#rafe oneshot

[rafesfavgirl]

stop asking me to stay — r. cameron

❝ please don't fall apart i can't face your breaking heart i'm trying to be brave stop asking me to stay ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you and rafe have been dating for seven months, and while the relationship started it out well, as soon as the honeymoon phase ended (about 3 months in), everything went to shit. you've been trying to put up with it, but tonight, you realize you've had enough.

words: 1.4k+

warnings: toxic relationship, cocaine use, alcohol use, attachment issues, might make you cry, no happy ending, angst asf

you walk out into the backyard full of girls in swimsuits and guys in swim trunks with drinks in hand, strobes of light flashing around, and music blasting, hoping to find your dear boyfriend who had disappeared on you. again.

god, how much longer did he think you were gonna put up with this?

you look around, and head for topper when you spot him. he was playing pong against kelce and some of their other golf buddies.

"top," you call out to him when you walk up to the table to join them.

"hey, y/n," he greets you, as he readies his hand to shoot a ball. he does, and it lands in one of the cups, causing the surrounding guys and girls to erupt in cheers. "what's up?"

"have you seen rafe?" you ask him.

"nah, not lately," he shook his head at you, shooting his other ball.

he misses that one.

you snap your head towards kelce. "kelce?"

"last i saw him he was cutting a line in the living room upstairs, y/n," he shrugs, and you groan, rolling your eyes.

of course he was. fucking fantastic.

you don't even say another word to either of them before you walk away and head back towards the house. you manage your way through the crowd just fine and scurry up the stairs to the second floor.

just as kelce described, you find rafe seated on a couch in the living room surrounded by some guys and girls—one who was a little too close to him for your liking—cutting a line of coke with his black card.

"rafe," you say his name, and his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, his dark blue eyes meeting yours. 

he immediately stands up, pretending as if you didn't just see him cutting the line of coke with his card, shaking off the girl draped over his arm in the process. "y/n."

"can you take me home?" you ask, pulling your eyes away from his. you just couldn't stand to look in them anymore. "i have that interview with the admissions officer from yale tomorrow."

"yeah," he nods, rounding the coffee table to approach you. "whatever you want, baby."

everyone else eyes the two of you carefully, the girl previously draped over rafe giving you the stink eye. no one could ever pull rafe away from the coke faster than you.

when he stops to stand in front of you to block your view of the "friends" he left snorting lines of coke, you look up at him through your lashes, not knowing what to think.

"i've been looking for you for an hour," you say, and he sighs.

"i'm sorry," he replied—you were sick of hearing that though. it was the same half-assed apology every time. and yet, nothing ever changed.

you'd probably go through this exact thing again next weekend when he drags you to some other party.

"save it," you say, catching him off guard.

he knew you didn't like it when did coke, but you never stopped him from apologizing before.

"just take me home," you turn around and walk away from him, making your way back downstairs.

he follows closely behind you, but falls behind a little when you quickly course your way through the crowd on the first floor and he struggles to do the same.

"y/n, wait up," he jogs to catch up to you when you both step outside, but you just quicken your pace towards his car. "babe!"

you hear him call after you, and since his legs are much longer than yours, he manages to catch up and walk in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

"can you just stop for a second?" he asks, placing both of his hands on either of your arms to make you look at him. "what's wrong?"

"do you even have to ask?"

he sighs, and drops his hands from your arms. "okay, so i snorted a line. what's the big deal?"

"was it just a line, rafe?" you asked, knowing he could never just stop at one.

"so maybe it was two or three," he admits with a shrug. "but what's the big deal? we're at a party, y/n. we came here to have fun!"

"you think this is fun?" you ask him, the pent up anger caused by the way he's been acting the last few months rising to the surface. "it is not fun for me to come with you to these parties only to find you've abandoned me after i go to the bathroom to go snort lines of coke, rafe! let alone find some girl draped all over you and you don't even seem to care!"

"oh for fuck's sake, it's not like i'm sneaking off to fuck them, y/n!" he defended. "they do that shit on their own. what do you expect me to do about that?"

"uh, i don't know, tell them to fuck off? to get off you? to stop? to move?" you say, stating several different things he could have said to them.

he knows your right, but as always, he refused to back down.

"god, are you seriously bitching about this?" his voice was louder know, the adrenaline from the coke clouding his judgment and riling him up. "wait- no, that's-" 

he immediately realized what he just said to you, and though he wanted to take it back—and even tried to—it was too late.

"you know what? just go back inside, rafe," you shrug, finally giving up.

there was no use fighting back anymore because you were never gonna get through to him. not when he was like this—coked out of his mind.

"go back to your coke buddies, go back to whatever girl decides to throw herself onto you next, and just forget about me," you tell him. "i'm done."

his coke-induced state of mind seems to fade completely when he hears those two words come out of your mouth.

"what?" his voice was much quieter now, and delicate. something not usual for rafe.

"you heard me," you said, looking him in the eyes. "i can't keep doing this, rafe."

"no, no, no, no, no," he shakes his head frantically, panic clearly building up in him at the thought of losing you. he closes the distance between the two of you and takes your hands in his. "i promise i'll do better, baby. i'll change. i love you."

as much as you wanted to give in and believe him, you knew that your relationship had run its course. he did love you—you never doubted that. but it shouldn't have to be this hard. enough was enough.

you needed to do what was best for you, and this just wasn't it anymore. as much as you loved him, you knew this was the best thing for you. no matter how badly it broke your heart, you had to walk away.

"not enough to choose me," you shook your head, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. "you give in every time."

he drops your hands from his, his demeanor changing again. now, he looked furious. cold. meaner.

"well, i'm sorry i'm not fucking perfect like you!" his voice was full of venom. the rafe cameron you fell in love with was gone. "you know what? just do what you want, y/n. go run off to yale and find some perfectly polished guy! see if i care."

his eyes filled with disgust as he trailed them over you, a scoff leaving his mouth, "i should've just fucked all those other girls. at least they know how to have fun."

while you knew he wouldn't take your words well, you never expected him to be so cruel. but then again, wasn't it always this way? when he was off of it, you never really knew what to expect.

another reason why you had to walk away. it wasn't worth all the exhaustion going back and forth with him. he wasn't worth it anymore.

"go ahead," you say, trying your hardest to keep a solid front. no way you were going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

he rolled his eyes. "find your own way home, bitch," he spat, bumping your shoulder as he walked back towards the house.

the second you knew he could no longer see you, you break.

the rafe you knew was gone.

part 2.

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[wishfulwithwine]

Make Me Forget

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader x Topper Thorton

WARNINGS: THIS SERIES IS 18+. INVOLVES EXPLICIT/NSFW CONTENT. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF MINOR. 

photo from pinterest

Y/N Maybank usually hated Kooks and would never be caught on Figure Eight.

As JJ’s twin sister, you had been endlessly lectured about who to never talk to, let alone hang out with. It had been drilled into your brain since birth practically. 

You and your brother were always close, due to your mother’s abandonment and father’s abuse. 

It was you against the world. 

When JJ became friends with John B, your duo became a trio. Then Pope and Kiara were added, and the group solidified. A group of 5, you were all best friends. 

Pogues 4 Life!

Then, Sarah Cameron came into the mix…

Sarah Cameron wouldn’t have been a problem as an addition to the Pogues if she had joined as Kiara’s friend. 

But Sarah came as John B’s girlfriend, and to Y/N who loved John B as long as you’ve known him, Y/N couldn’t be around them anymore.

