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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

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Tutor: Bad Day - Rafe Cameron

Words: 4.7k+ Type: Smut and Fluff Summary: Rafe had a bad day, so, he decided to come over and see you to forget about his problems. Warnings: Fem!Reader [no mentions of race or bodytype]. Mentions of hiding a relationship from friends and family, family problems (Rafe's), and slight hesitation in sexual activities. FORBIDDEN AND SECRET RELATIONSHIP. SMUT {BIG risk of getting caught, handjob and fingering, and a lot of kissing}

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should rly read the other smuts <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

The bell of the store rings just at the top of your head as you push the door open. The cold air conditioning hits your warm skin and, almost right away, all of your body shivers.

The voices of your friends soon invade the silence of the convenience store, and you notice, from the corner of your eye, how the cashier leans back on his chair almost as if in defeat.

You look over your shoulder at your friends, and they are still loudly talking about some girl from science class - the only class all of you share. You don’t say anything to be a part of the commentary about the girl's lifestyle, but you give them a grin when they notice you looking, to which they smile back.

You drag your feet over to the snack aisle, and your friends let you go on your way. They always seem to trust you to choose the snacks before going to the beach. They usually get the task to choose the drinks, so you have just as much importance to the group. As they say, you can ruin the evening with just the wrong bag of chips.

As you walk, you relax as you notice how you can very much only hear their voices in the distance as if they were mumbles. The distance is enough to muffle their overly excited voices. A miracle.

You turn around the corner to the aisle, just the one before the snacks, and see your eyes lay on someone. The person you’ve shamelessly grown accustomed to.

He's standing just a few feet away from you. He's wearing a blue t-shirt and black jeans. His hair seems a little messy from where you stand, and you can't really see his face, unfortunately.

You don’t say anything to him at first, as he’s focused on his phone and facing the products on the shelves, but you do continue to make your way over to your desired destination. You want to go over there and talk to him, of course, but if he's distracted... maybe you shouldn't? And your friends are still in the store. It wouldn’t be safe to be seen with him.

Rafe lifts his eyes off his screen to look at the products again, and you can see the scowl on his face. It’s not just his usual expression, as Rafe is, indeed, a moody person. You can tell that he’s actually upset over something.

Your plan is quickly abandoned with that. You're not walking towards your destination anymore, you're now very much walking toward him. Your steps are slower and maybe even a little hesitant, but they're making you go to him.

Rafe's eyes lift from the product he’s grabbing to the person in the corner of his eye, and his eyes land on you.

“Hi.” You say in a whisper, not even being able to contain the smile that easily spread over your face.

“Hi.”

He’s still with that frown on his face.

You walk closer to him, but don’t do as planned and simply walk past him. You stop right beside him and look up before beginning to speak.

You’ve seen and texted Rafe a few times in the past 4 days, but it’s been a while since you interacted face to face. You missed him. And you really think that is an understatement. Missing doesn't even get to describe what you feel when it comes to that heartwrenching feeling you get every night. Sometimes you just want to be with him for 5 minutes, nothing more, because you swear that would cure you and your pained heart.

Rafe is always sweet with you and so caring. It’s not even some sexual desire when you’re near him, it’s much more than that.

After that day in your backyard, your parents were home every day and all day. It’s depressing how you went back to only seeing him cross the hallway at his home, but his house is also always with people there. His dad is always in his office, Rose is working in the living room and, well, Wheezie is with you. Sarah is very much the only one that you almost never see. And yet you can never talk to him when you see him. It's sad.

Just after the backyard alone, the two of you went inside and cooled off. And okay... you kissed too. It never led to anything after it, it truly was just kissing. A little too much kissing, but you loved every second of it.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him, still in a very faint whisper.

“Why?” He asks.

“You look upset.” You offer him a shrug.

Rafe stares at you for just a few seconds and ignores the way the weight he just had over his shoulders eased. He doesn’t know how you do it. He’s not used to someone picking up on his emotions at all, and he’s not even sure he likes it. Yet, at the same time, he can’t bring himself to dislike anything that you do.

His day started off shitty. Had an argument with his dad just over breakfast, and that was enough to ruin his mood for the entire day. Ward said some unfair things, then added pointing at Sarah as if she is the perfect example of a good child to a parent. Yeah, fucking right.

He takes a good look at you after he remembers all of the said and unsaid words in that discussion. A look at you is enough to disconnect him from everything. You’re just wearing a pale pink skirt and an open shirt of the same fabric, in the middle, you have a tight black bikini. He shamelessly stares at you for a little, and his eyes come back to your face, admiring it longer.

“It’s nothing.” He assures you with the fakest grin.

You tilt your head cutely and look away from him, deciding not to push him to answer anything else when he’s clearly looking very annoyed.

You take a look around before continuing conversing, just making sure none of your friends have come to look for you. And they haven’t. You can still hear their voices in the distance, yet, not all of them are talking, and that makes you feel a little unsure about their whereabouts.

You look back at him and his phone lights up in his hand again. You make sure to not stare at his screen and he notices it but says nothing.

“Are you alone?” He asks you, and you shake your head.

“My friends are getting drinks.” You tell him.

He hums as an answer and looks back at the shelves in front of him. He knows that you two can’t be seen together, so, it’s only a matter of time before you have to walk away.

“Are you free tonight?” He asks you out of the blue.

“I have a test tomorrow.” You tell him, a hint of a smile already appearing on your face, contrasting greatly with his frown, “And my parents are home.”

Rafe slides his phone back into his shorts, giving you his full attention, and you force yourself to stop looking down at his mouth every time he turns to you. He still doesn’t look any less annoyed while you talk to him, but he also doesn’t look worse. You hate to see him like this, but you're not sure you can do anything to change it.

You almost ask him again if he’s actually okay, but you decide not to do it. Rafe can tell from the way you look at him in the short seconds of silence that you’re hesitating on saying something and never seem to spill it out.

One of your friends laughs loudly on the other end of the store and that makes you look away from Rafe and towards where the sound came from. You look back at him right after, and he expects you to offer him one of your smiles or reach to touch him, but you never do. He swallows hard at the lack of comfortability in your interaction and feels something in him sink.

He breaks your shared glance and grabs the package that he was trying to get. You watch as he retrieves the object, and your heart speeds up a little at the sight of his frown worsening ever so slightly.

Before he gets to move away from you, you raise your hand and lay it over his to stop him from walking away. Rafe does stop and looks down at you.

You take a quick glance at what’s behind you and quickly reach up, laying a kiss on his lips. Rafe quickly brings his hand up to hold the back of your head while the two of you kiss, and both of your hearts speed up at it. You pull away slowly and look all over his face, sadly looking at his frown.

You kiss him again and all of your kisses are so soft that Rafe swears he’ll never have enough of them. You lay at least 3 more pecks on his lips before pulling away completely. You then continue to hold his hand and stare up at him, worryingly.

“You can talk to me.” You say to him softly, “Whenever you need to.”

Rafe hears the voice of your friends coming closer all of a sudden and he simply kisses the top of your head before walking away. You stare at him as he does it and, right as he disappears, your friends appear at the other end of the aisle.

“It’s not on this aisle, dummy!” One of them says loudly at you, and you force a smile at her.

“Sorry!” You tell her, trying to seem just as happy.

(...)

You change the page of your book and lay your eyes over the words on paper once again. The book you’re holding is quite small, but it has been one of the best ways to relax before going to sleep.

The golden light coming from your bedside table shines into the pages, giving them this warm and sleepy tone, and you already feel your eyelids close.

And that’s when you hear three knocks on your bedroom window.

You check the time and it’s just 9PM, not too late. You close your book and frown in worry as you get up from the bed. And as soon as your eyes meet the person by your window, you can’t help but laugh. Rafe Cameron himself.

You unlock it and slide it open. Rafe gets himself inside in no time.

“What are you doing here?” You tell him with a huge smile on your face, from both the surprise and happiness of having him just beside you.

“I was bored at home.” He simply tells you, making sure to whisper.

You run over to your bedroom door and quickly lock it, hearing behind you Rafe slide the window closed as well. When you turn back around, Rafe's already sitting on your bed, looking at you. He still has a frown, but not like the one before. This one is smaller, yet still very much there.

“How was your day?” You ask while walking towards him.

“Shitty.” He answers.

You take a seat right on his lap, and Rafe’s hands come to rest on your legs. They smooth down on your soft skin, as you are only wearing a simple t-shirt and sleeping shorts, and you notice how his touch has now become so familiar, that it makes your body warm with it.

“How shitty?” You ask him. “Really shitty?”

He nods, and you pucker your lips while thinking. His hands stop moving as they reach your hips and the two of you stare at each other for just some time. It doesn't take long before short smiles begin to grow on your faces as you do so.

Rafe doesn’t say anything for a bit and then, simply, looks over to see what is right at the center of your bed. Still with a little grin of his own on his face. He grabs your book and brings it in between you two.

You watch him as he looks through the pages, almost appearing as if he’s looking for something. He flips through some individually and then simply moves to look all throughout the book, letting every page pass his thumb. He looks at the printed words in silence, but he pauses after some time, putting the book back down.

