ring. His blue eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity. "You didn't deserve that. My fear pushed away the one thing that mattered the most."

My heart ached, I felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute. "Rafe-" I started, yet he cuts me off

"I wasn't done, sorry. I just want you to hear me first." He says, giving me a pleading smile. I whisper an okay and handed him my special cocoa.

"I knew I would mess it up. Hell, I feel like I really messed up back then. Fear took over me and I thought that it would protect you, but it only hurt you. " He said, his gaze switching from me and the old christmas mugs I bought that he still kept.

"Rafe, it's in the past. We've both grown up and I forgive you, I can never stay mad at you forever." I say, giving him a warm smile and held his hand for a second. He eyed my hand before giving me a half hearted smile.

"In the three years I was alone, I had time to reflect and I realized that some risks are worth taking. " He pauses, standing up next to me.

Rafe was tall, and he towered over me. "I'm sorry for not giving you what you deserved, for being to scared to accept the love you had to offer." He admitted, his blue eyes finally meeting mine. We were less than a meter away and I could basically feel his warmth radiating off of him. and his scent engulfed me like a hug.

"I want to show you I've changed, y/n. I'm willing to do anything, an whatever it takes, to make it right with us." He says, his hand reaching for mine and immediately met warmth. "Come home to me, y/n."

His apology hung in the air, and I stared at him, blinking. I was shocked at how he expressed his feelings, it wasn't something he was open about before and maybe now, he's really doing better.

"Rafe, I accept your apology. But you really did hurt me rafe, and it's gonna take a lot more than this for me to come home. " I say, giving him a tight lipped smile.

What surprised me was the smirk on his face as he looked at me.

"I understand." He says, a smile on his face before getting closer to me. I felt my blood rush to my cheeks at our closeness. The mood definitely changed from emotional to frisky really quick.

"There's ten days left before Christmas, think I can win you back by then?" he says proudly, smirking at me as he maintains eye contact.

I chuckle, "Sure preppy boy. I'd like to see you try."

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maybanksgal · 2 months

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Okay stay with me routledge reader (john bs older sister by like a year) who used to date rafe, but Rafes a fucking crazy coke addict with unresolved daddy issues and some seriously weird fetish for the fact reader is so much “lower” than him. So after a good while of Rafe telling reader she’s being crazy and she shouldn’t leave him, she finally does leave.

Now it’s mid season 1 when Ward took John b in and now readers forced to live with Rafe; her psychotic ex. And guess what, Rafe never moved on he’s been trying to get her back forever and now this is his chance. She’s staying under his roof so now she has to live by his rules. And at first he try’s to be nice in a condescending Rafe way, making her feel like she owes him a second chance because he took her a “a helpless pogue running from dcs” into his home despite the fact she’s over the age of 18 and doesn’t need his or his family’s help and she’s just there because she felt pressured with the fact John b was living there.

When the “being nice” act doesn’t work he gets meaner and meaner and don’t get it twisted reader misses him too; the angry sex, the soft makeup sex, the way he would be so loving when he wasn’t three sheets to the wind, the way he would cuddle her , the way he’d always draw the most perfect bath, the way he was always there for after her dad disappeared.

They really were In love it’s just Rafe’s constant flaws outweighed the good moments he’d have every now and then.

The thing is Rafe is Rafe, he will stop at nothing to get her back. Ruin every date she tries to go on, isolate her from the pogues, ruin any friendships she has outside the pogues. Literally anything to get her back.

Once she loses all her friends, and now her own brother is starting to turn on her and the isolation starts getting to her, she starts to think maybe Rafe isn’t that bad. Maybe she really should give him another chance all her friends and her brother are gone but Rafe is still there for her. Maybe she was the stupid one the whole time breaking up with someone who was always there when she needed him. They should get back together.

Rafe got his way; he got reader back and this time he’s not letting her go. Keeping her in the house, keeping her away from Sarah and her brother. Anytime reader would ask to leave tanneyhill, Rafe wouldn’t let her go alone he was always right there with her, and when reader starts to realize this was rafes plan all along, and he’s been isolating her, he’s the one who turned her brother against her, he’s the one who ruined her life, she tries to escape. Pack all her things in the night and go to the chateau in the hopes that John B is there, and that maybe she can explain all of Rafe’s bullshit.

But oh how that doesn’t work. She thinks that Rafe is asleep so she slowly gets out of bed and grabs her stuff that she packed earlier in the day. But the thing is she doesn’t have a car, so she’s walking from the figure 8 to the cut in her pajamas with all her belongings. She gets less than half way to the chateau when Rafe pulls up in his truck to say he was pissed the fuck off would be the biggest understatement ever. Reader tries to run but Rafe in his truck is faster, she turns a random corner trying to get away but he finds her and forces her in the truck. Fuck Fuck Fuck. What’s going to happen now this is the angriest she’s ever seen Rafe.

Once they get back to tanneyhill. Shit hits the fan. Rafe’s throwing stuff, expensive stuff that she couldn’t buy even if she saved up her entire life. He’s yelling his lungs out. “Don’t you love me” “how could you do this to me” “your just some fucking pogue, your lucky that I’ve given you all the chances I’ve given and then you just abandon me.” Great now Ward and Rose are awake.

The thing with Ward is that he doesn’t care about the reader and John B, he only cares about himself and the Cameron name. Taking in the two of them was just a way to make the family look kind and charitable. And when reader finally took Rafe back Rafe stopped being so Rafe-ish to the rest of the Cameron’s and Ward was so thankful. So reader trying to leave Rafe again was a no way in his books. He can’t take Rafe anymore. So he joins into the argument. He tries to make seem like he’s simply a mediator and is on no one’s side, but he’s on Rafe’s side. Trying to make reader seem like a terrible person for just up and abandoning such a patient and kind man in the middle of the night with no explanation. Trying to convince her that her friends and brother are the problem and Rafe is really a saint who’s been with her through everything.

Maybe John b and the pogues are the problem. Maybe Sarah’s lying about how crazy her brother is. Maybe readers paranoid. Maybe she’s the crazy one.

Rafe really does love her and she’s just a loser pogue who’s not deserving of such a lovely and patient man, perhaps every problem they’ve had in their relationship is her fault.

She won’t leave Rafe again and she’ll try to be a better girlfriend, maybe they’ll get married one day and go from a Routledge to a Cameron. Yeah that’s nice. She needs to stop being so crazy and treat Rafe right.

It’s time to go back to bed they can figure everything out in the morning.

And oh how Ward is so thankful that reader came to her senses, and how grateful Rafe is for his father having his back for once.

First post ever hope it’s good. Idk how many words, I made this on my phone at 1 am. CREDITS TO GIF OWNER

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #toxic rafe cameron #toxic relationship #dark rafe cameron #dark rafe x reader #outer banks #first post #rafe cameron prompt

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moremaybank · 1 year

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SPARKS FLY (II) — r.c

pairing hockey player!rafe cameron x fem!flight attendant!reader

summary rafe spends his time on his flight pushing your buttons. then, the obx thunder boys go out to celebrate their latest win, and rafe ends up running into you at the club.

warnings flirty rafe, rafe annoying reader on their flight (but it's cute), alcohol consumption, a sexual innuendo, some suggestive parts, allusions to smut (it's coming next i swear), i think that's it?

author's note decided to make a part two, and this is probably going to turn into a mini series but we'll see. (series inspired by liz tomforde)

sparks fly — the masterlist ;; rafe masterlist

Rafe had been on fire this season, racking up win after win with the help of his team. His following was growing, and with that came plenty of women propositioning him. Normally, he would have revelled in that attention. He probably would've taken at least three of them home to have a party of his own. But something had changed. He didn't want any of them. He couldn't even think about them. All that he wanted was you.

Ever since that first flight with you, Rafe couldn't get you out of his mind. Your banter, your commitment to your professionalism, and the fireworks that erupted in the pit of his stomach whenever he interacted with you. You'd left a lasting impression on him, like you imprinted on his soul with just your glimmering eyes and captivating smile.

No matter how many girls threw themselves at him, he found himself uninterested beyond belief. The only thing on his mind was his desire to get to know you more, to win you over and to show you that there was more to him than his reputation.

Tonight, as he boarded the plane, he couldn't help but glance around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. There you were, standing in your crisp uniform, your hair down this time around and framing your face. You were wearing a bombshell red lipstick, one that Rafe tried not to imagine painted all over his skin. Your heels accentuated your legs, and even through the stockings, he could tell how glowy and smooth they were. God, the way he wanted them wrapped around his waist, or hooked over his shoulders. Bent back with your feet near your head. He had to stop himself before he sported an accidental hard on.

You could feel eyes on you, and you turned to the right to find Rafe settled in his seat, a teasing grin on his face. He offered you a wink, before shifting his attention onto his phone.

Throughout the flight, he pressed that damn call button over and over, each time with a playful excuse to get your attention.

"Can I get another pillow? This one's kinda lumpy," he'd request with the same stupid yet panty-dropping smirk.

Some time passed, a little longer than usual, and you prayed that Rafe was finally over his antics. But you spoke (albeit, internally) far too soon.

"Could you adjust my seatbelt for me?" It was perfectly fine, and you both knew that, but Rafe refused to let up.

You fixed it for him with a huff. "I'm sure you could've done this yourself. You're more than capable."

"Maybe," he shrugged. He inched closer, the look in his eyes making it impossible to look away. "Or maybe I just wanted to feel your hands on my body."

Your thighs clenched as you gulped, and you prayed that he didn't notice. "Well, cherish that memory because it's never happening again."

He watched you walk away, heading over to another one of his teammates who actually needed your assistance.

"You know, you're trying real hard with someone who doesn't wanna give you a chance," Topper spoke from his seat across the jet. "Why not just go for one of your admirers?"

"I don't want them. I want her," Rafe responded.

Topper chuckled to himself, "Yeah, for one night. Then, you'll ruin it for the rest of us by making it awkward."

"Nah. Not this time. There's something about her. She's different. I can tell."

"Whatever you say, man."

