Rafe X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Alright I promise I'm gonna start writing again, next work up on Monday. Preferences?

Summary: Rafe comes home to find out that you're hanging out with the pogues when he strictly told you not to and decides to teach you a lesson.

Pairing: Dark!Rafe × Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Substance abuse, violence, gun, mentions of bondage, abuse (choking, slapping and hairpulling)

Read at your own risk.

A/N: I tried dark!rafe!!! Sorry if it does not turn out as well as I hoped for it to be.

Words: 1.6K

The keys jangled in the hole, door unlocking. Rafe pushed the door open frustratedly, slamming it as he enters and shuts the door.

The house was dark, except some lighting in the living room and the dining room. Rafe sighed and walked upstairs, thinking you were asleep, considering it was 2am at night. He opened the shared bedroom door slowly, expecting to find his pretty girl on bed, hopefully in minimal clothing. Instead, he was faced with an empty bed and no girlfriend in sight.

It was an understatement to say Rafe was panicking.

His first thought was something happened to you and someone took you from him, but all the doors and windows had been locked. His first instinct was to grab his phone, shaky hands opening Life360.

"Fuck!" He shouted, your location was turned off.

He calls you, throwing his phone against the wall when the automated voice tells him your phone is switched off.

Breathing became quite a task for him, chest heaving, pupils red from doing coke just some time ago at Barry's. He shouted your name, hoping your voice would come from one of the guest rooms, exclaiming you had been here the whole time.

He picks up his phone, screen cracked but still functional. He calls Topper, storming the house as he checks all the rooms, almost ripping the doors off their hinges.

"What's up?"

Topper finally picks up, video game noises in the background.

"WHERE IS SHE!?" Rafe shouts, loud enough that Topper pauses his game, back straightening and alert.

"Where is who? Y/n? Isn't she home?"

"Would I be fucking calling you if she was home dumbass? Is she at your house?"

Topper frowns, rubbing his forehead.

"Bud, why the hell would your girlfriend be at my house? I'm gonna call Sarah and ask if she's seen her okay? Just-just stay at home. You sound too coked up to be driving right now."

Rafe stares at his phone as Topper cuts the call, promising to help him find you. He looks around, eyes widened and body shaking.

"She wouldn't leave me." He sinks down to the floor, whispering to himself, head in his hands and tears in his eyes. His throat closed up, long hands pulling on his blonde hair. He calls you again and again, received by the the same automated message.

"She wouldn't leave me. She promised me she wouldn't leave me...she-"

He scrambles to pick up his ringing phone, cursing when he realises it's Topper and not you.

"She's with Sarah." Topper says when Rafe picks up.

His words ring in Rafe's mind. She's with Sarah. That means she's with those dirty fucking pogues.

He cuts the call without saying a word, tears long gone as he tucks his gun inside his jeans, keys in his hand. He knew where you were, didn't have to think twice before driving to the Chateau.

He ignored Topper's calls, putting his phone on silent while he drove.

You knew how much Rafe hated those pogues. You knew how much he hated Sarah. But you still hung out with them behind his back huh? He was about to catch you fucking red handed today.

He parked his car a little away from the chateau, getting out of the car quickly.

A yard party at the chateau.

Oh you were in a hell lotta fucking trouble this time.

He observes you from far away, arms crossed and eyes red. He was going fucking crazy inside...but he had to catch you at the right moment. Make you feel guilty and vulnerable.

A particular song that you love comes up and he snaps his head to JJ, who walks towards you. You laugh and you dance with him, tits pressed against his chest and arms around his neck.

In your mind you were just dancing with your best friend.

In Rafe's mind, you had betrayed him and humiliated him in front of the world. His blood boiled as he marched towards you.

Sarah notices him first and tries to pull him back. He pushes her away and reaches you. JJ's eyes widened, your back to Rafe.

That's it asshole. Be scared of me.

Rafe pushes you aside and before you can even register your boyfriend is here, he punches JJ in the face, and hard. He tries to punch Rafe back but Rafe pushes him back, repeatedly punching him till the point you're screaming for him to let go.

"RAFE STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

You yank at his arm and he finally stops, wiping the sweat from his face, kicking JJ's crumpled form one last time. He takes out his gun, pointing it at JJ's head. You widen your eyes and cover the muzzle with your hand.

"Rafe please please please don't do this please..." You whisper, body visibly shaking.

His eyes lay on you next and you cower under his gaze when you see the rage boiling in his stare. He scans you up and down, hands turning into fists when he properly looks at the tight pink dress you're wearing that barely covers your ass. He ignores the rest of the crowd, tugging the gun back into his waistband.

He wraps his hand around your wrist, practically dragging you back to his car, deaf to your protests.

"LET ME GO! HAVE YOU GONE FUCKING CRAZY?"

He opens the door to the passenger seat, shoving you inside and shutting the door, activating child lock so you can't get out.

You try to open the door frantically as Rafe climbs into his own seat. You give up, turning to your fuming boyfriend.

"Rafe..." You whisper, fear in your voice.

He pulls out to the main road, driving way over the speed limit.

"Rafe" You say, louder this time. He speeds up even more, taking harsher turns, jaw set and knuckles white over the steering wheel.

"Rafe!" You scream. "Rafe please slow dow-"

He abruptly turns to the side of the road, pulling the brakes as he undoes his seat belt, wrapping his hand around your throat.

"Rafe, Rafe, Rafe!" He mocks you, tightening his hand around your neck, cutting off your air supply. You struggled to breathe, hands wrapping around his.

"Spit it out bitch. What do you want huh?"

He grinded his teeth together.

"Want to cheat on me with JJ again? Wanna go back to him and let him fuck you?"

"I w-wasnt..." You try to say, tears in your eyes. Rafe swings the back of his hand at your cheek, your head thrown to one side as he let's go of your neck.

You look up to see his face, horrified look on your face. You search his face for any sign of regret but you only see anger.

"That hurt huh? Did that fucking hurt you- you slut!?"

He pulls your hair back when you don't answer him. You gasp, the pain in your scalp bringing tears to your eyes.

"Rafe I'm sorry please I-"

"Sorry huh? Sorry you turned off your location? Sorry for ignoring my calls? Sorry for cheating on me with that dirty fucking pogue or Sorry for hanging out with my bitch of a sister!?"

He yanked on your hair again and this time the tears that flowed down your cheeks weren't of pain but of fear.

"I wasn't cheating on you baby I just wanted to be with my friends and I know you don't like them-"

"Oh so you knew I didn't like them? Glad to know something registers in that airhead of yours."

He let's go off your hair, tears in his eyes now.

"Fuck y/n you told me you love me! You told me you-"

His voice broke, hands on his head. Your eyes softened but you were clearly still scared. From the look of his eyes and the way he was behaving? You knew he was on drugs.

"I do love you I love you Rafe-"

"THEN WHY WERE YOU WITH THEM!?! WHY DID YOU LEAVE THE FUCKING HOUSE WITHOUT EVEN- WITHOUT FUCKING TELLING ME!?"

You flinch at his loud voice. His breaths slow down and he wipes off his tears, starting the car again. You stay silent the whole ride, scared of what he would do if you said anything, scared for your safety.

Rafe was a hothead. But he was calculating. And what he had in store for you, even God couldn't stop him.

He got out of the car the moment you both reached, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you out of the passenger seat. He threw you over his shoulder, storming to your bedroom. You pleaded with him to stop and talk to you but he kept walking, throwing you on the bed.

He grabbed your chin hard, squeezing it between his thumb and his fore finger until you were crying with pain and grabbing onto his shoulders, begging for him to let you go.

"Open." Rafe spits out coldly.

This wasn't your Rafe.

He wouldn't hurt you like this.

You open your mouth anyway, eyes trained on his blue ones. He takes out a baggie from the back pocket of his jeans, taking some powder in his fingers.

"No no no no no...Rafe please please I'm sorry baby please don't-"

He forced your mouth open, coating your gums with coke. He looks into your eyes, smirking as it takes effect almost immediately, body pliant under him.

"You'll never have to leave this house again yeah? Daddy's got everything you need."

He whispers, spreading just a bit more powder on your tongue. You nod, mixture of euphoria from the coke and fear churning in the pit of your stomach, spit falling from the sides of your mouth.

Rafe gets up to lock the door, returning with rope in one hand and gun in another as he feasted his eyes on your perfect body in that slutty dress.

He was never going to let you go.

Send requests lovies!

https://www.tumblr.com/rafeslittleangel/742914907244216320/requests-are-always-open-send-one-in?source=share

Thinking of starting a frat!rafe rp account. Yes or no?

Yes it is ig

Thinking of starting a frat!rafe rp account. Yes or no?

》 NO INTERFERENCE — rafe cameron x reader

word count — 7.2k (wtf)

warnings — MDNI; dark!rafe (kinda creepy stealing reader’s stuff), mean!rafe, inexperienced!virgin!reader, pogue!reader, NONCON/DUBCON, smut + mentions of choking, slapping, hair-pulling, loss of virginity + mentions of, mentions of rafe losing his virginity at 13 lmao, mentions of dacryphilia, swearing, lmk if i’m missing something!!

summary — rafe has a thing for his sarah’s best friend, but he has a weird way of showing it…

a/n — inspired by this ask!! thank u for the request bby <3 rafe is like 21 in this and reader is 18. just go w it LOL, ignore any plot holes or mistakes pls i couldn’t bring myself to proofread this, i just wanted to hurry and finish so i could put something out since it’s been a minute!! as per usual pls ignore the name and pics i’m not creative enough lmao love yallllll

FEEDBACK & REBLOGS ALWAYS MAKE MY DAY <3

“Are you sure you don’t have my white bikini bottoms?” Your suitcase was now a hot mess at your knees, clothes and items scattered about haphazardly from your search for your favorite swimsuit, an essential on pool days.

“I’m sure,” Sarah’s words had you sighing loudly, throwing the rest of the clothes you had in your hand on top of the mess that was now your belongings, a nonverbal admittance of defeat.

