#canon!rafe

[simpforboys]

dating canon!rafe…

warnings: mentions of aggression, mental health issues, swearing, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, and sexual themes. please seek help if you or someone you know is struggling.

you two met a kegger, and his deep blue eyes drew you in immediately

he was drawn to your body and looks for the most part. he truly believed you would be a cute little accessory on his arm, someone he could manipulate and use

he was high off of cocaine when he approached you, seeming completely out of it

but he was so persistent on taking you out, you accepted the kook prince’s advance

on the first date he was very touchy

he would touch your hips, thighs, arms

you didn’t really mind though, because it’d been awhile since you got laid and rafe was one of, if not the most attractive man on the island

you’d heard plenty of rumors and stories about the Cameron family, but didn’t really pay attention

you two slept together on the first date.

and then it became a regular thing. he would hit you up in the early hours of the morning, and every time you would go.

and he was an amazing fuck, so you didn’t really mind, but when you realized that all he cared about was your looks you freaked out on him

“don’t call me! don’t fucking text me, dick head!”

“oh save it, bitch!”

it took a couple weeks… until Rafe showed up at your house unannounced

you had your shirt taken off, another man kissing down your chest when Rafe literally busted the door down

he literally almost killed the guy. multiple punches thrown, kicks, and broken bones.

“get the fuck out, you worthless piece of shit! look at her again and i’ll kill you!”

that was the first time you’d really seen anyone have pure rage, and it scared you

Rafe finally asked you to be his girlfriend, and knew that you were scared to decline

a few months in, you met Ward, Rose, Wheezie, and Sarah. but it was very brief, as Rafe secretly didn’t want his family to ruin you

while at first he saw you as someone to benefit from, he started caring more and more about you

he would constantly need to know where you were. your location, who you’re with, etc.

if he finds out you lied he gets pissed

but the sex after is like….. meow

when all the pressure around getting the cross gets too much, and all the drama w his dad, he would get colder with you

like stop responding to your messages and just basically become distant

he would smoke and drink a lot to try to contain his emotions

but one night you showed up to Tannyhill unannounced and saw Rafe crying

his dad had basically just told him to “man up” for expressing that he isn’t okay mentally

and you were fucking pissed

your first thought was to show Ward Cameron your two fists, but you realized how bad Rafe was

for the first time ever, Rafe broke down in your arms

“i try so hard… i’ll never be one of his precious daughters. and it- it fucks me up. i’m not okay, y/n.”

“i know, Rafe. i’m here, okay? i’m here to help you.”

you held him all night while he sobbed, and the emotional side you saw to him made you reevaluate yourself

while you knew how fucking toxic he was- you couldn’t help but grow to love him

there were some moments where he was sweet. he would buy you flowers, gifts, shower you with affection

but then he would grow distant

you had a strong suspicion he was a sociopath, but you knew he was struggling

so you stayed. and every time you stayed

he only had gotten physical with you once. you were shouting rude things about his dad and he grabbed you roughly, his eyes full of rage

that was the first time you truly were scared of him, and he knew it

“Rafe-“

he would glare at you momentarily, then realize what he was doing and let you go

the next day he would bring you breakfast

he began to fall in love with you when he saw you with your little cousin

seeing how nurturing you were with your cousin made him realize how truly lucky he was to be with you, even through all the shit he’s put you in

so basically… rafe is toxic af but he kinda cares so

yes, i would marry you rafe. thank you. bye.

#simpforboys #rafe obx #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe hc #rafe headcanons #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron hcs #rafe cameron angst #canon!rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #obx rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #this is based around season 2

[murdrdocs]

realistically, i think dating rafe would be more trouble than it’s worth.

not even considering his borderline psychopathy and his cocaine addiction. he would be so resistant to opening up, and if he did open up, by the next morning he’ll be closed just a little bit tighter.

he can love you, buy you things, make you feel good, call you “my girl” as he kisses your forehead and pulls you tighter by your waist. but he’s still so afraid of truly letting himself get lost in a relationship, of letting someone else in, that he is never really yours.

you’re his, all the way, you’re open and welcoming and you bare your heart to him. he wishes he could do the same, but he just can’t. he can’t let himself be yours, bound by fear, but you’re so in love with him that he can’t bring himself to call it off. so he cheats.

he wants you to see the worst in him, to get tired of him, to get frustrated with trying to make him a better person, just like everyone else around him is. it’s a survival instinct that he can’t control, that he can’t turn off, and he doesn’t even try to.

it pains him to see you cry, and it pains him that you won’t give up. you deserve better, he wants you to have better. he just doesn’t think he can be better.

#just had a dream abt him #canon!rafe #ofc #fanon rafe on the other hand #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafesworld!

[rafesangel]

YALL SHOULD I MAKE A ROLEPLAY ACCOUNT 😛😛😛

random tags : @sturnioloshacker @rafesmuse @sweetestdesire @amournoir @fratjjmaybank @maybanksbabe @maybankskiss @drewsmusee @obaex

#༉‧₊˚✧ chatting !! #༉‧₊˚✧ thoughts #༉‧₊˚✧ rafesangel writes! #rafe cameron x reader #fluff #maybanksstar writes ˚₊✩‧₊ #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #canon!rafe

[maybanksbabe]

My thoughts 💭

Rafe w reader that’s just as crazy as him but hides it so well from everyone would 100% baby trap him

I feel like if Rafe wanted to keep reader around he would use other methods (fly her to the house in the Bahamas and never come back)

Now THIS I'm obsessed with! Spending weeks worried that he might walk out on you because of everything going on with the gold and his father so you devise a plan to baby trap him, which means initiating sex as much as you possibly can, Rafe doesn't really take notice until he's planning to go on the coastal venture and make sure the Pogues don't get the cross

"you're not leaving us, Rafe"

"us?"

You put a hand on your lower stomach and hand him the positive test.

"congrats, daddy."

#rafe cameron x reader #canon!rafe #baby trapping #libra speaks

[stxrslut]

i’m gunna be very active lol-

can i request rafe and quiet reader like there at a party and she’s just sat w him and he’s just comforting his girl cause she gets abit overwhelmed 🥰

-🫧anon

guys. I have been gone for so long. I apologise. also I made this a tiny bit different but I hope you like ittt <33

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“you’re fine.” he mumbles, lifting you onto his lap so you can tuck yourself into him while you sniffle and cry. he tugs on his fleece to adjust it around your shoulders, “told you not t’drink so much baby. you didn’t listen huh?”