Sarah Cameron was different than any other girl John B had dated - mainly because he didn’t date many girls, just hook up and dump. Usually they were Tourons, but he was never in love with anyone. 

Not like how it was with Sarah. Never how it was with Sarah.

With a tight grip on your cup, you watched from across the kegger as Sarah and John B danced together, laughing loudly. You tried your hardest not to glare, as you took another large gulp of whatever drink you had, walking away, hoping there would be something - anything - to take your mind off of them.

And then you saw one of the guys your brother hated with a burning passion, and realized that maybe the kooks would be able to solve your pogue problem. You knew they all did drugs, it wasn’t a secret by any means. Maybe drugs would take your mind off of your heart. 

JJ might hate you after what you was looking for, but you were desperate. 

“Hey, do you know where Rafe is?”

Glancing up from his phone, Topper Thorton looked down at Y/N Maybank.

 The blonde Pogue Princess - who would have gotten a scholarship to “Kook Academy” if her father had finished the paperwork, who was undoubtedly the best surfer on the island, who would make the best drinks at the Island Club, and who was completely innocent - despite being the crush of every single male on Kildare but her father and brother.

“He’s around here somewhere, why?” Topper asked skeptically, as you bit your lip, shifting on your heels before looking across the crowd to see your personal point of anguish. Topper followed your eyesight…

Sarah Cameron was all over John B, throwing her arms around him and him watching her like she was the only girl in the world.

“I wanted…I need something to make me forget” Y/N said, in a soft, almost fragile voice, clueing Topper into your vulnerability. Sighing, he looked back at the girl.

“Coming from personal experience from dating Sarah Cameron, she’ll be over him soon” Topper said, shrugging his shoulders, as he tried to make the girl feel better.

“Yea, well I just want at least a night to not be in pain” Y/N said, shaking your head.

“Hey Top! And Y/N Maybank, as I live and breathe! I’m surprised to see you here talking to my boy?” Rafe asked, throwing an arm around Top, as he looked to the girl.

“I was looking for you, actually” Y/N said, as your face changed from sullen to a smirk. “How much will it cost to have some fun tonight?” You asked, staring at the Cameron boy from beneath your lashes. You knew you were pretty, and you knew exactly how to act to get what you wanted.

Rafe raised his eyebrows, smirking widely, as he looked to Top, before back at the girl.

“Follow me” He said, letting go of Topper to wrap his arm now around your shoulders. Topper followed the pair, watching as almost everyone around them stared at the unlikely trio. To be honest, Topper was surprised that a pogue hadn’t come over to take Y/N away - as this was the case any other time you had talked to a Kook like himself. The Pogues were generally protective of Y/N. JJ was a firecracker and if it wasn’t him already getting into fights, the Pogues would keep you safe to prevent one. 

Rafe leaned into his car, looking for his stash, before he looked to Topper who was already looking at Y/N, something glinting in his eye, before Rafe smirked and leaned back out of the car.

“I left most stuff at home. I only have some weed on me, but if you want, I’d be more than happy to bring you to my house. I’ve got some stuff that will definitely cause some fun” Rafe said, with a smirk. 

Topper looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, before recognizing the intention on Rafe’s face.

Y/N, however, didn’t see the ulterior motive.

“Sure. Thank you so much” You said, looking between the two of them. Rafe opened up the passenger side door for you, as Topper climbed in back.

The ride was fast, as Rafe sped down the streets back to Tanneyhill, the landscape rushing past as Rafe was eager to get home with Y/N.

He couldn’t believe his luck. He wasn’t going to question really why Y/N was coming for drugs, but he just was eager to take full advantage of this miracle - at least for him - situation. 

“So, can I ask why you want to have some fun with us tonight?” Rafe asked, curiously.

“It’s a bit embarrassing” Y/N admitted, looking down at her hands. 

“Sarah and John B were all over each other” Topper explained. 

“Oh yea, nobody wants to see that. ” Rafe said, careful with his words to not be insulting to her personally. He would’ve said something like “dirty pogue”, but then you’d get offended and his plan would go down the drain.

Rafe Cameron would’ve never imagined Y/N Maybank coming to him for drugs. Everyone knew or heard rumors about what a terrible father Luke Maybank was to his children because of them. The drugs had cost Y/N a lot of things in life, but he wasn’t going to question anything when he could finally make a move on the one girl he could never manage to shoot his shot with. 

“Let’s not think about it anymore. We’ll keep you distracted all night, right Rafe?” Topper said, smirking to his best friend, as Topper leaned forward, close to Y/N. You smiled, genuinely at the two of them.

“Thank you both” You said, and Topper and Rafe shared a look.

Tanneyhill was empty tonight, and after entering the huge house, Y/N couldn’t help but stare at the luxury surrounding you. The paintings on the wall probably cost more than the shack you lived in with your father and brother. 

JJ was going to be pissed when he finds out I’m here, alone, with the Kook princes, Y/N thought, but quickly pushed that thought to the back of your mind, as you followed Rafe and Topper through the house. Your nerves kept you from speaking to them for now. 

Rafe led them upstairs to his bedroom, going to rummage through his drawers to find his stash as Topper sat on the bed, motioning for Y/N to sit down next to him. 

“You know, I gotta admit, I’ve always wanted to hang out with you more, pretty girl” Rafe said, sitting on the other side of Y/N, as he handed both you and Topper the pills. “You seem so protected. I’m so glad you’re here with us, getting to know you better”

Y/N tried to subtly squeeze your thighs together, the praise going straight to your core. Neither boy missed the movement, only grinned a bit more wickedly to each other.

“Cheers to a fun night” Topper said, nodding to the pair before swallowing the pill.

It didn’t take long to feel the effects, your body beginning to heat up and your head feeling hazy. You leaned into Topper’s side, allowing yourself to just feel weightless. 

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” Topper asked, wrapping his arm around you and holding onto your hip. They watched as Y/N blushed, smiling shyly and nodding.

“I want your words, pretty girl” Rafe said, cooing at you, staring while he rested his hand on your knee. 

“Yes, feels good” You said, a slight slurring already occurring. Moving on the bed, you moved your hips around, causing Topper to hold your hips a bit tighter and pulling you closer to him. Rafe moved closer as well, and you could smell the expensive cologne emanating off of both of them. 

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Topper said, and you looked up into his eyes, seeing his pupils expanding and darkening.

“Really? Then why…” You said, confused.

“Because my sister is a slut, and boys like John B are weak. They don’t see a real treasure like you right in front of them. But we do, don’t we Top?” Rafe said, his lips by your ear, blowing hot breath on your neck. Shivering, you leaned your head back, unknowingly giving Rafe more access to your neck. He chuckled into your neck, moving his hand up from your knee slowly.

“You’re so beautiful and good, we just stayed away because we thought you hated us” Topper lied - you were beautiful and good, but they were forcibly stayed away from the Pogues.

“Oh no, I don’t hate you - either of you!” You said, a bit desperately as your eyes widened with worry.

“Really? I mean, your friends say pretty terrible things about us” Rafe said, causing you to feel guilt in your heart, especially as he turned your head with a finger on your jaw to stare directly at him. Topper couldn’t help the smirk on his face, as he watched your body accept them easily. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way. You two have always been nice to me” You said, staring directly at him before wrapping your arms around Rafe’s shoulders. Topper detached his arms around you, as Rafe maneuvered you to sit on his lap, your legs straddling him. Rafe had to stifle a groan, his arms wrapping around you - placing one on your back and the other on your ass, pressing you tightly into his chest.