“Who cares? The red one’s cute too!”

“I guess I left it at home maybe, I just can’t believe I grabbed the top but not the bottoms…weird.” You chalked it up as a fluke on your part, though you couldn’t help but think about how it had become so common to lose things during your stays at Sarah’s…

Still, you opted to shut your suitcase and return your attention back to your best friend.

“Ready to go lay out?” Sarah wore a hopeful grin on her face as she posed the question.

“Of course,” you stood to your feet, eyes falling to your frame in the mirror. You examined the red bikini as you paired the extension of your arms above your head with a loud exhale, stretching your limbs out as if you’d just retired from a long, hard day of work.

And sure, the days were long, but never hard at the Cameron residence. Tannyhill was the epitome of opulence. You envied your friend, who so luckily got to call this dreamy place ‘home’. It puzzled you how a girl so privileged could ever have a desire to live anywhere beyond these walls, in anything less than luxury. But Sarah did.

Because Sarah’s world didn’t spin around money or clothes or material things.

Her friends, the pogues, the most genuine connections she possessed in life are the axis that her world turns around.

Just like you’d taught her the pogue way of life, Sarah roped you into the kook way of living, and you never shied away from the privilege and leisure the association afforded you.

Like now, as you prepared to enjoy her private pool in the backyard, the kind of pool you definitely wouldn’t have access to back on the Cut.

The pair of you made your way outside, each claiming a lounge chair that put you directly in the sun’s path.

Of course, no pool day could truly be complete without drinks and music, so after a while you took advantage of the empty house, deciding to blend up some homemade margaritas while Sarah snuck her brother’s giant speaker from his room.

The two of you reconvened by the pool, where you’d spend the next few hours sipping and sunbathing, talking about anything from school to graduation plans to your mutual friends on the other side of the island.

While her father never approved of the company Sarah kept in the pogues, Ward didn’t have the heart to forbid his oldest daughter from being at home like her brother so adamantly suggested.

She was able to keep her kook roots, and still maintain the best of both worlds.

Almost.

Rafe hated his sister, and he’d never been fond of her best friend either.

You were both three years younger than Rafe, and he’d never seen you as any less of a pest and a nuisance than his sister.

But Rafe could easily remember the turning point, the first time he saw you as anything more than just his little sister’s annoying friend.

Specifically, it was after your 16th birthday, when Rafe was 19.

And it was the first time Rafe saw you, I mean really saw you in a bikini in his backyard, your newly filled out body sprawled across a lounge chair by the pool, laughing and gossiping with his sister.

Of course, he’d seen his sister and her friend by the pool plenty of times through the summer seasons, but he’d never spared them any more than a glance in passing.

This particular day, though, he’d sat on the balcony almost the entire afternoon, pretending to be on the phone or working on his laptop just to have a perfect view of your ass and body as you tanned.

Later on, once you’d moseyed your way back into the house, Rafe did too. He went straight to his bathroom, images and lewd thoughts about his sister’s best friend prominent in his mind as he jerked himself off on the toilet seat.

Ever since that day, he’d fantasized about the girl he’d known for years. He wondered how he ever overlooked you. His mind ran rampant with the new, vulgar thoughts.

But Rafe couldn’t help himself. The older he got, the harder it became to fight the sexual urges that plagued his mind.

He was attractive, always had been.

He started having sex in middle school, and even at the ripe age of 13, Rafe quickly gained a reputation for himself amongst the girls he went to school with. Everyone wanted to be with him, every girl wanted to have a story tell about their night spent with Rafe Cameron, though that’s all it ever was.

By the time he started high school, he’d already had an array of bodies under his belt. Girls threw themselves at him, especially when he started playing football and basketball. He was a hot commodity around Kildare, never shying away from his attractiveness or cockiness.

Most girls were nothing more than a one night stand to the oldest Cameron. Simply a hole to fill, a piece of ass to indulge in for the night, nothing more, nothing less.

And he wasn’t too selective when it came to who he was fucking. If you had a pulse and a clean bill of health, you weren’t excluded from his pool of suitors.

The only line he really ever drew was the long, thick line between pogue and kook.

Rafe never went for pogues. He’d never be caught dead sticking his dick into the trash of the island. That kind could only wish for a chance with someone like Rafe.

His hatred for the inhabitants on the other side of the island was only intensified by his sister’s desire to be like them, to ditch her own lavish upbringing to live like them.

And he’d always hated his sister’s friend just alike, he gave you the same cruel treatment he gave Sarah.

That fact remained even after you started to peak his interest as a teenager.

Rafe made a habit of masking his infatuation with cruelness towards you.

Your sister’s brother was overly rude to you, constantly ridiculing everything from your clothes and hair to makeup, any dig he could manage.

And it was so hard to be around you. Rafe could hardly cage the animal threatening to pounce anytime you walked past. The smell of your perfume was intoxicating, the sound of your voice was like music to his ears.

He wanted you. He knew you were a virgin, at least at one point in the last year or so. He prayed that you still were. He’d spent countless nights with his head tilted, ear pressed to the vent on his floor, drinking in every bit of gossip he could pull from your conversations with his sister. He had to stop himself from being physically sick when he listened for too long, learning too many details of his sister’s busy love life with Topper, which then eventually turned to John B.

But you never had much to contribute to the conversations when they took that kind of turn, only posing questions to your more experienced best friend as you munched away at some snack or scrolled through social media downstairs.

‘What was your first time like?’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Do you use both hands or just one?”

God, he wanted to be the one to answer your questions, physically.

The innocence and genuine curiosity behind your voice was enough to make Rafe want to storm down the stairs, snatch you up from Sarah’s room and drag you back to his instead, where he could show you the answers you were so interested in.

Rafe wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to strip you of your virginity, show you what you’d been so naively missing out on, touch you in ways you could only dream of, or fantasize about through Sarah’s stories.

But instead, he had to settle for what little contact he could manage, that could also be downplayed as a friendly mistake, or a simple misjudgment.

Like ‘accidental’ brushes against your body or swiping a pair of panties from your suitcase in his sister’s room when you were out by the pool.

God, he fucking loved that pool. It gave you a reason to lounge around the mansion in nothing more than a skimpy bikini for hours on end, and it gave him the opportunity to rummage through your things for a keep sake or two while you were outside.

Like today, when Rafe stopped by the house to grab something, and the sound of music had him padding past the staircase to check on the backyard first. One glance through the open french doors told Rafe you were out there, meaning Sarah had to be with you, and her room had to be empty.

So, the boy made a quick detour on the way to his bedroom.

He crept into Sarah’s room, moving stealthily as if you girls would even be able to hear him walking around in the house over the music and distance.

You always kept your suitcase in the same spot in his sisters closet, Rafe knew that, so that’s what he beelined for when he entered.

Rafe didn’t bother fully unzipping the suitcase, he only shoved a hand through the gap between the zippers at the top, fishing for something, anything. He didn’t really care what he came up with, he just knew he was growing tired of the last piece of memorabilia he’d looted from you, and was in need of a new physical fixation.

It took him a good minute to realize what the ring of fabric was in his hand. A hair tie? No, a scrunchie, he recalled your sweet voice and the way you referred to the accessory. He’d seen you wrap this around your hair many times anytime it started sticking to the sweat at the back of your neck by the pool. He thought about it, and Rafe could recall plenty of times when he’d wished it was his hand gathering all of your hair together instead of that damn scrunchie.

It’d be nice to add to his collection, he thought. His mind pried further, maybe then you’d need a substitute for a ponytail holder, and he could fill in.

Rafe decided the memento would do for now. He shoved the material deep in his pocket before returning your suitcase to Sarah’s closet and leaving the room without a trace.

--

Downstairs, the pool vibes were nothing short of stellar, only faltering when your favorite song eventually cut off in favor of a sudden silence. 

Only the sound of water splashing against the pool walls and the distant screams of kids at play in the neighborhood filled the air before you heard Sarah sit up.

“Shit…” She cursed under her breath.

You lowered your sunglasses, eyes peeking over the shades to find your best friend fumbling with the buttons on the speaker.

“I think it died…” Sarah determined, sighing as if this was her most prominent problem right now.

If a dead speaker and the need for a charger was the biggest inconvenience to Sarah’s life, you were envious.

Speaking of inconveniences, the location of said charger she was begging you to fetch was the biggest one to your life right now.

“Please!” She whined, kicking her feet at the end of the chair, earning a playful eye roll from you. “He’s not even home, just run in there and grab it. It’s probably in the wall or something.”

“Sarah, I don’t wanna-“

“Y/N, how are we gonna vibe without the tunes?” She urged, clasping her hands together in front of her, bottom lip jutting out playfully.

“Whatever,” you laughed as you pushed yourself off the chair and to your feet.

You moved fast as the cement burned the soles of your feet, though you still had your reservations as you made your way back through the double doors into the house.

When you got to Rafe’s room, the familiar scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses before you even pushed the cracked door open.

You’d only ever really seen the boy’s room through the gap in the door when you passed by, and your curiosity had you venturing far beyond the charger sticking out of the outlet by the door.

Rafe’s room was neat, much tidier than you’d expect from a 21-year-old college dropout. His bed was made, desk area organized with what shoes you assumed somehow didn’t fit in his massive closet stacked up right off to the side.

Your eyes landed on the biggest box right on top, the only one in the stack appearing to be stuffed with something other than shoes as the lid almost didn’t seem to close all the way. You ignored the various things sticking through on the sides, even a familiar white material blurring them out as your eyes honed in on the cheetah print pattern sitting on top of the box.

Your scrunchie.

Your face scrunched up just like the hair tie, morphing into a look of pure confusion as you reclaimed the item.

You almost wanted to pry a little further as you slid the ring of fabric around your wrist, maybe reach for the shoe box or even look in his closet.

But your mind was now littered with thoughts of how your hair tie could’ve ended up in Sarah’s brother’s room.