By the time the plane touched down in Seattle, Rafe was on his way to exit the plane when he took one last look at you. There was a newfound sincerity in his eyes. "I'm not giving up, Y/N. It might not happen today, but sooner or later, you're gonna fall for me."

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing look. "I wouldn't hold my breath."

"You're stubborn. It's cute. But it won't last for long."

Later that night, the team had decided to celebrate yet another triumphant victory but heading to one of the hottest clubs in downtown Seattle. Upon arriving at Aura, Rafe's teammates were eager to toast to their win and spend the night mingling with people that would promise them a fun time. He agreed to join them, hoping that the night out might help him get you out of his head, even if only a short while.

Everyone entered the barely lit club, the pulsating beat of music filled the air. His teammates wasted no time diving in, but Rafe hung back, nursing his whiskey and surveying the crowd before him.

As if by chance, Rafe spotted you with your colleagues looking effortlessly stunning. Your dress sparkled from the strobe lights, and your laughter and bright smile were infectious, causing Rafe to sport a smile of his own as he watched you. You were captivating, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

Rafe took a deep breath, determined to seize the opportunity. It was like the universe was working for him. So, he made his way toward you, and he couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that mingled with nervousness in his chest. It wasn't enough to stop him, though. He couldn't let his chance slip away.

"Twice in one day? I must be the luckiest man alive," he said, trying to sound casual. He wondered if you could see how giddy he really was.

You turned to him, a surprised but sweet smile on your face. "Rafe? What are you doing here?"

He was elated when you didn't brush him off. "Celebrating tonight's win. But I have to admit, seeing you here is a win in itself."

"Really? And why's that?"

Rafe leaned into you, and he looked deep into your eyes. "Because I can't get you off my mind."

Your heart fluttered, and you found yourself torn between resisting his charms and giving in to the chemistry that sizzled between you. You had to admit, his persistence was starting to reel you in.

"Then maybe you should buy me a drink," you suggested.

"Let's go."

Rafe's hand found the small of your back as he led you away from your coworkers and to the bar. You both ordered your drinks, and the alcohol gave you some courage.

"You clean up nice. Not that your uniform doesn't do you justice. It does," Rafe said.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "And you clean up pretty well for a hockey player. But don't let that go to your head."

Rafe grinned, his eyes sparkling. "You know, I'm starting to think that you enjoy challenging me."

You met his gaze with a sly smile. "Maybe I do. It's not everyday that I meet someone who can keep up."

"My stamina's never been an issue, sweetheart."

You felt the heat blooming in your cheeks at the innuendo, and your slowly circled his wrist. "Then prove it. Dance with me."

"Lead the way."

Your magnetic pull drew you two closer, the connection louder than the noisy club that surrounded you. His hands rested on your hips and your back pressed against his front. Your bodies moved in sync, and Rafe's hands on you made you shiver with excitement. The spark between you was now a full fledged flame, burning so brightly it threatened to burn everything in its wake.

As the two of you continued to dance, the question that lingered in the back of your mind pulled at you. You needed to know the depth of Rafe's intentions. You twirled around in Rafe's hold slowly, your arms bracing on his biceps. You bit your lip in anticipation. "Why are you trying so hard with me?"

He paused for a moment, his eyes locking on yours. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice raw with emotion. "You're a challenge. I like a good challenge. But more than that, there's something about you that's different. You're unlike anyone I've ever met before, and I can't resist wanting to figure you out. I want to know you. I need to."

You felt a mixture of curiosity and attraction. "So I'm a puzzle you're trying to solve?"

He nodded, pulling you closer as you swayed to the music. "Yeah. And I can't shake the feeling that the more I get to know you, the more interesting you'll become."

His answer was enough to intrigue you. "Do you...wanna get out of here?"

He smiled, with a shy but eager nod. "Yeah. Definitely."

RAFE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @twelfthmortalofcrimsonpalace @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @jjsbank444 @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @countryclubkook @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @darleneslane @sya-skies @ellabellabus07 @emmalandry @madelynie @urbestieboo @cruzgrecia @l1lactheflower @rafegirly @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17 @allsmilesreally7 @obaex

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dietmountaindreww · 1 year

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the interview

Part 1

Drew Starkey x Female Reader

warnings: none!! fluff, slightly suggestive.

Y/N and Drew are in the back of the taxi which he politely ordered for them, sitting across each-other. Drew knew Y/N had anxiety and her leg can’t help but shake slightly with nerves. This would be her first press interview ever.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks and placed his hand on her leg softly over her skirt, helping to calm her shaking, not making a big deal out of the situation. “We will be there in no time, you are going to be amazing, i’m sure of it.” Drew promised, looking into Y/N’s eyes. She looked at him, before calming down; something about his touch was so soothing. “Yeah, i’m just nervous. But i’m sure i’ll be fine with you there.” Y/N replied calmly. “What’s it like? Being interviewed?”Drew smiles. “At first it’s weird, you aren’t sure how to answer questions sometimes. It sort of feels like being put on the spot, but it’s all part of being an actor.” He explained, wanting to help take some pressure off her as he could tell she was nervous. “After a few times it won’t be as weird anymore, trust me.. we will be fine, I know that.” Y/N smiled and nodded in appreciation of his gentle reassurance. “Thank you Drew.”

She looks out the taxi window to the busy streets of Downtown New York, before realising his hand was still resting on her leg.. she didn’t react physically of course but her heart and mind was racing at an unbelievable speed. “No worries.” Drew winked playfully, taking her hand from off her leg as he sets it on the window bar, he glanced over to see if she was okay. He didn’t want to make it awkward and all he wanted to do was comfort Y/N.. he’s also looking at her because she looks absolutely beautiful.. drawing his eyes away quickly before it was noticeable.

The taxi stops and they arrive at a reporters building, where their interview is. Although Drew had been in Outer Banks since season one, Y/N was joining him to do a dual interview seeing as she played the Drew’s character’s love interest.. essentially a main part in the show. “Is this the place” Y/N asked Drew as she stepped out the car after he insisted on holding the door open for her. Drew looked back at the building, slightly nervous now too. But he plastered a smile just for her. “Yeah, i think so.” He takes her hand softly, walking inside the building and heading to reception. Drew whispered to Y/N as a woman escorted them down a corridor. “You’ll be fine, the press will love you.” He’s a good friend and he knows how terrifying it can be in the limelight. Y/N returned a soft smile of gratitude before entering a small room where she and Drew shook hands with the Female Reporter and the Camera crew. Drew gives Y/N a professional nod as they sit in two chairs opposite the reporter, about to start live-streaming.

The reporter sits down, direct to them after hearing the command; “ACTION!” Y/N is happily giving the woman her full respect and attention, Drew admires this before doing the same.

“Drew, what is there to expect from your character, Rafe Cameron in season four of Outer Banks?” The woman shuffled her cards before listening to his response. Drew smiled, speaking as a natural. “I can promise you season four is going to be amazing. You are all definitely going to see me more in action, viewing Rafe at his best and his worst.. he certainly has some big choices to make and definitely some hard ones. For himself, and those who he loves.” Drew motioned to Y/N playfully, “A lot more action and drama, as if there wasn’t enough already.” The three of them chuckled at this. Nodding in agreement, the reporter turned to Y/N. “Y/N, as a new character how did you settle in with the cast? How was filming?” Y/N smiles and replied surprisingly with immediate confidence. “Working with the cast and filming crew has been such an honour, and i’ve made such great friends in the past few years of filming. The cast are like family to me already and we’re more than welcoming.” Drew smiles at her reply, he is more than happy she feels so comfortable and he knows how important it is to have the support of your friends and colleagues on set.

The reporter looked at both of them. “How did you find playing each others love interests, was it awkward?” Y/N giggled slightly before responding on her half, “I’ve loved working with Drew, honestly it was a dream. He’s so good at what he does and he makes everything fun, so nothing was ever awkward. I don’t think i could’ve done it with anyone else.” Drew chuckled, she was really doing well and it made him feel more at ease somehow. “I completely agree with Y/N, she’s so talented and definitely has her moments where she lights up the room.” Y/N blushes slightly before turning back to the reporter who has her next question ready.

“Will we be seeing buzzcut Rafe or curtain bangs Rafe this season?” They answer several more questions before the reporter was on the final two questions.“The fans want to know.. are you two a thing?”

The camera man looked in confusion at the reporter, seeing this question wasn’t on their set list. Y/N blushes profusely before smiling uncomfortably. “No.. just friends” she awkwardly replied. Drew feels quite awkward and doesn’t know how to answer this. “We’re just really good friends, nothing more.”

The reporter nodded. “Final question is selected by the viewers watching this live stream right now.. What’s each of your dream roles in a movie?”

Y/N smiles at the camera and waves cutely. “Hi everyone, thanks for your support!” Before turning back to the reporter, “I’d love to be in a marvel movie. I always loved the comics growing up.” Drew smiles. Y/N could definitely land a role in a marvel movie with that beauty and that body. “I can see that Y/N, As for me I would just love to be the lead in any sort of action movie, it’s really fun and i think i’m pretty good at it too. I would love to be in something like that.”

The reporter thanked them and Y/N and Drew are walking out to exit the building. “That was so much better than i thought it would go.” Y/N giggled as they walked out into main street. Drew shrugged, “That went pretty smoothly, i’m so proud of you.” Y/N blushes before Drew spoke and hugged her tightly with a friendly smile. “Do you want to celebrate your first interview success?”

Y/N felt a little flustered in his arms as she remembered a few weeks ago when he held her like this when they hooked up. It was like they never mentioned anything that happened.. friends with benefits with a full stop. “Sure , How were you thinking we celebrate?”

Drew pulled away, hands in pockets. “I thought we could have dinner and maybe some wine too.. or if you prefer we can just go to mine and watch a movie.. or we can go to town.. you choose. How does that sound?” He wants whatever she would like to do, and Y/N nodded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Wine sounds nice.”

#outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe x y/n #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew x y/n #dad! drew

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writersundersiege · 7 months

Text

The New Girl in Town Pt 5

Rafe Cameron x F! Reader

a/n: Woah, okay, so this one is a little longer. One, it’s formatted differently; it gives you more perspective of what’s happening. Also, I’m trying to follow Rafe's season one character arc and overall story, knowing now you guys are enjoying the series. I know where I want to go now, but if you guys don’t like how long this is, let me know, and I’ll free-write it and go based on my arc for him and the characters, not on canon events. Please let me know what you think; much love and enjoy!

Summary: The hurricane has hit the Outerbanks, and with a storm that’s torn up Kilandre, emotions seem to be on high. Rafe is still trying to recover from you walking out without saying anything to him. In contrast, you prepare to attend your first Boneyard Kegger. What happens when everything goes wrong? Who do you call when there is no one else to turn to in your town? Will anyone show up when you need them?

MDNI 18+

Warnings: Storms, grief, death, insinuation of sexual themes, violence, weapons, swearing, drug use, and drug abuse, as well as some slight talks of addiction.

After receiving a text, Rafe sits up thinking about yesterday, and his eyes widen, thinking only of the generators now. He scrambles to text a few of his Kook friends to see if anyone can help a man out when Kelce speedily responds that he’s got him; no worries and was planning on dropping by with Topper anyway for Sarah, but they’ll come to help him first.

Half an hour later, Topper and Kelce are helping Rafe quickly set up a generator, but little does he know you are just around the corner because the day before, Scooter had helped the Cameron family storm prep for their boat. Still, before going to Tannyhill, Scooter had helped Charlie prep The Hut since it was your dad's first big hurricane.

Ward was cleaning up fallen tree branches when he heard his name called out, “Hello, Mr.Cameron.” he looked up to see a girl he didn’t know with a worrisome look on your face and holding Lana, Scooter's wife, gently rubbing her shoulder. Ward stood to be able to see you both fully.

Ward quickly leads Lana to Sarah, and you let her know you’ll wait out front to take her wherever she may need to go; she shakes her head and walks off with Ward. As you stand to wait, one of the yard workers takes his opportunity to saunter toward you and strike up a conversation.

Little to your knowledge from below, but standing on the edge of the balcony near the side of the house were Rafe and his friends looking down on you as you laughed and conversed with the boy, probably a few years older than you.

As Rafe watched you in pure bliss, seeming to enjoy the conversation between you, he felt himself brimming with annoyance when suddenly, your head quickly wiped to the front door not far from the boys standing on the balcony just below them to the side.

The three boys watch as you abandon the ongoing conversation with the yard worker boy to take the spot right at Lana’s shoulder; this makes Rafe smirk, watching the boy's displeased face watch you.

Heedlessly to the boy, you walk with Lana back to the road, patting her back and smiling softly at her; they can’t make out what exactly you’re saying, but they all equally watch as you disappear, as usual, into the horizon line, taking a glimpse of the sunlight in your wake until you randomly appear again.

The rest of the day, Rafe didn’t see or hear from you, but he assumed, with how bad the storm was and all the cleanup, that you had other worries than explaining running out on him.

Technically, he’s nothing more than another boy on the new island you call home. These thoughts make him unsound and intolerable. So he glances at the sea momentarily, wondering if you are also glancing at the rolling waves.

Rafe had been doing meaningless things to fill the time; he received a few texts from friends and past hooks-ups about the kegger at the boneyard and another party not too far from Top’s House, and Rafe didn’t want to go to either; he sat and thought for a while, and he then decided to grab some coke from Barry, and then he’ll head out to ride his bike around and clear his head or play a round of golf at the Country Club.

By the time Rafe got ready to waste time, he had thought about maybe stopping by the boneyard; he knew if it were a kegger, there would be pogues swarming that place, and they always picked with shit they didn’t want in the end. He shakes his head, knowing it is ridiculous to want to go even if you are there.

It was about midday when he went downstairs, and he heard Rose and Ward talking; he rounded the kitchen corner to them, shaking their heads. “What happened?” Rafe frowns, looking at his father for more information. “Scooter Grubbs has been found dead. He was out during the hurricane; his boat went down, and he was washed into the marsh.”

Rafe checked his phone immediately to see if there was anything from you, and nothing, just a bunch of messages from Emma asking when they could see each other again; this made Rafe roll his eyes. He continued grabbing a drink from the fridge, stuffing it in his bag, heading out to the garage, and taking out his bike to head to the Cut.

On the other side of the island, you and your family had a considerable hoard of people at your house accepting water bottles and non-perishable foods at a table in your yard with your parents.

At the same time, you sat in the back of the house with Lana Grubbs, who you’ve just returned with from the marina who just lost her husband. You sit slowly, rubbing up and down her upper back, not saying anything; slow resounds of what seems to be Sparks by Coldplay are playing in the surround sound house speakers, most likely through your mom's playlist.

You don’t say anything; what do you say to her? You’ve also lost someone to those raging waves in front of you, watching with her as its tide pulls it up to shore and back out into the sea off to who knows where.

The situation you have both been through has no words to say, so you sit and listen to the music playing through the sound system, humming lightly and listening to the small crash of waves.

You think about Luca, how he never failed to be there precisely when you needed him. Without fail, if something inspired you to make something or do something new, Luca would show up with everything you needed to create what you envisioned. If you so much as thought you were bored, he was knocking at your front door asking to take you to laser tag, the movies, or on beach picnics. The day you turned fifteen, he asked you to be his Valentine.

Luca also made a tradition that year of getting you flowers on the 14th day of every month; he was always cheesy and would say, why should he only show his love one day in the year? But he did every 14th day of every month for nearly four years.

The only thing that broke you from the reminiscent thoughts of a boy you’ll never get the joy of loving again is the slight creaking of the door frame; you turn to see your brother's sad, smiling face.

“Hey, Kiddo, I’ve got to head to the airport. I’m taking Dad and the car. I just wanted to check on you girls to see if you’d like to head home or maybe the place they may have Scooter and see if they’ll let you see him. Mom called your sister, so she’s said to let her know, and she’ll meet you wherever you are.”

Lana’s head pops up, eyes completely bloodshot, looking between you and your brother, eyes resting tenderly on you, reaching to brush a piece of your (H/C) hair out of your eyes and turning to your brother, shaking her head to your brother, “I think I need to go home for a little while” She stands and starts to fold the blanket you had tossed over her shoulders when you came in.

Swiftly, you grab it from her, coaxing her towards Jason, whose hand is laid open; she looks back and forth between you two. “You two are an extraordinary pair of kids,” Jason chuckled, bringing his hand out a little further until she accepted it, and he wrapped her hand around his opposite arm to walk her out. Quietly, he told Lana, “We’re only doing what we hope others would do for us.”

Before she walked out, you called out, “Mrs. Lana!” she and Jason turned to you. You smiled sadly and said, “I hope you know you’re always welcome here for any reason, and thank you for allowing me to be there for you.”

Quickly, she walked forward to you, more tears in her eyes as she hugged you, saying, “Oh sweet girl, I hope someone gives you the world one day.” then she turned back to Jason and started walking out. Jason watches you in his perephislas to see you smile sadly while looking at the sea.

He knows where your mind is again. He turns towards Lana and quickly leads her to Charlie, standing just outside by the Impala. Charlie sees the look in Jason’s eyes as he takes her hand to help her in the car, sending his son a slight nod, and he turns on his heel and runs right back to you on the couch.

When Jason reenters the room, he sees you right where he left you. He quickly picks you up from your sitting position on the couch in a big hug, making you laugh; you go utterly limp in his arms, but hanging your arms around his neck, he sets you down.

Jason puts his hands on your shoulders, looking you straight in the eyes and giving you his this is serious look. “I love you, Kiddo, always okay. You need me. I’ll be on a plane the next day, but take the mantra and make it real (N/N); ride the wave, okay?” with that, he kisses the top of your head and runs out of the house before you can say anything, but now you sit smiling at the waves until your phone pings with a text.

Sarah 🎀🦋: Hey, want to come over and get ready with me? Then you can ride with Kelce?

(F/N)🗺️☀️: Sure, I think I remember him from when I moved in. I’ll be over in about 15. I am going to make a little to-go bag to get ready.

You run up the stairs to your door, throwing it open and digging under your bed for an old black Jansport backpack. In years past, it was used for traveling, so there were patches and pins from countless cities, airports, countries, and historic monuments.

One thing about your family is that traveling is what has made you the way you are. Your mother is a Historian; she is constantly looking for discoveries, a go-getter who never gives up, and she is strong; she can be your saving grace, but she can be your nightmare if you make her.

Then there is your sweet father, who by most people's accounts can be considered as any other clean-cut, white-collar businessman, but your dad loves people and human communication; he’s a charmer or character; he’s the type of man that you can take anywhere, and he is the life of the party. His whole life, he was told he could charm the pants off a dolphin, and he’s shown that time and time again.

Traveling has been a part of your life for as long as you can remember; with two people of your parent's personality, there was no way you could stay in one place, so at nineteen, you’ve been almost everywhere. See so many things. You have met so many people. Yet you’re constantly searching for that piece that clicks in the puzzle. All across the world and in 50 states, you’re still searching for something.

You’re broke from your thoughts when your phone pings again with another message.

Sarah 🎀🦋: Do you want to stay the night? Our AC has been out from the storm, and I was going to sleep on the Druthers tonight; it’s somewhat eerie at night but soothing. Let me know! :)

You quickly shove clothes in the bag for bed and tomorrow and pull your nightstand drawer open, where you graze for your travel makeup bag, brush, and wallet.

Then you run to your closet, picking out a cute bikini with some denim shorts that are so old you can’t even remember where you bought them and an old Malibu beach lifeguard zip-up. You quickly pulled on your white, beat-up old school vans and laced them up.

Lastly, before you text Sarah, you walk to your dresser and look up at the picture of you on Luca's shoulder; you smile and pick up the shell necklace with the ring on it; you had taken it off during clean-up to be sure it was safe.