“sorry” you sniffle, shuffling into him and looking down, so as to avoid the ticked off expression on his face.

he sighs and nods “apology accepted baby. just gotta listen to daddy next time he tells you somethin’, kay? s’for your own good.”

“stop tellin’ me offf,” you whine and he borderline laughs, putting on that stifled grin and looking upwards.

“not tellin’ you off, just making you aware that this,” he points to your temple which he knows is throbbing, “is the consequence of your own action.”

“I don’t like the consequence of my own action.” you pout and cross your arms petulantly, though still not leaving his side.

“too bad baby.” he pats your back and places a kiss on your head. “gonna finish up here then we can go back to my place, yeah?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

#🫧 anon #it’s funny bc canonically he never actually faces the consequences of his own actions #lily writes 🌷 #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #Rafe Cameron x reader #obx

[katsu28]

"send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!"

☕: prompt 23 from list e for rafe!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

it pains me to paint my pogues in a not so great light but i will forever love protective rafe <3 thank you for requesting!

rafe cameron x reader, minimal swearing, 1.9k

“Look who it is! The Princess Kook, slummin’ it on our side of the island for once.” 

Your grip tightened around the pack of beer you were holding at the voice coming from behind you, because you already knew who it was. There was only one person ballsy enough to speak so critically of you, and you were pretty damn sure he was standing right behind you.

Lo and behold there he was, flanked by a more bored looking John B. 

JJ Maybank was and always had been on your case, though you suspected it had more to do with your family name than with you yourself—always spouting off about money and wealth and eating the rich. You understood where he was coming from, of course, but that didn’t mean it stopped being irritating.

It just seemed like he was always riding you about being some little rich girl with daddy’s money, not an actual person, with actual feelings. But after a while, you’d grown used to it. JJ was all bark and no bite. 

“Hi, JJ.” You sighed, shifting your weight to one leg. You nodded at John B, who did the same back to you. “How’s it going?” 

“Didn’t know our booze was good enough for Her Majesty’s taste.” JJ sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his dig. “Rafe know you’re over here?” 

“He’s not my keeper.” 

“What’re you even doing here, Y/N? They don’t got beer on Figure Eight?” John B sounded a little bit nicer, more tired than bitchy like his blond friend. 

“Cheaper here.” 

“Like you don’t have enough fuckin’ money.” JJ scoffed. John B jabbed a sharp elbow into his side, a sign for him to shut up. 

“Look guys, I’m not looking for any trouble. I just wanna get some beer and go home, that’s it.” 

“How ‘bout you leave the beer here and run back to your little princess castle instead?” 

“You’re a real prick tonight, JJ. Something got your panties all up in a bunch?” You shouldn’t have snarked back, that you knew, but he was really getting on your nerves tonight. You weren’t sure why. His words usually just slid right off you. 

JJ’s expression darkened and he scowled, brows furrowing. “Maybe ‘cause I just got fired from the Club this morning.” 

“What, why?” You asked, surprised. It was a genuine question. JJ was a definite pain in your ass, maybe with an attitude problem but still a good employee. 

“Oh, drop the clueless act. Pretty sure it was one of your stuck up friends who complained.” 

“I’m sorry you got fired, JJ, I am, but I had nothing to do with it. And there’s nothing I can do about it either. I don’t have that kind of pull with anyone at the Club, neither does my family.” 

You figured it would be better if you left now before JJ came up with another retort, or you'd likely be here trading snippy insults with each other all night, and you had better things to do with your time. There was some sympathy in you for him, but your statement was still true. There was nothing you could do for him, even if you wanted to. And besides, Rafe was waiting on you for a movie night. 

Leaving the conversation and the beer you were supposed to get behind, you hurried back to your car. The quicker you got to Rafe’s place, the quicker you could forget about it. 

Only a couple minutes into the drive, headlights flashed in your mirror. No big deal, probably just someone heading the same way as you. You were on the main road to the other side of the island, after all. 

Then the car sped up a bit, coming dangerously close to your back bumper before retreating a sizable distance behind—once, twice. By the third time, you were starting to get a little pissed. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered, squinting to get a better look at it. A big camper van, old from what you make out in the darkness, faded orange—oh fuck. You knew that van, John B’s old clunker of a car. And if you squinted a little harder, you could almost make out the same blond head of hair that was antagonizing you back at the store. 

So JJ did have a little bite in him. You sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to find out. 

Stepping on the gas a little harder, you took the long way back to the Figure 8, weaving through the backroads you’d known like the back of your hand since before you were able to drive. Back then, you’d done it on your bike, peals of laughter echoing through the overgrown fields of the Cut turned clean lines of pristinely cut lawns the closer you got to home, as Rafe chased after you on his own. 

Still, the van followed you on your way. With every glance at it in the rearview mirror, you grew a little more worried.

JJ’s driving was erratic, like he was playing a game of cat and mouse with you. If he really wanted to hurt you, this would be the ideal place to do it. There was nothing but grass and weeds around here. Nobody would find you for hours, even days if he were to run you into a ditch or something. 

That thought alone spurred you to drive even faster, driving and driving until you took one more look in the mirror to see that the van had stopped. You watched the headlights grow smaller in the distance, forcing yourself to keep driving until you got to safety—to Rafe. 

You screeched to a stop in front of Rafe’s townhouse, barely giving a backwards glance to see if they were really gone before hurrying the rest of the way to the front door. Hands trembling, you balled them both into fists, raising one to knock as loudly as you could. You could barely hear the thud of your fist on the wood over your thundering heart. 

The door opened in an instant, Rafe’s smiling face greeting you. It quickly faded when he took in your wide eyes, your hard breathing. He pulled you inside immediately, sliding the locks home behind you before gathering you into his arms. “What happened?”

You explained as quick as you could, but the adrenaline from the whole thing was starting to die down. Your previous thoughts were starting to seem silly at this point. JJ was a hothead, but you didn't think he’d go so far as to take out his anger on you. He was probably just trying to scare you, nothing more, nothing less. 

Rafe, on the other hand, was livid. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, voice dangerously low. His eyes searched you for any visible injuries, hands sliding over your body with the utmost care, a stark contrast to the storm creeping into his beautiful blue eyes. “I swear to god if those punks even laid a finger on you—” 

“No, no, they didn’t hurt me, Rafe. I’m okay now, I promise. Just a little shaken up is all.” You assured him, stopping his search by lacing your fingers through his. He still looked unsure. “I’m fine, baby. Honest.” 