“We believe you. You’re such a good girl, baby girl” Rafe said, his breath once again on heating your neck, igniting more of a fire in your core. You couldn’t help your thighs clenching around his waist, and Rafe took this opportunity to lower his hand, grabbing your ass and moving you to rock against him. Your legs had been spread wide, causing the hem of your skirt to rise, all the way to your hips in the front. 

You let out a gasp, leaning your chest away to look him in the eyes.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. This is just, I’ve dreamed of you being in my arms for so long” Rafe admitted.

“Both of us, pretty girl” Topper said, as he moved closer. The heat of his gaze adding accelerant to the fire in your core, especially when Rafe would squeeze your ass, causing you to rock more on him. You could feel the zipper of his pants along your clit, with your skirt pushed up to your hips, your only barrier was now a thin lace thong. 

“Both?” You asked, eyes wide and doe-like in surprise.

Both the Kook princes were interested in you? You couldn’t say that you never thought about them, but did they want all three of you, together now? 

“Is that ok, baby girl? We wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you’re so gorgeous baby girl” He said, lust permeating his voice as he squeezed you again, grinding you down on his large bulge, and his hand moved more south on your ass, the denim skirt rising so his hand was on your bare cheek. Rafe moved his other hand down, as the skirt was up all the way, exposing your ass, as well the view of the front of your lace thong. 

Topper couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The Pogue princess, with her skirt pushed all the way up so him and Rafe could see her underwear - no, a cute little lace thong showing off her perfect little ass. 

Not being able to stop himself with the drugs fueling his actions, Topper began palming himself through his pants, himself hard at seeing your body. Rafe let out a groan when he squeezed her ass again, rutting against her and feeling her hips grind on his. 

As the zipper rubbed directly on your clit, you couldn’t stifle your moans. The drugs were having you feel more of your body, and right now, you were going to chase the high you were getting. Hearing the heavy panting from Topper, you looked over to see him palming himself.

You reached over with your hand, touching his arm before moving it slowly down to his hand, making eye contact with Topper.

“You want to help me out, pretty girl?” Topper said, with a grin, lifting his hand to take yours, holding it as he placed your hand underneath the waist band of his shorts and boxers as he slid them both off his legs. His cock jumped out of his shorts, slapping against his stomach, and you could feel how hard it was, moving your hand up and down his thick shaft.

Rafe couldn’t wait much longer with this over the clothes grinding - the fact Topper’s dick was getting actual touch action before his own putting him over the edge. 

“Stand up baby girl. Let’s get you out of those clothes, huh? You must be feeling pretty warm” He said, as you got up, allowing Rafe to stand as well. Topper and Rafe went about getting your clothes off - slowly, letting their fingertips drag along your skin as they stared at your naked body on display for them. 

Feral. They looked absolutely feral. 

You blushed under their gaze, and when Rafe saw your red cheeks, he grinned almost wickedly - a predator about to devour their prey. 

“Oh baby girl, you’re so beautiful. So perfect. You’re like a damn masterpiece” Rafe said, as you locked eyes, before looking to Topper. He was in shock, eyes still roaming your body.

“Fucking dream girl right here, right Topper?” Rafe said, snapping Topper out of it.

“Yea, perfect, Y/N perfect” Topper said, before looking to Rafe.

“Topper, you want to eat that pussy of hers? Taste how sweet she is? I’ve been dying to get her mouth on my cock. Then you can have her mouth and I’ll have her tight little pussy creaming on my cock, ain’t that right, baby girl?” Rafe stated, and with a nudge, you kneeled on the bed, the boys on either end of you. You stared at Rafe’s cock - it was the biggest you’d ever seen, although Topper’s wasn’t much smaller. It was thick and long, already red with a weeping head. 

You licked your lips in anticipation, before licking the underside of Rafe’s cock, going along the vein underneath. You felt his body shudder, but you were soon distracted by the tongue licking a long stripe on your own folds. 

You moaned, which gave Rafe an opportunity to guide his dick easily into your mouth, moving a hand to your hair as he thrusted into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck, trying not to smirk as you hear Rafe’s moans. Topper however, feels your distraction, and levels up his antics - adding a finger inside of you as he sucks your clit harshly. 

“You’re such a good girl, baby girl. So good for us. Topper’s having the time of his life, eating you sweet pussy  like a goddamn meal” Rafe said, causing you to clench.

“Oh she really liked that, don’t you pretty girl” Topper said, winking at Rafe to continue. Rafe grinned, as he watched your pleased face when Topper added another finger inside of you, curling them to hit the spongey patch inside of you. 

“You’re so perfect for us. Your mouth feels like heaven. Your lips were made for sucking cock, my baby girl. But I can’t wait to feel that pussy around me. You’re so perfect, baby girl” He said, as he watched drool form at your mouth, becoming sloppier as your pleasure was increasing. 

The vibrations of your moans caused Rafe to stutter in his thrusts, as you were climbing rapidly over the edge yourself. He removed himself, and now that you were only focused on Topper’s mouth and fingers, you came quickly - and squirted. 

“Holy shit, you squirted on Topper’s face” Rafe said, excitedly, eyes wide as he looked at Topper, who was licking up with a wide grin on his face. You looked mortified, as you turned around once Topper had leaned back.

“Oh no, don’t feel embarrassed, pretty girl. That was incredible - best experience. I’ve never had anyone squirt before” Topper said, a proud grin on his face.

“Trust me, baby girl. You just made his life” Rafe said. “Now I want to make you squirt on my cock” Rafe added, putting a condom on before laying down and pulling you to straddle him. His cock stretched you out, despite how wet you were.

“You’re so tight, baby girl. Clenching me like a vice” Rafe gritted out, groaning at how good you felt around him. Topper walked over after he finished cleaning off his face, and you slid your lips around his cock, noting the differences between the men’s dicks.

Both were exceptional and mouthwatering. You could die happily if you only had tonight left. 

“You weren’t kidding about her mouth, damn” Topper groaned, as you swirled your tongue around while hollowing out your cheeks. Rafe smirked, but soon his concentration was about thrusting into you. 

After having just squirted, your body was heating up quicker. The tense coil had been primed, and your next orgasm was coming quickly, which Rafe could feel.

Your moaning had the same effect on Topper as it had Rafe, but Topper wasn’t going to pull out of your mouth. It wasn’t long before Topper thrusted his load down your throat, with a loud groan and panting. 

“Such a good girl, getting all of it. Don’t leave anything to waste” Topper said, cupping your face when you retracted. Your doe eyes looked up at him, and Topper couldn’t resist kissing you, before going to get himself clean. You heard the shower turn on, but were soon refocused back to Rafe, when he flipped you both so now you were on your back on the bed, Rafe thrusting into you, your sense overwhelmed with him all around you.

“Baby girl, you’re so perfect for me. This pussy, I’m not going to be able to just give up. So god damn tight and warm” Rafe said. “You’re so good for me - for us. Making us feel so good, my good girl. So pretty and nice, baby girl” He said, thrusting in deep and hard, touching your cervix with his cock.

“Rafe” You moaned, and he smirked, increasing the speed and beginning to rub your clit with his fingers. His lips went to your nipples, sucking on them as well as tugging on them with his teeth.

“That’s my name, baby girl. Who’s making you feel this good, huh? Baby girl, you’re such a good girl” He said, looking up at your face, glistening with sweat and pleasure. 

“You, Rafe, mhm” You moaned louder, before you came again, just as forcefully, squirting again on his cock. Thrusting a few more times, before he let out a loud groan, releasing himself. Rafe lay down by your side, pulling you into him, as you both calmed your breathing. 