He really is bored.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks up at you, finding your sweet eyes looking back at him, and you wait for an answer, but he simply shakes his head - much to your disappointment.

You bring your hands to his face, as always, and Rafe closes his eyes tiredly when you begin to caress them with your thumbs. Rafe holds onto your hips once more, pulling you impossibly closer to him, and squeezing you close by wrapping an arm around your torso.

He reopens his eyes, and you lay a gentle peck over his lips. He watches as you pull back a little and do it again. A small smile pulls at the corners of Rafe’s lips, and you do it once more. You shine a smile at him when you pull away completely and, suddenly, there’s a loud noise downstairs.

The two of you instinctively look towards the door and wait for any following sounds. It sounded like something falling, but, whatever it was, one of your parents must have grabbed it from the floor before it made any more noise.

You look back at Rafe, and he’s still looking at the door.

“My parents are home, but...” You pause a little, “Do you want to stay the night?” You whisper at him, gaining his attention.

“Can I?” He asks a little louder than you but still in a whisper.

You nod, moving your thumbs over his cheeks again before speaking once more.

“We just can’t let my parents know that I have someone in my room.” You tell him, offering him a shrug. “So, if I have to open the door, you simply have to slide under the bed.” You add.

Your words make the small smile come back to Rafe's face and you celebrate mentally as you do so.

You lean closer to him again and give him a real kiss this time. Your hands move away from his face and over to the back of his head, running through the soft strands of his hair. The kiss is soft and slow, all of it is, even the way Rafe is holding you.

The sounds of kissing reach your ears as the make-out session evolves, and you move your hips over him, granting a groan from Rafe against your mouth.

Rafe's hold on you begins to tighten once you do that, and you try to sit still and not lose control over your own body.

If you get caught, you are definitely getting killed by your parents.

One of his hands slides down from your hip over back to your thigh, where it moves under the thin fabric of your shorts. He forces your hips to move just a little higher on his, and you let out a whimper at the feeling of your crotch sliding over the bulge on his shorts. Rafe kisses you more harshly, and you cling to his hair.

You begin to move your hips on your own and the two of you tense in each other’s holds. Rafe pulls away from the kiss, and you sigh as his lips lay over the skin of your neck right after. His kisses are still so soft and so warm. It makes your entire body react to them.

You grind your hips against him and let out a gasp at the feeling of your clit grazing the fabric of your own clothes. Rafe holds onto you tightly and, with a quick movement, lays you down beside him on the bed.

Rafe stares at you, laying perfectly at the center of the bed, with your shirt exposing a bit of your stomach and your shorts up at the top of your thighs. Before Rafe can even kiss you once more, you speak.

“Wait.” You say, and he pauses completely. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

It takes a long second before Rafe speaks.

“You want to stop?” He asks to make sure.

“I don’t know.” You answer, chuckling breathly at your own answer, “My parents are right downstairs. I’m scared they might hear it.”

Rafe smiles in amusement at your own giggles, and he notices how you do a little pout without even noticing. You move up with your elbows against the mattress and, with your distance now shortened, you don't fight the temptation to kiss him again. Rafe chases the kiss when you move back to lay on the bed, and you smile into it.

“We only do it if you want to.” He reminds you.

You stare at him, thinking, and you sigh as soon as you hear the sounds from the loud television from downstairs. The walls of your home are thin. You really can’t make that much of a risk because even if your parents stay downstairs, if they ever do need to use the bathroom or something, you're done for. And that's ignoring the fact that your mother practically has the earing of a falcon. It's too much of a risk.

Even when it would feel really good to just do it.

You sigh out loud, showing the man on top of you your clear mental discussion, and Rafe grins at it.

“I really want to,” You explain to him with a small pout. “But we’d make too much noise.”

“I know. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He notes.

You smile at his words and roll your eyes, lifting your hand to just faking a smack on his cheek. It's more of a hand laying on his cheek really.

When you pull your hand away to see his smile, Rafe comes down to the crook of your neck. You wrap an arm around him, and you begin to feel Rafe's lips kissing your skin. You hold back your laughter as some places do tickle and, when Rafe comes back up, you stare.

You stay silent, deep in thought, and no matter how long you think about it, your lust never subsides.

You look down at your bodies, thinking still, and it doesn’t help that your hips are glued to Rafe’s. You look back up at him and open your mouth to speak but you don’t.

“What is it?” He asks softly.

“I really want you to touch me.” You whisper at him.

“You think you can stay quiet?” He asks you in a soft tone, making you almost go back into your mental debate about your options.

After thinking for not even 2 seconds, Rafe's eyes are enough to make you force out your answer. You nod. Rafe does as told and brings one of his hands over to your shorts. His hand slides under the soft fabric and soon feels your panties. You exhale shakingly at the feeling of his hand on top of your pussy, messing with you through the fabric for just a few seconds.

With just a quick movement, Rafe's fingers slide through your slit and begin to work downwards. His digit is covered with your slick in no time. You try to close your legs as a reflex as soon as his fingers find and start to work circles around your clit, and you easily notice how impossible it is to do it.

Rafe lays a kiss on your cheek as you bite down at your bottom lip and keep your eyes trained to watch how his hand moves beneath the fabric of your shorts. From the angle, you can practically peek inside your shorts, watching his finger move so gently on you.

You whimper very lowly as soon as you watch him slip two of his fingers into you. Rafe shushes you, his mouth near your own, and your face forms a frown of pleasure as he begins to move inside of you. You move one of your legs closer to your torso, and the feeling of the fabric of your shorts makes Rafe pull away. You whine at the loss of his fingers, and he sits up.

Rafe slides your shorts and panties down your legs and throws them into the floor. His fingers slide back into your warm pussy, and you automatically bring him closer to you, liking to have him near. His hand now moves with more freedom, and you sigh out his name with a teeny tiny squeak as his fingers find your g-spot so easily.

You bring one of your hands over to the waistband of his shorts, and Rafe looks down at you as you undo the button and zipper. He almost stops moving at the way your hand also slides into his boxers, without any hesitation, and your small hand wraps around his dick.

Rafe groans beside your head at your touch, and his fingers stall a little inside of you. You kiss his chin as you work your fist around his length, reaching slowly to touch his tip with your finger. Your thumb moves over the head, feeling and spreading his precum while sliding your digit across the slit.

You smile through the pleasure as Rafe grunts beside you again and he takes his revenge by curving his fingers inside of you.

You, following his revengeful actions, tighten your hold on his cock and begin to move your hand at a quicker pace. You watch as your hand moves under the fabric, and Rafe breathes heavily with you, leaning his forehead onto the side of your head while he watches the entanglement of your arms in between your bodies.

Rafe speeds up his movements and so do you, mimicking his pace to the best of your ability, and you feel your stomach tighten with the build-up of the pleasure.

“Rafe.” You sigh again, and he looks down at you, “Your fingers feel so good.”

He slides in his third finger once you say that, and you bite down harshly at your lip. Your pussy stretches around his fingers easily, and his third finger, with just one of his movements, is also soaked to its knuckle.

A sheer layer of sweat begins to form at the top of your foreheads, both of your bodies burning and your orgasms already so at the edge. It’s getting harder to hold back your moans, and Rafe is breathing heavily close to your ear.

You pump his cock harder, and Rafe audibly reacts to it. It’s a low sound and one so near your ear it’s impossible for anyone else could hear it. Rafe feels the way your walls clenched around his fingers as a reaction to it.

You begin to move your hips underneath his hand and let out small whimpers right onto his face. The way your hand is moving around him is just as pleasurable to him.

Rafe speeds up his fingers once more and the squelch of your wetness is heard in the middle of all of your heavy breathing.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He tells you, “Every single time I touch you.”

Rafe doesn’t stop his movements, even when the sounds begin to get more and more audible, and you whimper a little louder. You look at Rafe with pleading eyes, and he brings his mouth close to yours. The two of you can’t even focus enough to kiss, his mouth just hovers over yours as the two of you try to hold in your noises and calm down your breathing, and you begin to feel your orgasm getting really close.

You whimper against his mouth again, voice breaking at such a low volume right into him. That itself makes Rafe's entire body tense up with pleasure. The two of you have done things like this many times already. There's always the possibility of getting caught with the two of you. But tonight? Fuck, your parents are right downstairs, absolutely blind to the fact that Rafe Cameron is knuckles deep inside their daughter as he fucks her hand.

This all feels like a fever dream.

“Can I cum, Rafe?” You whisper at him, against his lips. “Please, please, please.” Your pleas get higher as the orgasm gets closer.

“You can.” He says before curving his fingers once more as he keeps the pace steady.

He almost expects you to stop the movements of your hand around his dick, but you never do. Your hold gets tighter and your pumping more frantic. You whine a little out loud, enough for Rafe to shut you up with a kiss, and you finally feel the orgasmic pleasure run its course throughout your body.

Not even a few seconds later, Rafe feels the exact same thing happen to him. Your walls squeeze his fingers as he keeps going and his cock throbs on your hand. Your noises, the ones he loves so dearly, worsen against his mouth as he fastens the thrusting of his hand, riding your orgasm for longer.

Your legs lift beside his body as you subconsciously try to get away from him. It's all too intense for you, but you never stop moving your hand around his dick. You hold onto him with pressure and all so quickly. And just like that, Rafe groans into your lips as well and his cum coats your hand, rope after rope.