In Rafe’s room.

How did your item make it into a room you’d never set foot in until now?

Feelings of uneasiness began to bubble up, but your mind forced you to write it off. There had to be a logical explanation for how the hair tie traveled from your suitcase to Rafe’s bedside table.

Maybe Sarah did take it and just forgot, then left it in Rafe’s room when she came to grab the speaker?

In truth, you knew you would’ve seen it around her wrist when you first went outside, but that’s what was easiest for your mind to go with for now, so you made your way to the wall outlet, grabbed the charger and headed back downstairs.

—

Tannyhill was still quiet inside the house as you and Sarah remained outside long after the sun had retreated for the evening.

The blonde girl had switched the neon pool light on when the sun started to fade, and the two of you moved to the porch, starting a small bonfire in the fire pit so you could soak in the Friday night vibes the right way.

And the ambience was nice, so nice, you both ended up dozing off on the daybed on the deck, the balcony above acting as a canopy over you.

When you finally blinked awake sometime later, the sun had long gone though the fire was still crackling at your feet, and one look at Sarah told you she was beyond knocked out still.

One quick gust of wind reminded you that you’d dozed off in your bikinis, which was fine for the weather, but the sweltering Kildare heat tended to simmer down to a cooler breeze at night, and now you were in need of a jacket.

The pool light allowed you to notice the goosebumps on your friend’s skin too, prompting you to go fetch a blanket or a pair of sweatshirts from inside.

The house was still dark as you entered, quiet as you meandered through open space, making your way towards the living room.

Your feet had only just traded the hardwood for carpet when the sound of something in the kitchen behind you had you gasping and spinning on your heels.

The empty house was not empty.

There by the island, illuminated by the moonlight that poured in through the cracks in the blinds was none other than Rafe.

He seemed to be placing the Brita back on the shelf, and the sound of the plastic hitting the surface had caught your attention.

You mentally cursed yourself for even acknowledging the noise. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you figured the absence of the sun meant it was primetime for Rafe to be either high or drunk, and you knew you didn’t have any desire to deal with your sister’s brother right now. 

You started to turn away, but your eyes fell to the soft fabric wrapped around your wrist, and you were suddenly interested in a conversation with the kook.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe spun around, eyes wide as they fell on you.

Until they weren’t. His gaze softened, and he turned his body away from the fridge, opting to close the door in favor of a new thirst to quench.

He fixed a puzzled look your direction, looking around as if to ensure he was where he thought he was before declaring, “This is my house. The fuck are you still doing here?”

The chip on his shoulder was ever present.

His attitude earned an eye roll from you, and if you hadn’t been so curious about your traveling scrunchie, you might’ve just left on that note.

Instead, you straightened your posture, standing up straight as you posed the question: “Have you been stealing my stuff?”

Rafe sized you up, eyes raking up and down your exposed figure. The way his tongue darted out to wet his lips had you shifting nervously.

“What makes you say that?”

“I found this,” you held up your wrist, twisting it around to show off the scrunchie, “In your room.”

This wasn’t news to Rafe. He knew you found it, the missing relic was the first thing he noticed when he got back home.

“My room?” He repeated. “In my room, you-you were in my room?”

You swallowed hard as the realization rang through your head. What were you doing in his room?

It didn’t matter, you thought. How did he get something from your bag?

“It doesn’t matter,” you tried, turning your nose up his direction, “How did this end up in your room?”

Rafe’s shoulders rose and fell naturally, as if he wasn’t spewing lie after lie already.

“Couldn’t tell you.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” You spat, arms folding across your chest.

You hoped the move would help accentuate your anger, and it might have, if you were wearing literally anything else.

The lowcut bikini top only accentuated your tits that were now perfectly pushed together by your arms.

The sight had Rafe tightening in his pants. Maybe if you had some more experience under your belt, you would’ve picked up on the bulge that was quickly working to make itself known.

It was harder for the boy to keep focused now, but he still tried his best.

“Y’know, I don’t appreciate you accusing me of being a liar in my own home…” 

Rafe had to admit, he was surprised at your challenge. You’d never been one to retaliate when he subjected you to his bullying, so your boldness now caught him off guard.

And it also made him want to fuck the attitude right out of you.

But he knew he had to take things slow at first.

You shrunk in on yourself as Rafe advanced carefully, meticulously towards you. Your best friend’s brother had always come off as unapproachable, intimidating, but now, as he towered over you, so close to you, he embodied the adjectives even more.

You’d felt big enough to challenge him at first, but the closer he got, the smaller you appeared, and the weaker you felt.

“Look around sweetheart,” Rafe motioned around the mansion walls with his hands before continuing, “this is my house. That pool you dance around all day? That’s mine too, okay?” He placed two large hands on either one of your shoulders, and you flinched at the sudden contact.

“You’re the fucking pogue here,” he reminded you. “My shit’s been missing too. Maybe you’re stealing from me. Hmm?”

You stared up at him with wide eyes, attempting to shake yourself from his grip, but Rafe’s hold was firm.

“You’re crazy-!” you started, but Rafe immediately cut you off.

“Am I? Is it so crazy to think that a broke, trashy pogue isn’t just using my sister for her kook status?” Rafe spoke as if he cared about his sister, or if anyone used her for the amenities she had access to, or anything at all for that matter.

The mention of his sister sparked a new idea, a new tactic in his mind.

“Maybe she’s the one putting you up to this, yeah? Yeah? Does, does she wanna get me in trouble or-or something?” Rafe didn’t put it past his sister to stage an ass beating from Ward at his expense, and he had you questioning if you’d put it past her now, too.

The way his words began to slur despite the absence of alcohol on his breath started to worry you.

This was the longest interaction you’d shared with the oldest Cameron. It had only been all of a couple minutes so far, but you still felt nervous as he started to stutter and slip up his words.

Even though he was lying, Rafe could easily make himself believe the words he was saying, too. He hoped they were as believable for you.

“Sarah didn’t put me up to anything. We went in your room for your speaker, and that’s when I found my hairtie. So you stole it, or what?”

“Call me a liar one more time,” Rafe warned. Even in the dimly lit kitchen, you didn’t miss the way his blue eyes seemed to fade into a much darker hue now. There was hardly any space between the two of you now as he moved in even closer.

“Go on,” he urged, “Say it. Call me a liar again. In my home, see what happens.”

You drew your hands up, pressing them meakly against his chest, hoping he would allow you some space.

“Rafe, you need to back up-“

All he did was shove your arms back down, his strong gaze burning down into you as he did the opposite of what you asked.

Your jaw was suddenly seized between his rough fingers in a tight grip, pulling your face up closer to his as he seethed, “No, you need to learn your place around here. I know you spend all of your time here, but this is not your house. And I’m not quite past the fact that you went in my room without permission.”

You swatted at Rafe’s arms as he slowly walked you backwards. His hand on your jaw only offered you one way to look, directly up at him, blue eyes seeing through you…until they dropped, and his sight lingered on other parts of your body.

His newfound interest in your half-naked figure made you uncomfortable enough to drop the tough girl act you’d first planned to maintain.

“I-I’m sorry, Rafe, I won’t go in there again.” You hoped your apology would get you out of his hold, out of the kitchen, quickly.

“Nah that’s…that’s okay,” Rafe tilted his head menacingly to the side, giving your jaw another light squeeze. “You can make up for it right now.”

You didn’t even see Rafe raise a hand to your chest, you just knew your best friend’s older brother was suddenly fondling your tits through your top, roughly squeezing the rounds of flesh between his palms.

You drew in a sharp breath, hands meeting his chest again as you attempted to push the man away.

The unwanted advance made you feel dirty, unladylike, as you’d never had a guy touch you in that way before.

He was pulling at the top, trying anything to expose your chest as you tried everything to keep him from succeeding.

“Rafe! Rafe stop or I’ll…I’ll scream,” You warned, “I’ll scream for Sarah right now.”

You were released from Rafe’s grip entirely, though your feet were still planted to the floor as you stood in shock at what had just happened.

Your best friend was asleep just a few feet away, and her older brother had just touched you inappropriately, against your will.

The person who had been nothing but a thorn in your side, constantly ridiculing you and making fun of you for anything he could think of for years, had suddenly crossed a line you never even knew you needed to draw with him.

Rafe fixed a taunting look on his face as he nodded his head slowly.

“Oh yeah? Is-is that what you think you’re gonna do?” His smile was laced with amusement at your threat.

The way he stalked dangerously close to you had your breath hitching in your throat.

Fight or flight kicked in, and you turned on your heels to take off towards the backyard.

You’d only just parted your lips to scream for Sarah when your cries were muffled beneath a large hand encompassing your mouth in a painful grip.

Large arms grabbed at you from behind, wrapping around your torso and neck and holding you tightly to Rafe’s chest.

“Now, I didn’t want it to be like this…” his words had you trembling in his hold. “I wanted your first time to be special, all about you, but, you know…” Rafe laughed like he’d heard something funny.

Like anything could possibly be amusing about this situation.

“I’ve never responded well to threats.”

With that, Rafe pushed you face down onto the kitchen island, forcing you to turn your head to the side so your cheek was flush with the cold marble instead of your chin.

The change in temperature on your bare stomach and arms had your skin breaking out in a series of goosebumps.

You gasped out for air, breathing suddenly much more difficult to manage as your body was wedged tightly between Rafe’s hard chest and the counter.

Panic was setting in, the sheer weight of the tense situation had you flailing and fighting beneath him.

When you fantasized about what your first time would be like, you’d always pictured it happening in a comfortable setting. You’d be on a bed, with some nice music playing in the background while someone you loved prepared your body for one of the biggest milestones one could reach in their young life.

A total contrast to the way you were pressed down on a kitchen counter, tears spilling from your eyes as your best friend’s brother forced himself on you, into you, stole the innocence you’d managed to protect all these years.