“Fuck. That was the best sex I’ve ever had. You’ve got me addicted now, baby girl” He said, kissing your hot neck. You flushed, looking over at him, and touching his face softly, pushing some strands of his hair off his face.

“Fuck drugs, that pussy is my new vice” Topper said, smirking as he came out of the bathroom in a towel, and Rafe laughed, while you blushed.

“He’s right. Fuck the drugs. I just want to stay in your pussy” Rafe said, and you couldn’t help but giggle.  

Please comment if you think I should do a part 2!!!! Have some ideas of ‘what happens next’, but let me know if you want more :) 

#obx smut #topper thorton x reader #topper thorton smut #topper thornton #topper thorton imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe oneshot #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic

[annab-nana]

what lies underneath - rafe cameron

request: Can I have an imagine with Rafe Cameron were it's like a enemies to lovers situation, were him and I always bicker and tease each other, when I'm over hanging out with everyone we are all sitting in a circle and Rafe and I start arguing when I get tired and I accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder and he's shock later when I wake up we both have a moment and kiss. lol thank you :) - @gpiggy98

summary: he hates you, so you hate him, but your body betrays you, telling him you feel safe enough around him to fall asleep on him. when you wake, you and rafe get a different, more intimate perspective of each other. 

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs, suggestive content

word count: 2.5k+

❀ masterlist ❀ 

"does your brother ever shut the fuck up?" you asked sarah, practically screaming at her so you could be heard by her over the thumping music that blasted throughout kelce's house. you knew as soon as you heard that his parents were going to be out of town for work for the week and were leaving their son behind that his home would resemble that of a frat house until maybe a few hours before their expected return if that. you weren't anticipating joining in on all the so-called fun he'd had planned, but scarlet begged sarah to join her. you and sarah already had plans to sleep over at her place, so you got roped into being a wallflower at a party you didn't wish to attend in the first place while hearing the vexing voice of the one you weren't the fondest of a few feet away.

you were never much of a partier. sarah knew that, so she promised you would only have to stay for a couple of hours. it had been double that at this point, but you understood her reason for wanting to stick around. scarlet was a very clumsy drunk, so being the good friend that sarah cameron was, she wanted to make sure scarlet got home safe—especially tonight because from what you could tell, she was very, very drunk. her body would be littered with bruises mysterious to her because it was highly likely she wouldn't remember bumping into so many things and people in the morning. 

that's mostly how you spent your night, sticking to sarah's side and watching scarlet knock into every surface possible, all while trying to avoid rafe as much as humanly possible. being at the party was taking enough of your energy alongside your body being physically tired from lack of sleep—you blame the paper you stayed up writing for most of the night before, damn your procrastinative tendencies. you simply did not have any more to use on your constant bicker battle with the eldest cameron. 

you truly had no idea why he held such a distaste toward you. he had been like that since the first day you'd met him. you were over at tannyhill for sarah—topper had kept out later than she anticipated—so you talked to wheezie and rose in the kitchen while he sat in the living room pretending to watch tv while he actually listened in on your conversation. topper had met you before and told rafe that he thought he'd like you and that you'd like him. but, he was wrong, so very wrong. all he did that day was stare at you which made you uncomfortable and gave you an odd look or two, but it only grew from there. 

"no, i don't, sweetheart," rafe spoke condescendingly as he plopped down next to you on the couch, leaving the conversation he was in previously to come mess with you. your patience was already wearing thin due to your exhaustion and avidity to leave, so adding him to the mix wasn't exactly ideal. sarah, thankfully, picked up on that. 

"rafe, not now," the blonde warned him, but he had already thrown an arm around you, pretending to be your friend when he was anything but. 

"rafe, not now," the blonde warned him, but he had already thrown an arm around you, pretending to be your friend when he was anything but. 

"rafe, not now," the blonde warned him, but he had already thrown an arm around you, pretending to be your friend when he was anything but. 

"what? is little miss y/n not having a good time?" he questioned while taking in both your and sarah's glares but ignoring the message behind them. his taunting eyes dropped down to you, his smirk growing at your clearly pissed-off expression. "what is it? no guys are interested in you?"

"no, one seems interested. he just can't seem to take a hint," you returned before continuing, "are the other girls not falling at your feet as you expect? where's that one who's always up your ass? jessica, is it?"

"jennifer," he corrected, "she's not around anymore."

"found a new cokehead to suck off for drugs?" his eyes rolled ever so slightly.

"you really are a bitch, you know that?" he argued, visibly getting riled up from your words as he moved his arm from around your shoulders to just rest behind you on the couch. 

you let out a dry laugh. "you never let me forget it."

a loud crash was heard in the next room over and all eyes were directed to where scarlet had just knocked over a lamp. 

"oh god," sarah mumbled as rafe laughed at the scene beside you. 

"can we just get her and go? please?" you requested, eager as ever to leave. 

sarah nodded her head at you. "yeah, i'll go get her."

"no, don't leave-" you started but cut yourself off when she was already gone to rein in scarlet and you were alone with rafe, "...me."

"don't act like you don't love being around me," rafe jeered while you elected to ignore him, closing your eyes and laying your head back on the couch and his arm where it rested against it. if you imagined yourself elsewhere, being here wouldn't be so bad, but rafe's presence infected your daydream of being at the beach. that daydream, however, turned into an actual dream when your lack of sleep caught up to you, causing you to knock out right there on the couch and on him. 

rafe was planning to leave you alone soon, but since you had fallen asleep and sarah wasn't around. something in him didn't feel comfortable leaving you without a friend to make sure no creep tried to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state. he didn't want to admit it but you looked kind of really cute when you were sleeping, peaceful even. he loved the way you seemed to feel safe enough around him in order to fall asleep in his presence though it did shock him. 

another thing he hated to admit was that topper was right all that time ago. rafe did like you, a lot actually, but you reminded him too much of how his mother used to be. he thinks that's why he treats you how he does because he has tried for years to suppress the sadness of her absence and you brought that back up again, making him angry. when you simplify the equation, you make him angry. it was fucked up. he knew that, but did nothing to change it and why would he? you seemed to play into the game of hatred like a pro, so he let it continue. 

rafe moved himself a bit to better situate his arm so he wouldn't lose feeling in it soon and also so you could be more comfortable and with him moving, you stirred. he froze and hoped you'd either go back to sleep or wake and think nothing of it. you went with the former. only you moved closer to rafe and snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. 

you were like a baby koala bear that rafe felt the need to protect—he always felt the need to protect you, but it was growing exponentially right now. he relaxed more and let his arm now wrap around you to keep you close and warm. anytime he was around you, it was like all walls went up and he felt the need to put on a show of teasing you relentlessly. but now, those walls were down and he wasn't having to taunt you to talk to you. it was just you and him coexisting while the party went on around you. 

rafe caught a glimpse of sarah trying to lead a very drunk scarlet closer to the front of the house before the intensely intoxicated girl tripped over her own feet for the umpteenth time that night and took a vase down with her. rafe cringed at the noise and looked down at you, hoping you didn't wake up because of it though it was pretty much impossible considering the sound it produced. 

he watched your eyes squint open as you took in your surroundings before realizing you were relaxed against him. you didn't react like he expected you to though. he was waiting for you to jump back in disgust and make some smart remark. maybe go off in search of sarah or scarlet or a stranger even at this point, anyone to get you away from him. but you didn't.