Rafe’s brows furrowed long and hard, and you reached up, attempting to smooth out the deep wrinkle between them with your thumb. 

You traced above one of them, trailing down over the skin under it before letting your palm settle against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a split second as he leaned more into your touch. The wrinkle disappeared. 

“Okay. But you’re not going home tonight. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna have a talk with my sister in the morning, okay?” He was calmer now, you could tell. The sharp edge to his voice was gone, his shoulders relaxed the more you stroked along his skin. You nodded, satisfied. “Can I make you something? Tea? A snack? I’ve got those cheese puffs you’re so obsessed with, though I don’t really see how good—” 

“Rafe,” You chided, smiling warmly, “You don’t have to dote on me. I’m fine.” 

“I know. My girl’s strong.” He murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your palm. “Just had me worried for a bit, that’s all.” 

You kissed him, short and sweet, before tugging him towards the living room. Your gaze landed on the snacks he’d laid out on the coffee table first, drifting to the heaps of blankets and pillows on the couch right after.

Everything was already set up perfectly, and with all that had happened in just the past hour, sent a warmth flooding through your body, a sense of safe and love and home that you only ever felt when you were with Rafe. 

Rafe suddenly looked bashful, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin at the way you were looking at him. “What? I was excited to see you.” 

“You saw me yesterday, Rafe.” You chided lightly, completely failing at a stern look in favor of something much fonder. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.” 

“Rafe Cameron, are you going soft on me?” You hummed, settling onto the couch. Rafe threw himself down next to you with a nonchalant shrug, resting an idle hand on your knee when you threw your legs across his thighs, but the answer was a resounding yes.

Yes, he was soft for you. Yes, he loved you more than he loved anything and anyone in this world. 

He knew it, you knew it, and that was what prompted him to speak his next words. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Uh oh.” You snickered, drawing a roll of his eyes with a lopsided smile. 

“Hilarious. Anyways, um, what would—I mean, what’re your thoughts about maybe…moving in with me?” 

��Here?” Maybe you sounded a bit more skeptical than you meant to, because Rafe quickly backtracked, sitting up straight. 

“Doesn’t have to be here. We could get a new place, if you want.” He replied, shaking his head. “Top’s uncle works in real estate, I could probably get him to show us some places within the next couple of days—”

“No.” 

Rafe’s expression crumpled. “No? No, as in no, you don’t want to live together?” 

You amended your rather blunt statement with a hand placed over his. “No, as in no, I don’t want to get a new place. I wanna live here. With you.” 

“You do?” 

“Don’t look so surprised, Cameron, your place is way nicer than mine.” You teased. Clearly amused, he scoffed, giving your calf a playful pinch. 

“That the only reason?” 

“‘Course not. I’m also looking forward to that fancy shower head in your bathroom.” 

Rafe snorted, pulling you close against him, pressing his forehead against yours. He looked a bit funny like this, nearly bug-eyed because of your close proximity, but you thought he’d never looked cuter. “And me?” 

You peppered kisses to his cheeks, chin, nose, the corners of his mouth in lieu of an answer, loud and over dramatic and definitely obnoxious, but it made him laugh. Then you kissed him right where he wanted, firm and loving against his lips to say yes, always you, and he smiled. 

Moving in with Rafe meant getting to hear your favorite laugh, see your favorite smile, every single day waking up next to him. You hoped you’d get to experience it for the rest of your life, starting now. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#wooo she's back from the writing grave everybody cheer :D #kait's 2k! #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #non canon!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff

[pink-andwhite]

literally cannot stop thinking about rafe being gentle for once. like, he knows you've had a rough day and he just wants to make his baby all better so he's got you on his big cushy bed, all sprawled out, and he's just balls deep going so slow and gentle, pulling your legs onto his shoulders and kissing at your calves calling you sweet names.

"aww baby, i know..so deep inside this cunt, huh? such a good girl for me. that's it, lean back, daddy's got you."

"it's alright honey, m' not gonna be rough on you tonight, just lay there and take it."

and he just rubs his hand over the little bulge in your tummy, kissing you so sweetly

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #this is so canon

[hapinesbuterfiy]

i fully stand by the fact that rafe cameron is a boob man. he loves tits.

#𓂃 ꔫ 💌 hapinesbuterfiy #rose's thoughts ₊˚ʚɞ˚₊ #thanks this is canon now #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #i need him so bad

[floredaqueen]

𝔹𝕃𝕌ℝ𝔹 18+

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬--

☾︎❤︎ꨄ︎...ꨄ︎❤︎☽︎

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬.. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐰, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ��𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞.. 𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰? 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚... 𝐰-𝐰𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩..?" 𝐂𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥.

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐠.." 𝐎𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧.

"..𝐑-𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨-"

"𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐫?" 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭.

"𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐲.." 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡. 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.. 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞, 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐲.." 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐀 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝-𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲-𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬.

ఌ︎❦︎☾︎...☽︎❦︎ఌ︎

"𝐅𝐮𝐮𝐮𝐮𝐜~" 𝐂𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐩, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐭. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭.. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

"𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲~" 𝐇𝐞'𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 to 𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭.

"𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤.. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭," 𝐇𝐞'𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲.

𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

☾︎❤︎♡︎ ... ♡︎❤︎☽︎

Tags: @rafescurtainbangz @rowanswriting @voyeurmunson @gri959 @billysbot @eddiesxangel

☾︎❤︎♡︎ ... ♡︎❤︎☽︎

ᵖ.ˢ. ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱᵉˢ ⁱᶠ ⁱ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ- ᵖˡˢ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ⁱ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ˡᵒˡ

#obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks #obx oc #obx one shot #outer banks oc #cc x oc #oc x cc #original character x canon character #rafe cameron x fem!oc #rafe cameron x original character

[faetreides]

Ⅰ. rafe cameron | titfucking, rimming, collaring

Ⅱ. jacaerys velaryon | sweat, dubcon, frottage, virginity

Ⅲ. - aemond targaryen | waxplay, stuck in a wall, breeding, lactation, praise kink

Ⅳ. - aegon targaryen ii | incest, free use, boot worship, public

Ⅴ. - paul atreides | petplay, somnophilia, size difference

Ⅵ. - racer!john b & racer!jj | armpit, dp in one hole, threesome, spanking

Ⅶ. - feyd rautha | feet, watersports, panties and lingerie, face sitting

Ⅷ. - leto atreides | pregnancy, overstimulation, body worship, daddy

© faetreides 2024

#the incest is canon typical before y’all jump me #anyway xoxo #kinktober #masterlist #ish #navigation #outer banks #dune #house of the dragon #rafe cameron x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #paul atreides x reader #leto atreides x reader #feyd rautha x reader

[witchwyfe]

pinterest bf - rc

pairing - (non canon) Rafe Cameron x female reader

précis - you help rafe personalize his gear

content/warnings - BASEBALL rafe, college au, college baseball player rafe, mentions of sewing needles, cursing, the word “bloody”

word count - 598

“Rafael.” You greet your boyfriend, strolling into his room. 