The two of you come down from your highs together, eyes closed and heavily breathing into each other's lips. Rafe’s the first one to open his eyes and look down at the mess on his fingers. You open your eyes as he begins to pull them out of you, and you sigh at the sensation.

His fingers glisten in the golden light of your bedside table, and you almost moan at the sight of him bringing his fingers into his mouth. He cleans one at a time, and you simply tiredly stare at him with a slightly open mouth. Your eyes, half closed and heavy with sleep, stare back into his, but an idea sparks.

You pull your hand out of his boxers and do the exact same thing. Rafe swears that he felt something he’s never felt before as soon as he saw you lick your fingers clean of his cum. You look at him in the eyes as you do it, and smile midway through. Rafe's eyes on you could've been intimidating at some point, but all you did was melt onto the bed this time.

Rafe pulls you into a kiss once you're done and it’s absolutely filthy. Both mouths taste like each other, and the kiss is sloppy and all messy. As your tongues touch one another, the two of you let out a simultaneous moan. You giggle into his mouth and pull him closer to you by wrapping your legs around his hips.

When he pulls away, Rafe brings his hands to your mouth and cleans the corners of your mouth with his thumb.

The moment is easily disturbed by a voice.

“Honey?”

It's right behind your bedroom door. The two of you freeze, and your head snaps towards the still closed and locked door. You can almost imagine your mother's figure behind it.

Your heart begins to beat quickly, and you almost have to physically force yourself to answer.

“Yes, mom?”

“Is everything alright?” She asks, and you tense up further.

Your eyes then circle around the room, thinking of all possibilities that could be the reason for any sorts of noises she could've heard. It can't be a book or your laptop - she knows you always use headphones. Your eyes fall on your TV just in the corner.

“Yeah, just watching a show. Why?” You close your eyes as you answer, fearful of this idea not being good enough for her to believe you.

Yet, she believes your every word.

Rafe smiles down at you proudly, and your lips connect once more, right as your mom makes her way down the hallway.

Hope you liked this new part <33

Do you have any smut or fluff ideas for this universe? Anything that you think could be Rafe's and Y/N's thing? Something you'd like to see next in the story? - Please them all of them to me. I'll write fully new chapters and occasional blurbs!

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swiftsgirlfriend · 6 months

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𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧: 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬:

↳ @rafesaddiction

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

↳ @cleoluvrr

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞

↳ @hotchsstuff

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞

↳ @oceandriveab

𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

#rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron oneshots #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader

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witchwyfe · 3 months

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karma is my boyfriend - rc

pairing - (non-canon) Rafe Cameron x female reader

précis - a lil princess treatment from rafe :)

content/warnings - mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, fluff,

word count - 673

"Rafe, Rafe!?" You're spinning around, looking for your boyfriend until suddenly you whirl around and bump into a broad chest.

"Hey!" You gasp, until you look up and see his face. "Oh! Hi baby!" You coo, reaching up to cup his cheeks.

"Hi sweet girl." He smiles, running his thumb along your cheekbone.

You greet him happily, leaning in to his touch. "Did you get my drink?" You wonder, suddenly remembering why he left you in the first place.

"Hmm, sure did." He nods, handing you an ice water rather than the vodka redbull you'd requested.

You don't seem to notice though, slipping the paper straw into your mouth and slurping it down happily.

"We gonna dance s'more?" You wonder, straw between your lips.

"We can't, baby," He says, smoothing a hand down the back of your head. "They're closing."

"Nooo!" You groan, throwing your head back.

"I know, I know," He soothes. "But we can go home and get some snacks and watch a show...?" He offers.

"Okay!" You're smiling once again, digging your fingers into his tee shirt.

"Finish your drink and we'll go home, kay?"

You nod, bypassing the straw and tipping the rest of the water into your mouth, before handing your empty glass to Rafe.

You're not even that drunk, really just a little past tipsy but you're fine with letting Rafe handle everything and take care of you.

Suddenly his jacket is being draped over your shoulders, coupled with a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Thank you." You simper. You slide your arms into the sleeves and blink up at your boyfriend.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You lead him out of the bar, arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket, while he has your little purse slung over his shoulder, your phone, his phone, and the keys all in one hand.

"How much farther?" You ask a few moments later, looking back at him.

"Not too much," He frowns looking out at the street. When the two of you arrived at the club, hours before, he'd had to park his car somewhat far due to the lack of space. "Your feet hurting, baby?"

You shrug a shoulder. "Yeah." You nod. "But it's just till the car then I'll take my shoes off."

"C'mere," He says, shoving both of your phones into his pocket.

"What?" You wonder, turning to give him a coy smile.

Your sweet boyfriend kneels down on the dirty sidewalk, taking your ankle into his hands so he can unbuckle your heel. You're flustered beyond words, heat rising on your cheeks while Rafe's rough palm softly works your foot out of your strappy shoe.

"Stand on my foot babe, so I can take your other shoe off." He says, running his hand up your calf.

Once both of your heels are dangling from his hand, he scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

"Are you sure, Rafe?" You wonder softly. "I feel bad, you don't--"

"You have nothing to feel bad about." He assures, lips at your temple. "Just let me take you to the car, okay gorgeous?"

"Okay." You hum happily, relaxing in his hold.

Your arms are sling around your neck and you have easy access to his neck if you strain a little--and you do--at least five times on the way to the car, so you can kiss his neck.

He pretends like he's not flustered by it, but you can see the rosy glow of his cheeks from the street lamps, the harsh light making him appear ethereal and you have to shut your eyes for a second to remember he's real.

You’re still in a fond trance when he uses one hand to open the car door and gently deposit you into the passenger seat. He buckles your seatbelt and tugs on it, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Love you,” You croon, leaning back against the seat to look at him.

“Love you so much more.” He promises. “C’mere angel, gimme a kiss.”

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe #witchwyfe writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks fanfiction #cw alchohol mention

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yoongis-black-grilfriend · 11 days

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Mothers Night Out

Warnings: SMUT, oral, lactation, toxic! rafe, car sex, penetrative sex, and breeding.

Ring Ring Ring

The sound comes blaring as you're face down in your pillow, head pounding a mile a minute. The ringtone continues to jingle you answer and put the phone to your ear.

“Hell-” You try to answer before the voice on the other line starts, “Why the hell am I over here watching our children while you're running around as if you don’t have any responsibilities in life?” The voice quickly cut in as you rolled your eyes.

“Rafe, it was one night out, what are you on about-” You were cut off again, the man on the other line not wanting to hear that. “NO, you told me that you were going to hang out with friends; NOT those fucking pogues and you know that”.

“Those pogues are my friends.” You start to say before he cuts you off, in his frustration.

“I don’t care. Get ready” he snapped. Before you could say anything else, the dial tone reached your ears as you sat up in the bed you were lying in, which happened to be John B's.

Ever since you became a mother you were dedicated to taking care of your children trying to be the best mother you could be for your little girls. You sacrificed everything for them, including your well-being. Your friends thought it would be a good idea to hang out last night since you have yet to have the time to genuinely hang out just as a group. Last night was fun. You all piled in John B’s living room playing drinking games and catching up on everything social that you might have missed.

“How are you doing in here sleepy head?” JJ leaned up against the door with a smile. “My head is killing me” You respond, messaging your head. “Well sorry to break it to you but your baby daddy is outside, so your hell awaits you”

“Ha ha, you are so funny.”

Gathering your things you throw a pillow at his head which he dodges with a smirk. “Kiss the girls for me!” He yells behind you as you make your way towards John B's door. “Will do!”

Wanting to say goodbye to everyone else you were met with disappointment as they were all still asleep. Walking out the door you are met with the father of your children leaning against a black truck with your door already opened.

Climbing into the truck, you close the door with Rafe following behind you. Looking behind you, you expect to see your baby girls in the back but you just met with their car seats. Looking to Rafe you ask. “Where are Whisper and Clover?” Looking at you he shakes his head.

“They're with Rose since you want to act like they don't exist.” “Rafe please don’t do this for the past six months I have been held up in the house” you breathe in, tears threatening to fall. “Taking care of our girls day in and day out so please don't act like me hanging out with my friends for one night makes me a terrible mother”

Regret flickers across his face as he reaches across the armrest and he takes your face in his hands, expression softening. “I didn't know you felt this lovely, I’m sorry I treated you that way. I was just upset because I thought you didn't want to spend any time with me.”

Moving his hands under your skirt to your thighs you gasp as his fingers barely graze your skin. His touch sends shivers down your spine and Rafe notices this with a smirk on his face. “Have I been neglecting you, baby?” He teases.

Pulling your legs apart, his tongue runs along your inner thighs while your breath starts to get shallow, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Please Rafe” You gasp as he continues sticking his tongue out it quickly dips into your folds, your head hitting the car window. His tongue moves at a regular pace while you feel your skin getting inflamed with the pleasure that you are receiving from your core.

Moving his head from side to side he groans as he pulls your hips impossibly closer to his face. “C'mon baby give it all to me.” “Ohhh fuck.” you groan, your body trembling with desire, as he pulls his head closer in between your legs your stomach starts to form a knot.