"sorry," you muttered lowly, far too tired to give him any more energy than you already were. lethargically, you tried to move away from him to let him have his personal space back to himself, but his arm around you halted your movements. it was then that you noticed just how close you were to each other. 

your head snapped up to look at him, wondering why he was keen on keeping you close. all you had ever known was a rafe cameron lived to rip you to shreds and make your life hell, not one who held you gently and looked upon you with such care as the one you saw did now. rafe only ever touched you when he was pretending to be your friend to get on your nerves like he did earlier, a teasing arm around your shoulders, but now it was comforting and real. 

cerulean eyes danced all over your face while yours did the same. you examined parts of his face that looked different now that he wasn't up to his usual antics. you could see his eyes better and could fall deeper into the beautiful blue irises you never really got to see when he glared at you through a derisive squint. his brows didn't hold their typical pinch. his eyes didn't look down on you in disdain but instead in wonder. his face looked clear yet it showed some signs that you couldn't quite get a read on. 

"rafe," you whispered, trying to coax him to say what he needed to say or do what he needed to do. you just wanted a clue as to what was going through his head at this point. 

you got a small hint when he leaned in closer, but you couldn't believe it even when you felt his breath hitting your lips. this had to be a joke or a game or a dare. but you knew him. when he was pulling shit like that, he constantly bit his lower lip and as you glanced down to his mouth, he wasn't doing that. 

"can i?" he inquired softly, eyes pleading with yours while also searching for any sign that you might be backing out. you didn't though. you shocked him with your zealous compliance when you surged forward and connected your lips to his. it was like your body was on autopilot because if you were using your brain at all, you would've denied him in a heartbeat like you were supposed to do. but your mouth and your body craved him in a way you'd never felt before as you moved closer to him, letting your leg swing over his lap to straddle him. 

you had never before felt such passion, such want and need. normally with him, the only thing you needed was to get away to save a headache. now, you just needed him and he felt the same. his hands gripped at your waist fervently while yours held his face to yours. you knew you'd need to break for air sometime soon, but didn't want that time to come. however, like the rest of the night, scarlet was there to interrupt. 

"y/n!" she squealed when she saw you before looking down to whose lips you'd been ferociously macking on. "rafe! you know, i knew you two would get together at some point."

rafe wore a smirk, running his tongue over his teeth cockily, while you looked to sarah. if you were in her position and you just saw your best friend who claimed to hate your brother sucking his face off, you'd feel at least a little betrayed, but she seemed to have the same smirk on her face that her brother did. 

"i'm taking scarlet home. rafe?" sarah called to her brother after filling you in. 

"yeah?" he responded, eyes on you still while he rubbed his thumbs in small circular motions into the exposed skin of your hips where your shirt had ridden up. the cool metal of his ring felt like ice against your burning skin where his fingers held you.

"get y/n to tannyhill soon and make sure she gets some sleep. i should be back within an hour or two, but who knows with this one," sarah ordered as she gestured toward scarlet who let out a small, "hey."

"just stay with scarlet for tonight. i've got y/n," rafe told his sister with his face half-turned to her. sarah's eyes met yours to make sure you were okay with it and you sent her a gentle nod and smile to let her know you felt safe being alone with rafe. 

"okay," sarah answered, returning her full attention back to scarlet and getting her home before she absolutely demolished kelce's house any further. rafe turned back to you and you looked down at him as a yawn escaped you, causing the boy to chuckle. 

"alright," he started, patting your thigh twice, "i think it's time to get you to bed."

"i think we need to talk about this little situation we've got going on here." you motioned between the two of you to clarify the meaning of your sentence. he knew better than to think things would all be sunshine and rainbows after treating you as he had been and then kissing you. 

"i know, but can we save that for in the morning? you're tired and i'd be lying if i said i wasn't getting there too." after nodding your head, you tried to move off his lap, but like earlier, he'd held you back. "kiss me again?"

"not until we talk about this," you told him, though you knew in the back of your head that you wanted to as well. he groaned before you quickly pecked his lips, something small but nothing to really savor. "that is all you get for now."

"this is going to be the longest night ever," he complained and stood with you when you moved off of him. 

"quit whining. you get to sleep with me tonight."

"you won't let me kiss you, but will let me do that?" he questioned while following you outside, your logic lost on him. 

"no, you idiot," you laughed before clarifying, "actually sleep."

"damn."

"i'm not that easy, you know?" you said to him after he opened the truck door for you, letting you get in.

"trust me," he prefaced while he waited for you to get fully in, all limbs in the vehicle so he wouldn't shut the door on you, "i know."

"what's that supposed to mean?" you argued, but he had already shut the door, shrugging at you through the window with a playful grin on his lips. 

if you thought your hands were full with rafe before tonight, you had no idea what you were in for in the days to come.

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[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

Hi! I'm Jess

about me - 20, Aries, in love with rafe cameron, @rafemotherfuckingcameron

Fav Fics TAGLIST Requests are Always Open 😉

New Fics Uploaded on Wednesdays

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______________________________________________________________

My Masterlist!

RAFE CAMERON

#rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe mf cameron #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe x smut #obx x reader x rafe x smut #drew starkey #Rafe cameron drabble #rafe oneshot

[witchwyfe]

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.”

© witchwyfe 2024. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#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

[yoongis-black-grilfriend]

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…“

#imagines #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks smut #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe x reader #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #outer banks #rafe cameron x fem!reader #x black fem reader #rafe cameron x black fem reader #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x reader #rafe concepts #yoongisblackgirlfriend #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outerbanks fic #rafe x y/n

[inez-winchester-cameron]

rafe × sweet!reader. shes toppers sister and comes to visit her brother with fresh baked goods for all his friends too of course! She catches his eye and might end up in his bed.

cw: rafe x thornton!fem!reader, 18+ (smut), talk of innocent reader, getting walked in on.

note: i was originally gonna make this a lil fic but this is pure smut, just a little drabble. still accepting requests :)

rafe loves sweet little things like you. he loves corrupting innocent girls that have never seen a dick in their lives, or even kissed someone and that was exactly you. topper always chased away any of your chances at actually getting somewhere in a relationship. but topper trusted his buddies not to make a move on his sister and that was his mistake.

"anyone ever touched you here, sugar?" rafe whispers, rubbing his hand along your inner thigh as you make out with him. this is your second make out session with him and he was getting impatient.

"n-no.." you stutter out.

"may i? i'll be real gentle, i promise."

bullshit. next thing you know you're in the missionary position, your legs on rafe's shoulders as he ruins you with his cock. rafe is in no way small, not in height and certainly not in dick size. your little pussy struggles to take him, as you've always been too nervous to try shoving anything inside.

"i've thought of his so many times, sweet girl," rafe grunts out, "your pussy's so pretty and it's all mine. you're mine. you're gonna be my sweet girl forever..should've known you'd have such a pretty and slutty pussy. it's always the innocent ones.."

your pussy clamps down on him, never wanting to let him go and the most unholy noises leave your lips. neither of you even hear the door open.

"RAFE, WHAT THE ACTUAL FU-"

#outerbanks #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshots #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #obx #obx smut #outerbanks smut

[wishfulwithwine]

Make No Apologies - Rafe Cameron One Shot

Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader

Rewatching Grey’s Anatomy and couldn’t get Meredith’s famous “I make no apologies” quote out of my head! Definitely thought it’d be an interesting one shot…

WARNINGS: THIS SERIES IS 18+. INVOLVES EXPLICIT/NSFW CONTENT. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF MINOR. 