“Stop, fucking, moving…” Rafe spat through gritted teeth, words choppy as he struggled to contain the frantic girl underneath him. Stripping you of what little clothing you had on proved to be a tough feat as you continued to thrash about against the counter.

Part of him felt…bad, almost. Part of him wouldn’t have minded taking you upstairs instead, laying you down on his bed, and robbing you of your innocence in a less insensitive way.

But your attitude, the way you accused him of lying and stealing from you pissed him off.

And Rafe treated anyone who pissed him off just the same, it didn’t matter who you were. 

Or if your accusation was totally true or not.

The strapless bikini top was too easy. Rafe was able to yank it down first, exposing your tits to the cold surface he had you bent over.

Your bottoms were harder to manage, but he eventually managed to subdue you enough to pull the thin fabric to the side.

He didn’t even stop to admire what was his first official look at your clit, instead he wasted no time dragging two fingers across his tongue, coating the digits in his own saliva, which he then used to slide along your folds, lubricating the area he planned to explore.

Rafe had to remind himself you were still a virgin when he lined up both fingers with your entrance. He opted to slide just one in first, stopping at the first knuckle just underneath his nail. His lips parted, jaw falling slack as your body jolted violently at the unfamiliar intrusion.

You weren’t mentally prepared, let alone physically prepared to have sex for the first time tonight.

He could feel your muscles tense across the board, prompting him to lean further into your body, pinning you impossibly closer to the counter as he slowly dragged one finger in and out of your tight pussy.

“Relax,” he coaxed as he allowed his finger to slide fully past your walls, burying the single digit as far in as it would go.

You whimpered beneath him, your whines vibrating against his chest and encouraging him to try a second finger quicker than he’d planned. 

“So fuckin’ tight… God, you really are a virgin.” 

You didn’t even have the time or mental capacity to worry about how Rafe knew you were a virgin.

He was instantly curling his digits upwards in a skillful manner, massaging a part of you that you’d never explored before.

The feeling of something, anything penetrating your walls was so new to you. You hadn’t stopped squirming or allowed your muscles to untense once. You couldn’t.

“You need to relax… you wanna enjoy your first time, right baby?” His words were anything but relaxing, even as a large hand circled over your lower back in a way you assumed was meant to be soothing. You squeezed your eyes shut, words failing you in the moment.

You did want to enjoy your first time.

But it wasn’t supposed to be anything like this.

Your body was overwhelmed with pain, you were feeling so many emotions, so many new sensations you’d never been subjected to before.

It was almost impossible to believe that you were about to have sex for the first time, let alone against your will. You struggled to come to terms with the violation, even as the sound of Rafe’s pants dropping to the floor all but confirmed your fate.

“I know I will…”

A strong foot kicked between your own and forced you to widen your stance, and tears brimmed at your eyes as you unwillingly spread your legs further for the man behind you.

Rafe could feel your body trembling against his, prompting him to shush you softly in your ear, “Shh, it’s okay Y/N/N, I’ll talk you through it, baby…”

You didn’t have time to react, no time to adjust before a you felt a pressure like nothing you’d ever felt between your legs before.

The burning sensation was all you could focus on as Rafe forced his thick cock through your tight, virgin walls.

He took his time at first, the rolling of his hips calculated as he eased into you. 

He’d only managed to push the tip in when your cried out again.

“C’mon princess, I’m goin’ slow…you gotta open up for me, baby.” His own breathing was labored as he pushed through the tight barrier.

The way he struggled to sheath his length inside of you was proof enough that you’d never been with anyone else before. And after tonight, Rafe would make sure you’d never be with anyone else, either.

You gripped the side of the kitchen island with force as Rafe fully bottomed out inside of you, his hips smacking against yours and forcing a high-pitched mewl from the back of your throat.

“Fuck…” Rafe’s voice was low and laced with a dark lust. Blue eyes darted around wildly, raking in the sight of your beautiful body on display for him. You were perfect, everything about this was perfect.

Rafe only wished he could be looking at your face, drinking in all your facial expressions while being fucked for the very first time instead. He desperately wanted to see the way your eyes watered, how much you cried over his cock.

Next time, he was sure he would.

But the opportunity had presented itself on a whim, and he had to make the most of the cards he’d been dealt.

Next time, he’d get to brush your hair back and revel in the beautiful faces he could pull from you, but for now, he’d settle for the sounds he was able to pull from your throat as his sight dropped down to where your bodies connected.

This is just the first time… he reminded himself.

It was so surreal to have you pinned beneath him, the same swimsuit he’d watched you tan in from afar for ages, now disregarded to the side as his dick slotted in and out of you, ass bouncing back against his cock as he rutted into you.

Words couldn’t suffice the way Rafe felt as he drove his cock into your soaked core, knowing he was the first and only one to do so.

Just the feel of your walls wrapped around his fingers had the boy eager to cum in his pants.

But that was absolutely nothing compared to the way your puffy lips so eagerly drank him in, swallowing his cock, squeezing the life out of it. He was sure he’d never had this much trouble keeping his seed at bay before.

But he strained himself, forcing his release to wait, slowing down or pulling his dick all the way out before plunging back into you, anything the boy could try to maintain his stamina that was threatening to falter.

Eventually, your muscles did relax, as much as the salacious situation would allow. You’d all but completely collapsed against the counter, fingernails long given up clawing at the edge of the heavy marble as you were rendered a limp, sweaty mess beneath the older boy.

A small surge of desire was somehow conjured against your wishes, and the stimulation broke up the total and utter fear you’d started with.

It was only when Rafe was sure you lacked the energy to put up a fight that he finally pulled back, keeping one hand on your lower back and moving the other to your hip for support as he continued rutting into the mess he was making of your core.

The extra space allowed you to sit up just slightly, relieving your ribs you were sure would bruise, and letting air rush back into your lungs. Your body had betrayed you, back naturally arching off of the counter, hips bucking up against the aggressor.

And he was oh so observant to your signs of arousal.

“Mhmm,” he rasped, eyes trained on the girl he had completely exposed on the counter beneath him. “That feel good baby? Hmm?” You couldn’t bring yourself to form any words if you tried.

Again, Rafe had to remind himself that it was your first time.

Even the cruel pace he put forward would only be considered lightwork compared to what he actually wanted to do with you. What he planned to do with you in the future. Things you would likely need time to work up to…

But this was your first time.

The less you fought against him, the more he felt driven to offer an unusual gentleness that girls didn’t usually see with Rafe Cameron.

And even though sex was anything but new to Rafe, something about this encounter with you made it feel new to him.

He never kissed girls when he fucked them, but now Rafe felt compelled to magnetize his mouth to your skin as he hovered over you. The harsh snap of his hips never relented as Rafe’s lips met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin and pulling a gasp from you. He rested his weight on one arm as he moved your hair out of the way with his other hand, clearing the canvas of your backside for his lips. Rafe kissed you everywhere, your back, your shoulders, all over your neck, tongue lapping and suckling the soft skin.

Rafe was usually too busy pulling hair, choking or even slapping whichever girl he was with that night to offer any kind of affection, yet here he was, hands sweetly roaming and caressing your figure.

The way you mewled softly under his touch told him you’d been introduced to the enjoyable side of sex, and he lovedthe fact that he was the one to open this new door for you.

In reality though, you couldn’t be exactly sure if you were enjoying this or not. 

You despised your best friend’s brother just as much as she did. He was your biggest tormentor, never had anything nice to say about you. Never amounted you to anything more than a pogue, someone who was less than him, belowhim.

Yet here you were, literally laid below him now, Rafe devouring every bit of you like a man starved.

This was wrong. So, so much about this was just plain wrong.

Right down to the throbbing of your core around the boy’s cock.

A smile stretched across Rafe’s face as he felt the tell-tale signs of your first orgasm approaching, courtesy of him.

“You feel that? I feel you baby,” You weren’t sure how he picked up on the building sensation within you, but you didn’t dwell on it.

You couldn’t as the abrupt tightening feeling in your stomach had you biting down on your lower lip.

You tried to remember your past conversations with Sarah, tried to remember if this was one of the things Sarah mentioned would happen before you ‘finished’, as she’d always put it.

But it was hard to focus on anything other than the confusing mix of pain and pleasure you felt as your best friend’s older brother continued to subject your newly defiled walls to his brutal pace, even as your stomach coiled.

“Don’t fight it, it’s okay… I’m right here,” He placed another kiss to the back of your shoulder as you continued to whimper and whine below him. “I’ve got you baby, go ahead, you can cum on my cock.” His voice was gruff as he panted the words out in between breaths, tone riddled with desire as his eyes were trained on your pussy as it swallowed him in with every thrust.

It was only when Rafe lodged himself so deep inside of you that you were sure he’d hit some sort of bone or organ, that the pain, all of it, was temporarily overridden by some sort of sick, puzzling pleasure.

A wave of sensations you’d never felt before overtook your senses, ones you’d only ever dreamed of or read about. 

You couldn’t stop your legs from shaking, or the surely pornographic moans from slipping past your lips as you came apart on Rafe’s cock. He continued thrusting into you, your hip bones jutting into the edge of the counter as he finally let his dam break too, seed spilling up into you.

The warm ropes of liquid came out in spurts, and your tight walls were clenching hard, pulsating redundantly around Rafe’s length as you milked him dry.

Once the sensation seemed to simmer down, you were left with nothing but a horrible ringing in your ears and an emptiness between your thighs as Rafe’s hips retreated, a long groan filling the air as he pulled his throbbing cock from your pussy without hurry.

You couldn’t see the way his jaw clenched, teeth gritted together as his arousal immediately began leaking from your center, but you could feel his rough fingers shoving the cum back up into you, undoubtedly mixing with the red crimson color that also leaked from you, a confirmation of your loss.

Rafe smirked at the sight, working to re-steady his breathing as he fetched his pants and boxers from their pooled position at his ankles, pulling the material up and fixing himself back to decency.

When you finally managed to push yourself up off of the counter, your legs felt extremely weak and wobbly, almost threatening to buckle beneath you, if it wasn’t for Rafe’s quick grip on your waist.