One of his teammates let you in after you knocked, because your precious boyfriend apparently can’t even be bothered to answer his phone after he invited you over.

“Oh, hey honey,” He smiles at you, watching you set your bag down, before looking back at the project in his lap.

You see a needle and thread in one hand, and his baseball glove in the other.

“Rafe.” You say, staring right at him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

His cheeks flare, the flush crawling up the back of his neck as he ducks his head. He mumbles something, chin to chest, the words falling to his lap.

“Can’t hear you babe.” You say, narrowing your eyes. 

“I’m stitching your initials into my glove.” He says like it’s a no-brainer.

“You’re doing what now?” You wonder, heat flushing on your own cheeks as you kneel beside him on his bed. 

“Your initials. I want them in my glove.”

And for a second you’re wondering if Rafe somehow got a hold of your Pinterest board, the one with the heart emojis as the title, but this is something you haven’t seen, much less saved before.

“Oh, you sap.” You blurt, before you can even process what you’re saying.

He rolls his eyes, a smug smile playing on his lips. “You love it.”

“Hm-mm,” You hum in affirmation, climbing into his lap. “S’ cute. You’re cute.” You add softly, leaning into him.

He pushes the needle into the material again, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t do what he wants it to do.

“God damn it,” He swears. “Kelce said it was easy, and I watched the tutorial on YouTube like ten times.” He huffs.

“That’s so cute,” You gush. “If you needed help though, you should’ve asked, you idiot.”

“Do you know how to sew?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly.” He retorts. “Plus, I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Okay, well it’s not anymore.” You sass. “So how about we figure this out together?” His eyes soften at your words, and he pulls you all the way into his lap with a grunt, spreading his legs so that you can settle comfortably in between them.

“Pull up the tutorial.” You nudge him, reaching for the sewing needle in his hand. You notice the thread he chose is your favorite color and you look at him. 

“Aw, you remembered my favorite color?” You tease, lightly pushing your elbow into his abdomen.

He scoffs. “Of course, I remember your favorite color babe, what kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

The kind that has a page in his Notes app with all of your favorite things in a bulleted list. The kind that brings you flowers specifically in your favorite color, and blushes when you thank him for them. The kind who brings you your favorite coffee multiple times a week. 

“You’re alright, I guess.” You say flippantly, teasing him. He pinches your side, evoking a squeal from you.

“Stop!” You giggle. “Just show me the video.” 

And that’s how you and Rafe sit for the next hour—you’re not great at sewing either—him holding the video up so you can see, and you threading your own initials into the thick material. 

Later Rafe lets you wrap his bloody fingertips in Disney Princess Band-Aids and press delicate kisses to each one. 

And at his next game, he presses a kiss to his fingertip and then runs it over the embroidered initials before he walks out onto the field. 

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks fanfiction #tw blood #non canon rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader

[manwrre]

just binge read everything in the rafebarry tag on ao3. it’s been twenty four hours and i have…. been changed in ways that i cannot describe ( im having a mental breakdown )

#rafebarry #outerbanks #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks barry #rafe cameron #barry obx #rafe x barry #barry x rafe #rafe obx #my mental health has been IMPACTED #negatively? who knows #positively? who knows #i just miss them and i want it to be canon so now here we are #i hate it here you guys #what do i do with myself now

[markantonys]

hi! have you seen gewoon vrienden? is it just me or does the other guy have a tiny hint of a mat vibe 👀

i haven't seen it but i've been meaning to watch it for like 2 years now haha so maybe i will finally get around to it one of these days! and i know exactly what you mean, i remember i once saw a gifset from this movie that instantly made me shout MODERN AU CAUTHOR, right down to the fact that josha's character was wearing some emo black jacket and was being very serious and the other guy had on like a wild floral shirt and was kissing him to make him laugh, but for the life of me i can't find that gifset again and i'm very sad!

but i did find a picture of i think the same outfits from the gifset, at least, so instead, may i present:

#anonymous #answered #cauthor #between josha and donal i'm familiar with a combined total of 3 non-WOT projects #and in 2/3 their characters are canonically mlm (this movie + a short film donal was in) #and in the 3rd the character is subtextually mlm but so clearly that i think it was intentional on the actors' part if not also the writers #(sas rogue heroes; i know jack o'connell did say that he was playing paddy as repressed gay & in love with donal's character) #so i'm thinking that they would both be more than willing to bring that energy into WOT as well and that rafe should let them #i'm ready for the cpr scene djkfjgh they're gonna deliver

[katsu28]

OMG grapple with rafe please 🤭🤭

i have not written for this man in a hot minute!! thank u for requesting ri my dear ILY <3

rafe cameron x reader, 1.8k

“You want me to take you down.” 

“No, I want you to try.” 

“You’re a child, Cameron.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re scared, aren’t you?” Rafe teased, holding your phone up high and away from your reaching hands. “C’mon, you want it back, you’re gonna have to come get it.” 

“I’m not playing your game!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just give it back!” 

“Come. Get. It.” He repeated slowly, a drawn out proposition paired with the gleefully smug grin on his face that had you huffing in annoyance at your best friend. He tossed your phone on the armchair behind him, hunkering down into a guard stance. “You can admit defeat, y’know. Just say ‘Rafe Cameron is the greatest of all time’. I’ll even shorten it for you, you can just call me the GOAT.” 

“How ‘bout I call you a donkey instead?” 

He feigned being stabbed in the gut for a few dramatic seconds before pulling the imaginary knife out and pretending to drop it on the floor. “Low blow, but I can handle it.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. There were two options here—play his game and try to take him down, or surrender and say those dreaded words. Naturally, you picked the one you had no chance at. 