Photo from pinterest

You should have known.

You should have noticed the touching, not simply brushing them off as just friendly gestures. 

You should have paid more attention to the looks and stares by the pair, not just thinking you were being self conscious. The way he stared at her when she’d hang around in her bikini. The way she’d glare when you two would kiss.

Maybe then, you could’ve saved yourself this pain. Well, at least some of it.

“Y/N…” Pope said, softly as he watched you freeze in place from the shock of the sight before you. Through the dirty window of the Chateau, you saw your boyfriend and your best friend fucking. 

Well… ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend.

“Y/N” Pope said again, moving closer to you to pull you into a hug, but you moved away from him sharply. 

“I-I’m fine” You said, stuttering over your words as your mouth felt like the Sahara desert and your eyes had tears forming in them.

“You don’t need to be fine. That’s - that’s fucking bullshit. I can’t believe them…” Pope said, getting angry. 

You were never an angry person, never one to blow up, and it wasn’t going to start now. 

“I’ll be fine, Pope. I’ll be fine. I just need to leave” You said, turning around finally, and walking quickly to your bike. Pope chased after you, worried about you.

“Where are you going? It’s getting dark. What do I tell your brother?”He asked, nervously, as you hopped up on your bike.

“Away from here. Tell John B I’m fine, and tell JJ we’re done” You said, and without another glance, you pedaled as quickly as you could, as far as you could. 

Pope sighed, looking back at the Chateau where the bomb of his friend group just went off, wondering what was going to happen now? 

You could barely see where you were biking through the tears, but you kept pedaling, focusing on the burning of your legs rather than the breaking of your heart. It was overwhelming all your senses, the blood pounding in your ears, your head feeling heavy with emotions. 

Which was why you didn’t see the car whipping around the corner until it was too late.

You fell off your bike hard, hitting the sidewalk painfully.

“Oh shit” the driver said, but all you could concentrate on was the pain, as you detangled your legs from the bike and held your leg tightly. 

“Y/N? Oh gosh I’m so sorry” Rafe said, realizing who he hit as you sat there looking up at him with your eyes full of tears and clothes covered in blood and dirt. “Shit that looks terrible. Let me, let me drive you to the hospital” He said, picking you up bridal style and putting you in the passenger seat gently, before driving quickly to the hospital.

When you stopped crying, wiping away your tears, you looked at him, taking in his concerned face and how he kept glancing over to you. When you locked eyes, you saw the regret clearly in his eyes.

Rafe Cameron had never been nice to Pogues, but Y/N was different. She never got involved in the fights, and they were even friendly to one another at points. Y/N was friendly with Sarah, despite the Kiara drama, and when she was over at the Cameron house, she never teased him even with his sister. It helped that he thought she was beautiful. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you” He said, worried.

“It’s ok. It’s not your fault” You said, and he looked at you surprised.

“I just hit you with my car! It’s my fault” Rafe said.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine” You said, deja vu happening over what just happened.

“Do you need me to call anyone? Your brother?” He asked, pulling up to the hospital.

“No!” You all but shouted, and he was completely surprised. “No, no. I’m fine. Please, please don’t call him” You pleaded softly.

“But you’re alone. Want me to call your boyfriend Maybank?” He asked, a sneer almost in his tone.

“Not my boyfriend anymore” You said, shaking your head, as he stopped in front of the hospital entrance. Rafe tried not to smile as he thought he finally had a chance with her.

He came over to your door, picked you up bridal style, and carried you into the hospital.

“Hello? Help here! I think she broke her leg” Rafe shouted, demanding attention. Seeing a bloody girl being carried by a Cameron instantly sent all the nurses rushing over.

A room was instantly made available, and Rafe carried you to the bed, putting you down and stepping outside the door so the doctors came to analyze you.

Rafe took a deep breath, looking at the closed door you were behind, before going to the waiting area and pulling out his phone.

He couldn’t believe it was you - Y/N Routledge, the infamous little sister of John B Routledge. He had always thought you were too good to be around those dirty Pogues, but he understood John B was your brother. You were exceptionally smart, beautiful and nice to literally everyone. The only downside however was that you somehow had fallen under Maybank’s spell, but now that you weren’t - well now, he would finally make his move on his dream girl. 

It was only a few minutes later when you saw Rafe again, after the doctors left, and he came with a clipboard full of paperwork.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, nervously, biting his nail as he sat down next to you. You were in a hospital gown now, an IV full of pain medication in your arm.

“A broken leg and some lacerations. Nothing major” You replied, looking at him softly.

“I’m so sorry. Are you sure there isn’t anyone I can call for you?” He asked, holding your hand. You gave him a warm smile, before looking down at your hands.

“I was trying to get away from everyone tonight” You said, and he held your hand a little tighter, concerned.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m here for you” Rafe said, as you looked up at him and saw the truth in his eyes.

“I saw JJ and Kiara, together, through the windows. I just - left. JJ basically lives there with my brother and I - I don’t want to go home,” You said, your lip wobbling as you tried not to cry.

“I’m going to kill him” Rafe said softly, his jaw clenching. You reached your hand out, touching his cheek as he rested his head on your hand.

As you stared at him, you realized how beautiful Rafe Cameron was. The ocean blue eyes, the sparkling smile you’d seen him sport with his friends and Wheezie… he was obviously fit and in shape too. You had always found him attractive, but you never had allowed yourself your eyes to stray from JJ too long. Rafe was always nice to you, despite what he did to your sibling and your friends. 

“Don’t look at me like that” Rafe whispered, interrupting your thoughts.

“Why?” You asked confused.

“Because I’ll kiss you” He said, and it felt like it was only you two in a bubble, the tension growing enough you could cut with a knife.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry for my son! I told him he needs to drive slower and more careful. We’ll take care of all of the costs. Don’t worry about a thing” Ward says, bursting into the room and interrupting your moment, giving you a sympathetic glance, before glaring at his son.

“No, please. I shouldn’t have been biking in the dark” You said, trying to take some of the heat off of Rafe. Ward shook his head, appreciating how you were trying to cover for his son. 

“No, we’ve got it covered. Where’s your brother?” He asked.

“I didn’t want to bother anyone. I’m fine” You insisted.

“No, Rafe will stay with you and then if you want, bring you to our house to recover” Ward states, before the doctors took you in to surgery.

Hours later, Rafe helped you enter Tanneyhill with your crutches. 

“Y/N! What are you doing here?” Sarah asked, coming down the stairs with Wheezie to see who was coming home so late. “What happened?” 

“My car crashed into her bike. She’ll be staying here for a bit” Rafe said, as he went to pick you up so you didn’t have to hobble up the stairs with crutches. Sarah and Wheezie looked surprised, as you seemed comfortable in his arms.

“Should I call John B?” Sarah asked, almost excited.

“No, I’m good” You said, with a smile, before the Cameron sisters were out of sight.

He led you into one of the guest rooms, and sat you down on the bed.

“Anything I can get you?” Rafe asked, kneeling down in front of you. You smirked.

“Look at you, asking a pogue what they want” You teased, and he chuckled.

“I don’t count you as a pogue. You’re too pretty and smart” He said honestly, and you reached out to cup his cheek again, like before when you had that moment in the hospital.

He stared at you, his eyes focusing on the softness of your lips. He leaned forward, expecting you to push him away, but was happily surprised when his lips met yours. He put his hands on either side of your face, his large hands almost as big as your head, and he kissed you deeper and more passionately. 

It was an awkward position, as you couldn’t move your leg and he didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.

