cute-sucker
i wish i knew you
20s, i like to write <3
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note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!
˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.
you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him.
the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room.
"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.
his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain.
"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something.
you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!"
he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm.
"rafe? please."
"no."
that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.
but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress.
the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great.
but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant.
how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.
finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany.
"i have to go."
˚❀༉‧₊˚.
the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat.
urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him.
he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body.
"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in.
maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy.
the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed.
"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle.
finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart.
rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you.
finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay."
you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay.
rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms.
he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears.
"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes.
"you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.
you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby."
dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day.
#boxer!rafe#rafe outer banks#obx fic#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#angst#fluff#rafe obx#drabble#boxer!au#shy!reader#pregnancy#dad!rafe#obx#outer banks#dad!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe concepts#SCREAMING i need boxer!rafe in my guts
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arhhhh i love you so much!! ur little cute idea thingie was the best :((( <3
"❀˚ rafe is so attentive to you. he might be busy ‘handling business’ all the time, but he’ll drop everything if something’s bothering you. he wants you to live a cozy, carefree life, physical proof to you and everyone else that he can maintain that for you. so, when you show up at tannyhill with tears in your eyes, he goes straight into problem solving mode. ˚❀༉‧₊" - (x) inspired by @maiiuelle
you were in a foul mood. one that left you nothing but in shivers, and sniffles. you were holding yourself together until you saw rafe. you had started working lately, telling rafe that you could handle it and that you hated the way that he had to pay for everything.
you worked at a meek small cafe, serving tables, and coming home greasy and bubbly. sometimes you'd bring free leftover fries, and rafe would kiss you, telling you that there was enough money to pay for it. but you liked it. you liked the simplicity rafe liked seeing you happy.
but today everything was horrible. from the way that the day started from the way you felt in the beginning. you had hit your toe on the door and chipped a nail. then there was a man who yelled at you for getting his order wrong, and you ended up having chunks of potato puree in your hair after a toddler grappled for the food you were serving.
so there you were at tanyhill. staring up at the daunting building, as hot tears streamed down your face. you felt caged in as your arms were wrapped around your body. you felt small, almost as if you could disappear the moment something was uttered.
rafe had given you the key to the house. that's the way he was, giving you small things. giving you small things that you'd always hold close to your heart. sometimes he'd just gaze at you, kiss your forehead and call you his "sweet girl," and you felt your whole body blaze with a fire. and so you gently swung open, the hall echoing with emptiness, you felt yourself smile gently.
tanyhill reminded you of rafe. and rafe reminded you of good things. yet your foul mood followed you, and somehow there was this inkling feeling that rafe wouldn't allow you to keep your job if he knew how horrible the service was.
but you couldn't help yourself as you bundled in rafe's bedsheets, smelling that scent of his, and wearing one of his polo's. your hand ached towards the phone, yet you held back. he was probably handling business, but it was finally when you picked up the phone and dialled his number. he picked up in one ring.
"rafe?" you sniffed out, your voice scratchy.
"what's wrong?" rafe murmured back. you could almost hear the alarm in his voice and could feel the way he was probably pacing around. he was probably going to be in trouble. that caused you to wilt even more, as you tried to stammer out your sentence.
"i need you."
˚❀༉‧₊˚.
you could imagine what rafe was thinking. he was probably worried. worried out of his mind, as you sat in his bed, messy bed head and tears streaming down your face. you heard the creak of the door opening, and there he was.
you saw him, eyes soft as they traced your body. there you were, eyes rubbed red, and a pout on your face. you seemed almost in disbelief, as you stared at him. finally, you jumped into his embrace. it was warm. it was home. you could hear his heartbeat.
your voice was slurred as you whispered them out, still seeking his warmth
"you came."
it was only here you took a peek at his face, a soft smile was sprawled across his face.
"you called."
maybe that was when you realised you loved him.
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"❀˚ rafe is so attentive to you. he might be busy ‘handling business’ all the time, but he’ll drop everything if something’s bothering you. he wants you to live a cozy, carefree life, physical proof to you and everyone else that he can maintain that for you. so, when you show up at tannyhill with tears in your eyes, he goes straight into problem solving mode. ˚❀༉‧₊" - (x) inspired by @maiiuelle
you were in a foul mood. one that left you nothing but in shivers, and sniffles. you were holding yourself together until you saw rafe. you had started working lately, telling rafe that you could handle it and that you hated the way that he had to pay for everything.
you worked at a meek small cafe, serving tables, and coming home greasy and bubbly. sometimes you'd bring free leftover fries, and rafe would kiss you, telling you that there was enough money to pay for it. but you liked it. you liked the simplicity rafe liked seeing you happy.
but today everything was horrible. from the way that the day started from the way you felt in the beginning. you had hit your toe on the door and chipped a nail. then there was a man who yelled at you for getting his order wrong, and you ended up having chunks of potato puree in your hair after a toddler grappled for the food you were serving.
so there you were at tanyhill. staring up at the daunting building, as hot tears streamed down your face. you felt caged in as your arms were wrapped around your body. you felt small, almost as if you could disappear the moment something was uttered.
rafe had given you the key to the house. that's the way he was, giving you small things. giving you small things that you'd always hold close to your heart. sometimes he'd just gaze at you, kiss your forehead and call you his "sweet girl," and you felt your whole body blaze with a fire. and so you gently swung open, the hall echoing with emptiness, you felt yourself smile gently.
tanyhill reminded you of rafe. and rafe reminded you of good things. yet your foul mood followed you, and somehow there was this inkling feeling that rafe wouldn't allow you to keep your job if he knew how horrible the service was.
but you couldn't help yourself as you bundled in rafe's bedsheets, smelling that scent of his, and wearing one of his polo's. your hand ached towards the phone, yet you held back. he was probably handling business, but it was finally when you picked up the phone and dialled his number. he picked up in one ring.