As you run your thumb over the ring, you whisper to it like it was him, “You and me to the Big Dipper and back.” Then you slowly unhook the necklace, take the ring, and hang it on the same tack that the necklace was before returning the necklace to your neck, kissing your fingers, and touching them to Luca's face

You run and grab your bag, smile on your face, bag slug haphazardly over your shoulder, running out to tell your parents you're off to hang out with Sarah the rest of the day and spend the night. As you ran down the stairs, you responded back

(F/N)🗺️☀️: It sounds like a plan for all of it, be there in 10!

As you quickly run out to the table in your front yard, your parents are cleaning up and putting away the morning of aid they were providing; your dad turns your way when he hears your steps bounding down the front porch towards him.

You run up, placing a kiss on his cheek, saying, “Hanging out with Sarah. Be back tomorrow sometime,” running off, kissing your mom on the head and scurrying towards your Jeep, throwing your bag in and backing out, driving off as quickly as you said goodbye to your parents honking twice to say goodbye once more your parents just share a smile shaking their heads continuing their clean up to return to the house.

As you drove down the messy roads of Kilandre County, you looked around at the new place you were supposed to call home. So far, the waves have been great; it’s been helping inspire some board designs to show your dad. The community service committee seems very put together and involved, which makes you feel better about being here; leaving the YMCA back home for you was super hard. Leaving all the friends you grew up with, all the places you knew like the back of your hand, yours and Lucas's corner of the sky, your spot.

When you went driving across the country to get here, you were so scared you were going to hate it, watching each state grow from ocean to dust, then to plains and green forest, and eventually an island.

While driving through the Cut, you passed quaint homes, each corner of the lawn filled with different yard decorations all across the grasses, wind chimes hanging on porches creating musicality of pitches to sound through the sticky heat, painted bottles, and clay decorations hanging from strings attached to the large tree branches swaying delicately in the afternoon breeze.

Before you knew it, you crossed the bridge to Figure 8, driving through the enormous houses that reminded you of your old summer home in Maine.

Yards, Houses, Cars, and even dogs in the yards are perfectly manicured; everything on this side looks completely uniform and like someone specifically placed them like Monopoly houses on a game board. You were pulling up to your new so-called home immediately, seeing all the wealthy families and their kids in the area swarming for a look at the new kid.

You had lived in Malibu all your life but knew what it was like being the new kid. From early on in your life, actions paired with words affected you significantly. It’s like they latch on to your brain, and anything wrong you say or someone says to you would never escape your mind; it would play like DVD on replay, looping over until you felt you had it right, but it was always too late, it had already happened.

Being in-person for school was never really a place for you, not because you didn’t like the classes but because being around that many people constantly that you’d grown up with, they know you, and they understand your stories; they look for any way to tear into you.

People didn’t make it easy to forget what childhood was like for you. Honestly, girls at school were the biggest problem, starting squandering rumors that would spread and humiliate you, making it too difficult to go back every day.

Suddenly, you were at the next school, trying again. Still, the ones who didn’t stick by you initially would make it their mission to break you into tiny pieces. The only part that always got you through was going home and knowing no matter what, Luca would be there; he, indeed, was the epitome of the words prince charming.

The thoughts spiraling through your head halt as you see the prominent white balconies of Tannyhill. You pull into the driveway and park to the side so you won’t block anyone in or out, and you hop out and scurry to the front door; right as you are about to knock on the enormous front door, it opens, and you almost hit the man standing in front of you.

Standing in the front door foyer is Ward Cameron smiling at you, saying, “Hello, you’re from earlier; how can I help you? How’s Lana?” you smile brightly back at the man sticking out your hand. “Hello, Mr. Cameron, I’m (F/N). Also, she’s not great, but she’s home.” he happily takes your outstretched hand, and before you can say anything else, Sarah sees you from the top of the stairs, calling your name and running down.

Ward steps out of the way and motions for you to come inside, and once you step into the house, you're nearly knocked right back out onto the porch because of the force of Sarah hugging you. She grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs, saying, “Come on, I have so much to tell you.”

You both run giggling up the stairs, and you turn back with your hand still in Sarah’s; the other waves back to Ward, looking at him and saying, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” and before he can even say anything you’ve turned back going full speed to Sarah’s room whispering something to her that has you both throwing your heads back euphoric playful laughter erupts echoing through the halls of Tannyhill.

Ward smiles to think Sarah has found a good friend to be around who is like her—walking off into another part of the house to go through the insurance policies, looking for things that may need to be repaired or replaced from the storm.

Usually, down the hall from where you are now, Rafe's room sits empty as he makes his way to Emma’s house because, being the feeble man he is, all of the drugs he keeps doing and the thoughts of you overwhelm him.

Rafe feels he needs an outlet for it, and she’s there, and she’s salacious and unwavering, so he caved, and now he drives over to her house as you and Sarah dance around her room to “Our Song” by Taylor Swift.

The things he misses by allowing the anger to consume him will melt this man into a puddle.

If it weren't for a shred of fate being on Rafe's side that he didn’t have any condoms, and neither did Emma per her message that he stopped at Tannyhill on the way to the other side of the Country Club where she lives.

When he entered the house, he heard the girl's voices echoing through the house singing; one of them sounded like they were harmonizing with the singer on the speaker, which made Rafe frown, knowing there was no way that was Sarah she couldn’t sing in harmony she’s not horrible, but she’s also not a singer.

He made his way to Sarah’s door, which was only one down from his, to see you holding a makeup brush in your hand like a microphone, and now, through the halfway open door, he could hear you, the one harmonizing to the words ideally like you’ve done it a million times Sarah’s is laughing, singing, dancing around her bed frame. Rafe just watched as you completely acted like you were a performer and you were entertaining millions, but lucky for him, it was a personal show.

He stands, watching as you pull Sarah to her bed to stand with you, hurriedly grabbing another makeup brush and handing it to Sarah, standing back up and getting back into character, singing the words, ‘I got to the hallway, well on my way to my loving bed.’ you spin around singing, ‘I almost didn’t notice all the roses and the note that said’ grabbing Sarah and making her spin not so gracefully. She falls on her butt, laughing at herself. You, on the other hand, he watches as you gracefully dance on the bed, the sheets getting wrapped around your ankles.

Nothing would have mattered at that moment because the world was yours, and he was watched on ardently, hoping to be him in there one day with you dancing the sheets off his bed and screeching music like a band of banshees.

Sarah hops down, watching, dancing, singing along as you sing your heart out on her bed. Sarah loved hanging out with you; it was like she was constantly learning something; when people are around you for some reason, you help them remember what it’s like to feel alive.

You are continually laughing with people, listening when needed, or lifting the mood. You are the epitome of the word euphoria, which is nearly the identical thought Rafe has watching you sing total volume in the last post-chorus. Rafe concentrates on how your voice flows over the notes easily; it’s tangible that you’ve done all this before, and Rafe can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat or two just thinking about how often you may do this.

You dance on the bed joyfully, taking advantage of the fact that Sarah’s bed doesn’t sink as much as your cause of the number of times you’ve done exactly what you’re doing now. The entire time you knew, Rafe stood an arm’s length away in the hall, watching that only spurred you to have more fun, knowing the stoic boy you see constantly has some light underneath, and you’ve made it your mission to try and get a smile from him anytime you see him.

Until the end starts to come, you mimic what the singer is saying, taking your hair down and dropping to your knees on the bed, acting like you're writing on a paper and handing it to Sarah; she accepts it, which makes you both start laughing while the next song starts to play on the speaker, and that’s when Sarah looks up to see Rafe standing there.

“Ugh- go be a creep somewhere else, Rafe, like I don’t know,” she lifts her chin evilly; “oh, how about I do know, Emma’s house? You should go there this time since I don’t feel like getting sick every five minutes from all the shit. I hear over in that death trap you call a room,” she says all this as she’s stalking to the door, you sit on the bed wide-eyed and like someone who’s watching an episode of a reality series. You’re waiting for the heartbreaks and the chaos.

Rafe meets Sarah at her door, and before she can close it in his face, he braces his arm, pushes the door in, and puts his foot in the door frame so she can’t shut it, meeting her eyes and saying in a sinister voice, “What did you just say.”

Sarah looks at him with no affliction and speaks quietly to only Rafe, “You heard me; if you want to be sicko with different girls all the time, at least do it somewhere else and not with my friends; goodbye.” She starts to push her door in, but before the door closes, he catches your eyes worried but aimed directly at him like they’re meant for him; looking back, he sees the white of Sarah’s door and the obnoxious attitude of his sister turning up the music so loud he can’t hear anything. Still, the minor tri tones of your and his sister's giggles mix with the melodies of the music.

Rafe strides to his room quickly and texts Emma that he had an emergency come up; he’ll see her around. She doesn’t reply, but Rafe doesn’t care as he lays on his bed listening to you through the wall, knowing your enchanted presence is filling the walls of the room just next door.

Rafe listens and can faintly hear you two giggling and singing at total volume as if a concert is happening in Sarah’s room at Tannyhill. This thought makes him smile sitting there, thinking about how every time he’s seen you, you seem to be heartily enjoying music and life or human connection. Everything about you seems so worldly, and he wants every single bit.

Rafe doesn’t even know how long he listened to the girlish ruse happening in the other room. Until he hears the telltale tone of you and Sarah giggling, and it’s louder, and he hears her call, “Well, be back later, Dad. Love you, we are going out with Top.”

Rafe quickly ran and swung his door open, stumbling over to the railing just in time to see you and Sarah at the front door, and before he could think, he said so coldly, “Where do you think you’re going?” You and Sarah snap your heads to him, and he instantly feels so inarticulate as he watches you and his sister narrow your eyes at him till Sarah says, “Kegger, but you knew that.” she nudges you, which makes you laugh.

“Well…we know you have places to be, Rafe; we won’t keep you. See you later,” you say with so much insinuation behind your words and your face, but still, the pure, gentle smile and eye creases, he’s committed to memory.

The last thing Rafe sees is his smug sister's face staring at him, shrugging, mouthing ‘sorry, Charlie,’ adding a fake pout to throw the dig even further and slamming the front door behind her.

Rafe is nearly off the deep end now; he knew you were going to the boneyard you’d told him, but; he contemplated going; one thing is sure, the pouges always start shit, and he’s not trying to fight in front of you just yet, so Rafe did what he thought would clear his mind; he took his last bump. This only sent him into a further spiral, having him reach for his phone and revoke his text to Emma, telling her to come to Tannyhill now.