“Rafe” You said, leaning back from the kiss, pulling your lips away.

“What? Is everything ok?” He asked, concerned, gaze drifting down to your leg to see if he had pushed it.

“No, everything’s ok, but would you maybe want to help me with a shower?” You asked, nervously, watching his facial expression go from previously concerned to a wide smirk. He didn’t answer you, just kissed your lips again, before going to carry you off to the bathroom.

“You sure you want me to?” He asked, beginning to help you wrap your cast so it didn’t get wet.

“Yes” You said. “You’ve helped me… forget” 

“I hope you know, I don’t just want to be your rebound” Rafe said, seriously. You smiled.

“You want more than just a hookup? Are you actually Rafe Cameron?” You teased, and he just shook his head, kissing you.

“Laugh all you want, but soon you’ll be naked in a shower with me, helping you get clean” Rafe said, and you giggled, pulling him into another kiss.

Let’s just say it was a very steamy shower…

Back at the Chateau

Pope was sitting on the dock, as far away from the Chateau as he could without actually leaving the place. He was debating going home so he didn’t have to be with the cheaters, but he didn’t want to go home and work for his parents. Also, he figured he should tell John B why his sister wasn’t coming home.

It wasn’t too long after you had left that John B arrived home, and before even entering the house, he had seen Pope alone on the docks… which concerned him. 

Where was everyone that Pope was alone on the docks?

“Hey! Where is everyone?” John B asked, sitting down next to him. Pope clenched his jaw, wondering how he was going to tell his best friend that his sister got cheated on by their two best friends.

“JJ and Kiara are inside. Y/N left” Pope said, trying to figure out how to tell him about what happened.

“Hey guys!”JJ shouted, coming out with Kiara to join the boys on the docks. John B noticed how Pope’s jaw clenched tighter, his hands curling up into fists, and how he wouldn’t look at the other two.

“Where’s Y/N?” John B asked, as JJ and Kiara sat down, and Pope looked up at the two, who pretended that nothing had just happened.

“We saw you two fucking” Pope said, and as JJ’s mouth dropped, Kiara’s face smiled,  moving closer to JJ and pulling him into a hug.

“Finally! We don’t have to pretend anymore” Kiara said excitedly.

“Finally?! Are you fucking kidding me? How long have you been cheating on my sister?” John B shouted angrily, getting up and walking over to JJ. JJ pushed away Kiara, and stood up, holding his hands up in surrender.

“A few months” Kiara said with a smile, as she reached out to hold onto JJ’s hand. Everyone looked at her with a glare. “What? I’m happy I get to be with my JJ without her ruining things” 

“That’s my sister, you dumb bitch” John B said, wanting to slap the girl but he didn’t hurt women. He looked over to JJ. “How could you do this to her? To me? To us?” 

“It was a mistake!” JJ said, walking backwards off the dock onto land, seeing the glint in John B’s eyes. Kiara looked hurt at his words, but John B started running at JJ, tackling him into the ground and beginning to punch him. 

It was a good fight, before John B finally stopped, Pope having to separate the two.

As Kiara helped JJ get cleaned up, Pope helped John B. 

“So where’s my sister?” John B asked, looking to Pope, who shrugged.

“She just took her bike and left. Told me to tell you she’s fine, and JJ she’s done” Pope said. 

“She’s done? She broke up with me?” JJ asked, surprised, and everyone looked at him surprised.

“She saw her best friend and her boyfriend fucking. Yea, she’s done with you” Pope stated bluntly, rolling his eyes.

“No, she can’t be done. I love her” JJ said, and Kiara gasped, slapping him across the face.

“You love her? What about all the times you told me you wanted me?” Kiara exclaimed.

“You don’t love Y/N, or else you definitely wouldn’t have cheated on her” Pope said. 

“Just leave, dude. Both of you. Honestly, I can’t - I can’t look at either of you” John B said, and Kiara and JJ left.

“Where do you think she is?” Pope asked John B.

“If I know my sister, she probably wants to be left alone for the night” John B said. 

It was a few days later when John B saw his sister again, pulling up to the Chateau in Rafe Cameron’s car. All the Pogues were there, watching as Sarah and Rafe both got out of the car, before Rafe went and helped Y/N out of the car, getting her the crutches.

“Holy shit, what happened? Are you okay?” John B asked, running over to his sister and giving her a tight hug.

“I’m fine, no worries. Just a little bike accident okay?” You said, and John B looked to the Cameron siblings.

“Why are you with them?” He asked, annoyed.

“They’ve been helping me out since the accident, and Rafe’s my…” You said, looking to Rafe, who nodded with a smile. “Rafe’s my boyfriend. I’m just here to pick up some stuff and then I’ll be moving in with them. It’ll be better for everyone” You said, looking over John B’s shoulder at JJ and Kiara. 

“You’re living with him now? Rafe Cameron? You’re a whore. The kook king’s whore” JJ sneered.

Rafe moved forward, but you stopped him with your arm holding his bicep. He looked down at you confused, before your eyes locked, a look in your eyes he had never seen before and nodded, his jaw locked in anger as he watched you look back at JJ. 

JJ was expecting you to walk away, like you always did. No commotion, no reply.

That was the old Y/N. He wasn’t expecting Y/N, Rafe’s girlfriend.

“You don’t get to call me a whore. When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. So all the boys and all the bars and all the obvious daddy issues, who cared?

 Because I was done. You left me. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. You don’t get to call me a whore” You said, calmly but deadly, staring directly now into JJ’s eyes as everyone’s jaw dropped at your reply.

“Also, if you think I’m a whore, a kook whore, for living with my boyfriend while I recover from a leg injury, you should check your new girlfriend’s DMs. Especially the ones with picture attachments. You never satisfied me, so I’m not surprised she’s hitting up every guy in Figure 8 to get better sex” You added, watching as everyone’s head whipped over to Kiara who was bright with embarrassment and anger. You smirked, and Rafe put his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in for a kiss.

“That’s my girl” He said, smiling widely. You kissed him again, before turning to your brother and Pope.

“I’ll see you guys often, but I need some space from… that” You said, and John B nodded.

“Can you get hotter, baby girl? I’m going to treat you so well tonight. Such a good girl for me” Rafe said, with a smug grin, as he followed you into the house, picking up your things with Sarah. You sat on the bed, telling them what to get, as Rafe protested you moving things.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to hear that!” Sarah said, and you giggled, as Pope and John B looked confused while Rafe rolled his eyes. JJ stood in the corner arms crossed and glaring at Rafe.

“Can I have a minute with my sister, alone?” John B said, when the bags were finally packed and Rafe and Sarah were about to take things to the car. You looked at Rafe and Sarah, nodding, and they left you with John B, but not before Rafe kissed your forehead. Pope and JJ left, with a look from John B.

He sat down next to you on the bed, looking at you and your cast.

“Are you sure you want to stay with them? I can easily ban JJ and Kiara from the house. You’re my sister and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you” He said, and you smiled softly, looking at your brother, reaching out to hold his hand.

“I’m positive. They’re your friends, and I’m happy with Rafe. Really happy with him and Sarah’s awesome. I’m hurt, really hurt by what they did and I just don’t feel comfortable being around them, especially in the Chateau where they were doing it. JJ basically lives here and I wouldn’t want you to kick him out and he’d have to live with his dad. That’s not right, and I can live with the Camerons. They’ve all been great” You said, and you could see the tears well up in John B’s eyes.

“If you ever need me, I’ll be here for you” He said, with a sad smile, as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“Same here, bro, same here” You said, pulling apart.