“Please- please don't stop” you begged, Rafe moaning into your pussy as you started to shake with your heels digging into his back. “I’m cumming, fuck!’ Crying out your back is arched as your white spot starts to blur your vision. Waves of pleasure begin to wash over you through your climax.

“Get in my lap lovely” Rafe murmurs. Blinded by the orgasm you just had you let him guide you into his lap, with his pants unzipped and his length hard as you feel it nudge your walls as you place your hand on your shoulders.

Bending his head he latches his mouth to your nipple gripping your hips as the sweet taste of your nectar fills his mouth greedily taking it in as he moves his cock inside of you as you slowly move back and forth on his lap.

Detaching his lips he attaches his mouth to yours and as you inhale the slight sweet taste of your milk you take his tongue in your mouth. His hips match your rhythm with the car moving side to side due to the impact of Rafe's thrust, each one bringing us closer to the edge.

“You are perfectly lovely please make me cum, inside of you let me give you another baby please!” he begs, tightening his hold on your hips. “Give me another daddy cum deep inside of me!” Gasping for breath, you wrap your arms around his neck burying your head in his shoulder. your orgasm splashing between the two of you, as Rafe’s cum fills you up.

With your mind in its dizzy state, Rafe guides you back to your seat buckling your seatbelt and finally pulling out of the chateau.

*Ding* The notification sound draws you to your phone and your face turns red with the message you read as Rafe busts out with laughter after reading the message on your phone.

JJ🦾:”I hope you know WE all saw that…“

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inez-winchester-cameron · 3 months

Note

omg can you please do more older rafe and younger reader pls im obsessed!! <3

cw: rafe cameron x younger!innocent!virgin!reader, first time giving oral, minor degradation

note: i kind of just had a little fun w this one but if yall have any more specific ideas lmk

"see what you do to me, babe?" rafe whispers into your ear after a heated kiss. you follow his eyes and your eyes widen at his hard cock in his sweats.

"o-oh.." you mutter, never having much experiences like this before.

"here..it's okay, it doesn't bite," rafe promises. he takes your hand and sets it over his cock, "feel that?" you gulp and nod and he continues on, "it hurts so bad, you're so pretty it hurts me. why don't you be a good girl and help?"

"i've never- i don't-"

"hey shhh shh, it's okay, don't be scared. just follow instructions, you know how to do that right?" you nod and rafe smiles, "okay, here, i'll make it easy for you." he pulls his pants and underwear down at the same time, revealing his hard cock. your face is a bright shade of red as he takes the back of your neck gently and guides your head to his cock.

"take the tip into your mouth and lick it, like a lollipop, sweet cheeks," he instructs you and you do. he bites his lip, "holy fuck, that's it. now, how about we test that gag reflex." he slowly pushes your head down further on his cock until you gag around it, "shit- now hollow your cheeks and take it in and out of your mouth over and over again."

you do as you're instructed and rafe strokes your hair, "yeah that's it, natural, huh? who knew little miss virgin was a dirty little cock sucker?" rafe lets out a groan, and he lets his eyes trail down your body, he watches you clench your thighs and grind against the sheets a little and smirks, "bet your little pussy needs some attention too huh? don't worry, make me cum and i'll give her so much attention. i'll make you cum til it hurts, sweet cheeks."

#obx #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron thirst #rafe cameron oneshots #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader

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ruewrote · 4 months

Text

𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡.

PAIRING: rafe cameron x gn!reader WARNINGS: rude customer, fighting & strong language GENRE: angst to fluff SONG INSPIRATION: wash by bon iver WORD COUNT: 756

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today was certainly not your day.

starting it off by being late for work was of course not ideal, silently hating your boss for making you come in so early after opening.

the catching up wasn't even the worst part of it since you were used to rush hour, but having a new hire fumbling every five minutes didn't really help your patience.

so on top of being late, doing the usual morning rush, having to practically retrain your co-worker everything. your boss decides to be a dick and rush you on your lunch break, not being able to eat half of your sandwich then you were back at it again.

right now you were on your last straw. trying to keep up with some stuck up kooks long ass coffee order.

the sigh of relief you let out after finishing it almost wiped you out, taking so much of your time and concentration. you turned around putting on your best fake smile.

"tiffany!" you announced, eyes scanning the room landing on the short blonde whose nails were aggressively tapping against her phone screen.

"oh that's me!" she giggled as she wobbled forward in her tall heels, grabbing the drink off of the counter and taking a sip of it.

"oh my god who made this is disgusting! this isn't what i asked for."

"excuse me ma'am that was me and i made it exactly how you ordered it." you spoke to her, clenching your teeth praying to the gods that she wouldn't test you.

"hm no it isn't, you wanna try?" she said whilst taking off the lid off the drink to then throw the contents inside in your face, going to leave after doing that.

leaving you stood there in the middle of the jammed shop, everyone silent and looking at you.

you just laughed, tongue pressed to your cheek, tilting your head back as you ripped your apron off, running out of the shop after her.

tiffany clearly didn't hear the hurried footsteps behind her, but she definitely felt you turning and pushing her to the ground. her phone breaking against the concrete.

you dropped to your knees, straddling her hips getting a few punches in. her crying grew louder when you stopped and got off of her.

"i don't give a fuck who you are. respect your retail workers!" you pointed down at her then ran off to your car trying to ignore the fact that everyone had been staring at you.

tears welled up in your eyes as you banged on the door of your boyfriends house, hoping that he'd be in.

you heard the muffled talking getting closer and louder to the door before it opened. revealing an angry rafe on the phone, seeing you made it turn into worry, him ending the call grabbing your hands helping you into his home.

"sweetheart, what happened?" he questioned, but you just fell into his embrace, sobbing so hard against the material of his shirt.

even with you being a sticky mess, he wrapped his arms around you bringing you even closer to him not caring about his clothes, only you.

"shh it's alright, you're okay. i'm here."

after a little while of him holding you rafe brought you to the bathroom, your crying now subsided. he convinced you to stay the night with him as he ran you a bath.

helping you strip yourself of your clothing, holding your hand helping you into the water. leaving you so it could soak off the majority of the dry splotches.

"you wanna tell me what went down, love?" his words soft as he sat himself beside you on the floor of the bathroom.

"i... i don't even know. it all happened so quickly..." you told him everything about your day from the beginning to now. he grabbed a soft sponge and soap, gently grasping one of your arms getting to work on making them clean as he listened.

"so...it sounds like she deserved it." you laughed at that, feeling an invisible weight be lifted off of your shoulders.

"i guess so."

he then moved onto washing your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp making you physically melt into him.

for the rest of your bath you laughed and joked, talking about everything you were gonna do after you were out of the bathroom. almost forgetting what happened.

you were so glad that you had someone as amazing as rafe, knowing that you never had to struggle as long as he was around.

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

Text

Tutor: Party - Rafe Cameron

Words: 8k+ Type: Smut (but with a little angst) Summary: You go to that party with Kristy and let Rafe know. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Dark!Rafe [mentions coke, beating up people, and being possessive]. Mentions of alcohol consumption, poker, drugs, blood, being beaten up, fights [non-descriptive], and someone looking at y/n's cleavage. SECRET RELATIONSHIP. Y/N's friends hate Rafe. SMUT {risk of getting caught, no protection, ROUGH sex, piv sex, mirror sex, under the influence (Rafe), dacryphilia, praise kink, size kink if you squint, possession kink, rough handling, and hair pulling} From this request

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should read the smuts <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

As you expected it to happen, you had to wait days to see Rafe again. You two texted whenever you could. You had classes for the rest of the week, had to tutor Wheezie at the end of each day, and were held hostage to watch movies with your parents every night before bed. Not that you don’t like to spend time with your parents, but, for these last few days, you felt like you didn’t have any time for yourself - let alone any time for Rafe to ever sneak inside your bedroom.

It was depressing.

Kristy eventually did tell you which party the girls decided to go to while having lunch together, and you texted that exact information to Rafe. You didn’t know what the text would do to change his plans, but you sent it anyway.

You expected guilt at any point of your days. The guilt of not telling the truth to your mom or dad, or (especially) to Kristy and the girls. You expected to feel something due to how you’ve been going for weeks on constant lies about your whereabouts, who you’re texting, and what you’re thinking about when weirdly going silent. But that something never came, ever.

Firstly, you thought that maybe the entire reason why you wouldn’t feel guilty was because of Rafe. You like being near him at all times, and you like to think about him at all times too. Deep down, you know that if there was ever the possibility of your parents or the girls finding out the truth, there would be no more Rafe. They would probably lock you in the basement and plan to fly you off the country. They hate him. All while you like him more, and more with each day. Therefore, whenever you're with him, you don't even notice that you're doing something bad.

Rafe has a different mentality when it comes to the two of you. He doesn’t ever plan on telling anything about you to anyone - even though he has gotten close to telling Topper one time while very, very high - but he does, in a way, like the position you’re in. It excites him. You can’t be seen with him. You're the goody two shoes and the perfect girl, yet the exact same one that cums around his dick whenever he calls her his.