He spun you around by the hold on your hips, fingers pressing firmly into the skin as you were made to face him.

He could’ve drooled at the sight of his little sister’s best friend. You looked totally fucked out, exactly how he’d imagined. Thinking of how much he’d restrained himself from doing, he had to wonder what you’d look like after he really had his way with you.

Your hair was in disarray, tears dried to your face, makeup smudged, mascara running when your eyes finally met his for what felt like the first time in forever.

He brushed your hair back out of your face first before moving to adjust your swimsuit.

Rafe’s large hands slipped underneath the band of your bikini top, lifting the material back up and over your tits.

His hands took their time on the way down to your bottoms, fingertips lightly grazing the skin of your sides before curling around the waistband, situating the bikini back over your sex and lifting the straps up over your hips securely.

He waited to see if you would speak, though he figured it was a long shot.

“Did that feel good?” You only stared up at him, lips parted as you panted under your breath.

“Nod for me, princess. Did I make you feel good?” You hated the way he spoke to you like a child, as if three years was a significant age gap.

But you’d be lying if you said no, so you nodded your head in response. At some point, you’d started deriving pleasure from the heinous act committed against you.

“I can make you feel even better than that.” He assured, though you didn’t see how that was even possible.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it, either.

You also weren’t sure why your mind wasn’t immediately screaming at you to slap Rafe across the face and run to wake up his sister after what he’d just done to you.

But something about the boy’s words, his promises… intrigued you.

He’d opened a new door of curiosity for you, and now your body was desirous of more of the newfound stimulation.

Your lack of protest, the way your feet stayed planted on the tile told him his coercions were working.

Rafe’s eyes trailed down your figure, from your chest as it rose and fell to the scrunchie wrapped around your wrist still.

He tucked a single digit underneath the elastic band, lifting and snapping the material back down on your skin, demanding your attention.

“When you return my speaker tomorrow,” he started, offering you a deadline and nodding his head towards the backyard where Sarah had taken the speaker, “I’ll have to teach you some more.”

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ cont.

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

~

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

 It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

꒰ྀི 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒯𝐸𝐸𝒯𝐻 𝐼𝒩 𝑀𝒴 𝒩𝐸𝒞𝒦 ꒱ྀི

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 5.1kay word count , shy fem reader , strangers to friends to loverzzz , flirting , mean rafe , pet name usage [ ex. kid , princess ] , daddy kink .

𝜗ϱ 𝓁𝓊𝓋 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝓂 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀 . . . if dis iz rusty , pls gimmie grace ; - ; hvnt written in a couple monthz < / 3 but m kind of proud of dis methinkzzz . hv fun ! ! ! minors + ageless blogz Do Not Touch ! ! !

patience isn’t a skill that rafe possesses.

it just isn’t. he can’t tell you why and even in the circumstances of him knowing the reason, he wouldn’t tell you. because patience . . is a load of bullshit. patience keeps you from taking what you want, when you want, and how you want it.

he can count on one hand the amount of times that acquiring patience actually benefitted him in the end. in most cases of trying to . . you know . . actually be a good person and tough shit out by not letting his usual, irrepressible ways not take the forefront, being patient has only left him twiddling his fucking thumbs and whiling away time. which brings us into this little fact, too — rafe is a man of action.

and he expects the rare sprinkling of people he actually keeps around him to be, too.

where kelce found this fuckwad pogue of a friend named omar? rafe doesn’t know and he doesn’t really give a fuck. however, where omar found you . . dainty, sweet, little thing you, rafe is curious. you’re not from the banks, upon first introductions at the country club a year ago, when he heard the faint tracings of a valley girl accent, he immediately took heed of realizing that you were from the west. it’s swathes your entire aura almost. gold jewelry, dark, bouncy beach waves, how you even insist on smothering every hot dog you can paw with chili and cheese. it’s ingrained in you, through and through.

and where you reside within the bracket of kook and pogues? truthfully, it’s somewhere in the middle. quite literally. your home sits on the border right between the separation of both turfs — a moderate, two story dwelling that houses a cute; little shed in the backyard that your father’d renovated into a place of your own.

upon one of his first conversations with you, rafe tried his best to . . casually, delicately wring out any and all information on you that he could. ‘cause really — who the fuck are you? girls like you, girls timid and quiet and feeble are rare in obx. he’s gotten used to girls these days blatantly telling him what they want. to be truthful, he doesn’t mind it. and in all honesty, he likes it. saves time, appreciates the heads up they give because at least they’re granting him the grace to decide if he wants to proceed further without all of the fucking mind games.

you, though.

you’re quiet. he asked your name, you gave it. asked where you from, you told him. questioned, and i site, “you fuckin’ with that pogue omar?” and you nodded with a weary smile of hesitation given and that was that.

you didn’t try to persevere with the conversation — just stood there, thumbing with a ruffled hem of your tiny, fit and flare denim skirt, beside an oblivious omar who’d been too busy with roaring out a laugh so rambunctious that it’d made almost all patrons of the club startle.

the first day rafe met you was also the day that he decided, ‘ fuck it. i want her. ‘

and here’s where patience and all her bullshit enters.

because somehow, in some fucking way, omar integrates himself into the infamous trio that is rafe, topper, and kelce. omar bringing you to tag alone to a bar, the club, or even just down on the dock for a quick fishing session, was always an even, fifty-fifty chance. you had a job, working down at the town’s sole ice cream parlor that doubled also as a cafe. days when rafe didn’t hear the constant tip tap of your strappy thin heels or wedges following behind the heavy thumps of omar’s were also days rafe always seemed to be a little bit more . . irritable.

and come him seeing you again, maybe one or two later, he always managed to get the quintet to hang out for hours into the night.

he’s sure about a few months or so into you all knowing one another that you’re aware that he’s plotting on you. it’s not as though he’s discreet. there comes an evening on the beach that rafe, tipsy and, admittedly buzzed from just a bit of coke, tilts himself over a bit to lean in close to where you’d been sitting. the both of you lounged on a lone log, some bit away from the fire where the other three boys drunk around while loudly talking over one another about a recent football game.

“you want some of this?”

he inclined a bottle your way. it was a jug of don julio’s reposado. you’d only taken a glance of it before shaking your head with a small, reluctant smile.

quietly, he asked, “mm, you sure?” while taking notice of a dark mole dotted right upon the apple of your cheek . . and another that sat in the crease of your tits, hiding and peeking back up at him with each breath you took. “what?” he regards how you look over at omar. his eyes follow the route of yours before he turns back toward you and furrows his brows, “y’scared of him or sumn?”

“no.”

his fist wraps around the neck of the bottle, and as he raises the rim to his lips, he also tilts his head back to take a quick swill, all while keeping his eyes pinned on you. “so,” after swallowing, rafe smiles. it’s a small one. “so - so . . you scared of me?”

your answer never really comes. you pouted though. it was a cute thing, really. lips were glossed with some cosmetic that had glitter in it, made them all the more pretty. then you looked up at him through the wispies of your lash extensions and under your tightly creased brows. it clearly was your expression of anger. thinking about it now, rafe realizes that you were trying, keyword trying, to intimidate him. it’s evident that you thought that you were succeeding, too, come him straightening his back to give you his attention. “stop that,” you grumbled.

“stop what?”

“can’t do that, rafe,” you turned yourself back forward and shook your head.

you don’t say them, but he hears your words. ‘ stop flirting. i’m committed. i won’t. i’m omar’s. ‘

any sane person would’ve backed off, he’s sure. but rafe is not all the way sane and your words aren’t taken as a declaration of a boundary not to cross, nonetheless, a challenge — one that he incontestably accepts.

the day omar breaks up with you is, admittedly, one of the best days of rafe’s life.

it’s a random tuesday in july when you end up on the green of a golf course with inky, black tears streaking the fluff of your cheeks and mascara smudged underneath your eyes — just after a year having met the other three boys for the first time. it takes all of them a moment to recognize you standing beside their golf cart, sullen and weepy. you’re usually quiet, yes, but you catch attention, always. whether due to the jewelry you wear tinkling and announcing your arrival before you, or the sweet, glistening brown of your skin that seemingly stretches for miles underneath your sometimes skimpy outfits attracting the eyes of many. you’re inidentifiable today.

“ah shit,” rafe mutters underneath his breath, squinting behind the dark lenses of his prada sunglasses at the glum, little picture you make.

topper’s looking between rafe and kelce before back at you, already taking a step your way, “is she— . . do we— . . . ?”

it’s warbly but the three of them hear it — a weak, thin, “rafe.” and he’s prompt.

“neither one of you fuckers bet not make a single ‘nother move,” he walks backwards in direction of you, making sure the both of him read his face to showcase his graveness. “i mean that shit.”

when he turns back towards your frame, he’s snatching his shades off to tuck an arm within the neckline of his shirt. theres a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips as he inspects your face come him halting right before you, leaving only an inch or so difference between your high heeled, mismatched, butterfly sandals and his blue adidas sambas. “yo’, hey,” he’s crouching a few inches or so down to take a better look at your features, instinctively scanning for a bruise, cut, or bite on you. “what’s up, kid? you alright?”

it’s unnatural almost, to hear him so quiet, so soft spoken. his tone only seems to make you curl tighter within yourself, — tug your arms into your chest, lower your chin closer to it, too, all in efforts to somehow bury yourself away. “h-he dumped me,” you whimper with a sniffle. come the words leaving your lips, it serves as confirmation, almost — you realize that this is real, that you’re not dreaming, and you’re coughing out a weak sob before pushing your face into rafe’s firm chest. “ ‘m s-sorry, m sorry. d-didn’t know who . . else to, mm, call . . k-know, hic, know he’s your f-friend, but—“

“—hey, hey, fuck that.” it’s a thing he learned back when he was a child, that weight helps calm your breathing in preparedness of a panic attack. and so he grasps the back of your neck, with enough firmness and heft to somehow, literally pin you back to earth. “he’s not and will never fuckin be m’friend, yeah? especially . . especially not after this.”

you emit a sound — one so small and broken and weak. it falls past your lips and onto his shirt, within his chest. he thinks it serves as a direct link between you both because not long after, his heart twists with a painful strain.

“c’mon, let’s . .” he looks ahead at the somewhat bustling club and lets his eyes scan the course around you both. “let’s get you somethin’ t’drink — know you’re dehydrated. it’s hot as shit out here.”

with a strong hand planted on your back, he leads you toward the entry of the club.

“hey . . rafe! what about the game?!”

turning his head over his shoulder, “i already fuckin’ won!”

you find it comforting to be buried within rafe’s side — standing beside him at the bar, listening to him order a water with ice. courtesy of his tall, fairly wide frame, he shields you from nosy onlookers, making sure you stand with your back against a wall within a somewhat dim corner as you both wait for the bartender to fulfill the order. he’s staring at you through eyes of hardened, powder blue — you feel it and come a few, shy glances up at him, you try to read his face. his eyebrows seem to be indelibly pushed together and he tongues the inside of his cheek.

“here,” you watch him snatch a few napkins from a dispenser. “fuckin’ pogue has your nose dripping,” he dabs at your tears before using a clean side to wipe underneath your nostrils. you sniffle on instinct, lips parting to give a quiet thank you but before you can, there’s a straw bein pushed against them. “drink.”

while you slowly sip from the glass he holds, rafe turns his head and squints out at the parking lot, tapping his finger against a leather stool. you feel like a child — a spoiled, little thing.

while the coolness of the water rushes down into your stomach, you let your mind replay the final words omar’d given you, ‘ i don’t know. i just don’t see us workin’ out. we’re not that compatible. i wasted a year and a half on . . bullshit, honestly. ‘ your next gulp is strained over the large knot that forms within your throat.

pushing rafe’s hand away, you turn your front towards the wall to attempt to gather yourself.

“we’on gotta be here, y’know?”

he’s pushing himself in closer, listening to a soft cry be rasped out of your chest. it’s stressing him out he realizes — the more you sob, the more you don’t say anything, the antsier he gets. he wants to fix it, fix you. his fingers tap irritably against his thigh as he looks about, making sure no one is staring too hard at the both of you. “( ❤︎ ), c’mon, huh? you . . you gotta fucking work with me here. you gotta lemme know how to . . how to fix this shit.”

you shake your head, dark, full curls of your sew in bouncing with the movement, “w-wanna go home,” you mewl out. “please t-take, mm, me home.”

rafe’d dropped you off that day and even walked you in — opened the tall, white side gate of your main house’s picket fence that expanded into a cobblestoned pathway. the trail lead to the backyard and your pink painted shed, door decorated with a precious, pink peony wreath. he’s careful of stepping over the porcelain deers and fairy houses that dot the front of your little home and watched you open it with trembling fingers.

“uhm,” you turned on your heels after getting the door open and he tries not to focus too much on how a waft of strawberry cheesecake and candied marshmallow damn near smacks him in the face. “thank you for droppin’ me off, rafe.”

“mm,” he clicks his tongue and shrugs, scratching at the nape of his buzzed head before shoving his fists inside the pockets of his pants. “don’t worry about it, yeah? jus’ . . wipe that make up off and get some sleep. fuck that bitch omar.”

you huff a small grin — give a tiny snicker, too. “uhm, yeah,” you nod and glance away. “yeah . . eff him.”

and that’s that. rafe lets you stroll inside your home with a few fluttering fingers given to him as a goodbye wave and he forces himself to turn and walk away. on the way back to his car, he can’t help the small smirk that starts to pull at the corners of his lips. its slow on its route in broadening into a full on smile and as his car door slams closed, he lets out a loud, blaring ‘ whoo ! ‘ at the same moment his tires burn rubber on the street’s pavements come him whipping his black lexus gx 550 into a u - turn.

against all odds, you find yourself . . gravitating towards rafe over the next six to seven weeks after the break up. he’s akin to a blazing, blue flame and you’re just a simple, needy moth. control, force, and effortless sway appear to exude from the pores of the cameron son. you think it’s nice to be around someone assured of themselves and what they want and because of such, your brain isn’t really used around rafe.

he takes you bowling with him, topper, and kelce and you don’t have to go through the horrid process of trying to pick something you want on the menu because he simply orders for you. you need a ride to work and he’s there twenty minutes before you’re exiting your home gate, disregarding the sometimes 7 am shifts you pick up all in efforts to keep from closing the shoppe. on the rare times you do walk home, it’s no surprise when he calls to check on you and soon ends up speeding down the street and throwing his car into park beside the curb, passenger seat’s window rolled down as he demanded you to ‘ get. in. ‘ he doesn’t do well with you ‘ just doin’ dangerous shit like that. ‘

it’s apparent that omar is booted from the boys’ friend group in replace of you. you hardly see him around the three of them after the split. it’s funny, you guess. the picture you make with them all. a bundle of sweet and pink always encircled by three broad guys who seem to cater to your every whim.

irregardless, it’s nice. there are nights when you still find yourself a little weepy upon realizing the only reason you got your parents to move to the obx has decidedly punted you from his life and during times like those, it’s always nice to call rafe and listen to the low rasp of his voice drawl out calm, threatening insults and how you gotta just ‘ forget that bitch. ‘ furthermore, phone calls like these sometimes lead to . . flirty compliments, too. a quiet remark of rafe sleepily mumbling, ‘ i’ll handle that fucker omar, ‘m jus waitin for you to give me the go ahead, ‘ somehow progresses into, ‘ y’too fuckin pretty to be cryin over someone so goddamn stupid. ‘

it’s a lot of those.

you’re too pretty, too sweet, too sexy, too everything good for omar, according to rafe.

over time . . you don’t know how it happens but, you somehow become even more of a shy, uneasy mess when around rafe. he turns his head towards you to give you attention when you speak and you find yourself sometimes stammering over your words. he reaches over the middle console of his car to buckle you into your seat and you realize you hold your breath, all in efforts to not breathe in a lungful of his cologne and dampen the cushion of the seat underneath you.

he’s handsome, you’ve always known. though you guess now, as a girl who’s single, you can kind of . . admire him a bit more.

you enjoy taking heed of the strong slope of his nose, the warm pink of his lips, how dimples and deep smile lines dint the slant of his cheeks when he gives a rare laugh. rafe cameron is . . pretty. he’s rough and demanding and impatient but he’s pretty and he’s thoughtful and sweet to you, in his own way.

it’s two months after the break up and you find yourself at tannyhill. it’s seven pm, the sun is setting. the backyard is crowded with people, too, too, many people. within both your hands, you cradle a pink, solo cup, filled halfway with lemonade as you step from inside the house and make your way towards the pool.

the browns of your eyes tremble as you snap them left then right, searching for a familiar, buzzed head. there’s a few familiar faces, none you’re comfortable with directly approaching, nevertheless, come you hearing a snipped, “try that shit again and i’ll fuckin’ gut you from inside out. get the fuck outta my spot.”

“rafe,” you’re scampering over just as he shoves the shoulder of some wasted, curly haired kook towards the side door of the yard.

“mm,” he keeps his eyes locked on the guy stumbling away, making sure he exits the gates before finally turning his focus to you. “newly crowned princess of obx,” his eyes scan your attire slowly. “. . jeeeesus christ.”

“what?” your eyes grow a little wider, lips form a fearful pout. “do i . . i-is it ugly? do i look ugly?”

opposite. total fucking opposite.

your outfit is pink, of course. a soft shade, teetering on the more cool side of the color instead of warm, and it’s a crocheted two piece — a top and shorts. rafe grabs your hand, lifts your arm up, and forces you to twirl and walk towards a lone reclining beach chair.

very short fucking shorts.

“fuck, did you . .” he’s making you sit down, though he doesn’t follow. you watch him look around and rub his hand against his lips. “did you walk all the way over here? . . d-dressed like this?”

you’re pouting up at him, all sweet and docile as you always are, blinking cluelessly. “i took the bus, rafe—“

“—awe, yeah,” he huffs a small laugh and nods. “yeah, you took the bus. mm, shit. yeah, that’s better.”

you’re starting to grumble, “it’s not a big deal.”

he shakes his head, “fuck if it’s not. your shorts are ridin’ up into your ass — y’look pretty. always look good but there’s some . . some people out there . . ight? p-people who’ll snatch you up and won’t give you back. y’wanna get snatched up?”

“no.”

“ion believe you,” he takes the material of your top between his fingers and rubs. “ ‘s this . . yarn? will this shit unravel—?”

you’re whining out a feeble, “s-stop it,” and pushing his hand away.

it’s fun fucking with you. though he meant every word he said, rafe can’t help smirking while taking a seat beside your curled frame. you’re whispering underneath your breath, some things about him being ‘ dramatic ‘ and ‘ a dad ‘ but he doesn’t really give a fuck. it’s quiet between the both of you for a while. however, rafe appreciates it. he sits and he observes the party, listening to your nails click against your phone screen as you presumably text someone.

“yoooo’!”

“heyyy rafe.”

he slaps a couple hands, maintains some small talk, takes a swig from a bottle of hennessy topper brings over, then decides he’s over it. his interest piques on you — admires the volumized fluff of your hair, the glitter dusted all over the smoothness of your brown skin, your cute, pedicured toes peeking out from your wedges.

you haven’t looked up from your phone in minutes . . in all honesty, it’s irritating the fuck out of him. you’re typing quickly, too — honed in on your screen, focused.

before he really even knows it, rafe is snatching your phone from your hands to take a peek at what has you so immersed.

without delay, you’re standing and reaching for it, unclenching and squeezing your fists as he shoots up onto his feet and does the same while reaching up high and squinting to read a contact, “. . omar? am i . . am i seein shit or are you textin omar?”

“gimmie it please, rafe?”

he takes a peek of some of the texts he’s sent you,

like i’m all for us taking this shit one day at a timei just want u back in my lifei fucked up. idk what i was thinkingplease. i miss u. i’m losing my fucking mind

rafe only needs to see a peek of your own reply, a blaring ‘imy2’ before he’s handing you the phone back. you snatch it away, watching him huff a smile and rub his hand over his chin, “mm,” he mumbles and lifts his eyebrows, eyes focused somewhere past you. “you miss him, huh?”

“rafe, it’s—“

he’s brushing over you, headed towards the speaker towers focused right underneath the house’s protruded balcony. the music is screeched to a halt as a plug is snatched free from an outlet, “get everybody the fuck out,” rafe mutters towards kelce over a few ‘ boo! ‘s and disappointed moans prior to you watching him disappear inside the house.

your mouth feels arid, knees quiver as you briskly walk after him, “i wasn’t . .— it’s nothing. h-he texted me.”

he’s in the kitchen, filling a square shaped, crystal glass halfway with dark whisky. “don’t care.”

you’re not sure of why you feel like crying. maybe it’s how cold he seems towards you now — keeping his distance, not looking at you when he speaks, it all makes your heart sink. “r-rafe—“

“—you miss him, right?” he’s holding his glass within his hand and pointing at you with the same index finger. “you miss him? go t’him then. w-why are you here?”

“it’s not like that—“

“—it’s not like that,” he repeats quietly underneath his breath with a sly eye roll. you watch him take a sip of whisky and make his way out of the kitchen and upstairs. you remain scampering after him, both hands holding the banister as you try to keep up with the pace of his legs. “y-y’know i thought that you were smart, thought your brain held an ounce of some common fuckin’ sense.”

he’s pushing open the double doors that lead to his room and here’s where you hesitate. you root yourself within the threshold, watching him drop his glass against a nightstand with a heavy thud. “y’really had me fooled, huh.”

you’re not aware of when exactly when you started crying, however, you’ve noticed that the gossamer veil of warm tears now dampens your cheeks. “i . .” you hiccup and teeter left to right on your feet, ashamed and meek. “i’m not stupid, rafe.”

“you’re not?” he lifts both his brows to display some astoundment and before you really know it, he’s crossed the large span of his room within a few steps and is in front of you. “block him then. delete the bitch’s number — matter of fact . .” once again, your phone is pried away from your fingers. you no longer feel the urge to try to fight for it. you simply stand and sniff as rafe makes you watch him delete omar’s number, block him, then permanently erase the message thread. “no need to thank me, jus’ . . . leave.”

with a few flicks of his fingers, rafe motions for you to turn around and go back to which where you came as he rotates, grabs his drink, and takes a seat upon the bed.

you don’t move.

you remain standing within his door, head bowed, shoulders slumped, quietly sniveling . . .

rafe doesn’t understand you. with an aggravated sigh, he rubs a hand over his head, “you know . . y-you really confuse me, ( ❤︎ ). why are you crying?”

you take your time replying — inhale a shallow breath, pat at your cheeks with your fingers, you take a timid step closer before mumbling, “i d-don’t wan’ you to be . . m-mad at me.”

“ ‘m not mad.”

“you are—“

“—i just don’t get what the fuck about this guy has you so . . dumb, kid.”

“i’m not dumb—“

echoed quietly within his glass as he raises it to his lips, rafe mumbles, “—y’jus need some new dick, that’s all.”

you feel a searing warmth blaze the rounded tip of your nose and slowly spread from underneath your eyes to the peaks of your ears. what he said . . . it’d been so blatant, the tone of his voice was so ‘ knowing ‘ . . it’s as though he’s already figured you out. you keep yourself quiet, not denying nor assuring. truthfully, you don’t know what prompted you to text omar back. you think it’s due to the fact that he was such a constant in your life, for so long . . it’s hard to go completely cold on someone, especially for a person like you.

you’re aware of the predicament you stand in, albeit. it’s either omar or rafe — no way will rafe sit quietly and allow you to go back to omar without doing something irrational and come you possibly giving your ex another chance you know that you can say goodbye to the only few friends you’ve made.

another small step towards him and it’s that quick; you’ve made up your mind.

you glance down at the loose, white linen button down rafe wears with a pair of slim fitted jeans. he’s tanned well over the summer — the white stands out against the new warmth that resides within the undertone of his skin. “you . .” you rub your lips together and swallow. “you think so?”

“shit’s, uh . . ‘s obvious,” he’s standing again. “somebody’s gotta fuck that pogue outta here,” rafe taps at your temple with the same finger that harbors a gold, round signet ring near his knuckle, regarding how you lean into his touch like a kitten starved of it — close your eyes, push yourself even closer toward him.

you’re cute.

your lips — lined with some dark liner and a pretty gloss round out as you breathe out a small, “oh.”

there’s seconds of tensed silence. the side of your precious face remains nuzzled in the rough warmth of rafe’s palm and he keeps it there and just . . watches you for a moment, waiting, almost. you flutter your eyes open after some time, gaze at the dip of his pecs peering out through the flaps of his shirt prior to blinking up to catch his with your own.

his face changes when you do.

you watch rafe inhale a leaden breath through his nose, tense his jaw, and for a split instant, he looks . . angry.

but then, his hand that’d been cradling your face lowers to your neck. he establishes a firm enough grip to keep you in place before muttering, “fuck it,” underneath his breath, lowering his head down, and smashing his lips against yours.

it’s . . scary, you think. how all of the feelings you’ve kept inside for what feels like so long seemingly bursts out of you through one kiss. and it all moves so fast. doors are slammed and locked, your little outfit is torn off and before you really know it, you’re on your back on his bed, legs bent up and held open by your own hands as rafe remains standing, tapping the tip of his fat dick on the chubby lips of your cunt.

“jus’ like i thought,” he mumbles, eyes focused on how your pussy seems to tremble after each time his cock falls upon it. “shit’s fat . . fat ‘n pretty.”

you’re exactly how he expected you to be, too — whiny . . shy . . needy. his dick slips right in and you’re pawing at him, tears already blanketing the sweet browns of your eyes and darling pearls of them clinging to the bottom row of your lashes. “ ‘s s-so . . big,” you inhale a sweet sound — something crossed between a squeak and gasp when rafe finds a solid, rhythmic pace. it’s hard enough to make his bed frame creak on its foundation, deep enough to make your pussy begin to froth a milky slick.

“fuckin’ pogue doesn’t deserve this shit,” he grits out through his teeth, leaning over you to grab the back of your head and push it down, forcing you to watch his cock lift up and fall right back down inside the warm gushiness of your heat. “does he . .? hm? y’think h-he seriously deserves this hot, lil pussy?” more quietly he adds, “c-can’t believe he got this shit in the first place.”

you fight to reply, yet can only whimper out a quiet ‘ fuck ‘ come the dangerously good ache of his fleshy tip knocking right up against the textured ridge of your cervix. you hadn’t known you could feel so good — you never knew dick could feel so good.

“y’mine from n-now on, you hear me?” he pants against the warm slope of your neck. “say that shit is over . . say it.”

you’re pawing at his shoulders when he bows over you even closer, scratching your nails against the flexing muscles of his back, “ ‘s over,” you sob, toes flexed come his heavy, drooping balls slapping harder up against your ass. “g-god — ‘s over, daddy, ‘s over.”

strong, ringed fingers are grabbing your legs, tossing them over the hefty hills of his shoulders and soon, rafe’s hands are falling flat upon the bed right beside your head. the position angles him even deeper and has his forehead skimming your own — you’re nose to nose, inhaling his exhales as he does the same. “good girl,” he mumbles, engulfing smooth sheets within his fists. “good fuckin girl.”

Mary’s song ( oh my my my )

Pairing - JJ Maybank x fem! Reader

Summary; JJ and the reader’s relationship based on the song “Mary’s song (oh my my my)”

Warnings - smoking, kissing.

She said, I was seven and you were nine. I looked at you like the stars that shine in the sky, the pretty lights.

The sun had set, and the two kids sat side by side staring into the water as it glimmered against the moonlight, her head turned looking at the blonde-headed boy she called her best friend.

He shined, like the stars. She thought as she admired how pretty he was, although the two had no clue what the hell love was or hormones yet. She felt funny.

She wondered if he saw her like that, and if he felt funny whenever he looked at her. All she saw was stars when she looked into the blue eyed boy.

And our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love and our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes and said oh my my my

Although her family were kooks they were the most loving people ever. Excepting her and her little friend JJ Maybank she had met at the park, and she beg beg and beg her parents to let her go to the same school as him.

One Friday evening after pre-school, the four sets of parents had invited the Maybanks round for a dinner, obviously Before everything had happened with JJ’s mom passing away and his father becoming an asshole.

The two of the kids had ran off somewhere, carrying on just like kids do, when the two dads had spoke up. “They’re gonna realise their love for each other I bet you!” Y/n’s father said “he’s the only one I’d accept and trust with my daughter” he smiled at the Maybank family. 

“Very funny” her mother laughed making the mom’s roll their eyes at the two dads “it’s true! The two of them will, I bet” Luke spoke agreeing with her dad making the women roll their eyes again laughing at the men.

“Not gonna lie, I kinda see it happening aswell” JJ’s mom turned to look at y/n’s mom as the dads were off in a separate conversation “don’t tell them, but same” the women laughed watching the kids from a distance.

Take me back to the house in the back yard tree. Said you beat me up you were bigger than me, you never did, take me back to when our world was one block wide. I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried. Just two kids you and I, oh my my my.

The house up in the tree that her dad had build, not too long ago for her 11th birthday was also a gift for JJ, since the two would spend most time up there, playing video games or just chilling whatever kids do.

The two were currently playing a video games nudging each other as they were completing with each other “I’ll beat you up!” He yelled a laugh coming along with the comment, “you wouldn’t dare!” She yelled back nudging him again. She was right he would never dare to touch his precious y/n y/l/n.

Now the two currently sat playing truth or dare after she bet him in the video game the two were playing “truth or dare, Jay” she said leaning on the bean bag “dare” he said copying her actions.

She sat in thought for a couple seconds as an idea had popped into her head “I dare you to kiss me!” She said before bolting out of the tree house, Him hot on her tail as he chased her around the yard laughing out loud when she almost tripped over her bike that way laying next to his.

Well, I was sixteen when suddenly I wasn’t that little girl you used to see. But your eyes still shined like pretty lights

No longer the little kids the two of them intended to be, at her sweet sixteenth birthday party, y/n and JJ had snuck away down to the beach to relive some old memories, it was dark as the two snuck down “crazy how we’re not kids anymore” she sadly smiled and sat down after placing a towel down to not ruin her dress.

“I know, least I got to spend the years with you huh” he said. Now, the two teenagers had turned into hormonal snot nosed teenagers, that smoked and drank against her parents wishes.

JJ had turned into, the islands heart throb, with girls. Y/n hated it, she hated all the attention he got, she missed when she was just hers and no one else’s.

As for y/n she had turned into a respectful young woman, but her and JJ were at different ends of the social spectrum but the still hung out when the could, obviously they had made more friends like now the two of them were Pogues, hung out with John B, pope, and kiara, ( who was another kook, like her ). Pope and kiara were the only ones who hung with her at school, but John B and JJ had their own friends.

But it was fine, she still loved JJ the same and maybe even more, and maybe just maybe he felt the same way about her.

“Remember that time you dared me to kiss you? And then you ran when I tried?” He said lighting the blunt that was already in his mouth “huh?” She raised her brows, of course she remembered, how could she forget? “We were playing truth or dare and you dared me to kiss you and then you like bolted away from me when I tried” he said handing her the blunt.

“Oh shit” she laughed “i do” she chuckled again leaning down on the towel “y’know” he paused taking the joint back “I would’ve done it if you would of let me” he copied her action leaning on of his side facing her “dude, we were what? Nine?” She shook her head “I’m surprised you even came tonight” she sighed

“What’d you mean” he said as the girl turned around on her side facing the boy “wouldn’t miss my favourite girls birthday over anything” he said reaching out and brushing a strand of hair that had fell out of place, behind her ear.

“Wanna play truth or dare?” He asked sitting up in a upright position “sure” she copied him “okay you go” she said “truth or dare birthday girl” the girl thought for a second before answering

“Dare” she sat back the boy copied her actions from when she was nine before he repeated her answer from that exact day.

“I dare you to… kiss Me” he trailed making the girls eyes go wild “what?” She chuckled awkwardly “I dare you to kiss me” he shrugged a smirk appearing on his face “if you insist” he smiled at her as he leaned forward puckering his lips up for her.

She took a breathy laughed before pressing her lips against his.

And our daddies used to joke about the two of us, they’d never believed we’d really fall in love, and our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes and said oh my my my

And yet they did bet on it, but they didn’t think it would become reality, as y/n told her father about her and JJ becoming a thing. Her dad had grinned high-fiving her mother with a grin making the woman roll her eyes.

JJ’s mother had passed, making it extra tough on JJ, but her family still accepted the boy, even though JJ’s father was now an asshole and bet the boy up repeatedly.

But y/n would welcome him with open arms and patch up back into one piece, and she was lucky enough to have parents that let boys sleep in her bedroom.

Take me back to the time, we had our very first fight slamming doors instead of kissing goodnight you stayed outside till the morning light.. oh my my my

No one ever expects it but it happens, some girl was flirting with JJ at a party while he was getting himself and y/n another drink, and yet he didn’t do anything it look like he was and y/n was mad.

“Why did you not just tell her to fuck off JJ!” She yelled as John B, Sarah, Kie and pope sat on the couch awkwardly glancing between the couple and themselves

“I don’t flirt with every girl I talk to y/n!” He yelled back “and she didn’t know I have a girlfriend!” He spat “you could’ve of told her, it’s so simple “oh by the way I have a girlfriend that I love so much and care deeply about” see that easy” she yelled

“She just wanted a drink y/n!” He explained angrily “yeah! Sure! That was totally the only thing on her mind when she was touching up all over you!” She yelled before slamming the door behind her after leaving the chateau.

It was around 4am when she heard light taps on her windows as she rolled her eyes knowing it was JJ, she turned her TV’s volume up ignoring the boy who just wanted her attention.

A few years had gone and come around we were sitting at our favourite spot in town, and you looked at me got down on one knee.

The beach was always pretty during sunset, the couple were now both 23 and had moved out of outer banks, only back to visit her parents for a couple days during the summer.

The girl had been caught up in the pretty sunset as they were sitting on one of the fold up chairs her parents had in the garage, she hadn’t noticed JJ looking at her with such love and affection in his eyes, but she had noticed the strange feeling that someone was stairing at her burning holes into the side of her face.

“What..?” She said a smile appearing on her face as she turned around to look at her boyfriend “nothing” he said getting up from the seat and bending down on one knee “y/l/n” he paused “I’ have loved you ever since I met you. And I’m extremely lucky to have such an amazing, gorgeous and incredible girl in my life.. so will you marry me?” He said tears prickling in her eyes as he spoke.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She smiled as she stood up as he copied her actions engulfing her in a hug and placing a light kiss on her lips.

Take me back to the time, when I walked down the aisle, the whole time came and my mama cried you said I do and I did too

The time had come for the couple to get married, the long white dress trailed behind her as she slowly walked down the aisle after Kiara and Sarah. Everyone’s eyes on her as she made her way towards JJ, his eyes glassy as she stood across from the boy.

The vows, came and this was it “do you.. JJ Maybank take thee y/n y/l/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He said as JJ nodded “I do” he said wiping a quick tear away “and do you y/n y/l/n take thee JJ Maybank to be your lawfully wedded husband?” a smile appeared on her face “I do” she smiled as the family and friends cheered a smile appearing on her face as JJ left the room with her bridal style.

I’ll be eighty seven; you’ll be eighty nine I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky.. oh my my my

These writings/stories are not mine, they are only stories like and this is a why that i can go back when I feel like reading them again.

Outer Banks

☆masterlist

JJ maybank

Soft 💌

Rafe cameron

(some are triggering/abusive)

smut

rafe is mean

hands off

rocky beaches

never alone

arguments

playing dangerous (favv)

soft 💌

it girl

stanley cup

yapper(lil smut)

quiet reader

karma is my boyfriend

ouch!!

SOMEBODY RESCUE SOFIA FROM THIS MAN OMG SOMEBODY 😭FREE 😭MY 😭 GIRL😭PLEASE😭

sofia x reader when??

i need a rafe cameron hurt/comfort fic. and when i say that, i mean a RAFE CAMERON hurt/comfort fic. not, oh... well reader is this and that happened to reader so blah blah blah rafe comforts them. NO.

give me rafe cameron running to reader, and wrapping himself around them, tears pooling in his pretty blue eyes as he murmurs something about being a fuck up into their shoulder. probably distressed from another fight with his dad or another situation happened where he lost control and it terrified him.

his arms are probably so tight around reader that they can barely breathe, but if rafe let's go then how is he gonna ever calm down?? reader is like his lifeline and even a split second away from them, in any way, is just adding to the pooling fear and dread that swirls in that pretty little head of his :((

i need something like this so baddddd bc i can't find any (there's probably some out there nd i just havent seen it yet but where tf is it?)

(can you tell i'm rewatching obx for the 3rd time???)

guys this fucking rafe ai is killing me rn

this is so bsf!rafe who wants so badly for you to look at him and not other guys. like he wants all the attention and time you're putting into different guys and crushes you have when all you really need (in his opinion) is your best friend who does everything you ask. but he listens to your boy problems like a good friend, hoping that one day you open your eyes and see him.

try to find a rafe fic without smut impossible challenge 😱😱😱

no but actually im sooo tired of just finding smut 😔. yes they are good and yes i love them 😍, but sometimes I just want something without it yk? but there’s like slim to NONE 💔💔

Author Recs 💋

some of my fav rafe authors!! (some write for JJ but you get the point)

these authors have series/drabbles/one-shots etc and have written in every genre, written so beautifully at 💗💗

@goldenroutledge

@loveharlow

@erwinsvow

@zyafics

@diqldrunks

@ghostofwriting

@softspiderling

@featherandferns

@hotchsstuff

@winterrrnight ——> (moved to) @starkeyvhs

@obaex

@forevermoreharrington

@lovelyjj

@rafeandonlyrafe

@jjsbank444

@cute-sucker

@boneblushed

@twinklelilstarkey

@mariespen

@rafesdrew

@blisslove

@pougeszn

@outerbankies

@mrs-cameron

@totalswag

@obxsummer

@storiesbound

@santaasi

@crvptidgaf

@oceandriveab

@rafecameronssl4t

@manheeiim

@rafesgfs

@rafesproperty

@rafecameroninterlude

please please please someone write something with rafe x reader and make it like the new ‘please please please’ music video! 🪩

it would be greatly appreciated if i could be tagged 🥹

like i can just imagine her doing everything with him like sabrina’s doing with barry and she’d just let him shoot people like ‘whatever at least i look hot’ !!

and then like she is always there to bail him out no matter what and he’s just so down bad for her and she’s just like ‘yeah, i have a murderer trailing behind me like, whatever?’

but like secretly she doesn’t want him to be too stupid and does care for him deep down and she shows it in their little private convos together !!

please please please someone write something with rafe x reader and make it like the new ‘please please please’ music video! 🪩

it would be greatly appreciated if i could be tagged 🥹

why do his outfits always eat🤤

it’s not fair on my mental health how goddamn sexy he isss 😔😔

RAHH I LOVE THIS 🫢🫢

Being OlderSugarDaddy!Rafe’s Controversially Young Girlfriend💋

Inspired by @starfxkr ‘s Sugar Daddy!Rafe