“If he makes you happy, that’s all I want” He said, as he helped you get up to go out to them.

“Rafe does” You said, with a smile, looking over to the car where Rafe was waiting. JJ, Pope and Kiara were on the porch.

“See you later John B, Pope” You said, giving them both one last hug, ignoring the other two before heading with the Camerons.

“Come on, sweetheart” Rafe said, lifting you up and putting you in the car. You smiled, giving him another kiss, before you all drove away. 

#rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe x oc #obx rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe oneshot

[boneblushed]

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?

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot

[rafeandonlyrafe]

who did this to you?

words: 1.4k

warnings: parental abuse!, drinking, physical violence, cursing, kind of allusions to sex?? but its pretty vague imo, reader has a bruise and its briefly described

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you groan hearing the engine roar behind you, being able to tell exactly whose truck it was from the sound alone. and just like normal, rafe cameron had spectacularly bad timing.

“where you going, princess?” rafe calls out the window, of course pulling to the side of the road when he sees you walking.

“piss off, cameron.” you call, not turning to look at him. “im not in the fucking mood for it today.”

“such dirty words for a princess to be using.” rafe tsks, using the ironic nickname that somehow shifted from pogue princess from when you first moved to town, to now just princess. 

“not that i ever want to see you rafe, but especially not today.” you simply keep walking, hoping that rafe would piss off or get bored and drive away, but he stays rolling slowly along next to you.

“okay, cut it out.” rafe shouts. “it’s starting to get dark, just get in so i can give you a ride home.”

“not going home.” you shrug, finally looking over to rafe.

upon making eye contact, you can see his eyebrows rise, and he immediately slams on the trucks breaks and puts it into park, not caring that he’s stopped in the middle of the road. he gets out of the truck with a harsh slam of his door, his chest heaving as he rounds the bonnet to join you on the sidewalk.

“what happened?” his hand comes to cup your jaw gently, turning your face into the streetlight to give him a better view of the purple bruise forming around your temple. “who did this to you?”

“it’s nothing rafe.” you shove his hand away. “don’t act like you fucking care about me now.”

you try to push past him, continue your walk in the general direction of popes house, hoping his parents wouldn’t mind you crashing there for the night, but rafe stops you with firm hands on both your shoulders. “i may give you shit for being a pogue, but that doesn’t mean i want to see you hurt, princess. now tell me who did this to you. was it jj?”

tears well in your eyes at the very thought of your good friend putting his hands on you, and it just further exemplifies the differences between the kooks and pogues for rafe to not even realize how absurd it is to mention jj. he sees him as violent and dangerous, nothing more.

“no, it wasn’t jj, you dick.”

“then tell me who!” rafe shouts, shaking your shoulders slightly, making you cower back when his voice raises.

“fuck.” rafe sighs out, hands instantly dropping to his sides. “i’m sorry- i’m so sorry princess, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“stop it.” you plead, letting your tears flow freely down your cheeks, an intense build up from since you started holding them back hours ago. “stop treating me like this, just go back to being a jerk and calling me a dirty pogue.”

“y/n.” rafe states your name firmly, and it almost shocks you. you know he knows it, but he always goes for calling you princess rather than what everyone else calls you. “tell me what happened, please. i do care.”

“it was my dad.” you blurt out. “there? are you fucking happy? that my dad got drunk and threw a fucking beer bottle at me. i was lucky it didn’t break and cut my eye. is that what you wanted to know? my fucking sob story so you can use it against me next time?”

“princess…” rafe sighs, letting you collapse into his chest, no longer able to hold back the sobs racking your body, shoulders shaking at the intensity.

your knees give out, and rafe lowers to the ground with you, effortlessly scooping you onto his lap as your hands grasp at his shirt, keeping your face pressed against his chest, making a mess of snot and tears on the fabric, but you’re far too emotional to care.

“breathe, princess, please. you’re gonna pass out.” rafe strokes over your back, trying to encourage you to get some sort of control on your sobs, but the sweetness of his touch, so counter to what you’ve felt from him before, has you choking on your breath.

“hey-fuck, your lips are turning blue. calm down, please.” rafe says after pulling your head away from his chest once you stopped making noises, your body still shaking with tears pouring down your face.

“fuck.” rafe groans, not knowing what to do to make you relax enough to breath, so he does the only thing he can think of and presses his mouth against yours, moving his lips until you kiss him back, taking a deep breath through your nose as you slide your lips against his, gasping and getting more air in your lungs with he licks his tongue out against your bottom lip, asking for permission.

“rafe, what the fuck?” you ask, but your voice is soft and mumbled, still recovering.

“i needed some way to calm you down.” rafe shrugs, acting far too casual for someone who just made out with you on the side of the road, sat on the sidewalk.

“this doesn’t mean i like you now.” you state, although you are thankful for the kiss, it pulled you very quickly of whatever spiral you were going down.

“of course not.” rafe nods. “even if i was a good kisser.”

“i never said that.” you frown, looking down to realize that you’re still sitting on rafes lap. you stand on shaky legs, annoyed that rafe so effortlessly stands up next to you, like he is completely unaffected.

“come on, you can stay at my house. or i can give you a ride to popes or kiaras. just… i’m not leaving you out here.”

“you can take me to popes.” you say, noting how dark its gotten and really not wanting to walk the rest of the way.

rafe opens the passenger side door, and you climb up into his truck, resisting the word to insult the stupidity of the height, considering rafe did just save you from a panic attack and is now giving you a ride.

“where do you live? is it that blue cottage?” rafe asks once he starts the car and begins the drive, leaving you to recover for a few minutes before questioning you.

“yeah, why?” you question.

“just going to have a chat with your dad.” rafe says, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“rafe-” you turn to him. “please don’t do anything. i can take care of it on my own, i don’t need some kook coming into my business-” “fucking stop with the kooks and pogues!” rafe shouts, not caring that you flinch this time, wanting the words to hurt. “i don’t fucking care about that when it comes to you, why can’t you see that princess?”

“stop the car.” you tell rafe.

“no, i’m taking you to popes.” rafe argues back.

“no, stop the car because i want to fucking kiss you again!” you say, body pressing forward against your seatbelt when rafe quickly presses the brake to the floor. he undoes his seatbelt as you undo yours, meeting in the middle as your lips crash together, and the kiss is anything but soft, an epic meeting of teeth and tongue as you both fight for dominance.

rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer until you have to move one leg over his lap to straddle him, letting your bodies mold together as you moan into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his hair, and then gliding down to feel the cords of muscle on his neck, the firmness of his shoulders.

“you drive me fucking wild, princess.” rafe says against your lips, taking your bottom lip into his teeth and giving it a tug.

“i take it back, rafe. take me to your house.” rafe smiles, giving you another quick peck before you separate, but this time you stay in the center seat, rafes hand firmly on your thigh as he speeds towards tanneyhill.

“don’t think this means i’m not going to talk to your dad.” rafe says as he gets closer.

“it’s fine, really.” you say. “he was just drunk, he doesn’t drink very often.”

“princess, he hurt you. you deserve to feel safe in your own home.” rafe explains as he puts the car into park, quickly shutting off the engine. “or i can just kidnap you and keep you here with me. turn you full kook.” he smirks, hands gripping your waist and bringing your lips together.

“never gonna happen, cameron.” you smile against his mouth. “pogue for life.”

#wrote this in like half an hour so it might be shit #its honestly too late to tell #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe one shot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #obx fic #outer banks fic #obx x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction