Lcvelylies - Natasha

some of y’all’s sex drive is higher than your will to live & it shows

russian roulette- rafe cameron

pair: rafe cameron x fem!drug-boss!reader

genre: smut & tiny teeny bit of angst maybe -> 18+ only!!

warnings: knife play, gun play, blood play, blood licking, mentions of death, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, implied sex on drugs, chocking (sexual way)…, i hope i didn’t forget anything but yeah this one here is a little bit darker

even though this is all written with the intention that it’s 100% consensual, please keep in mind that guns, knives (and indirectly drugs) are involved

words: ~5.7k

summary: a visit to his drug boss turned into a fight over control and power which can only one of them win

note: I have never written anything like this before so i hope it didn’t turn out too bad, other than that, enjoy :)

48 hours. That’s the amount of time Rafe Cameron had to come up with five thousand dollars. Sure, for someone like him, this shouldn't be a big deal but his dad cut off his money as a punishment for misusing the money he gave him for generators after the storm “Agatha'' hit the outer banks. He was broke and in deep shit. So deep, that alone the thought of time passing every second sent a cold shiver down his spine. He knew Barry wasn’t one to fuck with, no drug dealer was but it was something else, something that Barry said before Rafe left his house, that wouldn't leave his brain.

“If you’re screwing me, it’s not just me that you’re screwing, it’s her.”

Her.

Now, Rafe Cameron had never met her before but he heard the stories. Stories of cars burning in driveways, stories of boats that fail in the middle of the ocean, and even whole companies being shut down all because of her. Not a lot of people on this island have ever come across her, or maybe they have but never knew it was her. Those unlucky souls that did indeed meet her, described her as a woman made of nothing but cold beauty as if the devil made her himself. Eyes so pure and warm, a body so divine and perfect with a soul so dark and evil, even Lucifer himself would shiver if he ever looked into it.

But Rafe didn't believe these stories. How could a woman, described as barely older than him, be capable of something like that? How could someone with eyes so pure be so evil? And yet, even though he tried to convince himself, alone the thought of being exposed to her anger, sent shivers down his spine.

And yet, he found himself at the address, an unknown number texted him, as word got around that he wanted to meet her. He had to check twice if he was at the right address since he found himself in front of his step moms favorite flower shop.

He let his hand trace over his back pocket, checking if everything he might need was there before he took a deep breath and walked towards the store.

“Hello darling, what can I do for you?” An elderly woman asked as soon as he entered the shop.

“I uhmm…” He paused as he tried to remember the code word that was given to him. “I am here for hmm… black lilies.”

“Black lilies?” She asked as she raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. Black lilies.”

“Well, in that case you have to come with me, sir.” She signalized him to follow her and walked into the private area of the shop where she stopped in front of a door. She opened it with her key before signaling him to go inside. It was an old utility room, or so he thought. In reality, it was some sort of elevator that brought him down into the basement of the building.

When the door opened, he found himself in some sort of dark office. It looked comfortable, even though it had no sort of daylight. Even though the room had no windows, it smelled fresh in there, like flowers. He quickly found them on the shelf next to another door, probably coming from the flower shop above them. In the middle was a desk and behind it, sat a woman, with a glass of brown liquor in her right hand and a newspaper in the other. She was laying back in her chair with her feet resting on the desk.

“I’ve been expecting you, Rafe Cameron.” She said, without looking up at the man in front of the elevator. “Now come on darling, take a seat.” She smiled softly as she gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk. He was only now able to see her whole and they weren’t wrong. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, with eyes so soft he felt like he could tell her everything. Her wavy hair was falling over her shoulders gracefully, matching her silky black dress perfectly. he didn’t see much of it, since it was hidden behind her desk but it was tight, so tight that he could see the borders of what he assumed were nipple piercings, making it hard for Rafe to keep his eyes up.

“Thank you, Miss …”

“(Y/L/N).”

“(Y/L/N).” He finished.

“Now, can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Cameron?” She asked, with a smile so beautiful, one could easily forget who she was.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“So whiskey or vodka? I also got rum but you don’t seem like a rum type of person.”

“Whiskey.” He answered shortly.

She nodded and poured him a drink. He took the time she was distracted to look around her office a little bit more, trying to figure out if she could have any weapons hidden but there was one thing he’d noticed immediately, since the second he entered that office.

“So… are you alone down here?” He asked, trying to hide the slight shakiness in his voice.

She looked at him in disbelief before handing him his drink. “That’s not a subtle way to find out if it’s just the two of us, Mr. Cameron.”

“Oh god, no I… I just thought that maybe you’d have some security or something.”

“See darling, if I’ve learned one thing during my few years in this business, it’s to not trust anyone else with my safety, except myself. She scoffed. “But why are you asking? Are your intentions not as pure as I thought they were?” She asked carefully, her eyes never leaving him.

Her gaze burned right through him, causing him to shit around in his seat. “Oh no, they are as pure as they can be.” He spoke, his voice a little bit shakier than he intended to be and his eyes not leaving the desk in front of him, as he desperately tried to avoid hers. He was nervous and she knew it.

“Hmmm.” She purred as she swung her legs from the table in order to position herself closer to him. He now looked around the room, pretending like he was just waiting for a response when he suddenly felt a cold material against his skin, gently pushing his face up. He didn't need to look to know what it was, he knew exactly what the barrel of a gun felt like. He swallowed at the realization, now slowly looking up into her eyes. What once seemed so warm and welcoming once, now turned ice cold. “Then tell me, pretty boy, why aren’t you able to look me in the eyes? You haven't once since you arrived here, only staring when I wasn’t looking. Such a shame actually, you have such pretty eyes.”

“I…” He wanted to say something but it was like the words suddenly left his brain, but even if he had known what to say, he wouldn’t have gotten any word out due to his throat turning dry as dust.

“Shht it’s okay, darling, I knew about that gun in your back pocket since the moment you got here. You should learn how to hide it better. Now tell me, why did you want to meet?” She smirked, “And before you answer, slowly put your gun up here and leave your hands on the table. Don’t bother lying sweetheart, I’ll know.” Her voice turned dark now, nothing like the sweet sound from when he first got there.

“Fine.” He growled, as he reached into his back pocket and did as he was told. She pushed the gun aside with a grin, her eyes still not leaving him for a second. “I owe you money, a lot actually, and-”

“And you wanted to ask for more time?” She let out a soft laugh.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend like you didn’t know that already.” The boy scoffed and it was as if something shifted in him. “Now you have my hands and my gun, what about you putting that thing away so we can have a civilized conversation.”

“So, so many demands, one could think you’re the one charge.”

“Oh no ma'am, we all know you are.” He smirked, a dark sparkle in his light eyes.

She was surprised at his sudden confidence but impressed enough to put the gun away. “So you came here, only to tell me that you have no money?” She chuckled. “That’s bold.”

“I thought maybe I could do something else for you, to pay my debt.” The young man proposed, causing the girl to raise an eye. “A job, of course.” He added quickly as he realized how his proposal sounded at first. Even though he would have lied to himself if he said he wouldn’t be open to that as well.

“And what job do you have in mind, Mr. Cameron?” She asked as she leaned forward, crossing her arms under her chest. “What could you possibly do for me that would cover your debt?”

“You tell me.” He smirked confidently. “You’re the boss, aren't you?” Now it was him that moved closer to her. It was hard to tell for either of them where this newfound confidence came from when his heart was in his boots only moments ago. But there was something else Rafe was feeling, a feeling that came up every time she laid her eyes on him. He was smitten by her beauty and her power and he didn’t want to admit it but he was impressed. How did she manage to climb that ladder up so high, in a business that was dominated by middle-aged men?

“Right… You know, I might actually have a job for you.”

“Continue…”

She told him about how she needed a driver for her next shipment since her regular one got into an accident. It was an easy job and would pay way more than he owed her. He was in immediately, no further questions asked. She was about to explain the details when her phone started ringing.

“Excuse me.” She mumbled as she grabbed her phone and disappeared into the next room.

While she was gone, Rafe used the time to look around when his eyes fell on the leftovers of some white powder next to her glass. He wasn’t craving anything right now, but he knew he’d be later.

Rafe also knew it was a bad idea from the moment he got it but he knew how the withdrawal would feel like, he had to go through it way too often before. So he got up and carefully looked around, trying to find any sign of her coming back but he could still hear her cussing around in the other room in a language that he assumed was Spanish. It made sense since he knew she had contacts in Middle and South America.

He walked around the desk, trying not to make a sound until he was standing next to her empty chair. He tried to open the drawers but none of them would open except for one. He carefully opened it and there it was, a tiny bag of white powder.

He thought about it for another moment, knowing this would probably be the stupidest thing he ever did, even worse than buying that bike from the generator money, but then, when the addiction hit, no one was able to think rationally, and Rafe Cameron the least.

He took the bag and quietly closed the drawer, again, trying not to make any alarming noises. He took his gun and shoved the bag into his pocket before letting himself fall back into the seat, as he waited for her to come back.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, someone messed up my last shipment and now they’ve got the cops investigating.” She explained as she entered the room. Her eyes immediately traveled to the missing gun on the table, but she chose to let it go.

“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, it will resolve itself on its own soon.” She smirked confidently as if she had a backup plan for something like this all along.

“I’m afraid I have to leave now…” Rafe stumbled, trying to contain his voice from becoming all shaky again but it was hard considering he just robbed a drug boss. “Can you… can you text me the details?”

“Sure.” She answered, with a smile on her face that was way too soft and friendly for his liking.

He got up and reached out to shake her hand, which she returned. “Then…thank you for giving me this chance and I promise I won’t disappoint.” He mumbled more than actually speak.

“Oh, you won’t.” She smirked and got closer to him, dangerously closer to him.

He gave her a stern and a rather uncomfortable nod before he turned around on his heels, dying to get out of there as soon as possible. He thought he did it when he suddenly felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against his head. He closed his eyes at the feeling, trying to stay calm because he knew doing that was his best and probably the only option.

“Did you really think I would just let you walk away after you stole from me?” She whispered into his ear, followed by a soft laugh. “You are dumber than I thought.”

“If you shoot me, you will never see your money.” He spoke quietly.

“You think I’m relying on your money?” She chuckled. “Sweetheart, I'd buy myself a new pair of heels from the money you owe me.” He took a deep breath, trying to think of what to do next. He still had his gun in his back pocket but she was standing so close to him, he was sure that she even felt it against her leg. “Now put your hands up, pretty boy.”

He did as told and slowly turned around, now looking directly into her stone-cold eyes. He tried to keep cool but his heart was pounding like it never had before. He was scared, obviously but there was also something about this scenario that turned him on. Maybe it was the intoxicating smell of her perfume, maybe it was the way her eyes flickered when she scanned him upside down, or maybe it was the way her dress hugged her body so perfectly like it was made just for her, revealing just the perfect amount of skin but not too much. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, she was dangerous, she was a killer and soon she would have his blood on her hands but if she was so bad, then why was he so down for her?

He tried to hide it but she saw the fear in his eyes. He was terrified and she thought it was adorable. She didn’t lie earlier, she never lied, he did have pretty eyes and if she wasn't careful she might have lost herself in them. She had trouble admitting it to herself but she was intrigued. How could such a pretty boy, coming from one of the richest families on the island get himself in so much trouble? Stealing from her? Especially after she was so gracious and offered him a job to pay his debt? She knew what she had to do, she had to keep up her reputation after all but if she knew what to do then why wasn’t he dead on the floor already? Why was he still standing in front of her? If she knew what to do then why wasn’t he on his knees, pleading for his damn life? If she knew what to do then why was she still standing there, thinking about the taste of his lips on hers?

He got closer to her and bit his lips while his eyes flickered from hers down to her lips. He was close, his lips almost touching hers and his breath so hot against her skin it always felt like he could burn her. She was the one with her finger against the trigger and yet her heart beat so fast, she thought it might explode.

“So what, you gonna shoot me now?” He whispered.

“You know I have to. You stole from me.”

“Hm.” He chuckled softly against her lips. “Then do it, sweetheart, shoot me.”

She closed her eyes, preparing to pull the trigger when she suddenly felt his lips on hers. The kiss was slow and shaky at first, considering he still had a gun to his head but it quickly turned into something hungry and passionate. She leaned into it as she pushed him against the wall behind them. She could feel him smirking against her lips as his hand wandered over her hips until it landed on her ass. She tried to stay focused, careful not to lose control with her gun still pressed onto his head, signaling him one wrong move and it could all be over. But she couldn't keep her focus for long, as his kisses got more intense each second and his hand movements became bolder with each kiss. It was as if he forgot about his situation, or as if he just stopped caring. She was about to forget it herself when he suddenly swung her around, making her drop the gun at the harsh impact against the wall. She wanted to do something about it but got quickly stopped by a clicking sound and the feeling of cold metal against her head.

She swallowed at the sudden change of situation, knowing he was in control now. She silently cursed at herself for not taking his gun away when she stopped him in front of the elevator but maybe some part of her knew what they were doing when she chose to ignore it.

“You dropped something, princess.” He smirked, knowing god damn well he won this round. “I’m in charge now.”

“Looks like it.” She whispered as she bit her lip. “Then tell me, pretty boy, what happens next?”

(Y/N) would lie if she said she didn’t like how the tables have turned. She would lie if she said it didn’t drive her crazy how he tricked her into losing her focus. She would lie when she said it didn’t make her even hornier than before and the pool in her thong proved it.

She could regain control of the situation with ease and he would be stupid if he thought otherwise. (Y/N) knew what she was doing, and she knew to never rely on solely one weapon, she knew better than that.

Coward. She thought to herself after she didn’t get any response. She leaned in and started kissing his neck to take matters into her own hand. She knew what she had to do and his lack of anticipation only made it easier for her. Or so she thought.

“Wanna make you feel good.” She breathed into his ear as she gently dug her teeth into his soft skin. “Please.”

“But what gentleman would I be if I wouldn't make sure you’re satisfied first?” He smiled. “Rafe Cameron always makes sure his girl is satisfied first.”

She swallowed at the realization that he saw right through her. Because Rafe knew better than to trust her. “Now head back against the wall, princess.” He grinned. “And don’t move.”

She did as she was told and leaned back. He leaned in and started placing wet kisses on her neck before traveling back to her lips where his tongue quickly gained control of her mouth. His one finger was still on the trigger, his other hand went down and slowly crawled under the dress where he was met with the sharp end of a pocket knife. He laughed at the pain, knowing he was right.

“Hm, would you look at that?” He grinned as he pulled it out from beneath her dress, blood dripping down his hand. “Look what you did to me, baby.” He didn't expect an answer and he didn’t get one. All he got was a wicked smirk on her lips and a look so evil, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. She slowly reached for his hand, never breaking eye contact as she put his fingers into her mouth, careful not to cut herself with the knife still in his hands. She sucked off every single drop of blood before releasing his fingers.

“Took care of it, didn’t I?”

He chuckled at the realization of what just happened before leaning back in. The kiss was hungrier now, as his tongue traced her mouth, making him taste his blood on her tongue. He put the gun back into his pocket, knowing it would be easier if he focused on one weapon at a time.

She could feel the sharp blade tracing over her skin as he cut off her thong with one quick cut. She whined at the pain as the knife cut her skin, causing Rafe to giggle. “What? Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” He asked with a tone of fake concern in his voice.

“Just a tickle.”

“Hmmm.” He mourned against her skin as he let his tongue travel over her skin, cleaning up the blood trail the knife caused. “So sweet.”

She gasped at the burning pain when his saliva met her wound but let her head fall back against the wall, as his tongue swirled through her folds and sweet moans escaped her mouth. This man knew exactly what he was doing as he let the tip of his tongue trace over her clit before slamming it back inside. He still held the knife in his one hand, ready just in case she got any stupid ideas but his other hand was free to support his tongue. She held up her leg and laid it onto his shoulder, giving him not only more space to work his wonders but also giving her control over his movements. Because even if Rafe thought he had all the power, (Y/N) would never give up complete control.

She tried to keep quiet at first, not wanting Rafe to know how much she loved this but he saw how wet she was before and he could feel her walls tighten around his tongue, knowing she was close.

“Don’t try to hide your pretty voice from me darling, let me hear you.” He muffled against her pussy, sending vibrations through her body that only brought her closer to the edge.

“Don’t… don’t stop!” She whimpered between her moans.

And he didn’t stop. He kept going faster and deeper until her screams filled the room and he was pretty sure the lady from above could hear them. He helped her ride out her orgasm and licked it all clean afterward, looking like a little boy who just got his first ice cream.

“Now, on your knees.” He demanded as he let his pants slip down his legs, revealing his cock in front of her. She smirked at the sight, disappointed that her plan didn't work earlier but still hungry for him.

She opened up as she let the tip of his length slide over her tongue, the taste of precum traveling through her mouth. He still had the knife in his hand but her movements ripped him out of reality and forced him to forget his environment, only focusing on the touch of her tongue on his skin. (Y/N) knew exactly what she was doing, her tongue tracing over his cock as if it was programmed to do just this and nothing else.

She looked up at him with innocent eyes but he could see an evil sparkle shining right back at him.

It didn’t take long until he was falling apart inside her but she took it all as he did before. He was so wrapped up in the feeling of euphoria that he hadn’t noticed and before he knew she was standing right in front of him with the knife under his chin. As he slowly came to realize what just happened, he tried to carefully reach into his back pocket but he was met with nothing.

“You looking for this, pretty boy?” She smirked devilishly, as she let the small gun spin through her fingers.

He swallowed, knowing that she had it all and he had indeed nothing. “What now, princess? Gonna kill me now?” He got closer to her, completely ignoring the sharp pain of the knife that started to bury itself into his skin. “Do it. Do it baby but we both know that we’re not quite finished yet.” He whispered against her skin, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

She knew she could end it now, end it and she would win. But then she would never know how he would feel inside of her. She would never know how it feels to have him thrusting against her g-spot or how it would feel to be skin-to-skin with his naked body.

“You’re hesitating.” He stated, with narrowed eyes as if he was about to realize something. He chuckled softly, before slowly taking her wrist and moving it away from his throat. “You can let go, sweetheart, I'm not going to run from you.”

He was right, she was hesitating. She didn't know why, she never hesitated before but there was something about him, that made her question herself. Maybe it were his looks, but she had encountered many pretty men before and none made her feel the way he did. No, it weren't his looks. Then she thought, maybe it was cockiness, even though he was scared, he didn't hold back. Maybe it was that, mixed with the fact, that he challenged her, something no one managed to do before him.

She looked up at him, debating whether she should trust him or not. He gently let his hand slide through her hair as he pulled away loose strands and tugged them behind her ear and for a second, he could’ve sworn there was a softness in her eyes that he had never seen before. “I don’t…” She tried to say but she was too distracted. Too distracted by his hand in her hair and his other on her wrist and too distracted by his scent that blew through her nose, intoxicating all her senses.

“Shhh.” He whispered, with his finger now on her lips. “You don’t have to say anything, darling.” He smiled. “Just relax.”

She looked at him, his eyes full of warmth, something that she hasn’t seen too often before. It felt as if he genuinely liked her as if genuinely cared but then who was she fooling, he probably just wanted to distract her into giving in to him once again. And it worked. The moment his lips touched hers she lost. The kiss was slow, not as hungry and passionate as before, as if he tried to calm her down. As if he could feel how fast her heart beat in her chest, how nervous she became with every second. He gently pushed her back against the table, hoping she’d let go of the weapons in her hands but she held steady. He had her but she was still the one in control and he hated that. His mouth wandered to her neck where he traced his tongue up to her ear, gently nibbling around her earlobe.

“Hop up baby.” He breathed into her, causing her to moan out at the tickling feeling in her ear.

The feeling shot through her whole body as she lost control of any power circling through her hands. She lost the feeling of metal against her skin but she didn’t notice, not even the klirr as the gun met the ground beneath her. All she felt was his hot breath against her skin and his erection against her cunt, and she lost sight of everything around her.

She did as told and hopped up on her desk. Rafe let go of her wrist and held up his arms, so she could pull off his shirt. She laid the knife beside her and pushed the fabric of his shoulders while he pushed his boxers down his legs completely. He then pushed her dress away under her ass until he could pull it off her body. He stopped for a second, completely hypnotized by the beauty of her body. The tattoos that marked her skin, a thin, red dragon that made its way up her rips in the right side of her body, a black rose under her left boob and many other small ones such as a date under her right boob. But the one that caught his attention the most was a snake, just between her tits. Thin, black lines with red details crawled their way up her sternum. It only took over a small part of her body, and yet it looked incredibly majestic.

She watched him as he mustered her body, probably thinking about what each of the pictures on her skin meant. He gently let his hand travel over her skin until his thumbs reached her nipples. He carefully slid over the cold metal of her piercings, causing her to get goosebumps all over her skin.

“You’re beautiful.” He smiled softly. “Now lay down for me princess.”

She swung her leg over the table, accidentally pushing off their glasses from before. She winced at the sound of the glass breaking but quickly calmed down as Rafe hopped on right behind her, now sitting on top of her. His lips not even inches away from hers, he let his finger slide over her skin until he reached her clit. He gently massaged her until he slid inside, making sure she was ready for him.

“Please…” She whimpered, but he pulled out his fingers and placed them in her mouth, making her taste herself.

“Patience darling.” He whispered against her lips, “You want me inside of you but I don’t even know your name.”

He was right, she had only told him her last name. Only very close people to her knew her first name and Rafe Cameron, was so far away from close, and yet he was the one she felt the closest to she had felt in a very long time.

“(Y/N)…” She breathed against his skin, “It’s… It’s (Y/N)”

“How pretty. Now, are you gonna be a good girl for me (Y/N)?” He smiled at her nod and gently pushed himself inside her. She was indeed ready for him as he didn’t even need to use his fingers for help.

They both moaned out in sync at the feeling of him inside her. He took her hand and buried his inside, while his other hand went to her throat. She let out a quiet moan at the pressure against it, and let her hand travel through his hair, pulling him down into her lips.

While she dominated his mouth, he had control of his movements. It was as if they were made for each other, his tip perfectly reaching her spot every time he thrust into her walls hugging him so tight as if they never wanted to let him go again.

“You’re so tight, baby girl…” He breathed out, “So perfect for me.”

She wrapped her legs around his back, losing one of her heels in the process. She pushed him even closer into her, almost screaming at the feeling as he thrust into her even stronger. Her walls tightened around him, he knew she was close but he didn’t want it to end yet, no he wanted this to last forever.

“Rafe…” She whimpered, tears in her eyes as he pushed her closer to her breaking point.

“Hold on baby girl, hold on for me.” He whispered as he leaned in for another kissing session. His one hand united with hers, his other leaving choking marks on her neck while her nails traced red lines over his back, so that everyone knew who he belonged to. Her.

She had never felt this sort of connection before, sure he messed up, he had bad intentions the second he entered her office but she couldn’t help it. He had her wrapped around his finger and they both knew it. Maybe it was his smile, maybe it was the way his scent intoxicated her thoughts or maybe it was just the drugs but at this moment she would’ve done everything for him and (Y/N) was never one to fall for anyone.

“Faster baby.” She whimpered between the kisses, a wish he was only happy to grant.

He sped up his pace causing her to scream out his name. “Music to my ears.” He chuckled. He then went even faster as his orgasm started to build up as well.

“Hm can’t hold it anymore…” She cried out, a tear streaming down her face. “Please…”

"Then come for me, pretty girl." He thrust into her harder and mercilessly as her walls tightened around him and they both let out moans and screams of pleasure as they reached their breaking points.

She had her eyes closed, as she tried to recover from her high, a soft smile on her lips. He took that picture in for a second, her makeup all messed up from her tears. It was a beautiful sight and he wished he would never have to look at something different but he also knew what he had to do.

She was about to open her eyes and say something when she felt cold and sharp metal pressed against her throat. She opened her eyes back up and looked at his, eyes dark but with a hint of sorrow buried inside of them.

“Hm.” She laughed. “Of course.” She tried to stay cool but he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

He was still sitting on her, pressing her body down on and cornering her between himself and the cold table beneath them. There was no way for her to turn this around and they both knew it.

He made her give up her weapons and she trusted him. She let down her guard, something that she had never done with anyone before and now she had to pay the price.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her ear as he leaned down. “But we both knew this could only end in two ways.” He paused, leaning back to look into her eyes, gently wiping away the tear rolling out of her beautiful eye. “And… and it seems like I won.”

“Seems like you did.” She whispered before closing her eyes and accepting whatever fate it was that Rafe Cameron had for her.

tag list: @rafesmoon

- let me know if you want to be added ♡

So We Won't Forget

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

warnings: 18+, sensitive topics such as death and mourning, use of Y/N, fluff and flirting, challenging sibling dynamics, smut (P in V, size kink, lots of praise, some teasing), mentions of past drug use, rafe is reforming (?) lol

word count: 7.7 k

Rafe didn’t know what he was thinking.

He knew Barry had given him the bright pink flier as a joke more than anything else. And he’d taken it as a joke, at least after the initial roll of his eyes, too. Ended up crumpling the sheet of paper and chucking it into the garbage can near his bedside, muttering some iteration of ‘yeah man, that’s real funny’.

His dad was dead. For real, this time. He didn’t need some corny grief support group where people sat in a circle and sang their sorrows.

He needed a fucking time machine.

Still, he had done it.

Sleep was getting harder and harder to find these nights. The temperature never felt right.

Too hot when he pulled white sheets up and over his bare hips and too cold when he let them slip down to his feet.

He rolled his body over to his side with the intention of scrolling through his phone which had become increasingly dry since his return from Guadeloupe.

But then his hand was reaching down into the garbage can and he was squinting in the dark to make out an address he’d never seen before.

It was no wonder why. The Church was so far in the outskirts of Figure 8, it might as well have been on the Cut. But it wasn't, and that was one of the only reasons why he'd reconciled with making the drive.

It was a shoddy building with peeling paint and a slanted roof, and it took him a whole twenty minutes to step outside of his truck and through the front doors.

The place gave him the chills. He felt better thinking it was because it was so run-down and he was a Kook through and through, but a part of him knew it was for a different reason entirely. He wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t burst into flames upon entry. It wasn't long ago that he’d melted a fucking cross for Christ’s sake.

Like the man standing at the entry-way can read his mind, he claps a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and flashes him a reassuring smile. He must've been staring guardedly at the blocked off pew.  

“We just use the space on this side of the building.” The man says, gesturing to the large room with groups of scattered chairs and a long table at the back with pastries and refreshments. “There’s no, uh,” he clears his throat, then continues with a knowing glance, “religious affiliation.”

Rafe manages a nod, his fingers feeling numb and jittery all at once. His eyes rake over the room once more. More specifically, the people in it.

Some of them look like they’re itching to talk, while others look so boxed up it makes the silence in the room more chilling. Rafe decides he connects more with the latter, but there’s a spot he can’t quite reach at the swell of his shoulder blade that suddenly feels like it could use a good scratch.

“I’m Leon, by the way. The program manager.” The man, Leon, introduces himself. “Help yourself to some snacks, then grab a seat. We’ll start shortly.”

Leon shoots Rafe another smile, then saunters over to the front of the room where he sits down by a dingy whiteboard. 

Briefly, he wrestles the impulse to sprint out through the double-doors and scrub the very essence of the place off his body in a scalding shower. Sterile and dizzying, just how he likes them. 

But then his feet are trudging clumsily toward the snack table, and he downs a hot cup of coffee that splashes uncomfortably against the acid in his stomach before filling an empty chair at the back. 

"Let's see. As you take your seats and feel out the room, some of you might be asking yourselves why you even bothered to show up. Why don't we take a moment to remind ourselves why?"

To you, the introduction by the man you now know as Leon leaves something to be desired. A reminder wouldn't be necessary because forgetting wasn't the problem. 

The problem was your best friend was gone, and nothing in the world could get your mind off it. It was a strange kind of irony, really, talking about her so you could end up talking about her less. 

What better place and time was there to mourn than the beautiful Outer Banks in the summer?

At least, that's what your mother had said in a chipper tone as you rode the ferry off the mainland together.

Taking in the ambience of your surroundings, you seriously doubt she's right. The AC is blasting and you still feel sweat beading on your forehead. The place had the humidity of a greenhouse and none of the natural light. 

"We'll start our conversation small. With a partner." Leon says, breaking you out of your trance. "I'll walk around the room and pair you up."

The friendly man that Leon is, it takes him a while to get to the back of the room where he pauses in front of you.

"Alright, so that leaves... you two!"

Leon points vaguely to a figure sitting at the far corner, who lifts his head for a second to meet your eyes. A flash of blue before he looks back down again. You notice that he's not moving a muscle and probably doesn't intend to. 

"Guess I'll come to you." You mutter shortly under your breath, dragging your chair behind you as you move closer. 

Taking a seat in front of the quiet stranger, the first thing you notice is that the top of his head is pretty. Then he lifts his chin and you come to realize that the rest of him is even prettier. 

Dirty blonde hair that seems to be growing out after a cut sticks to his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. Angular jaw, beautiful blue eyes, soft pink lips pressed into a frown. He gazes at you suspiciously. 

"Rafe." 

Your eyebrows furrow, temporarily stalling your ogling. "What?"

"My name." He squints at you, pointing a slender finger to the whiteboard on which Leon has messily scrawled the words: 'introduce yourselves and explain why you're here'. 

"Rafe." You repeat, trying the name out in your mouth. It feels harsh but satisfying. Like a swear word. "I'm Y/N." 

He nods, but doesn't say anything else, his eyes flickering between the floor and a black truck you can make out through the window - like he's worried it might disappear. 

You steal a glance at the pairs around you who seem to be getting far deeper into conversation than the two of you. 

"I think we're supposed to talk." You mumble.

Rafe nods again, and his lips part for a moment, but then they close again. You fight the urge to glare at Leon for dooming your progress before it could even begin.

"I can go first." You offer with a shaky breath. "I'm here because my best friend, Stacy... died. It was, um, a car crash." 

Hating the way the silence intensifies between you, you continue. 

"I don't really know what to say. Just that she was kind of my favourite person. And she, uh... always made me feel like I was the only one in the room, you know? She just wanted to make you laugh and it was like nothing else mattered. Just us, living in our own little world."

Rafe feels a certain tightness in his chest, pressing down on his sternum.

"You're lucky." He scoffs.

It makes your face fall.

He'd tried to make it sound like a good thing, but it came out ugly, like it always seemed to. 

"I'm... lucky that my friend died in a violent car crash? Gee, Rafe. Your empathy has no bounds.” 

The turn of your voice makes Rafe's spine stiffen, his brows stiffly pinched together as he attempts to soothe over his words.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, okay?" 

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Suddenly, the lips that you once thought were pretty look more like what they really are. Annoying, when they move. His crisp blue polo and stupidly expensive watch are starting to get on your nerves.

"I just meant that you - look, at least you had her. That's more than a lot of people can say."

That was rich coming from a guy that looked like he had everything in the world at his disposal.

"Who'd you lose? Your gardener?" You quip. 

Rafe stares bitterly then looks down at his lap where his fingers are fidgeting.  

"My dad."

You feel your stomach churn with guilt, face getting hot.

It's the way he says it that pains you. Like it hurts him physically to get the words out. You know that feeling like the back of your hand. You wish you didn't, but you do.

Suddenly, Rafe's rigidity feels less abrasive and more heartbreaking. You wonder how long it's been, hesitant to ask because it might make you feel worse. Maybe you deserved it for leading with pettiness instead of compassion. You remind yourself that you're grieving and messy, too. 

"Oh." You choke out when an apology feels tight on your tongue.

He lifts his head up to meet your eyes, chewing on his bottom lip. "Yeah. Oh."

"I shouldn't have said that, Rafe. I'm sorry." 

"No, I get it. I shouldn't have said that either. That way, at least. I'm trying to be better at... not saying the wrong thing." He breathes, shoulders falling. "I fuck it up constantly."

"You're not, you didn't." You shake your head. "I'm just on edge. Plus, I get really cranky when I'm hot, and it's boiling in here. Promise." 

You feel a sense of relief when he cracks a smile at that, wanting to savour it. 

"And...," you trail off, catching his attention. 

"And?"

Your gaze runs over him, from the top of his handsome face, down to his shiny designer boots. 

"You're textbook Kook. I guess my whole 'eat the rich' thing got the best of me." 

Rafe laughs softly, feeling a rush in his chest. For a second, he's not thinking about a certain series of events that looms over him everywhere he goes like some sort of 'never off the clock' paralysis demon. Nor any of the bad decisions he made that led him up to that point and drove him deeper into the ground after the fact. He remembers back when he was just a regular asshole. An arrogant rich kid with poor impulse control and penchant for adrenaline. 

He's debated if he would choose to go back thousands of times. 

Part of him wants to.

He had a lot less to worry about. More parties to throw, more girls to take up to his bedroom after very little flirting on his part, more blow to keep him heady and distracted.

Help keep his mind off of the arguments with his dad.

His dad, who blew a hole in his life, and now, was gone... forever. It's something he'd imagined more times than he could count, but he would have never guessed this feeling. 

Nothing felt good anymore. Like he didn't deserve any release because his dad wasn't here to give him shit, so he'd endured nothing to deserve it. He'd started feeling guilty, more than usual, and in a more physical sense. He could feel it when he woke up. Maybe it was the guilt that woke him up every day, gasping for air and clutching his chest. It was starting to sink in and sometimes he spent the whole of the night crying. It was like his soul was being reformed. He drove to a Church, instead of calling Barry, to feel something again. 

He secretly hoped for a big, ambiguous power that would slap him awake and help him trek forward like a strong wind behind his back. But believing took a certain lack of resistance and if his father's eyes were anything to go by, Rafe was stubborn like a grease stain.

Then there was the risk of believing and still watching everything spin into chaos around you. Feeling stupid that you hoped for something different.

But things are different now. 

He's still an asshole, sure. But he's trying to work on that. 

"You're not wrong." He admits, grinning slightly. "You been to the island before?"

"Couple times. I know how you guys talk." You shrug, amused at how the jargon piqued his interest. "It's been a pretty long time, though. Don't think we've ever met."

He nods, like that makes sense to him. You shiver when his blue eyes run you up and down. 

"I would've remembered you."

Before you can respond, Leon makes his way over to the two of you, smiling to himself, mostly, because the conversation he'd manufactured appeared to be a success.

"You two look chatty." He says brightly, eyes flickering over Rafe's posture, far more laid-back than when he first walked in. 

"Just doing what you asked." Rafe replies shortly.  

"Yeah, 'course. Just that you two seemed quiet, but turns out, you're chatty. It's nice, that's all. Keep up the good work, folks!" Leon says the last part loud enough for the room to hear, enthusiastically clapping his hands together while he does it. 

"Dude's weird." 

You chuckle at Rafe's comment, watching as Leon eagerly prods at another pair. You turn back to him and shrug. 

"Definitely weird. Kinda sweet, though?"

The rest of the session continues with Leon speaking to the group, promising that next time, sharing would take place in a larger circle for deeper community. You don't miss the way Rafe's knee bounces up and down next to you. At one point, you gently put one of your palms on his knee to keep it still. You feel his stare burning a hole in the side of your face, but you don't look at him. Just a hint of a smile on your lips. 

It makes Rafe nervous. He feels something different, and he likes it, but it makes him nervous. 

"Hey... you gonna come next week?" You ask him as you sling your bag over your shoulder, trying to make sure your voice doesn't sound so hopeful. 

He pauses for a second. 

"Uh, maybe. Maybe, I'm going to have to check on a few things first." By a few things, he meant Barry. Though they'd unloaded most of the cross gold, they still worked together sometimes. Mostly because they wanted to.

He was an unlikely friend. Gruff and hard to control, but in his corner.

If Rafe was going to show up again, he didn't want Barry finding out. He'd never hear the end of it - 'you're getting soft on me, Country Club!'.

"Okay." You chirp, turning to leave and taking all of three steps before stopping again with your bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

Fuck it. 

"Hey Rafe?" You spin back, sounding hopeful and a little desperate, but honest, at least, because you are those things. 

"Yeah?" He breathes, eyes falling all around you. 

"I really hope you come."

Quickly, you turn back around and make your way to the door, hand barely gripping the knob when you finally hear his voice.

"Y/N."

You look over your shoulder to meet tender blue eyes. 

"I'll be there."

Turns out, sharing circles are harder than they look. For Rafe, at least. 

You spoke about Stacy so easily. You spoke well of her so easily.

When Rafe heard your shaky exhales next to him, he clamped his warm, calloused hand over yours on instinct, listening thoughtfully to the way you described her favourite hobbies. The ones you loved along with her, and the ones you loved to make fun of her for. It was a good reminder for him, that the fruits of his instincts could be tender. An animal with at least some softness. He wasn't always so sure.

He spent a fair amount of time comforting Sarah and Wheezie when they cried as kids, but he was also usually the reason they started crying in the first place. 

After that first meeting, you awkwardly made your way out of the Church and Rafe followed behind you shortly after. When he watched you undo your bike lock, he puffed his red cheeks out and approached you with a slight shake in his knees. He wasn't nervous, it was just hot out - is what he tried to convince himself. 

He offered you a ride back to the house you were staying at with your mom in exchange for your number. You strapped yourself in his passenger seat with a smile on your lips and a special kind of spark flared up in your chest, the kind that makes you acutely aware of the sweat coating the back of your neck, sticking the hair to the skin, when your eyes met his in the rearview mirror. 

Rafe didn't look like the kind of guy that seemed well-intentioned when he asked for a girl's number. But he surprised you when he texted you once he got home. Then again all through the evening. And, in the days that followed. 

Between the texts and the phone calls, you covered a lot of ground. Now, Rafe knew about the time you peed yourself at an elementary school book fair, and you knew that he slept with his first dog's collar months after she died. You gushed about your favourite kinds of junk food while he raved about the hand-spun milkshakes at the club. 

Rafe's turn to speak in the circle was a mess, to say the least. He could hardly spit a few words about Ward, too busy navigating pregnant pauses and his newfound habit of stuttering. He thinks he might've called Ward 'nice', then very quickly grimaced after. When he heard his own voice through the rush in his ears, he thought it sounded nothing like him. He could barely even feel your gentle hand rubbing at his back when his words broke and cracked, leaving his throat with a nasty burn. 

Though Rafe knew his relationship with his dad was strained, he loved him.

It wasn't a comforting feeling, but it was the truth, and all he had. They both could have done better, he reminds himself. God knew that was true.

But at one point, he'd just been a kid. He needed help. He needed his father who always seemed to find business elsewhere. It made sense that talking about Ward was hard.

It made mourning him harder.

A perpetual flurry of emotions that kept his mind up at night and his hands restless. Anger and sadness always dominating the rest, but fighting their own fight with each other.

Anger when he thought about the ways his dad favoured Sarah.

Sadness when he remembered those rare early mornings Ward woke Rafe up for a surprise boat trip, just the two of them.

Back then, Rafe used to stay up entire nights in excitement at the prospect of spending some time alone with his father. Eventually, he had to force himself to accept that their last trip together had long passed, and right under his nose.

"Was it bad?" He groans, eyes screwed shut as he rubs a hand over his taut jaw, working lazily on a piece of gum.

He's still sitting when the room clears out. You stand to haul your bag over your shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile that he absorbs fully. Bright blue eyes drinking you in. 

"No, Rafe. It was fine. Everyone's too busy focusing on their own shit. You got through it just fine."

He gives you an unconvinced look, quirking a brow. Then he tugs at your bag, holding it instead. 

"You're lying." He frowns. With a hint of amusement in his voice, "God, and you're a bad liar, too."

Biting your lip, you take Rafe's hand in yours and drag him towards the exit, giggling quietly to yourself. He trails behind you, slowly shaking his head. He grins when you skip past the metal rack at the front of the building and pull him into the parking lot. You didn't bring your bike today. 

"C'mon, big guy. Let's get you a milkshake." You tease. "I know a place."

He rolls his eyes and laughs, letting you lead him in the opposite direction of his truck.

"You're going the wrong way, dumbass."

"I don't know, Rafe. It tastes kinda funny."

"That's because you mixed chocolate, vanilla, and peach. Who the fuck does that?"

Rafe sips on his chocolate milkshake as he sits across from you in the booth, an amused smirk tugging at his pink lips. The Island Club is somehow nicer inside than it is outside. The cherry-wood of the tables shines under the mood lighting and even near capacity, there's enough room for decent conversation. 

You pout, stirring your paper straw around in the metal cup. You perk up with an idea. 

"Let me try yours."

Rafe starts to laugh, eyes widening in protest. You're sweet, he thinks. He'd probably give you anything if you asked.

But that didn't mean he'd do it. He liked to think he was a little more challenging than that. 

"No, you made your bed." He shakes his head, gulping down another sip. It makes his Adam's apple bob. You stare mostly unashamed and lick your lips without thinking. "Now lie in it."

He watches your eyes get big for all of three seconds before realizing he'd lie right beside you.  

"Fuck, fine." He relents, taking his lip under his teeth, pang in his chest. "Don't look at me like that."

With two fingers, he pushes his cup in your direction and you hum happily as you sip from it. A sort of warm feeling in your stomach as you realize Rafe's mouth was on the same straw you're sucking on just moments before. 

"Do you know that guy? He's staring at you really hard." You mumble through the milkshake, but Rafe's eyes are fixated on your saliva-coated lips. 

"Huh?"

You turn your gaze to a guy at the bar. He's been staring at the back of Rafe's head for the better part of five minutes, squinting his eyes every so often as if to confirm it's really Rafe he's looking at. As he starts to come closer, you begin to understand why - his button-up shirt is half undone, his tawny brown hair disheveled, a far-away look in his blue eyes - he's drunk off his ass. 

Rafe turns to look. 

"Shit. Yeah, he's my sister's... long story." He sighs, forcing a smile as the guy approaches your table. "Hey, Top. What's going on, man?"

"Rafe!" The guy, Top, slurs excitedly. "I never see you around anymore, man. Where you been?" 

Then his eyes run over you and he chuckles. "Maybe I should be asking who you been with." 

It was true, Rafe had been sort of MIA since Sarah had returned with the news about his dad.

Well, except for that one incident. He hoped Topper was too drunk to remember that. In any case, he hadn't felt that guilty about their fading friendship - Topper had been MIA, too, ever since he went 'Rafe-crazy' and lit up the Chateau. He supposes that was his fault, too. 

Maybe he was avoiding him on purpose.

Topper reminded him of all the skeletons in his closet. It was hard enough living with the shame without a walking, talking reminder of his past. A lot of bravado and hair gel, is what it was. He regretted nearly everything now but sometimes he worried that if he spent enough time in the same places he used to, with the same people he used to, he'd somehow switch back. 

Rafe stiffens a little, but he gazes at you warmly. "This is Y/N. We met at, uh... she's...," 

"New." You finish for him. "Rafe's been showing me around."

At that, Rafe gives you a look. It made it sound like...

"Ah, that famous Cameron hospitality." The guy snorts. "I'm Topper."

The words 'Nice to meet you, Topper' die on your lips when he rams a hand aggressively on Rafe's shoulder and starts to laugh to himself, as if recalling memories. "Me and this guy? We go way back, Y/N. Best of friends, really."

You nod half-heartedly, shifting awkwardly in your seat. The leather of the chair underneath your bare thighs is starting to stick to the skin uncomfortably. 

"Alright, man, well it was good seeing you-," Rafe attempts to wave him off, but Topper doesn't let up.

"Look, dude." He whispers, lowering his head to Rafe's ear. He's not being as quiet as he thinks he is, and the next part of what he says makes you shudder. "I heard about your dad."

Rafe feels a wave of defeat wash over him. So, Topper wasn't too drunk to remember. 

It was one of the first nights after he'd heard about his dad. He'd spent as long as he could in the Island Club, ordering drink after drink, until he stumbled outside and spent a good chunk of the night puking his guts out. Unfortunately, that wasn't before letting his tongue fall a little too loose, and explaining to Topper how his dad hadn't really died on My Druthers because he was in Guadeloupe swimming in gold. But now, now he was really dead. And he wasn't coming back. And he'd barely said goodbye. 

"I'm really sorry, man. I know things have been really fucking weird, to say the least. But I'm sorry you're going through that. Again." Topper spills, feeling completely uninhibited. "Well, I guess it's only real this time around. But... you wouldn't have known that at the time." 

Topper winces at himself. He rubs a hand down his red face and stumbles away from the table. "Shit. Sorry. I'm just gonna-,"

"See ya, Top." Rafe cuts him off dryly. 

You look at Rafe cautiously as Topper makes his way, albeit clumsily, back to the bar. He lets out a deep breath and then slowly starts to shake his head, lifting his chin to meet your eyes with a look that seems to say - 'are you seeing this shit?'. 

"That guy used to be your best friend?" You ask with a hint of a smile, trying to diffuse the tension. You spare a glance at Topper who's slurring through his order of another drink. 

Rafe shrugs, letting out a wispy laugh. "We had our moments."

Moments he wasn't particularly eager to tell you about, but moments, nonetheless. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"  

"What, Topper? Fuck no." He laughs harder. 

"No, not Topper. The meeting." You say sincerely. "Why you feel like you can't talk about your dad."

You feel your heart race a little at the question, wondering if Rafe is going to use it to be vulnerable. His face falls for a moment, but then it recovers. For a second, he considered it. But there's something bigger that's been weighing on his mind. 

"I was kinda hoping we could do something else." He says softly and moves in closer, cupping your cheek.

"Yeah?" You whisper, meeting his intense gaze. Hot breath fanning over his face. "And what's that?"

He tenderly moves a strand of hair out of your eyes, trying so hard to be soft that his hand is shaking. His blue eyes have specks of something else at this distance. It's the best colour you've ever seen. 

"I really need to kiss you."

He nods while he says it, like he's giving himself an affirmation. Then he's closing the space between you and pressing his lips over yours with a controlled kind of pressure you're really tempted to see snap one day. The way your mouth opens for his tongue nearly immediately almost makes it happen right now. And that'd really be a shame, he thinks, because he wants to ruin you when he has time and space to play with. 

"Stay with me tonight?" He mumbles breathily as you pull apart, and you nod as his thumb cradles your cheek.

You think you can maybe make out Topper whistling, but it's hard with all the blood rushing to your ears.

Rafe kisses like affection has been missing from his life for a long time. 

His hands are almost frustratingly gentle as they caress your jaw, but his lips, which haven't detached from yours since you entered his bedroom, more than make up for it.

They're hungry and wet with spit, entirely unsatisfied until your panting underneath him and have to bury your face in his neck to take deep, deep breaths of oxygen and his fading cologne.

He bites at your mouth and neck in the meantime, then soothes over the tender spots with his tongue while you whine and claw at the silky material on his still-clothed back.  

"This. Off." You murmur throatily, parting from his lips to tug up on the hem of his shirt. You stare unabashedly at the defined v-line that peaks out from underneath, tongue darting out to wet your lips in anticipation.

Rafe laughs, but humours you, throwing the garment off over the side of the bed so that it hits the floor somewhere. 

Still hovering over you, he leans down to press several kisses to your lips, and you take the opportunity to run the flat of your hand down his warm and muscular chest, the other hand curling around the sweaty strands of his dirty blonde hair. 

Rafe actually moans out when you tug on his hair, and the pretty sound brings a rush of heat to your core.

You squeeze your thighs together and plant open-mouthed kisses along Rafe's jaw, when his phone starts to vibrate on his bedside table. 

You turn your head to glance at the bright screen and Rafe scrunches his eyebrows together, fingers pinching at your chin to turn your focus back on him.

"I don't give a fuck who it is." He laughs breathily. "I'm not picking up. I'll break the stupid thing if I have to." 

You playfully roll your eyes before Rafe's lips attach to yours again, and you hum happily against his lips as he works them raw. Then his phone starts buzzing again.

"You wanna reconsider?" You giggle. Rafe slumps his face into your chest and groans loudly, arm extending to the table to pick up the device. He lifts his head up and glances at the notification, face twisting in what looks like shock.

"It's my sister." He says, confusion evident in his tone. "My sister never calls me."

He moves to stand up and passes you an apologetic glance.

"Sorry, I gotta take this." He mumbles in a stray kiss to the crown of your head. "Gimme a sec." 

A few seconds turns into something much longer. 

It turned out that Rafe's sister, Sarah, was calling him because of some kind of commotion that was happening at a bonfire she and her friends were at.

Apparently, the person causing the commotion was someone Rafe knew.

Based on Rafe's initial surprise and the way he's been chewing through his bottom lip the whole way to the beach, you assumed Sarah calling was a last resort for her. You got the sense she and her brother didn't talk often.

"I'm gonna handle this, alright? I need you to stay right here." Rafe says sternly, nervously running a hand through his hair.

You sit in the passenger seat of his truck, which has quickly become one of your new favourite spots, with a frown on your pretty lips that makes Rafe's chest hurt. He reaches up to cup your cheek. 

He'd tried to convince you to stay in his room while he dealt with the situation, but you were adamant about coming with. You needed to make sure he was safe. It didn't feel like there were many people that had his best interests at heart. 

"If you think I'm going to let you go out there by yourself, you really don't know me, Rafe." 

His lips twitch at that, his thumb caressing the skin under your eye.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" He murmurs softly. "Fine. C'mon."

The beach is pretty at this hour, too. The sky is dark, but not completely so - an expansive dark blue that blankets the moon. In the distance, you can see the reddish-golden flames of a bonfire that illuminate a group of people. 

"You had the cross!" An exasperated voice yells. "How was that not enough for you?!"

"Yeah, I'm afraid that's old news." Another man with long dark hair retorts humourlessly. "I'mma need my fucking my money. The money your punk asses stole from me, or did you forget that shit?!"

Getting closer, you can see that this group is separated from the much larger crowd behind them. Four guys, and two girls. One of the girls has shiny blond hair that glows under the light of the bonfire flames. Sarah, you guess. 

Three of the guys stand beside the girls. The other one stands opposite the rest of them, hands smoothing over something his pocket.

A soft gasp leaves your lips when you realize it's a gun.

Rafe stops suddenly. He turns to gaze at you with an intense look in his eyes, pupils hard as one of his hands grips your shoulder. The other reaches for your face, thumb brushing over your lip tenderly. 

"Don't move." He whispers. "Promise me." 

You feel your stomach churn at the request, wanting nothing more than to tug him by the hand all the way back to his truck. But you nod, hoping it helps alleviate the tension in his forehead. 

"Barry!" Rafe calls out as he turns around and approaches them. 

The man with the gun tucked in his jeans, Barry, looks over his shoulder and huffs. Rafe roughly pushes him away from the rest of the group and they divulge into a heated conversation. Rafe's jaw ticks as he listens to Barry and receives a firm shove to the chest. But he manages to placate the other man by whispering something into his ear. Barry ends up nodding, and he casts one more angry glance at the rest of the group then begins to retreat. 

"Y'all have a good night, now." He chuckles grudgingly before leaving. 

Rafe makes his way back to the rest of them, nodding at his sister. You slowly come up behind him. 

"Thanks." Sarah seems to hesitate to say. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and there are frustrated tears in her eyes.

The relationship between Rafe and Sarah has been strained for a long time. They seemed to fundamentally disagree with each other.

It wasn't always that way. Or at least, Rafe thinks, it wasn't always that way. One day, his sister upped and left it all - the big house, the fancy clothes, the nice cars - for 'Pogue life'. It still made his nose crinkle in disgust when he thought about it. But the truth was, he hadn't thought about it in a while... their dad dying worked to break them out of that feud. There were bigger things to worry about, and despite everything that went down in the last few years, they'd lived a whole life together before that.

That still meant something to Rafe. 

It meant something to Sarah, too, he thinks, because she'd been less appalled by him lately. She checked in every once in a while. A few months back, he'd formally apologized to her, and of course, it would never be enough, but he felt a weight off his shoulder when she accepted it. When he realized she wasn't scared of him anymore. 

Maybe they could move passed everything. It would take a long time, sure. But he could wait for family. The only family he has. 

One of the guys nexts to Sarah, wearing a backwards baseball cap, stiffens.

"Don't thank him. He's Barry's bitch." He bites like Sarah's words are absurd, then stares hard at Rafe. "In fact, he's probably just here to score some more coke."

Rafe's grits his teeth, eyes fluttering shut for a second. He opens them and shakily exhales. 

"I'm clean, now." 

Your heart clenches at how raw his voice sounds. You watch with wide eyes as the same guy scoffs at him.

"Yeah, like anybody believes that." He mumbles under his breath. Before you can try and defend him, Sarah steps in. 

"Guys, I called him." She admits, fatigue evident in her voice. It makes you wonder how long the confrontation between them had gone on before you and Rafe showed up. Another guy, one wearing a bandana across his forehead, casts Sarah a sour glance and she sighs. "You know I had to, John B. Did you want Barry to leave, or not?"

He didn't have anything to say to that. 

Sarah steps away from her friends in an attempt at some privacy. She approaches Rafe, and by extension, you, while the rest of the gang diffuses around the bonfire. Whatever had gone down in the past between these people, it was clear they wanted nothing to do with Rafe moving forward, and it was perhaps only because Sarah was family that she even entertained speaking to him. You appreciated her for that. 

"It's been a while." Sarah comments. "You've been... doing okay?"

Rafe shuffles nervously in front of her, nodding without meeting her eyes. 

"Yeah, I've been good. You?" 

Sarah nods and a silence falls between them. 

"You're still hanging around Barry?" She asks, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. 

"He's not that bad."

"Yeah, I'll try to remember that when he's not threatening me and my friends for 25 thousand dollars."

Rafe shakes his head with a new-found confidence, raising his chin to meet her stormy and inquisitive eyes. "Nah, I talked to him. He won't bother you guys anymore."

Sarah nods again, and another silence falls between them. 

"You're really doing good?" She asks again, bottom lip wedged beneath her teeth.

"Yeah, I am. I'm, uh, getting help. Got this... group thing."

At the mention of a 'group', Sarah's eyes sweep over to you, drinking in your slightly turned face and averted gaze as you try to give the siblings some space for their conversation. She feels her lips twitch a little. So much had happened. A lot she didn't think she would ever forgive, maybe should never forgive. But she couldn't deny that it was more complex than that, nor could she deny that she missed her older brother. The one from before. Who she'd make eye contact across the dinner table with when Rose waxed poetic about their new marble counters. If they could find their way back there, she'd be lying if she said the idea didn't make her happy. 

"I'm really happy to hear that, Rafe. Honestly." 

Rafe smiles weakly. They say their goodbyes and manage an awkward side-hug with each other. When he turns around, you silently take his hand in yours, and you walk along the roaring beach back to his truck. 

Back at the truck, you lay your head on Rafe's shoulder as he sits in the driver's seat, still parked at the side of the road. Rafe keeps his eyes closed, taking a deep breath before he starts to speak. 

"My dad scared me." 

Instinctively, you reach your hand over the console and tangle your fingers together. You give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

"I fucked up a lot, embarrassed him. And I, uh, I don't blame him for that. I was high all the time. Angry. Violent." He continues, sniffling slightly. "He wasn't scared of me, though. Never was."

"I guess I just wanted him to look at me and not be ashamed, you know?"

Rafe gulps, trying to let the sound of your soft hums and the warmth of your body keep him steady. 

"I did some really bad things to people. Things I'm not proud of." He whispers with his head hanging. "They didn't deserve it... and now, I have to live with that."

He shuts his eyes and exhales. 

"It's, uh... it's really hard living with that."

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you bite your lip as you take in Rafe's words, fingers reaching forward to brush away the spare tears that collect on his cheeks. He leans into your touch, finding comfort in it. 

"Hey." You say softly. "Look at you, talking about your dad. You're doing a really good job, Rafe."

He smiles weakly, his eyes trained on his lap. "Sorry tonight was a bust."

"It wasn't." You protest. "Plus, it's not over yet."

Rafe lifts his chin to look at you, his curiosity piqued.

You lick your lips and trace your fingers along his jaw, maneuvering yourself over the console to firmly grip the sides of his face and pull his lips to yours in a long and messy kiss. It's clumsy, with your noses bumping, and teeth scraping - but it's hot and it makes you feel tingly.

Rafe nips at your bottom lip shamelessly, kisses trailing down the column of your throat. "In the truck?" He asks, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice.

"In the truck." You breathe, holding back a moan when Rafe sucks on your skin. 

One way or another, the two of you find your way into Rafe's backseat. He's sitting with his legs wedged apart while you grind on top of him, muttering obscenities under your breath and weaving your fingers through his hair.

The sounds of your pleasure do more for him than he'd care to admit. When you unzip his slacks and stick your hand into his briefs to pull out his leaky cock, he throws his head back against the headrest and hisses at the contact. He is so fucking sensitive already.

"No, don't." Rafe protests breathlessly when you stroke his hard cock a few times, his hand slipping from your hip to wrap around your wrist and pull it away. Your eyes widen and you unfurl your hand immediately, only to smile when you realize why he wants you to stop. He tries to calm himself down, but can feel it building. 

"It's been a while." Rafe defends, and you giggle on top of him, pressing a sloppy kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

"Honestly, Rafe. That's really fucking hot." 

You pull your top over your head and toss it to the floor, then quickly unclasp your bra. Rafe groans immediately, half-lidded eyes so pretty and pitiful as one of his hands reaches up to grope you, while his mouth latches on to one of the hardening buds. You raise your hips to pull down your shorts, but it's not quick enough for Rafe. He tugs impatiently at the lace of your panties. 

Rafe sits you down on him, letting you control the speed as he enters you. Your mouth falls open as you attempt to take him fully, eyes screwed shut, gasp after gasp leaving your lips. 

"Fuck." You pant as he bottoms out, unable to move for a second as your head slumps in his chest. Rafe chuckles underneath you, large hands squeezing your hips. 

"You okay, baby?" 

"It's just big." You murmur, taking your bottom lip under your teeth. "It's really big, Rafe."

"I know," he coos softly as you begin to rock your hips on top of him, his own face twisting in pleasure as your pelvises kiss. "But you're doing so good, huh?"

You can barely respond, too taken by the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. By the sound of Rafe's deep thrusts, pistoling up into you as your hips knock into each other sloppily. Your slick dripping from where you're connected down to your thighs, squelching obscenely inside Rafe's truck, definitely staining the seats. 

"Taking my cock so well." He praises. "Splitting you in half, and you're taking it like a champ." 

You moan brokenly as Rafe hits your spot, his hand trailing down at the same time to rub circles on your aching clit with his thumb. 

"My good girl, huh? Always will be?"

You reach your climax as he presses searing kisses on your shoulder, shuddering with the kind of white hot pleasure that has your toes curling and a high-pitched whine vibrating from your throat that Rafe is sure he'll never forget. 

He comes shortly after, the way you clench around him through your orgasm enough to send him reeling. He groans, pumping his hips a few more times before he stills completely and fills the condom with his spend. He holds you tightly as you both come down, the sounds of your heavy breathing overlapping with each other.

Before his cock softens, he pulls out slowly and disposes of the latex. He presses a soft kiss to your cheekbone when you frown at the loss of contact, whimpering sweetly.

"Don't pout, princess. You need to get filled up? Right here?" A slender finger trails down to your slit, bumping your sensitive clit in the process, and it prods at your wet hole. 

He chuckles, brushing the sweaty hair from your face with his other hand. "I got that. Just gotta be patient and wait 'til I get you home. You can do that for me, right, pretty girl?"

The next morning, you strap yourself into the passenger seat of Rafe's truck as he drives to a busted Church at the outer edge of Figure 8. He takes his seat amongst a circle of foldable chairs and you take your seat next to him. His hand reaches out to grip yours not different from how it did last night, through fucking and sleeping alike.

When it's his turn to speak, you squeeze his hand encouragingly and he takes a deep breath.

"My dad, Ward Cameron, passed away about a year ago. He was a lot of things...,"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!