Not wanting anyone else to know is something the two of you can agree on, yet your reasons only match once: You two don’t want to stop seeing each other. But while you sometimes find yourself suffering in the thrill of ever being caught, or the idea of anyone's face whenever they find out, Rafe thrives on it. Deep down he wants people to know how he can dirty your perfect image, to go from the perfect girl to his perfect girl at the snap of his fingers. He has you wrapped around his finger, and he never plans on getting you off.

It has only been an hour since you got to the party with your friends. Rafe knows because he saw you coming in. The party is mostly kept on the outside of the house as most of the doors inside are locked to keep people away from the bedrooms. He saw you walk with your usual group of friends, arm crossed with one of the girls - one he assumes to be Kristy.

The crowds you two hang out with are different. So different that they even hang out at different areas of the party. Your crowd stays on the grass, near the drinks and music. Rafe’s crowd stays on the porch, near a table with its usual white residue and many, many beers. And this distance is bad for the two of you as there’s no way for you to sneak away without one person seeing.

Rafe can still see you from where he sits, though. He’s playing poker with Topper and a bunch of other guys. Rafe can’t name half of the people that are with him, but he recognizes the faces. People like to randomly talk to him sometimes, but he’s starting to get a little too drunk and too high to really keep up with them patiently. He has also won 2 games already and can’t seem to wipe away his smile while Topper grows annoyed.

His eyes move over to you whenever it’s not his turn to play, watching as you stand in the distance beside Kristy while holding a drink in your hands. You’re deep into conversation with the girl and only sometimes sipping your drink and looking around.

“She told me something about that.” Kristy agrees with you, “But I still don’t get it.”

“I know. Me either.” You tell her, sipping the fruity drink just one more time.

Your night has been spent gossiping. Kristy always has the way to know a lot more than you when it comes to gossip, but you always get told a lot more details by the other girls for some reason. Making you two the perfect duo for nights like these.

It's when you take your last sip, that you notice that the girls are coming back with the drinks just now. You frown at the sight of them. They left your little corner not even 5 minutes ago and were smiling and jumping when they did so. Now, they’re wearing frowns on their faces and look entirely upset.

“What’s wrong?” You ask worryingly.

They look at you, and one of them sighs before speaking.

“Somebody lied to us about this party.” One of them says, getting Kristy’s attention.

“What?” She asks.

“We went to grab drinks and had to deal with Kelce and his moron friends around the table.” One of the other girls explains as she begins to pass you and Kristy your new drinks, “She fucking lied to us.”

“Who lied?” You ask.

“The girl that organized the party.” Kristy explains to you, “Is it only Kelce?”

“I don’t know, but I can bet my life that it’s not. When does he ever go to parties on his own?” The first girl speaks again, tone dripping with anger.

“Why would she lie?” You ask them, still not understanding everything just yet.

One of them shrugs, “People at this island do anything to have a gigantic party for no reason. She knows a lot of people are not comfortable with them at parties. She could lie because of that.”

Them.

While the girls continue to discuss and clearly let out their anger by raising their voices, you look around. Your heart has sped up with a little bit of hope, and your eyes begin to scan through the entire crowd of the party.

You look first at the table with the drinks, only to find Kelce shugging some bottle as a few guys cheer him on, but he’s not with them.

Your eyes look over at the house, finding some lights inside turned on and the porch almost completely full of people. Everyone has drinks on their hands up there, and there are all sorts of people around that area. Just from a distance you know you’d never stand in that place. That is not your crowd. They look like the ones who would give you a glare hard enough to bury you into the ground.

When you see him, you’re a lost cause. Your entire body relaxes, and your heart explodes in your chest with excitement. He’s deep in conversation but he seems to be having fun where he’s sitting. You don’t even have time to get a hold of yourself before a shameless smile soon appears on your face.

If only Kristy and the girls weren’t in such a loud conversation, they would’ve noticed the way you stared at Rafe Cameron. Probably would’ve had a stroke too, now that you think of it. You look at him as if he’s the man of your dreams; like he's the only highlighted star in the dark night sky above your head.

Yes, it would totally give them a stroke.

“There she is!” One of the girls says.

Kristy shouts the name of a girl, loud enough for her to hear in the distance and over the music, and you finally turn your attention back to your group. A girl, you assume you’ve seen before since her face seems familiar, smiles at the frowning group of girls as she happily makes her way to all of you.

“Hi, guys! Are you having fun?” She asks happily.

Some people that were just with her turn towards your group, and you notice how all of them are very happy. They’re all smiley and giggly, dancing their way to you.

“You told me they wouldn’t be here.” Kristy is the one that talks to the girl, the owner of the house.

“Who?” She asks confused, her happy tone subsiding when noticing Kristy’s stern voice.

“Rafe and his guys.” Kristy says loudly, sounding very annoyed.

Realization hits the girl and she gives an understanding look at Kristy. She looks somewhat apologetic as she looks at your best friend, and you look at the two of them as they speak.

“I know, I’m sorry. Topper only let me know, like, yesterday, that they were coming.”

“Why didn’t you tell us then?”

“I forgot. I’m sorry.” The girl says right away, “Have they done anything?”

Kristy takes a deep breath and looks at her.

“I don’t think so.”

“So, fuck them!” She says with a bright smile again, “Don’t let them ruin your fun... From I see,” She points in the exact same direction you were just staring at, “They’re in their corner, and you’re in yours. No one will ruin each other’s fun like that.”

Every single person from your group is now staring in the direction of Rafe on the porch. You’re not one to refuse to do such a thing, but you do it while you still can without anyone finding it weird.

“You know I don’t like them.” Kristy tells her, sounding calmer but still affected by this.

The girl lays her hand over Kristy’s arm before speaking.

“I know and I’m sorry. I get it. A lot of people here don’t like them either.” She says while pointing at the crowd of people on top of her grass, “They haven’t done a thing and, from what I’ve been told, they’re all high by now. They won’t leave their corner.”

Kristy sighs yet again, and the girls from your group relax. You look toward the porch, and a small grin appears on your face.

You disconnect your eyes from Rafe’s with a little shake of your head, and Rafe lets a smile appear on his face too.

The girl in front of you smooths her hand over Kristy’s arm, and you watch them as they speak at a lower volume under the music.

The sole reason why Kristy and the girls are so against Rafe is because of both the drugs and the violence his presence follows. They don’t like either of those things and are very proud of it. They prefer parties with no drama, especially, those without people high as a kite or already beating someone’s face in.

Every time you’ve been to parties with them, you’ve never seen it happen. You’ve been to other parties which Rafe was in before, and, even though people said it did happen, you never got to know if that was only rumors.

At those parties, you never get to see his friends, let alone him. You never get to see the fights they allegedly create or them high as everyone says. Again, you only hear the rumors.

“Have fun, okay? I can’t exactly kick them out anymore.” The girl explains.

You look down at your drink as the comforting between the girls continues, and you notice a guy standing beside you. It takes quite a bit for you to even recognize who he is, but you soon come to the conclusion that he’s one of the people that was happily dancing with the girl that just comforted Kristy.

“Hi.” He tells you with a smile when noticing your eyes finally on him.

“Hi.” You answer with a lipped grin instead.

“I’m Jason.” He says while having his hand by his chest.

Rafe watches everything from afar. He’s not in the poker game anymore. He’s simply leaning back on his seat and pretending to watch his friends have fun with some of his money at the center of the table. The glass beer bottle is tight in his hand, all while he moves it around to appear as if he’s just playing with it.

Your smile matches the guy beside you. Rafe has no idea who the guy even is but there is not one cell in his body that likes anything about what he’s watching. Rafe notices as some of your friends look at the two of you as you talk to each other, and they all smile at the guy.

They like him.

Jaw clenched and fist tightening around the bottle’s neck, Rafe continues to watch as the guy, in the middle of his chuckling, lays his hand on your back. The touch could’ve only lasted a few seconds, but everyone knows time slows down every time you see something you don’t like.

You don’t move away from the guy's touch due to the fact that it feels friendly to you. Jason's hand moves and stays on your shoulder, leaving some squeezes behind whenever he emphasizes his words.

You sip your drink, laughing at the guy all while his friends have begun to walk away and happily leave him with you. Your best friend also seems to disappear, going off to the crowd of dancing bodies to have some fun with the girls from your group. Rafe watches as they all shine smiles at you and leave you with the guy - one who hasn’t shut up yet.

“You alright there, man?” Topper’s voice breaks through Rafe’s thoughts.

Rafe blinks and looks over at his friend, relaxing his grip on the bottle and teeth-breaking clenching of his jaw before giving him a nod.

He mumbles a few words of reassurance of how he’s fine and just having a bit of a hard trip for a second or two, and that seems to be enough for Topper to leave him alone and get back to the game.

Rafe stares ahead for a few seconds before looking back at you once more. You nod at something the guy tells you, answering only in a few words, and this man just continues to talk, and talk.

It has been a few minutes of conversation and that is when Rafe first notices your slight attempt at distancing yourself from the guy, making his hand finally fall from your shoulder.

A few people walk in front of you two, blocking Rafe’s field of view for just a few seconds, and, when they move away, you’re still there and talking to the guy. His hand isn't on your shoulder yet Rafe can tell it’s not by his side either. He watches as you sip your drink for a long time while the boy talks.

“No, it’s fine.” You tell the guy beside you.

His hand is resting on the small of your back, and, even though you're uncomfortable, you don’t want to rudely push him away. You’ve already tried to get his hand off your shoulder and succeeded for just a second until he had to just lay his hand on you somewhere else. You don’t want to seem like a bitch to the guy, but it’s getting harder as he keeps going.

“So, and the guy was like ‘why did you do that to me’ and I told him,” He pauses, “Simply,” He emphasizes, “‘You messed with the wrong guy’.”

Jason chuckles at his own words and you force yourself to offer him fake a grin, trying to match his energy as he continues to tell the story.

“All of my friends were laughing at him too. It was so embarrassing for him.” He tells you, smiling at the memory.

You nod as if you haven’t totally lost the plot of his story.

“And that’s when he tried to punch me. The guy was so drunk he didn’t even get a good one on me. It felt more like a bitch slap, you know?” He only moves on when you nod, “And then, I punched him back, and the guy just fell on the floor.”

His hand moves to your hip, and you jump slightly at the feeling of him squeezing it.

“I remember all of my guys screaming at me to beat him up. It was in-sane!” He cackles yet again after separating the simple word in a pause to emphasize it.

You continue to stare at him with your fake grin.

“The guy was so drunk, he probably doesn’t even remember the beat up he got.” He says to you happily, “Learned his lesson, though.”

You force a fake chuckle and decide to ask him the main information about the story - the one you totally should've heard but were too worried about pretending to pay attention to instead.

“What did he do, again?” You ask him softly.

“Touched my girl at the time.”

You let out a little ‘oh’ and break your shared gazes. You don’t seem to like looking at him for too long, something in him feels weird for some reason. You, instead, look towards the crowd, trying to look for Kristy or any of the girls so that they can take you away from here.

You’ve thought of at least 3 escape routes, but all of them include the possibility of failure due to Jason offering to take you there. You almost feel stuck with him. No matter what you could do, you don’t seem to be able to get away from him.

Jason’s hand lifts from your hip, and your entire body relaxes. You look at him with that and, instead, you see his hand coming close to your shoulder yet again. You look at him weirdly and notice how his hand is moving towards your dress’s strap. Your eyes control all of his movements as he untwists the strap. For a naive second, you think of his action to be nothing but nice, but soon you lift your eyes and notice his stare down at you.

His palm now rests on your shoulder again and, while looking into your eyes, he takes a step closer.

“You have really beautiful eyes.” He comments.

“Thanks.”

“Do you happen to be free on Monday?”

What follows next is what makes you back down. His eyes fall from your eyes to your chest in the middle of his sentence. His gaze down at your cleavage probably didn’t even last a second, but it was enough for you to feel overly uncomfortable and bring a hand closer to your chest, blocking his view.

You take a quick step to the side, letting his hand fall from your shoulder finally, and you begin to make your way away from him.

“Can’t. I have to tutor.” You simply tell him before quickly getting away.

Jason is left behind dumbfounded. It takes him a little to move from the place he’s standing in, but, when he does move, he still tries to look for you in the crowd. It’s impossible, but he tries. He walks around for a bit and looks through a lot of groups of people dancing and screaming, but it’s like you’ve completely disappeared.

He lets a curse-word leave his lips, letting himself blame his attitude for making you leave. He bites his tongue before sighing dramatically, and his eyes circle around the party, looking for his friends again. Probably the only ones that won’t walk away like this.

His eyes scan the crowd near him and, soon after, the porch of the house when he sees some people going up the stairs. He tries to find them there, maybe talking to someone or getting drinks from the inside of the house, but all he finds is just another crowd.

Jason mumbles the lyrics of the song as he walks, and that’s when he meets the eye of someone. Rafe Cameron is sitting on the porch and glaring right at him. Jason swallows in dry and stays frozen where he stands.

He shouldn’t have touched his girl.

(...)

You pull the door open of the house and slip inside. No one is really in here and as soon as the door closes behind you, the loud sound of the music is muffled, letting your ears ring after so those hours under those speakers.

You were able to get away from Kristy after complaining to her about Jason. She went overprotective mode right away, even to the point of not letting you go run to the house to pee.

You look around while a little lost in the hallways to find the bathroom. You even test out some of the doors, only to find them locked. The house almost seems like a maze. You found the kitchen better than the bathroom, and, from what Kristy told you, the kitchen is on the complete opposite side of the house.

Taking steps back, you begin to find your way to where you started to look for the bathroom yet again. You hear the door that leads outside open and close, and you’re still facing the hallway, absolutely lost.

“Door to the left.” A familiar voice says in the empty hallway.

You smile before turning around, finding none other than Rafe. He’s standing just around the corner, away from the door, and looking at you with a small smile. His hands are behind his back, but you don’t notice the reason just yet.

You happily walk over to him, and, right as the two of you stand glued to each other, Rafe watches you silently with his grin.

You stand on the tips of your toes and lay your hands on his cheeks. Your lips connect with a kiss, so slow and so soft, that it makes you regret ever not sneaking out of your house in all these days to be near him. You hum against his lips when Rafe chases the kiss as you lay your feet back on the ground, and you're able to finally pull away.

“Where were you?” You ask him. “Didn’t see you at the table just now.”

“Went on a walk.”

You frown at him cutely, and Rafe kisses you again, making the frown disappear from your face as your tongue slides inside his mouth. Your thumbs smooth over his cheeks, and you find yourself leaning closer to him, wanting his hands on you. Rafe never moves to hold you, he simply kisses you back.

No matter his attempt, as soon as you two pulled away from the kiss, your frown hasn’t disappeared. You stare into his eyes, noticing his dilated pupils, and you lift your hands from his face. You stare at him, and Rafe sees how weird you’re acting all of a sudden.

You break your eye contact to look at the door he talked about, and you walk over to it. Rafe watches as you turn the doorknob and open the door to the bathroom. You click on the lights, and he watches from afar. You look over your shoulder at him, and Rafe doesn’t need anything else before following you in.

That is when you first notice his hands constantly behind his back. He closes the door behind him with his foot and continues to have his eyes trained on you the entire time. He notices your staring, but he never begins to move his hands.

“What is it?” You ask him.

“Nothing. Just need to wash them.”

“Why?” You ask in a small voice, not wanting to annoy him with your questions.

He grins at your interest but only shakes his head at you. He won’t tell you the reason why, yet something in you keeps on telling you that you should push him to know more.

“Turn around.”

You stay in place and remain quiet for a good long moment. Rafe stares at you, and you stare at how his arms keep his hands behind his back.

“Just show me.”

Rafe hesitates, but he eventually does what you ask him to. His forearms appear first and then, so do his hands. He reads you as you first look at them. Blood-stained hands with wounded knuckles.

You don't lift your gaze to his eyes, but your heart is beating rapidly and you know you’ve stopped to breathe for a moment or two.

It’s a very sheer layer of blood. It seems like it only dripped on some places and got smudged all throughout his hands. Yet even though you're facing his bloody knuckles, you know that’s not the same blood as the one on his skin.

You take a step closer to him, and your hands lift towards him. Rafe moves them away, making you finally look up at him again.

“What happened?” You ask him.

The tone of your voice is so worried and so low that it almost makes Rafe’s heart crack. You’re worried, deeply worried. But not about anything that he could’ve done. You’re worried about him.

Rafe doesn’t move his hands away, and your fingers finally touch his palms. You look down as your hands touch his, and, soon, your skin stains too.

“Got into a fight.” He says in a low tone of voice.

“With who?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you look at your joined hands as your fingers are becoming smudged. Rafe keeps his eyes on you, trying to decipher what you could be doing, but, in reality, not even you know.

You expected this to be enough to make you pull away. This is the confirmation of the rumors not being just rumors, after all. Rafe does do drugs and does get into fights. He’s an addict and a violent person. He’s the exact same person that Kristy is scared you would ever come across when coming to the bathroom. You’re not supposed to be near him. No one wants you near him.

“Is it your blood?”

“No.”

You lift your eyes at him, and while standing in the silence that it's set between you two, you’re with your own thoughts yet again.

They haunt your mind for quite a bit. Makes you think back on how you should not be doing this or should have done this in the first place. Yet when you really look at Rafe, there's a complete wipe of all of that. It's enough to forget all about everything that you shouldn’t do and everything that he does and that should keep you away.

You finally answer with a nod of acknowledgment to his words, and that is when Rafe moves. He walks towards you, and you back away like you want him to. Your ass hits the counter of the bathroom, and Rafe glues you to his body. He brings his head down and whispers in your face.

“Why were you all sad just now?” You don’t say anything yet, and he lowers his head to keep it near yours, “Hm?”

“Just thinking.”

“Were you thinking too when you got in here?”

You almost have to think back on what happened, making it seem as if it has been hours since it happened. But, it doesn’t take you long to understand exactly what Rafe is talking about.

“No.” A small shy grin shows up on your face, “That was something else.”

Rafe gives you an amused yet confused look, making your grin break into an actual smile. You break eye contact with him and shake your head.

“I’m not telling you. It’s embarrassing.” You whisper so, so low, and Rafe had to lean in to hear you better.

You bring your eyes back to him, and he’s staring thoughtfully. You bite in your smile and try to stop making yourself so lost for the man before you. You pull your hands away from his and put them behind your back too, laying them over the bathroom sink. Rafe stares down at you and doesn’t say a single thing, he simply moves to lay his blood-stained hands just beside your body - staining the contour in the meantime.

You’re not sure for how long the two of you stay in silence, staring at one another. Rafe is the one that breaks the silence by moving over to reach for the bathroom door. You follow his movements with your eyes and see him turn the key of the lock, making it click into place.

You bring your eyes back to him and swallow, feeling some sort of heat already begin to grow on your lower belly.

You shake your head at him with a tight lipped grin.

“What?” He asks you.

“We can’t do anything here.” You tell him sternly.

“Who said we would?” He asks you, making his expression break with a smile, “We’re just talking.”

It doesn’t take you long to take advantage of how distracted he is to ask the question that has stayed unanswered and been on your mind for a while.

“Who did you fight?” You ask then.

Rafe’s smile falters but, strangely, you don’t feel your body react to that, you just continue to stare at him as he stays leaned down.

“You don’t know him.” He simply says, preferring to lie.

“Okay… Why did you fight him, then?” You ask him, lifting your head to look at him better.

Rafe doesn’t want to answer, so he cuts your awaiting silence with a kiss. Your hands almost move to hold on to him, but you soon remember how your hands are dirty so you keep them behind your back. Rafe roughens the kiss at the lack of your touch, and that makes a little noise come out of you.

You’re the one that pulls away from the kiss, making Rafe look down at you with a serious expression. Your body still doesn’t react to it. You’re not scared or intimidated by anything that he does, and, even though highly strange, you’re quite happy it happens.

You turn around while still standing in between Rafe and the counter, and you face the sink. You turn on the water and, without even a word, you begin to wash the blood away from your hands. Rafe watches you and, when he lays a kiss on the side of your head, your gaze meets in the mirror. You offer him a grin.

“You should wash yours too, you know?” You playfully tell him.

Rafe teasingly leans in closer to you, trapping you way more forcefully between him and the sink. You can feel how hard he is on your back, through both his shorts and the fabric of your dress, and that seriously dissociates you from reality for a good few seconds.

Rafe washes his hands in front of you and leans his head down to have it just beside yours. You’re completely trapped so you’re left to watch him. You watch his hands move under the water, then move to go grab some soap, and all of it as you watch patiently.

When he’s done, you watch as he, without ever moving away from you, grabs the towel and hands it to you too. You giggle at how random this whole thing is, and Rafe watches you laugh through the mirror. He still has both arms at each of your sides and is still trapping you. When you’re done drying your hands, you pass him the towel and lift your eyes back to the mirror.

Both looking at one another, you can’t hold back on your smile when you grind your ass over the obvious bulge on his shorts. Rafe moves way quick. He gives you a glare and then squeezes you between him and the sink further. A smile appears on his face, and he lets the towel fall on the ground to grab onto you.

“What happened to ‘we can’t do anything here’?” He asks you with his tone of voice low.

You offer him a shrug, and his hands lift from your hips. He leans his hips away from you for just a second, and you feel him pull at the skirt of your dress. His fingers get to touch the skin of your thighs and that only makes you let him do it further. Rafe’s eyes are not on yours anymore, his eyes look at what he’s doing, and, suddenly, you feel his hands grip onto your asscheeks. He squeezes them and slightly spreads them apart. All of it.

He lets go, looks at you for just a few silent seconds and wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest. You look up at him and feel his hand still under the fabric of your dress, now smoothing down at your stomach and moving downwards. His hand lays over your underwear first, palming your pussy and making you gasp in the silence of the bathroom.

Rafe looks down at you as you rest your head back on him, and he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, and you nod right away. “We might not have much time.” You nod yet again, and he kisses your lips.

You pull away from the kiss and bring your hand to lay on top of his. You move it, and your head turns to face the mirror again. Rafe takes control yet again and, with your hand still on top, he moves your panties to the side. His eyes look at you through the mirror, and he leans his head against yours, always wanting you glued to him.

His fingers finally move and they quickly meet your wetness. He exhales out a laugh with it and kisses the side of your head.

“You’re fucking soaked.” He whispers at the same time your eyes meet in the mirror.

His finger moves over to your swollen clit, and your hips move against him at the sudden feeling. You bite your bottom lip slightly and try to stay quiet as he moves a few times.

Rafe moves you back against the counter, and your hands meet the cold stone all over again. Rafe pulls his hand away from your pussy but puts some pressure on your back to have you lean over the counter. You watch as he quickly adjusts your dress over your ass. You hum at the sensation of one of his hands digging into the flesh of your ass, all before his fingers of his other hand move between the lips of your pussy and slip inside of you.

All of it lasts only a few moments because Rafe is quick to pull away and begin to unbutton and unzip his shorts. You lean a little more into the counter as you can only hear him do his undressing and soon one of his hands comes to hold onto your hip.

The tip of his cock is aligned with your entrance, and you feel him slide in right after. One of your hands grabs onto the sink, and Rafe grunts slightly behind you, all while you try to hold yourselves together. With your ass glued to his hips, the both of you breathe out, and you straighten up a little bit.

Both of Rafe’s hands hold your hips into place before he finally starts to move. The thrusts are still soft and not too fast, all of it just as you get slowly used to him and his size all over again. His eyes are trained on the way his dick disappears inside of you, all while being squeezed by your soaked walls. Rafe only begins to speed up when he feels you relax under his hands.

Small moans come out of your closed mouth every time Rafe thrusts inside of you, and forces you closer to him. Only to hear every sound before he speeds up or roughens everything that he’s doing.

As you straighten up to the point of almost leaning against Rafe’s chest, you hold onto the counter and continue to try and keep quiet. Your dress’s skirt sways with your body's movements, and Rafe leans in when thrusting deeper into you to have his lips on your neck. He kisses, licks and nips at every inch of your skin available to him, yet it’s only when his lips reach your shoulder that his mind reminds him of Jason’s hands on you. The guy touched you from your shoulder to your hip, looking down at you and making you laugh. You let him do it.

You feel Rafe’s hands on your hips tighten and his thrusts roughen all of a sudden. You lean your head back against his chest while continuously trying harder and harder to keep quiet, but it keeps on getting arduous as Rafe continues to be rougher with you.

You look up at the mirror again, only to find him looking at you as if in a continuous glare. You look over your shoulder but, before you even get to look at him, you are met with a kiss.

It’s messy and hard. The type of kiss that almost feels like it’s going to bruise your lips with how rough it is. You moan against Rafe’s mouth when trying to pull away, but his hand lifts from your hip over to your head, holding onto it by your hair and trapping you in. You kiss back, trying to not whimper with how much your body is burning, but all of you reacts top everything that he does.

Rafe pulls away from the kiss, staring down at your slightly swollen lips, wet with both of your saliva and his, and his eyes lift to yours.

He brings his face closer to you again, making it appear as if he’s going to kiss you again, and his hand tightens on your hair before he whispers onto your lips.

“Who do you belong to?”

His free hand on your hip lifts, and he wraps his arm around your torso tightly, holding you and moving you almost as if you’re some sort of doll he’s happy to manhandle. You whimper at the sudden deeper thrusts from the way he moves you, and Rafe smiles maleficently in front of your face. His grip on your hair worsens, and you gasp.

“Who do you belong to, uh?” He asks firmly and slowly.

“Y-you, Rafe.”

“Are you sure?” He says while moving your head exactly how he wants to.

“Yes. Only you, I promise.” You nod at him.

Rafe’s lips come back to yours, and you lean in closer to him, mewling into the kiss and accepting all that he has to give you. He pulls away and looks down at you again. His thrusts never slow down, and you lean against his hand on your head, feeling the flame in your belly worsen every time he looks at you.

“You promise?” He repeats your words.

You nod, and he pulls your head to steady it.

“Say it.”

“Yes, yes. I promise.”

He grunts into a thrust at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him more and more, and you bring one of your hands to his arm around you, trying to steady yourself. Your touch over his is so light and loving, it almost infuriates Rafe further.

Rafe leans into your ear and watches you through the mirror as you move through your pleasure.

“Let a guy flirt with you one more fucking time,” He begins, “You’re going to pay. Got it?” You nod, your mind going blank. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” You moan out the word.

Rafe lets go of your hair, and you look up at the mirror to meet his gaze. Your face is twisted in pleasure, all while he looks at you and holds you with such force, you’re scared he might bruise you. He kisses your jaw, and you quickly lean in closer to him, letting you relax and a little sob escape your lips all of a sudden.

Rafe smiles with his head beside yours and brings his hand to your chin to hold your head in place.

“Are you gonna cry?” He asks, and you try to shake your head, even when an obvious pout is forming on your face, “Why are you going to cry, hm?”

“F-feels so-so good.” You sob out the words.

“I always make you feel good, don’t I, princess?” He asks you, and you nod, teary-eyed, “Oh, my little crybaby.”

You moan at the teasing nickname, and he kisses your cheek. All of his affection is followed by either harsher thrusts or tightening holds of your hips or face, but you don’t ever feel close to complaining ever. Your entire body is burning, pleasure is high, and you seriously are starting to feel lightheaded.

“My pretty pretty crybaby.” He repeats on your ear, feeling your cunt squeeze him tighter. “No one else can make you feel like this, baby, you got it?” You nod at him.

“Yes.”

Rafe’s hand lifts from your face and disappears under the swinging skirt of your dress. You almost scream at the sensation of his fingers slightly pinching your clit in the middle of all of this, but Rafe’s lips muffle close to everything. The sound of the thrusts is so harsh and wet, it’s all so nasty yet so amazing to listen to.

“Rafe.” You whisper, out of breath, when pulling away from the kiss.

“Gonna cum?” He asks, and you turn your head to him.

You plead to him with every bit of your face, with your teary eyes with a small pout. You pull every card in the game and that only makes the man stare at you with a smile.

“Do you deserve it?” He asks you.

“Yes.”

That makes him exhale out another laugh. He can always give you a pass today.

“Then you can cum.” He whispers against your pouty lips.

It doesn’t even take a full thrust or circle of his fingers on your clit, your orgasm hits you with such force, you can’t even feel your body. Your eyes get consumed with white spots, your mind goes blank and an entire set of fireworks of pure pleasure erupts throughout your body. Rafe can’t let go of you, so he lifts his hand from your clit to cover your mouth. Your cries are loud and so are your moans overall. All of it would’ve made anyone know what could be going on in the bathroom, even if they were just by the door that leads outside.

Rafe unsurprisingly doesn’t take long to follow you into the orgasm. You’re squeezing him so tight and growing so wet, his body can only take in so much. His arm impossibly tightens around you and holds you so close to him as he tries to bite in his noises too.

After the orgasm, everything feels like too much for a good few seconds. Rafe’s hands on you, or even his continuous thrusts. It makes you whimper under his palm at the sensitivity that seems to consume your entire body, yet Rafe does not let go of you. You pull his hand away from your mouth and breath heavily, feeling your legs and arms shake vigorously.

You feel Rafe’s cum fill you yet that doesn’t strike your sensitivity, not even when Rafe keeps his hips glued to your ass. He has his head just beside yours and he’s heavily breathing too. You look at yourself in the mirror. You’re sweaty, with your hair messy, and makeup a little ruined with your tears and slight sweat. Overall it really looks like you had your fun.

“You okay?” Rafe whispers at you.

You look at him through the mirror at the sound of his voice. You nod at him and offer him a tired smile.

You bring both of your hands back to the counter, and Rafe begins to pull out of you slowly. You grip onto the stone and bite down on your lip to not make any sound. He breathes out when it’s done and puts back on his clothes. Before you can even move, you feel Rafe’s fingers at the entrance of your swollen cunt, not letting his cum slip out.

You open your mouth to gasp but are met with his lips against your own. You bring your arm over to behind his neck and relax into the kiss. It's so, so soft, you're not even sure if you're even kissing the same person.

Rafe adjusts your underwear into place and pulls away from the kiss to look you in the eyes.

“I have to tell you something.” He says before leaning in and kissing your shoulder.

His tone worries and you can tell, but he places another reassuring kiss on you.

“It’s nothing bad.” He says with a little smile, and you relax.

You look over your shoulder at him. He adjusts your dress, and you quickly turn around to face him, trying to get used to your still trembling legs.

“I need to go out of the island for two weeks with my dad.” He says.

You’re relieved to know that it’s something as light as this, but that same relief only lasts about two seconds because disappointment consumes the entirety of your face. Rafe notices the way your eyes are saddened, and your lips form that tiny pout all over again.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He whispers, “But I can call you. And I'll come to see you right as I get back.”

“When are you leaving?” You ask him, voice soft yet obviously sad.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Your heart squeezes a tiny bit, and Rafe’s hand comes up to your face. He wipes, with his thumb, the smudged makeup from under your eyes, and then cups your cheek softly. You bring your hand to his chest and grip the fabric of his shirt.

“How early are you leaving?” You ask him in a whisper.

“About 10, probably.” You nod.

You grab his hand on your cheek away and kiss him. It’s a simple kiss but the two of you don’t mind. It’s sweet, and it’s all controlled by you. Rafe wraps his arms around you entirely, and your hands come to cradle his face.

Outside of the house, the next song is louder than the previous ones and that is what gets the two of you to understand how long you’ve been inside the small bathroom. Rafe pulls away from the kiss first and looks down at you, admiring every bit of your perfect face.

“I’ll get out first.” He tells you, and you nod.

His hold on you lessens, and you quickly pull him in just one more kiss. He lets you kiss him and, when you do pull away, he unlocks the door and pulls it open. You take a look at the hallway to find it empty before Rafe steps out, and you can only give him a small smile.

“Text me.” You tell him, and he smiles.

“I will.”

You close the door, and Rafe is quick to walk back outside to his friends.

You only get out of the house minutes after him. You ended up actually using the bathroom and washing your hands, adjusting your dress and hair. And only then, walked back out.

Rafe keeps his eyes on you as you make your way down the steps of the porch and begin to look for your friends, never sparing him a look. He forces himself to look back down at his cards and notices how his gold ring shines with the light above him. The small details on its center still have blood on them, but his hands are clean with no trace of what happened. All except for his healing tiny wounds. His are clean and so are yours, ones that were stained with blood just like his because you wanted them to.

Rafe’s eyes lift over to you again, and he finds you talking to Kristy. Your eyes lift to him too, and the two of you stare at one another for just a little longer. He knows it, and you know it too. You’re his and no one else’s.

Hope you liked this one part as well! <3 I loved writing this sooo much. Thank you for the request!

Feedback is always appreciated on my blog <3

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boneblushed · 4 months

Text

Labyrinth

Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again

synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.

tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓

wc ~11k

“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”

She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.

Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.

“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”

“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”

A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”

You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!

Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.

“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”

Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”

You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”

A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”

You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”

“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”

She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”

As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.

“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”

The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.

You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.

Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.

“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.

You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.

“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.

In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.

Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.

In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.

The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.

The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.

You were dead wrong.

“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”

“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”

“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”

“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”

The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.

“Oh.”

Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”

Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”

“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”

“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”

He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.

Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.

It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.

It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.

You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.

“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.

Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.

Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”

“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.

“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.

“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”

“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”

“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”

Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”

Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”

You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.

“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.

“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”

Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.

“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”

“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”

Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”

“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”

“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”

How times change.

Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.

“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.

Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.

You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.

He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.

He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.

If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…

“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.

When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.

Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”

“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”

…that fucking hug.

After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.

It shifted bile into your throat.

And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.

What were you meant to say?

But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.

It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.

And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.

All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.

It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.

You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.

He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.

Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.

“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.

“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”

Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”

You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”

Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”

Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”

“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.

“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.

“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”

Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”

Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”

Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”

To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.

The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.

At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.

Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.

He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.

Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.

He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.

Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.

It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.

That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.

Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.

You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.

God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.

He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.

Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?

Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.

“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”

Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”

You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”

“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”

“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”

“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”

You nod. “She told me.”

Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”

“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”

Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”

You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”

A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”

“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”

Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”

“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”

“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”

Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.

—

“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.

When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.

That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.

“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”

Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”

“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”

“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”

“Well…”

You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.

You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.

Fucking sadist.

“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”

His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.

“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”

Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”

You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”

Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”

When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.

He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”

Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”

“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”

He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.

He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.

Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”

He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.

“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.

Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”

“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”

You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”

You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”

He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”

Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”

“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”

The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”

Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”

“Which I have.”

The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”

You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”

—

You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.

You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.

Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.

If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.

When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.

The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.

“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.

“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”

You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”

Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”

“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”

There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.

“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”

When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?

“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”

You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.

“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.

He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, ��That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”

What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.

Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.

Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.

And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.

The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.

“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”

“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”

“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”

You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.

You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”

“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”

“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”

It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”

Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.

Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.

“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”

Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”

“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”

Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”

“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.

Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”

You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”

“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”

You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”

Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”

“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”

It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”

You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”

“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”

Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”

When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.

The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.

“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”

“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”

Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”

Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”

“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”

“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.

It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.

The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.

—

It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.

Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.

It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.

Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.

“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”

Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”

It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”

“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.

He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.

You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”

Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”

“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”

Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”

You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”

Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”

Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”

Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.

“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”

You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”

“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”

You frown. “Different how?”

“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”

“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”

“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?

“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”

“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”

“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”

“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”

“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”

A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.

Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”

You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.

“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”

Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?��

“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”

“I do.”

Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”

“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”

Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”

You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.

Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.

And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.

Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.

Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.

“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”

He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”

“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”

“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”

“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.

“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”

“We were eight, Cameron.”

“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”

He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.

“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”

Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”

“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.

Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”

He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”

“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”

Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”

“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.

You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.

You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”

“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”

“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”

“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.

I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”

Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”

You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”

“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”

Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”

You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.

After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”

You balk. “Hm?”

“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.

It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Elle.”

Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.

“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”

It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”

“A rebound,” you echo.

“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”

You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”

“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”

For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”

Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”

You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”

“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”

You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”

Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.

A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.

And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.

Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?

Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.

You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You smile. “Shocker.”

He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”

You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”

“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”

A hush falls. “True.”

“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”

You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”

It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.

Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.

“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.

His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”

“I think I am,” you murmur.

Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”

—

I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?

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