Sending a prayer to whoever was listening, you feigned left and went right, lunging at Rafe to the best of your ability. He didn’t fall for your weak attempt at a fake out, instead catching you around the waist and taking you down to the carpet with ease. 

You noticed that he took the care to slide his hand under your head so it didn’t bounce off the floor. It would’ve been nice, except that hand retreated and pinned your wrist above your head before you could fight Rafe off. He did the same to the other hand too. 

His knee slotted between yours for leverage as you wriggled in his grasp with no avail. You were pinned securely under his hands as he loomed over you. 

“Told you I’d win.” He breathed, his grin very Cheshire cat-like. You opened your mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but your voice died in your throat when his head dropped down a little closer towards yours. 

You suddenly came to terms with the very compromising position you were in with Rafe right now; your faces were mere inches apart, so close you could smell that damn mint gum he was always chewing on. So close you could see the scar hidden in his eyebrow he’d gotten when he’d crashed his bike when you were kids, the flecks of green in his blue eyes. In short, he was right there. 

The tension in the room had quickly turned unbearably thick, too heavy for your liking, but you couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact. Part of you liked the way Rafe was looking at you. 

His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split millisecond before snapping right back up, and if you hadn’t been in such close proximity, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all. But you did, and so began the most devious plan that you really only had a few seconds to formulate in your head. 

You pretended to struggle for a few more seconds before feigning giving up, aiming a pout up at Rafe. His mouth curved into a smug sort of smile, all previous intensity in those irritatingly pretty eyes of his long since forgotten. He probably thought he’d just won. 

“Face it, you can’t—” Whatever gloat he was about to throw your way was cut off by you leaning up towards him, pressing your lips against his. Rafe made a strangled sort of sound right off the bat, freezing immediately the instant your mouth touched his. Just as fast, he kissed you back eagerly, way more eager than one friend should be kissing the other. And as cliche as it was to say it, fireworks erupted in your belly, bursting against your ribcage like it was the goddamn Fourth of July. 

You only hoped he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was pounding in your chest. 

His grip on your wrists loosened, one hand coming down to brace himself on the carpet while the other planted itself next to your head. The way he was kissing you so firmly nearly had you melting, but the little voice at the back of your head was yelling at you to remember what all this was for. No, you weren’t kissing Rafe Cameron just for shits and giggles; you were on a mission. And no matter how good it felt, how right, you’d be damned if you didn’t complete it. 

You bent your knees, planting them against his firm chest and pushing up—not hard enough for it to hurt, but hard enough that you caught him off guard. Before he could register what was happening, you had him flipped on his back, tables very much turned with his wrists trapped in both your hands. 

“Gotcha.” You breathed, mirroring his earlier smile now that you were the one with the upper hand. Rafe’s Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped hard, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. Maybe you were completely misinterpreting the situation entirely, but it almost looked like he wanted to kiss you again. You clambered off him quickly to rid the thought, snatching your phone off the cushion and shoving it into your back pocket. “Good game.” 

Rafe stumbled to his feet and cleared his throat, hunched shoulders straightening as he brushed the nonexistent dust from his polo. “I should—I’m gonna, uh, get going. Wheeze asked me to help her with something for school, I should go…help her with it.” Lie. He just didn’t know what to do other than go.

“Right, yeah, of course. You should go.” Lie. You just didn’t know what to do other than let him. 

He rocked on the balls of his feet awkwardly a few times, hands shoved into his shorts pockets awkwardly. “I’ll text you later?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, uh. Bye then.” 

You watched him leave, watched him let himself out and make his way down the walk and climb into his truck, wanting to say something more but losing your chance the second he drove away. 

“Shit,” You breathed, burying your face in your hands. It seemed like a smart plan at the time, but now having said and done it, kissing Rafe—kissing your best friend who didn’t feel the same way about you—was the stupidest idea you’d ever had. 

-------

You’d just gotten settled into bed when you heard a commotion at your window that sounded suspiciously like pebbles clinking against the glass, and you knew who it was in an instant. There was only one person who preferred the throwing rocks at your window method over texting, so when you padded over and peered outside, you weren’t surprised to see Rafe grinning back up at you. 

He motioned for you to open the window and you did, retreating back to the warm comfort of your blankets as he climbed up the tree next to your room and slid inside expertly. He’d probably done the same maneuver a million times throughout your lives, though this time it was different. This time, you weren’t just two best friends having a late night hangout. The same tension from earlier was back, only this time, your kiss weighed heavy on your chest. 

“Hi,” He said quietly, brushing the leaves out of his product-less hair. The action made the soft strands flop over his forehead, giving him a younger, more boyish look. You always did enjoy this version of him. 

“Hi.” You echoed, trying to ignore the feeling it sent flip-flopping through your stomach. Rafe always gave you that feeling. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

“‘Course.” Rafe sat a sizable distance away from you at the foot of your bed, broad shoulders hunched, leg bouncing. You knew this change in demeanor was because of what you’d done earlier. 

“Can I ask—” 

“Is everything—” You pressed your lips shut, motioning for him to speak first. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He repeated, smoothing his hand over his knee as if that would stop it from shaking up and down. You merely nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to say or do anything else. “Okay. Okay, cool.” He cleared his throat, inhaling a quick breath and letting it out just as fast. “Did you mean it? Earlier, when you kissed me. Was it real?” 

“Real,” You repeated, tilting your head at him. 

“Yeah, real. Like, did you kiss me because you just wanted to win, or because you actually wanted to? Was it a real kiss? With like, real feelings behind it.” 

You knew what you wanted to say, but you just weren’t sure if you wanted to say it. Because if you said it out loud, that would make your feelings real and not just a nagging feeling deep in your chest. If you said it out loud, there was no taking it back, no fixing things if everything went wrong. This would be permanent. 

But with the way he was looking at you, the way he knew you, there was no point in lying. “It was real, Rafe. I wanted to.” 

His mouth fell into a surprised little oh, but he was quick to shift his reaction. “Think maybe you’d wanna do it again?” He asked, a genuine question marked with a hopeful smile curving his lips. 

You only had time to nod before Rafe was right up against you, hands sliding up to cup your face softly, lips meeting yours even softer. The ring on his index finger was cold against the warmth of your skin, leaving a coolness in its wake as his hand moved to settle at the back of your neck. Your hands found themselves twisting into the front of his faded Kildare Academy sweatshirt, bringing him closer to you. 