On the other hand, outside, you had run out the door before any more words were shared, running towards Kelce, who was standing in front of his Truck next to Tooper, running to him and jumping on his back, scaring the hell out of him until you start acting like the announcer of a ring fight making him laugh.

Sarah ran up, kissing Topper; you hopped into Kelce's truck, and he started it up quickly after you put on your seatbelt, pulling out before Topper even started his trucking, laughing, flipping him off, and mouthing the word loser.

After pulling out of Tannyhill, he handed you the aux, saying, “Alright, Mss. Muse, you’re always listening to some music when I see you, so why don’t you show me your favorite song?” You giddily take the cord and plug it into your phone, scrolling wildly back and forth, and then you look at him wide eyes, huffing out an irritated breath.

“This is hard,” you said with a pout; he laughed then sat a moment thinking and trying to keep his eyes forward but stealing glances every few moments to let you know he was paying attention, saying finally, “How about play me the song you can’t get out of your head right now.” that made your eyes widen even more if that was even possible it made you look like a child in a candy shop “Smart and also much easier.”

Quickly, you scrolled, pressing on a song, and you sat back. You both enjoy the drive to the beach, listening to “3 Nights” by Dominic Fike playing in the background, watching the trees and beach blur past in one. The sun was still shining through the trees, casting rays of light into the car.

You sit and think about beach parties back home, how everyone would go cliff jumping, cave diving, or anything; the kids back home were thrill seekers. Back home collectively, your friends and people you knew would participate in things that could almost nearly positively end up with a broken neck.

You roll the window down, leaning in it slightly, humming the song, pretending your hand is surfing over make-believe waves that is just wind rushing past you. You take big breaths of the salty sea air and let the sun's rays peek and flash through the trees, warming you as you smile and think about how precious life can be; in moments like this, you feel alive.

Halfway through the drive, you look over to Kelce, who’s faintly singing, which makes you start to sing to him, gesturing and pointing, saying, ‘Seems like you can use a little company from me.’ pointing back to yourself at the end looking at him waiting on him and he looks at you from the corner of his eyes smile proliferating across his face singing with you. You throw your head back, laughing in pure joy. After that, you both get into the song, enjoying your time and dancing and being silly to the songs that play through after—enjoying each other's company and the drive.

Once you arrive at the boneyard location, Kelce parks by some Jeeps, Mercedes, and Trucks, waiting for Topper to get there, still listening to music and having a grand time. You and Kelce are enjoying yourself so much you don’t even notice when Sarah and Topper have not only walked over to Kelce's truck but are now watching through the front window; you and Kelce sing back and forth to an imaginary microphone in your hand singing to what was so obvious to hear as ‘Stay with me’ by Sam Smith that Kelce was going in on it wholeheartedly.

The only thing that broke the car concert was Topper knocking on Kelce's window, making the other boy look at him like a deer during hunting season, frozen and petrified. This makes everyone laugh as you turn down the music and open the door where Sarah steps into the opening, leaning over you to Kelce, saying, “Bravo, Encore, I never knew you were such a performer.” his cheeks are entirely red. Topper has his hand on his shoulder. “C’mom big guy, don’t let them bully you just cause you have a prettier voice than them.”

This makes the group laugh as they all make their way out and away from the truck. Kelce lightly shoved Topper. “She’s just got a good playlist; you try to have banger after banger play and not sing. I want to see you try.” Sarah shakes her head in agreement and laughs; she adds, “It’s true (F/N) is very good at choosing music.”

You run in front of the whole group and bow like an actress at the end of the play, saying, “Thank you. I take my playlist very seriously.” With that, your back is turned to the group, heading straight into the swarm of people's heads; the crowd seemed drawn like moths to a flame, turning to your greetings, and you facing all the new people, giving them all with your prize-winning smile.

Through the evening, you talk to tons of people; you learn they group people here in the Outerbanks, which you don’t like because we are all human, but apparently, you learn from one boy that you're something known as a kook cause you live in Figure 8.

You had to think briefly: your dad is well off, but you don’t see yourself as rich. Your parents worked hard for what they had, and the same was expected of you, and that’s what you will do: work hard and succeed.

As the night starts to take over, the sun creates light hues of color on the horizon. You end up bumping into Kiara, whom you met briefly at the clothes drive. “(F/N)(L/N), right?” she asks; you shake your head, saying back to her, “You must be Kiara; sorry we didn’t get more chance to speak at the drive. I caught the flu,” You say shyly, knowing the response is inaccurate. She brushes it off quickly, stating, “No deal; your brother is awesome, and what you planned was amazing. Hey, do you wanna come sit with me for a bit?” you agreed and followed her.

The conversation with Kiara was insightful; you not only met her friends JJ, John B, and Pope, who came from the Cut, but all the boys seemed nice, albeit maybe a little wayward. You learned about some turtle habit construction happening from Kiara and when they will do a turtle release next month;

She asked If you wanted to join her, so you agreed and gave her your contact information so that you guys could contact each other; you sat and talked to Pope for a bit of time about your aspirations and his for the future learning that he wants to be a mortician.

What causes you to press forward into finding Sarah is your conversation with John B. You learned that six months ago. His father also went missing, and he desperately wanted to see him again and believed he was out there still.

This struck a chord in your heart like buildings tumbling down during a demolition; it made your stomach and chest constrict. It made you immediately think of Luca and Cameron and if they could still be out there waiting for somebody, anybody, to come and get them.

You politely excuse yourself from John B in the end, pushing through the crowd, looking for Sarah and Top, finding them near the fire, whispering to each other, and walking straight toward you. When you walk up, Sarah turns, seeing your face looking slightly distraught, asking you what is happening.

When you start to speak, you are cut off slightly by a gasp of air; then, without thinking, you ask, “Where is Kelce?” they look at you and say he left; you shake your head and walk off to sit a moment, and Sarah follows closely dragging Top kneeling by you saying “C’mon will stand in the waves and be at one with the sea.” Sarah reaches her hand out to you, which makes you smile hesitantly; grabbing her hand and standing to walk with her and Topper, who now looks slightly more annoyed than the previously presented concern.

As the three of you walk toward the water, you get stopped by JJ, one of Kiara's friends you didn’t have the opportunity to talk to. JJ waltzed straight up to Sarah after saying something to John B. and asked, “Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage.” she politely declined, and he turned to you and said, “New girl? wanna give it a try?” raising an eyebrow at you curiously you shake your head smiling shyly saying “I’m good-“ he cuts you off saying “What is not fancy enough for you ladies,”

Standing there stunned, you are looking at him with a questioning look like you are not entirely sure what’s happening, all while Topper does his best to diffuse the situation, finally saying, “Hey, you know what? I’ll take it” saying gratitude to the other boy trying to take the cup from his hands you sharply heard JJ say “that’s nice, but I didn’t ask you if you said pretty please maybe” you could tell JJ was trying to get under Topper's skin and get a rise

Topper starts mimicking JJ's words under his breath, all while JJ continues to talk, and Sarah tries to calm them down. You and John B stand, staring at the situation from either side, wondering where to start. Suddenly, Topper smacks the cup of liquid into JJ's face, and the boys are at each other swiftly. JJ grabs Topper by the collar immediately; John B pulls the two boys apart, being proactive, trying to calm JJ down as Topper yells back at them, “Dirty Pouges!”

This makes John B immediately turn and shove him back, chaos breaking loose as you wince slightly, thinking back to how bonfires were back home drama and gossip; yeah, that happened, but this is already out of hand over something as small as a drink.

In a moment, the boys are throwing punches and stumbling back toward the water, fighting each other, and Topper gets the upper hand on John B. You gasp slightly and move past the front of the crowd that was created around where you all once stood to be next to Sarah who is begging Topper to stop and that she wanted to go home

When John B rolls back into the water after a kick to the gut, Topper yells, “Hey, John B, don’t make me drown you like your old man., all right?” this makes you scoff in disgust at your new friend's boyfriend, who when you look into her face she looked just as disheartened by him right now.

As you looked back up, John B propelled back forward as a flurry of energy hit him, and they kept going; it was hard for you to watch; you only looked over twice once when John B yelled, completely enraged in his voice. “Come on, Topper! Let Go! Come on!” looking back over at the waves, wincing when you heard any hard contact. You looked again when you heard Sarah scream, “No, Topper, Stop!”

You look up to Topper, who is drowning John B. You don’t even stop before stepping forward from where you held Sarah’s shoulder, pressing back and using her body to pull you in front.

You place her protectively behind you, and like approaching a wounded animal or scared dog, you call, “Hey, Topper.” at first, nothing, then a big step that causes a small splash at your feet, you’re shoes getting completely soaked.

Everyone in the crowd is silent; you take one more small step, still far enough away that you’re not in reach, but if Topper surged forward, he would surely be able to take you down into the water as well, but again, you tried.

“Hey, Top, Look at me.” this time, your tone was harsher and firmer, like your brother used with you today when he left back for school or like how your mother used when she told you to do your homework as a child

Nothing Topper kept taunting John B, pushing and pulling his head up and down from the water, essentially drowning the boy right in front of your eyes. Your eyes slightly started to well with tears. Sarah from the side called one more time, “Topper!” one more time to no avail. Shaking your head a moment, looking to Sarah, who looks back, both of you look crestfallen; you only look when you hear gasps.

You look up to see JJ walking up with something in his hand, and then you recognize the black steel-looking object, a gun; the world stills. You don’t hear anything; you observe JJ's movements, standing frosted to your spot; you watch the weapon being pressed to the back of Topper's head, which makes the blood run cold through your body, probing your mind for anything you can do at this moment but can’t. None of these people know you; they aren’t going to listen to you. You still can’t hear what the boys are saying over all the commotion happening behind you and within you.

What can be told is Kiara and Sarah are yelling, and you’re standing there shocked at what is even unfolding in front of you when you thought of a beach kegger; this is never what you would have imagined; it all boiling up to what’s happening You hear Sarah yell to him “JJ stop! Put the gun down.”

You chimed in a futile attempt to diffuse what you can, stepping back next to Sarah now that there was a weapon in the equation, saying, “JJ, it’s not worth it; put down the gun.” turning to look at you and Sarah, a dark look on his face.

“Did you say something, princess?” you both stare at each other. You look back not in fear but with sorrow. JJ, still making eye contact, pulls the gun away from his head, bringing it to the side, panting out, “We’re good.” Topper slowly stumbles up from the water while Sarah yells at Kiara.

You take a moment to breathe and ensure you're not shaking when you hear people yelling. You watch as Topper slowly stumbles your way, and gunshots ring out from the gun JJ has raised in the air. Sarah grabs your hand, trying to guide you to Topper’s truck, but ultimately, you lose her in the crowd from all the pushing and shoving.

When you walk through, looking around, you see a few guys who you would most likely classify as kooks standing around; they ask if you need a ride multiple times as you stand there trying, and you lie, saying you’re waiting for your boyfriend until finally, they seem to congregate in a small group together still watching you, but from afar.

You sit alone on a withered log, waiting and hoping the text you had initially typed earlier, right after your conversation with John B, but before the commotion, you can only hope that the recipient will answer you as quickly as they usually do

Halfway across the island, Rafe's phone pings, and he slowly tries to pull from the grasp of the girl lying halfway over him before he hears, “Rafey, don’t; it’s probably just Topper being stupid; he’s drunk; lay back down.” he does only because she was kissing along the expanse of his neck hand trailing down his toned stomach she lets out little moans into his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries to enjoy the feeling as much as he can until his phone starts physically ringing.

Rafe huffs, annoyance pooling through him, leaning over as he hears Emma make a little whine from the loss of contact with him, and when he picks up the phone, putting it to his ear before even thinking to check who it is, saying “Jesus Christ Top can’t you tell I’m busy Em—“

Then he hears it so quietly, a little sniffle just like the first call, and he almost thinks he’s dreaming till he pulls his phone away and sees the word Angel ❤️ written on the top; Rafe puts the phone back to his ear; sitting up straight, which caused Emma to fall back with a huff on his bed entirely.

Gently through the telephone, he says to you, “Angel,” he hears another slight sniffle, and you say quietly again, “Messages,” and with that, you hang up. Rafe starts to panic slightly to think that not only does he almost tell you about the half-naked girl currently sprawled across his sheets, but you won’t talk to him; then he reads the messages

Angel ❤️: Pls, I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you pick me up from the boneyard? Sarah and Topper left me, and some guys are being weird.

Angel ❤️: The cops are here and are talking to me next, so I’m less worried, but if you can, I still need a ride. I can’t go home tonight…

Rafe🪸: I’ll be there. Give me 10 minutes, princess.

Seeing those last messages, Rafe is up and into his closet, Emma whining, saying, “Rafey, what are you doing? You said we’d have fun tonight?” trying to do what could only be described as a pathetic attempt to conquer eyes full of lust roaming him, but lips pulled into a pout. Rafe turns, looking at her dead in the eyes, saying, unfeeling to the girl on his bed.

“Be gone before I’m back.” with that, he was out the door, down the stairs, and on his motorcycle down the road before he could even turn back to see Emma’s angry image slowly stomping down his front porch steps with no shoes and looking highly disgruntled.

Just like he had promised, Rafe's figure takes shape, walking up to you; cops were talking to other kids your age, handing out some tickets to those who they could tell were intoxicated, but you sat, your arms wrapped around yourself, face down all by yourself. He notices your face is pale, and you are looking at your hands, tracing your thumbs back and forth from each hand.

Scanning the area, he sees some Kooks grouped, the group of creeps he assumes, some he knows, some he doesn’t. They watch him walk your way; their eyes are broad, faces starke. He smirks their way and continues his stride toward you; when he reaches you, he leans down, putting his hand gently on your knee, kneeling to try for eye contact.

The contact from Rafe made you look up, your usually gorgeous (E/C) eyes clouded with some darkness; you say in such a small voice, “You came,” a hint of a smile on your face, and it makes him smile back at you “always will angel” he waits a moment letting that sink in for you.

Rafe stands to his full height, holding his hand to you, saying, “C'mon, let’s head home.” You didn’t even think twice before completely interlocking your fingers with his. Even though this surprised him, he guided you to his bike, parked in front of the first cop car. Already, Rafe could feel what felt like the shock from an electric wire meant to keep animals in a paddock. Every time his palm brushed yours, a jolt would go through his limbs. All the while, you were trying so hard to keep your palms away, aware and afraid he’d think you had clammy hands.

He walked you to the side of the bike, grabbing the helmet, saying sternly but almost gently, “ There is only one of these, but…” You begin to cut in. Still, he cuts you off, eyes, brows, and voice slightly raising. “No argument; you are gonna get home safe no matter what, or your brother will freak out on me.” this makes you smile and shut your mouth, letting him slip the helmet on your head and put the straps through on the bottom. When he’s done, he places a hand on either side of the helmet.

He shakes it, smiling at you as you flip up the visor, saying, “Hey,” he chuckles and says, “I’m sorry, angel had to make sure it wasn’t loose,” he flips the visor back down, smiling, at you he helps you on the bike. He lets you know to be careful of the exhaust and that you’ll have to sit as close as you can to him since his bike is technically only a one-person bike.

After assuring you multiple times that he’ll get you to Tannyhill safely and not to worry that he’s got you. he climbed on the bike, starting and pulling off slowly; it’ll still made you jolt forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his stomach and pressing your head firmly to his back as much as you could with the helmet. He turned back, saying softly, “Hold on tight, don’t let go,” and then back forward before accelerating forward.

Along the ride, all Rafe could think about was the thrumming he felt throughout his body, feeling you pressed this close against his back. Behind the helmet, you were taking steady breaths to stop the feeling of electricity in your fingertips every time a finger pressed against his stomach, feeling how toned he was had your heart pumping, praying that Rafe couldn’t feel it on his back.

Not that it would matter anyway cause his heart was beating just as hard, loud, and fast as yours. Anytime you’d hit any bumps, you’d grip him tighter and nuzzle closer; he’d have to take a calming breath.

Eventually, after 25 minutes since he was trying to go easy on the ride, you arrived at Tannyhill. Rafe quickly hopped off, turning to you and unbuckling the bottom of the helmet. He set that on the seat where he was sitting

Rafe helped you off the bike so you didn’t stumble; once both feet planted, he reached up and smoothed the hair on the tops and side of your head that got messy, tracing his hands till he was cupping your cheeks in his palms like delicate flowers about to blow away in the breeze looking in your eyes he whispered.

“You are beautiful.” You lay your head straight into his chest, making his palms rest on the nape of your neck. “Thanks for always showing up, Rafe.” he takes one hand, tilting your head to look at him, saying with a smirk, “I told you always, and I meant it.” That made your cheeks burn a bright red

Standing in front of Tannyhill late on a June evening, you and Rafe stare at each other, orbs tracing each other like the earth and space were colliding to make one big picture or like a string is being pulled taut. You didn’t even realize you were leaning into him and that his hands were trailing to your waist. None of it matters except the feeling of you both trying to press closer but not entirely doing it

Nothing matters until you hear a voice you know that makes you springboard backward from him, standing straight and turning towards the figure, waving and smiling brightly like nothing even happened behind you. Rafe's eyes go from hooded to a scowl directed right at Sarah

Sarah is running to you, wrapping you in a hug, saying, “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I tried to make him go back, but then he complained about cops, and then we fought.” you end up grabbing her wrist and saying, “Sarah, it’s okay.”

You give her your classic smike; she’s already growing to love being around you and your individualistic nature; that’s when she grabs your hand, saying, “ I set up the boat for us. I’ve got my laptop; we can watch Netflix,” letting her pull you off.

You throw one last glance over your shoulder to Rafe; he stands there expecting to meet your eyes one last time, and you do.

You turn and meet his eyes with all the brightness he’s growing to be so fond sparkling like the stars on a clear night; you smirk at him, and that’s how he knows the game of cat and mouse has finally begun, which has him with a devilish grin on his face watching you disappear around the corner of the house.

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except OC characters. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.

if you’d like to catch up master here- The New Girl in Town

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rafecameronsslxt · 2 years

Text

Hooked

Warnings: Smut? (Barely a paragraph), Toxic (Always), complete angst.

Synopsis: Adriana learns she's pregnant with Rafe's child. Rafe traumatizes Adriana even further, destroying the once almost perfect life they had. Adriana picks Rafe over her friends. Topper and her kiss, leaving secrets to be hidden and uncovered later.

Rafe Cameron x OC

Part FIVE of series. (Can be read as stand alone)

Part ONE- Part TWO- Part THREE- Part FOUR- Part SIX- Part SEVEN

Masterlist

A/N: Season three coming out on Thursday AND a season FOUR is coming!!! Drew Starkey IS ALMOST 30 girl he looks early 20s!?

Words: 4,536

I spent an hour rehearsing what I’d be saying to Wheezie. She was the only person I could trust not to tell anyone this information. “Wheezie, hi- No. Wheezie, your brother– ugh, Wheezie, I trust you a lot.” Instead of repeating her name a million times to myself, I call her and tell Wheezie to meet me at the park in our neighborhood, but make myself clear for her to walk.

Today was sunny, hot, and nerve-racking. At this point, I’d fixed Rafe’s hat on my head about a million times, waiting on Wheezie. The wind barely blows while I stare blankly at the palm trees. They were moving, but it was faint, like they were deciding whether to go with the flow or defy it, or I shouldn’t be using palm trees as an analogy.

“Hey, loser. You sounded urgent and scared me.” Wheezie says, out of breath with her hands on her knees. I look over to the swing next to me. She sits down. “Wheezie I’mpregnantandtooscaredtotellanyoneandyoucan’t tell anyone either, not even Sarah.” Although the words coming out of me sounded more gibberish than actual English, her jaw dropped, and she stood up from the swing. “WOW, play back what you just said because I don’t know if I HEARD right.” She puts her hands to her face in astonishment.

“I’m pregnant with Rafe’s child.” She started jumping around, laughing, and I wished that was me when I’d found out. “That’s amazing, Adriana! I’ll be a step-aunt!” Wheezie seems genuinely happy and proud of me. She takes my hands, let's go and squeals. By the time Wheezie is done freaking out, I’m smiling ear to ear at her silliness. “Wait, since this is a top-secret thing, I can come with you to those baby ultrasounds, so you're not alone.” She sits down on the swing, grinning.

I forgot to mention it’s been three weeks since that night with Rafe and me. He hasn’t gotten better. Actually, he owes his drug dealer money but spends it on a new bike like an idiot. Rafe isn’t ready for a child, and neither am I. We’re nineteen, just out of high school a year ago.

Wheezie turns her head to me. “Why are you sad? This is the best thing ever. I mean, A BABY. Rafe Cameron's baby! Top news article; Kook gets knocked up by high school sweetheart, kook prince, and psychopath Rafe Cameron. BOOM.” She makes an explosion with her hands. I glance at her with intense sorrow at her insensitive comment. Wheezie throws her hands into the air, surrendering and mumbles, sorry.

We start walking to her house. She holds my hand, giving me as much comfort as a thirteen-year-old can. Wheezie had been such a precious child; I know she means a lot to Sarah.

I wave to Wheez as she walks inside, a smile engraved on her face. I turned my back and was about to leave when I heard Rafe call out my name.

He’s slouched against his bike, looking down at his wrist and cursing. “What happened!?” I get on my knees, taking his forearm into my hand. His wrist is burnt and red. My eyes widen at the look of it. “Rafe, come on. Baby, get up.” I force him to put his arm around my shoulder, and we get up together and walk inside the house to his bathroom.

I look through the cabinets and find antiseptic; locating a rag might’ve been for the better, but I poured the alcohol on his wrist. Rafe throws his head back, and tears of pain fall down his cheeks. Then I find gauze, wrapping the white cotton around his reddened wrist. My hands go to his face wiping away his tears.

My hands run under Rafe’s shirt, feeling his abs. I could think of a million ways to alleviate his pain.

Something I’ve realized about being pregnant is my sex drive has been off the rails this week. “Not today, baby. I have to talk to my dad about something.” Rafe removes my wandering hands and pulls me up from my knees. “I hope things go ok.” I give Rafe an open-mouthed kiss.

Not much more happened. I walked home, fell asleep, and woke up to my phone ringing.

“Hello?” I answered groggily while rubbing my eyes. “We're locking Sarah and Kie on the boat together. You should come, loser.” John B laughs over the phone to me. I start smiling. “Kie is killing you guys and Sarah all in one day. I’m sure of it, but I can’t come. Sorry JB.” I laugh while walking downstairs to the kitchen, skimming the fridge to see if anything entices me. “I’ll give you the details later then. Love you, Ad.” Then Pope and JJ chime in, saying their goodbyes and I love you’s. “Ok, ok, I love you guys too.” I shut the fridge, not finding anything suitable to my cravings.

A soft knock comes from the front door. I open the door finding Rafe with tears in his gorgeous blue eyes. He leans down and hugs me. I don’t question it and snake my arms around his back. Rafe’s tears start wetting my shirt.

We stay like this, in the middle of the doorway, hugging each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I softly ask while my hand is on his cheek and my thumb brushes against his smooth skin. Rafe doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks up at the bland ceiling, his arms lying on his stomach. One of my legs is laid over his, and I stare at the side of his face.

Rafe’s head turns toward mine. A blank stare. His eyes are unreadable because they're everywhere but here. Rafe’s eyes bore into mine. “Imagine if we had a child right now. We’d be so fucked.” He laughs humorlessly. My breathing stops. The oxygen in my lungs dissipates but returns relatively quickly.

I nod slowly, Inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“If we had a child, what would you name them.” Rafe placed his hand on my thigh. My heart is beating too fast like it’ll burst out of my chest. “Uh, for a girl, I’d name her Lilith and a boy for sure, Renner.” I’d thought about baby names so much that I didn’t need time to ponder. “Mhm, those are pretty.” He mumbles.

His fingers trail over my shorts. I grab Rafe’s hand and move it away from me. I started to become weird about him getting close to my stomach because a bump had begun to form, and I wasn’t sure if he’d feel that my stomach was hard or more solid.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Just let me,” I say slowly. This whole week he’s been trying to touch me, but I pushed him away every time, and I’ve probably given him a record of blowjobs this week, so he’ll shut up.

I throw my legs on either side of Rafe’s hips sitting directly on his crotch. I bend down and kiss him. It wasn’t chaste. It had been lustful and needed. I began to roll my hips onto Rafe feeling his dick push into me through his shorts. Since I was home alone, all I had on was an oversized long-sleeve that went down to my knees and silk lace panties, and as much as I wanted to feel him, my nerves got the best of me, defying my body.

I slide my lips to Rafe’s neck, sucking on his skin until it turns a reddish-purple. My body glides down his. I take his shorts and underwear off, all in one swift movement.

Adriana wraps her hands around Rafe’s erect dick. She looked up at him, her forest-green eyes searing into his sea-colored ones. Adriana wrapped her plump lips around his tip, running her tongue roughly over him and then spitting onto Rafe’s cock.

Her hand surrounds him again, moving up and down.

Rafe couldn’t understand why she was pushing him away, both physically and mentally. He felt they’d become two different people, and he needed her. She was his world, and without Adriana, his world would be in pieces.

When I go to suck him, Rafe pushes his body up against the headboard. I sit on my knees and give him a questioning face. “I- I can’t do this, baby.” Rafe gets up, putting his boxers and shorts on. My eyes start watering. “I’m not leaving. I think we should just talk, ok, baby.” He says calmly, reassuring my doubts.

Rafe and me lay down again, looking at each other. His arm was resting on my lower back and hip. “So, I lied. I was stealing my dad's money and got caught, and shit happened.” I run my hand through Rafe’s dishevelled hair. He waits for me to tell him what’s wrong with me and to get mad at him for trying to steal Ward's money, but I don’t do either.

“Rafe, I’m not mad. I just want you to hold me and tell me that things will be ok with us after tomorrow.” My voice starts breaking like chemicals that leak into the sea. I turn around and push my body so close to his that there isn’t any room left. Rafe puts his hurt wrist around my waist and doesn’t seem to notice anything about my stomach. Which I was worrying about for so long.

He kisses my shoulder gently. “It’s going to be ok, baby.” Rafe’s soft voice says, comforting me. It wasn’t going to be ok because the pogues were filling me in about what’s been happening and their plan. Which is great, but I’m afraid. I am so fucking terrified.

I hear Rafe’s voice soothing me like a lullaby until I’m deep asleep.

The room is dark when I open my eyes. The sun barely shone through the closed curtains leaving streaks in my pitch-black room. My hands move around, finding nothing other than crumpled sheets.

I throw my comforter off me and turn my light on. The room is vacant of, Rafe. I check my phone. It’s two in the afternoon! I hate sleeping in for too long. I run to my closet, throwing out clothes to wear on my bed.

One of Rafe’s striped grey and white button-ups that I tuck into high-waisted white shorts with a brown belt. My phone starts ringing; it's John B. “Hey, listen, me and the pogues are going to stop Ward from taking off with the gold.” John B sounds out of breath. “Ok, be careful. Seriously JB. I love you.” We say our goodbyes to each other, feeling like it’ll be my last time.

I walk into my bathroom and put my hands on the counter, feeling a substance on my palms. The marbled counter has a perfect line of excess white powder. It coats my hand; I run the water and wash the cocaine down the drain, wiping the rest into the sink.

My phone starts ringing for the second time. “Hey, baby. You’re coming with me to visit Ward and Sarah since they’ve decided to go to the Bahamas today.” My face drops at Rafe’s demand.

He wasn’t asking. He was telling me I’d be going with him. “I’ll be at your house in a minute. Just wait outside.” His voice isn’t his, and he hangs up.

While walking as slowly as possible down the stairs, I call John B over and over. He doesn’t answer, and Rafe’s truck pulls up. No, no, this can’t be happening.

On the ride there, we don’t talk to each other.

The only thing being heard was Rafe’s light breaths, cars passing by too quickly, or Rafe had been driving fast. “Rafe, can you please slow down.” He keeps his eyes on the road, maintaining the truck at a steady rapid pace. I place my hand on his thigh, feeling a little more secure, but I know I’m not. Rafe doesn’t acknowledge my hand or how it’s squeezing his thigh tightly.

I tried stopping him. I really did.

Then, a shot rings throughout my ears loudly, I’m listening, but things aren’t going through, properly. It’s white noise running through my body. Sarah looks at me, crying and just as traumatized as myself, but the difference is my body is next to Rafe’s. His murderous hands, while Rafe stands there looking down at John B, trying to help Sheriff Peterkin.

John B starts talking to the walkie talkie asking for help, and Rafe doesn’t take it lightly, hovering the gun close to John B’s head. The next thing I know, John B starts running, and Rafe begins to shoot, and the three of us get him to stop.

My head turns to Rafe, a vacant expression with feelings racing throughout my veins. “Rafe, wha- what did you just do?” My voice is shaky, and so are my hands. My whole body feels like it might fall to the ground at any moment. Rafe’s hands go to my face, and the gun presses against the side of my hair. My hands push his off. I walk back wobbly and unbalanced.

“Take Sarah and Adriana to the house. Take them home!” Ward yells at him. Rafe grabs Sarah’s arms, and she fights back, trying to get away from her brother. Her brother that caused death and destruction to the lives we once knew.

His red hands grabbed my clean ones, dragging me along with Sarah. I didn’t fight back. I walked and sat in Rafe’s truck lifelessly, but I was carrying a human in my stomach. Would this trauma affect the baby? What if I die while having this baby of a murder?

Sarah, the girl I’ve known since fourth grade and told everything to, will never trust me again. JJ a boy who was like my brother and probably wouldn’t understand. Pope was someone I could go to for comfort. John B protected me throughout many things in my life. Kiara, Kie, my girl, she would especially hate me for not being the first person to know I was pregnant.

Rafe’s sea eyes glance into the rearview mirror at me while he and Sarah argue. When he does, I’m biting my nails, looking at the trees we pass by quickly. Things- life doesn’t feel expectant. I can’t wrap my head around this situation.

My Rafe. Rafe Cameron is unhinged but never a murderer. The guy I’ve known since fifth grade killed someone in cold blood and then told himself he was doing it for the greater good. This is not my boyfriend, the man who kissed my lips and said I love you. We planned our lives together.

Tears fall silently. I bite my tongue to keep quiet and wipe my face every time one does fall.

Rafe and I had started separating like toxic chemicals, but somehow are hanging onto each other. We’d become two separate people but fused the both of us together simultaneously. This baby and our love would keep us together. I feel outlandish for even loving Rafe. I feel crazy.

The truck door opens, and we’re at the Cameron’s house. Rose is watering pretty flowers that are full of life and color. Rafe holds out his hand, waiting for me to take it. I don’t and get out myself. Rose starts talking, but words aren’t comprehending with me. We walk inside.

“Adriana, look at me. Please, baby.” Rafe says softly, closing and locking his bedroom door. I can’t bring myself to look into his dark blue eyes. “Baby, please. I need you to tell me you still love me. Adriana!” His words are bouncing off the walls to my ears. So much is happening. I stare into his eyes and see Rafe, but then the gun, blood, everything.

He starts crying. His sea is overflowing, while my ocean has been flooding. I push my brunette hair stuck to my wet face behind my ears.

Rafe gets close to me, and I stumble back into his desk. “Me or them?” He closes me in along with the indignant question. The flooded ocean cries out more. I shake my head. “No, no, no. Rafe, don’t do this to me, please.” My head lays against his chest, his shirt getting soaked. He knows; he just wants me to say it out loud because it’ll be real. I’ll speak it into existence.

“You, Rafe.” I fall, but he picks up my limp body and lays me on the bed. His face brightens, and mine darkens, signing away my friends. The people I betrayed and backstabbed. “I’m pregnant, too,” I whisper; his face drops. Rafe’s slicked-back hair is a mess.

Even if I hadn’t been pregnant, I think I would’ve still chosen Rafe, and I hate myself for that. But, sometimes love takes you like a storm, a hurricane, no- a tsunami, and despite every wrong, I decided him because I’m stupid. But I didn’t want to risk my unborn child's life, running, and the chances of getting shot were high by the police.

“Adriana, we- we talked about that last night, and you didn’t say anything.” Rafe stutters, but he’s angry.

Rafe stands up, pacing around his room, hands on his head; they ball into a fist, he lets go, and his fingers curl in the air. Rafe starts throwing things. First, a fake potted plant at the door, smashing to pieces by the impact, then everything from his desk falls to the floor; pens, a random book, and two of our framed pictures when we were happy. Finally, the glass shatters into fragments on the wood floor, incorporating indentations into the wood.

I cautiously touch my manic boyfriend's shoulder. He turns around quickly, and I take a step back. “Rafe, please stop. We can- you and me can talk about this, baby.” There was so much to talk about, and we’d have to tell our parents. Rafe isn’t in a good place, and neither am I.

“What’s there to talk about. We have to fucking do this. Adriana, things fucking suck right now. Do you understand that? A baby! My fucking baby! Is this what you wanted. A perfect life, Adriana. Well, here it is.” His jaw clenches, and he grits his teeth. “I think I need to go. I’ll come back later.” I folded my arms over my chest and bit my bottom lip hard until blood drew.

Rafe shakes his head at me. “Stop doing that.” He says lowly and opens the door. As I walked out the door, I turned back around. Rafe kisses me. It was grim and full of anger, but it wasn’t rough like he usually would. Instead, it was soft, like I would kiss when we were in fights.

Rather than driving to my house, I make my way to The Cut, specifically the beach and call Kiara. I made myself clear when I only wanted Kie to come because I couldn’t handle the whole group's criticism, but I know Kie would not take this lightly either, but she’s my best friend and deserves to know from me.

After a few minutes, I see Kiara walking in the distance. She runs to me and smothers me with her tight hug, which I take for remembrance. “I’ll start. Why were you with Rafe when that happened?” She makes hand motions but gets straight to the point. “He made me come, or maybe I had a choice to run away, but in the long run, I would've come either way. But Kie, I have to tell you two big things.” My eyes start to sting from tears, and she looks worried. My fingers run through the soft sand. She nods, waiting for me to go on. “I’m pregnant and cannot run with you guys. Rafe made me choose and- I’m sorry.” Tears slip down my cheeks, and she looks at me, processing the words.

“Adriana- what. A baby. A murders, baby, and you chose him.” Her eyes widen. “What am I supposed to do, Kie? I will not put this child in danger. I know you're mad at me, and I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t go with you guys.” Her face softens, realizing this might be the last time I see her for a while. Her eyes go red.

Kiara takes a deep breath in and then out. She clutches onto me, and I hold onto her. “Can I?” She asks, referring to my stomach. I nod and lift my shirt to see a little bump. She puts her hand on my stomach, feeling its hardness. “Can’t wait to see this beautiful baby. He or she will have some good genes from their mother.” She jokes, looking at me with tears in her pretty brown eyes and smiling.

“I love you, Kie.” I laugh, crying. “I love you, Ad.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “Make sure you tell the others,” I yell to her from a distance. Kiara puts her thumb up and turns back around into the darkness fading, already turning into a dream.

That night I told my parents about me being pregnant, and news about John B had already been going around. They weren’t mad at me, but they did lecture me about John B thinking he’s a murderer when he’s not. Rafe is.

Today was my first ultrasound, and just as Wheezie asked, I did. I didn’t tell Rafe about this because I wanted support from a stable person, but I feel bad because it’s his child too.

Wheezie turns on music and blasts it throughout my jeep. The sonographer, for which I had to look up the technical term because I don’t know what they’re called, had thought Wheezie was my child. I giggled no, and Wheezie started coughing because she choked on her saliva. The building was comfy instead of all white and brick.

I pulled into the driveway and saw Rafe. “Bye, Wheez.” I smile at the little girl walking past Rafe and into the house. Rafe gets in the jeep, squinting at me. I sigh, and a tingly wave goes to my fingers. I get nervous. “Where were you guys?” He questions me as if I have something to hide, and I don’t because I was planning to tell Rafe about the ultrasound afterwards.

“I was at the ultrasound place with Wheezie. Here are the pictures.” I hand him the black and white strip of pictures. “Wow. He’s adorable.” Rafe looks genuinely happy. He gets tears in his eyes. “I think it’s going to be a boy.” Rafe nods and kisses me. I bask in the feeling of this euphoric moment. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” I squeeze his hand, and we let go at the same time. Rafe gets out of the jeep and walks inside with a grin on his sharp face. He took the pictures with him. I did want to hang them up.

The last stop was Topper. Sometimes I hated Topper and wanted to punch him like Rafe, but it was different. My boyfriend Rafe messes things up because that’s Rafe, but Topper is Top. He sides with his friends over anything despite them being wrong, and at this point, I only have Topper. I haven’t talked with him since Pope or the one sentence at Midsummers, but that doesn’t count.

I hesitated to knock on the door, already regretting this. Just before I knocked on the door, it opened. The dyed blonde-haired boy bumped into me. Topper's eyebrows knit together. “Adriana?” He questions, bringing me inside. “Hey, Top.” The smile barely makes it to my face. Seeing Topper is a relief because I know I can tell him things, and he wouldn’t speak to Rafe about it.

I start walking back and forth in the foyer of his house. “It’s been so bad, Topper.” I stop pacing around and stare at him. Tears threaten to fall from the ocean. The ocean seems to be a thunderstorm every day, never letting me down. “Ad, what do you mean. If Rafe is hurting you again.” Topper changes from confused to angry in a millisecond. “I’m pregnant. Rafe’s baby.” I start biting my nails. They’re down to the ends and can feel the skin.

Topper’s tall figure leans down and wraps his arms around me. I hadn’t felt this safe in a while; Being secured by someone felt pleasant. It was now a foreign sensation. My body falls to the white marble flooring just before Topper can catch me. He quickly picks me up, takes me to the boring white couch, and lays me down.

Thirty minutes pass, and I’m covered with a blanket and have water in my hand. “Rafe made me choose, like him or my friends. I know Rafe, and you hate the pouges, but they were my only friend's Topper, and he made me pick, but at the same time, I understand and don’t-” My head is laying on Topper's shoulder blade while we both look at each other. I kiss him.

He kisses back for a second. Topper has a stubble that scratches against my face, which I never liked. Rafe knew I didn’t like his stubble rubbing against my face, so he shaved it for me. His lips are soft, but not Rafe’s. Rafe’s lips were kissable and mine, and he’d let me kiss him all day if it was possible, and I’d take him in a moment.

We both pull back, instant regret washing over us. Another wave of hurt falls over me. “Adriana, this- I- no.” He doesn’t know what to say and simply sighs. “I’m sorry. I- it just happened. You’re like my brother.” I spit out in absolute disgust as my voice sharpens like the end of a razor. Topper burst out laughing. “Wow, ok. Honesty is key?” He says in a questioning manner. A smile crosses my face, and I let out a deep breath. “Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” I cover my mouth before I start dying of laughter.

We talk more about Rafe. The rest of our conversation consists of random discussions and the baby. Mostly the baby.

Besides the awkward lips-to-lips thing, it felt like another night I would’ve spent at Top’s house. I would describe it as brother and sister type, but I feel weird saying siblings after we kissed.

By the end of the night or morning, the kiss is forgotten and drowned out by laughs and smiles carved into our gorgeous faces. I arrived home by two in the morning and texted Rafe, making plans to have dinner today around three in the afternoon.

When I lay down, my body instantly loosens up. The fluffy white comforter envelops me in the warmth and Rafe's intense fragrance, still keeping its place in my room. My hands lay on my stomach, which is making a baby as we speak.

This is really happening, a baby. My child.

@beautifulvoidwinner

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