This kiss was much sweeter than the first. While that one was spur of the moment clumsy, this one was tender. Less like working towards an end goal and more like going with the flow, seeing where you’d end up. 

Rafe was panting by the time he pulled away, chest heaving as his eyes searched yours for any ounce of regret and came up empty. Then he smiled, big, wide, relieved. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of seeing that smile, especially when it was aimed at you. 

“I’m gonna be completely honest with you, I would’ve won if you hadn’t kissed me.” He insisted, giving your neck a playful squeeze. You opened your mouth to protest, but he pressed another quick kiss against your lips. “But I don’t even mind that you played dirty, because now I’ve won the best prize of all.” 

“Oh, boo. That was so cheesy, Cameron.” 

“I got my girl, I’m allowed to be cheesy for once.” 

#first time writing in a month can i get a hell yeahh from the rafe girlies #okay im gonna disappear back into the abyss i just wanted to let u folks know im still alive n kickin (kinda) #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #non canon rafe cameron #non canon rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #obx netflix #drew starkey

[lafzhaeshirin]

ten seconds

pairing: rafe cameron/reader warnings: vague depiction of a panic attack, implied harassment, drinking mentioned, minor reference to minor character death synopsis: holding hands with a stranger was the last place you expected this night to go, but here you are.

Oddly enough, the world seemed slower whenever you were on the verge of panic. 

Of course, other things accelerated. You were actively experiencing the symptoms of an engaged sympathetic nervous system, your heart rate and breathing quickening. Dread flooded your conscious thoughts. And yet you felt leaden, hips no longer moving in rhythm with those around you. You ceased being another body in the crowd, becoming instead a witness, seeing everything around you through a fear-slickened lens. 

It was only minutes before that Jackson’s gaze had captured yours, the feeling grating against you. 

No, never mind, it’s fine. You were being ridiculous. Right? 

The reason you made it out tonight, going through the trouble of a dress and a smile, was to forget it all. Leave it in the past, because everyone else had. Yet here you were, anxiety curling around your feet and quivering in your abdomen. 

He hadn’t done anything to really cross the line into harassment. But he had come worryingly close. And now you need to get very far away. 

Which proved difficult, considering just how packed the frat house was. You slipped in-between various gaps in the mass, making a dance out of your escape. Moving into the foyer, you had to squint to spot the exit in the dimmer lighting, speed walking once you found it. 

The screen door refused to unlatch easily, teasing you with a hint of the southern night breeze through its mesh. Breathe, breathe. You let your fingers still despite the subtle desperation fueling your movements. 

When you finally succeeded, the ache in your chest began to lessen. The clarity of the night was refreshing, all overwhelming sights and sounds softening with the distance. 

To your surprise, you weren’t alone. 

Rafe is the first thing you see when you step outside. His profile is bathed in the warmth of the incandescent lights overhead. It reflects off of him, off the darkness of his lashes and the glint of his curls. It’s almost amplified by him, making him entirely golden. 

The porch was small, a single wicker chair placed against the wall right where he was standing. And there was no one else in sight. 

On all the other occasions you had occupied the same space as him, there was always a degree of separation. Rafe Cameron was easy to admire from a distance. 

You knew to keep it that way. 

His back is turned to you, meaning you could make it by unnoticed, slip onto the street if you moved fast enough. 

Just as you advanced, a hand from behind you caught onto your wrist, jerking you back.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be that rough.” The voice made your shoulders tense. It was him.  

Jackson had started as a friend but, as always, it never stayed that simple. “I was wondering if we might finally be able to talk,” he continued, “I have a lot to tell you if you’re ready.” 

You couldn’t help the way your gaze hardened. You had already given him your answer, yet here he was, asking again. You turned to face him fully. 

“I’m sorry if-” you stopped yourself, annoyed with the rate at which an apology had already melded itself into your words. You began again, trying to steady yourself. “I thought I was clear when I said I didn’t want to continue this conversation.” Your words were stiff, corporate in their tone, trying to convey just how much you wanted to emotionally disengage from this, from him. 

A ripple of anger crossed his face, frustration sharpening his eyes. 

“Look, I know that I fucked up,” you tensed, already frustrated by the pseudo-apology that was to follow, “I hate myself for it. When you asked for space, I thought I was doing the right thing by listening. But I now know that’s not what you needed.” It was your turn to sharpen. 

“It was the right thing! Listening to what I asked for was the right fucking thing, so can you please just do that for once.” You hated this. Hated the urgency in your voice, hated that he was able to still elicit a reaction from you. “Please, just stop.” 

He moved closer, unrelenting. “You don’t get to act like I’m some kind of villain. I don’t know what the others told you, but you’ve made up your mind without even giving me a chance to explain.” Your resolve was starting to waver, doubt undoing the certainty with which you said no. 

“Is there a problem here?” Another voice cut through the tension, reminding you that you hadn’t been alone on the porch. Looking over your shoulder, you see Rafe had moved away from the rail, standing opposite Jackson and you. 

Embarrassment burned in your chest, on the apples of your cheeks, at having yet another stranger privy to this situation. Rafe stared directly at him, appearing bored, brows low and eyes cutting. You had the distinct sense that being on the receiving end of that look would be quite uncomfortable. 

“We’re all good, man.” your former friend tried to be just as acerbic, failing to do so. Rafe shifted his gaze to where the other man gripped your hand, ever so slightly lifting a brow. Jackson’s grip instinctively loosened, enabling you to move your hand away, grateful for the release. 

“Mhm.” Rafe hummed, completely still. He was the picture of nonchalance, hands in the pockets of his slacks with shoulders curving inwards. It was disarming yet more intimidating than you expected. 

Jackson willfully ignored the tension. Looking at you once more, he motioned towards the street. “Come on, can we just talk?” 

You could feel your resolve continue to waiver, the way it had all the other times you tried saying no. Were you just being a bitch? Were you really the problem? Maybe if he just explained, then you’d be able to get over it. Maybe it was -

“She already said no. Multiple times. You should listen to that.” His words were dripping with condescension, the kind he was so well-known for. Rafe was still the picture of calm, but the air had changed. This was no longer a casual inquiry. Rafe was imposing, intensifying the situation. 

You could tell Jackson was on the edge. You almost relished in it. 

Your former friend looked at you again, but you refused to meet his stare. The next few minutes were silent before he acquiesced. 

“Fine then.” Muttering, he makes the quick escape you had been planning for yourself, shrugging off into the darkness, hurt. Your heart tinged, guilt bubbling up to replace the pressure that had overtaken you. 

Once again, you felt the onset of panic. Your first thought was to get out of here as fast as possible. 

Of course, not without addressing Rafe first. “Ah sorry about that -”

“You aren’t the one that needs to apologize.” His voice destabilized you, putting a kink in the familiar script you were about to launch into. 

“Yeah, no right, sorry,” you almost bite your tongue, apologizing so quickly again, “I really appreciate you checking in.” 

“No problem. Everything okay there?” You both were standing face-to-face now. 

“Yes, definitely, just a weird little scenario, but we’re all good.” Except you weren’t. Every time you saw him, it’s like you were covered in grease. Covered in the things he said, the things he implied, in the absolutely shit way he made you feel. It didn’t help that he was a small, contributing factor to what had been one of the most difficult years of your life. 

You cleared your throat, giving him a sheepish smile, face tight and eyes dull, before moving to leave. “Thanks again for asking and everything. I’m gonna head out, but seriously, I really appreciate it.” 

Of course this is when your body decides to lose all equilibrium. Tripping over an unruly plank on the porch, your knees hit the ground. Oh God. 

In an instant, his left hand is hovering by your shoulder, his right parallel to you, an offering. He’s wrapped around you like wings, paying mindful attention that he’s not touching you without you touching him first. 

The self-recriminating thoughts came like baseballs in a batting cage. Your legs stumble as they lift you and then carry you to the wicker chair, movements too sluggish to take you anywhere else. 

You’re only aware of Rafe in your periphery, busy trying to catch your breath instead. God knows what combination of factors were making you react this way. The shit week you had, the edible you nibbled, the homesickness persistently nipping at your heels. One way or another, this was taking you down. And worst of all, you had an audience. 

Your thoughts are too fast and too slow at the same time, the hyperventilation progressively getting worse. You’re shrinking into yourself, spiraling and spiraling. Anyone could see whatever had you in its grips was only building up to a crescendo. 

“You need to ground yourself,” you can’t hear him fully, too lost in your head. “Here,” he says, placing his hand directly in your sightline, “hold my hand.”

“What?” You’re incredulous. This isn’t happening. 

“You definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to. But it’ll help to ground you. I promise, no ulterior motives.” His voice is genuine, you know he means it. And so you do.

Enveloping your hand in his, your thoughts now veer to the warmth against your skin, the pressure of the affirming squeeze he gives. 

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi,” you’re slow to process this new development, but the surprise that he counts seconds with Mississippis like a 1st grader might be enough to snap you out of this completely. 

By six, you’re counting with him. At ten, he stops and squeezes your hand again. You let go, a little twinge in your heart at the loss.

“Thanks,” you say, mortification coloring your words. None of this felt real. You, holding hands with Rafe Cameron? God really does have a penchant for surprise.

You look at him at last. You almost have to tilt your head completely back to get his full frame. Eyes watering and red, nose sniffling pitifully, you don’t even try and imagine what he sees. The shadows across his face obscure most of his expression. 

He’s by the side of the chair, now crouching down slowly so that he’s eye-level with you. “God, I’m so sorry,” You laugh nervously, trying to dispel the self-consciousness that’s settled in your bones. 

“What’re you apologizing for?” From his lips, it sounds like a genuine question. You don’t respond, the quiet between the two of you strangely peaceful. He breaks it a few seconds later. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” 

It’s funny, you feel like a kid lost at a metro station. “No, no I’m okay,” another smile, your sympathetic nervous system shot to hell.  He pauses, gazing at you with a gravity you can’t place. 

“Would you like me to leave or … stay?” He sounds uncharacteristically cautious. If you didn’t know who you were talking about, you’d almost say shy. Here arises the instinctive dismissal, the one that keeps in line with your desire to not demand more than you’re worth. 

“Please don’t feel obligated to stay, I should probabl-” 

“I’d like to stay. If that’s alright by you.” The silence between you two was cinematic, so quiet it seemed artificial.

“Okay,” and then, “thank you.” He’s still crouched by your knees. You scoot, the wicker chair just barely big enough for two. “Please, that doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“I’m not sure the chair wouldn’t be much different with the both of us.”

“Your knees would reject that claim, I think.” You laugh in that way people do after crying, relieving the tension a sniffle at a time. He makes a show out of acquiescing, slightly bowing before sitting next to you. You give him another sliver of a smile. You’re a bit taken aback by this Rafe Cameron. You’d heard that he had reformed, no longer holding court with his old coterie. He made appearances here and there. However, he bared little resemblance to the volatile character you’d heard so much about.

“Would you like to talk about it?” You tense a little and he gets it without you having to say anything. The silence continues to twirl in the air, but it feels warm and full. Remarkably, you feel comfortable. 

“This night has been-”  

“When I was a ki-”

“Oh-”

“Wait, please, keep going, ”he says. You go back and forth, politely pushing the other to speak and he finally relents. Taking a deep inhale, he starts again. “I was a really anxious kid,” he says, looking off into the warmly lit street. “Constant panic attacks, scared the shit out of my parents.” He drums his fingers against the armrest and you try to project as much nonchalance as humanly possible.

“My mom, she,” he chuckled at the memory and your heart warms, “she started doing this thing whenever I’d get too overstimulated. She’d give me her hand and ask me to come back to earth, like I was an errant astronaut. And then we’d count, until I could breathe again. Ten seemed to be the magic number.” You aren’t sure what to say. What to make of him sharing something this personal. You want to be skeptical, not easily swayed, cautious the way you’ve learned to be around men. But you are being swayed, guided back down to earth by his act of vulnerability. 

“That’s lovely,” you look into his eyes when you say it, wanting to show how much you mean it. He looks back, only for a second, before smiling down at the ground. 

“Yeah, it was.”

You see him around a few times after that, in flashes, always from a distance. Neither of you acknowledge the other. You were strangers, after all. Yet you couldn’t help but take more notice of him. 

Your encounter eventually faded to the recesses of your memory. Until months later, when it was brought to the forefront of your mind, at a park bench of all places. It was tucked away in the nature reserve close to campus. Surrounded by flowers and brush, it was hidden from view in an alcove of leaves and petals. You honestly thought other people didn’t know about it. Until today, when you see Rafe Cameron there, in a black suit with red eyes. You’d heard about his friend, it was a regional tragedy. The funeral must have been today.

It takes him a few seconds to notice you there. “Hi,” the air is thick with summer heat and tension. Should you stay or go? 

“Hi.” He’s blunt and you don’t want to push things, but then his expression cracks and he puts his head in his hands. You decide then that you’re going to stay. 

“Can I sit down?” Rubbing his face, he looks back up and nods, his eyes so tired it strains at your heart. Here you both are, once again side-by-side in silence. And then, you remember. “Ten seconds?” 

The surprise lightens his expression a little. “Okay,” he says and then, “thank you.” His hand is warm in yours, and you both start. 

“One Mississippi, Two Mississippi…”

#rafe cameron x reader #lol i've never seen outer banks so this doesn't interact with canon

[jiubilant]

4.E. 188

“So Ulfric Stormcloak’s coming to the city,” says the boy through a mouthful of chicken. “What’s so important about that?”

He’s shoveling down supper in a smoky public-house by the docks, where the Company men and their apprentices—of which he, as of that morning and its many contracts, is now the newest—gather at day’s end to dine. His hand hurts from signing his name. His legs hurt from walking. He suspects that he might have dreamed it all, the ships, the echoing warehouse, the food; when the barmaid’s girl had brought it to him, not to the well-dressed men chatting in the corner, he’d thought that the chicken—boiled in butter, melting golden from the bone—was a mistake.

Then he’d thought it was a prank. He half-expects his master of about half a day, a factor’s clerk with a long, frown-lined face, to whisk his plate away.

“The Emperor grants dustucks to Company factors and fiduciaries,” the man says after a thoughtful pause, wiping the grease from his hands with a kerchief. He’d paid for supper. He’s sitting across from the boy, facing the fire; his eyes glint in the hearthlight like two shards of red glass. “Can you tell me what a dustuck is?”

No, the boy thinks. He doesn’t even know what a fidu-cherry is. He sneaks a glance up at the clerk, then dares a joke. “Does it quack?”

The clerk blinks at him. Then he smiles—looking, the boy thinks, a little surprised about it.

“No,” he says. “A dustuck is a permit that exempts Company goods from any duties, stoppages, or inspections mandated in provincial ports. It means that our goods,” he says, raising his eyebrows at the look on the boy’s face, “go wherever we’d like them to go—and local customs-men can’t do a damned thing to hold them up, and not even the High King himself has the right to tax them.” He eyes the growing pile of bones on the boy’s plate with amusement. “Now, what do you suppose that means for us?”

Easy, thinks the boy, relieved. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Profit.”

“There’s a lad.” The clerk tips the rest of his chicken onto the boy’s plate. “Now, traders like, ah, like Shatter-Shield—that lovely little clipper in the harbor, the Bergfrue, she was his—they’re subject to the duties fixed by the jarls of each hold. And those duties are climbing by the day. Since Istlod can’t tax the Company at all, he’s got to tax his own people more.”

The boy, attacking a chicken leg, makes a muffled noise of agreement. Then the words sink in. He frowns up at the clerk. “That’s not fair.”

“That’s business.” The clerk’s smile is thin and vague. “But the Bear of Markarth agrees with you. He’s come to Haafingar to growl.” With a smile that transforms his solemn face, he catches the barmaid’s eye. “Well, to be more accurate, Istlod’s called him here to bawl him out for refusing to respect Company dustucks in his ports. He’s been costing us money.”

“Can he do that?”

“Ulfric?” The clerk holds up his tankard, dangling it by the handle. “Not according to the Emperor’s law. But men like Ulfric Stormcloak—”

“No politicking in my public-house,” says the barmaid, whisking up the tankard as she bustles by—and, to the boy’s amazement, tapping the clerk on the head with it for good measure. “Don’t go anywhere, Spider. I’ve some sveler for the boy.”

The clerk casts a plaintive look after her. “With bilberry jam, Birgit?”

“For the boy.”

The clerk raises his hands in airy surrender. The boy wonders, watching him, if the lines in the man’s face aren’t from frowning at all.

“Men like Ulfric Stormcloak?” he prompts, struck with a sudden urge to impress his teacher.

“Men like Ulfric Stormcloak,” the clerk says briskly, “like to know how far they can go.” With an even brisker smile, he stands. “Let’s see about those sveler.”

* * *

The boy brings the sveler, filled with jam and honey-sticky, home to his sisters. When he fishes it smugly from his coat, it looks more like a log of pocket-lint than a sweet; still, when he pieces it with painstaking care into seven portions, even picky Letta stuffs her morsel in her mouth without making any faces.

“Next time,” she says, eyes bright in her pale, pinched face, “bring back a cheese tart.”

The boy, with all the self-importance of a breadwinner, scoffs at her. “I can’t just tell Master Rano to buy me a cheese tart.”

Mina, chewing with her mouth open, grips his arm. The boy realizes with a start that he can see her cheekbones. “Candied pears!”

“Pleskener!”

“Kanelstenger!”

“I want to be an apprentice—”

It’s little Luce who tugs on his sleeve, her eyes wide with concern. “Mama, too.”

The boy’s portion stops halfway to his mouth. With a flash of remorse, he disentangles himself from his frail, hollow-eyed sisters. He’s been stupid, he thinks. Stupid and selfish. He should have pocketed some of the chicken.

“She can have mine,” he says, and lays his bite of svele on the table. If they’re asleep when she comes home, he thinks, it will surprise her. She’ll see that she won’t have to poss until her back aches, scrub until her hands crack and bleed from the water in the steaming washhouse-tubs. He’s the man of the house now—thirteen years old, full of knowledge of permits, and profits, and politics. He’ll provide.

Luce tugs his sleeve again. “Rafe?”

The boy blinks. Then he picks her up like their mother would: swirls her off the ground, tosses her so that she giggles. “Luce?”

His youngest sister, light as a ghost in his arms, pats his cheek with a sticky hand.

“Sweetrolls,” she says.

“Sweetrolls,” the boy solemnly agrees. Then he grins, heedless of the impossibility. “And a cheese tart, candied pears, some pleskener...”

#return of the rafe. and some pre-canon stuff about the company #skyrim #microfic #oc tag #rafe and alf #ravi