"rafe?" you sniffed out, your voice scratchy.
"what's wrong?" rafe murmured back. you could almost hear the alarm in his voice and could feel the way he was probably pacing around. he was probably going to be in trouble. that caused you to wilt even more, as you tried to stammer out your sentence.
"i need you."
˚❀༉‧₊˚.
you could imagine what rafe was thinking. he was probably worried. worried out of his mind, as you sat in his bed, messy bed head and tears streaming down your face. you heard the creak of the door opening, and there he was.
you saw him, eyes soft as they traced your body. there you were, eyes rubbed red, and a pout on your face. you seemed almost in disbelief, as you stared at him. finally, you jumped into his embrace. it was warm. it was home. you could hear his heartbeat.
your voice was slurred as you whispered words out, still seeking his warmth.
"you came."
it was only here you took a peek at his face, a soft smile was sprawled across his face.
"you called."
maybe that was when you realised you loved him.
#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#obx fic#rafe x you#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#fluff#angst#rafe obx#drabble#rafe x y/n#rafe fanfiction#obx rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#cute#i'm not crying you are#oh welp#rafe fluff#rafe fic#rafe cameron x fem!reader#obx3#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x fem!reader
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i wrote this !! link: hot shot
#rafe outer banks#obx fic#rafe imagine#rafe x you#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#angst#fluff#rafe obx#drabble#husband!rafe#boxer!rafe#shy!reader#fem!reader#requests
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EX HUSBAND RAFE HEADCANONS !!
ex-husband!rafe will continuously come to your house telling you it's only to check up on your baby girl
ex-husband!rafe will catch himself calling you sweetheart and honey, and them stop himself before it gets out of hand, iching his head and tilting his head in that endearing way
ex-husband!rafe is in tune with your cycle, and you swear the man knows the exact day to send you chocolate and sweet things to handle your sweet tooth
ex-husband!rafe will sleep on the couch with a sheepish smile, but then will soon later join you in your bed, cradling you in the way that made your breath catch whispering "what's the master bed for then, huh?"
ex-husband!rafe will know everything about your dating life/borderline which may seen creepy but somehow you know it's for your health and somehow you understand it all
ex-husband!rafe will let the goddamn pretentious expensive preschool know that his daughter is worth the world and the last thing they want to do is piss the cameron's off
ex-husband!rafe would find himself desperately cracking an inside in an attempt to reminisce about times before your split
ex-husband!rafe will still introduce you as his wife in business outings, a sharp smile on his face while his hand wanders possessively low at the small part of your back, and sometimes you liked how he took stake of what was his
ex-husband!rafe would always attend school events for their daughter, cheering their daughter at the soccer match, and making decisions over coffee
ex-husband!rafe would have you a new bouquet every single time he comes to your house- almost as if to make up for every single one he didn't give you when the two of you were together
ex-husband!rafe still glances at you in that way where dull sparks travel up into your heart, and you feel the testament of time and the feeling that you would never forget the imprint he has on your mind
ex-husband!rafe always compliments you, and sometimes he kisses your forehead, and when you're crying too hard he bundles you in his arms and tells you everything
ex-husband!rafe watches cheesy romance movies with you, both of your legs entwined, and he watches you during those rom coms all teary eyed and telling him it was the best time for romance
ex-husband!rafe lets you know everything that happens in his life, if it's for a little chat or a ride in his car- and his car? he still drives you everywhere. who knows the types of sickos there are in the world? that's what he says to say as he rants furiously
ex-husband!rafe is still the first emergency contact in your phone, and when you get in trouble - he's running to you, arms open to cradle you in his warmth. he always knows how to handle the situation
ex-husband!rafe starts baking for you, and sometimes he leaves a few cupcakes or muffins every single he comes. at this point you feel the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him every single time he cheekily leaves more loafs of bread for you
ex-husband!rafe loves your daughter and you to the moon and back, and he calls the two of you, "his girls," and you swear sometimes you feel your heart break when you see the wary look on his face
ex-husband!rafe always avoids the question regarding why you split up, because he sees the way hot tears well up in your eyes, and the way your hands shake underneath the table and the last time a bastard asked that question--rafe almost punched him in the face
ex-husband!rafe curses himself every single day for signing those papers and letting the best goddamn thing he ever had go.
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EX HUSBAND RAFE HEADCANONS !!
ex-husband!rafe will continuously come to your house telling you it's only to check up on your baby girl
ex-husband!rafe will catch himself calling you sweetheart and honey, and them stop himself before it gets out of hand, iching his head and tilting his head in that endearing way
ex-husband!rafe is in tune with your cycle, and you swear the man knows the exact day to send you chocolate and sweet things to handle your sweet tooth
ex-husband!rafe will sleep on the couch with a sheepish smile, but then will soon later join you in your bed, cradling you in the way that made your breath catch whispering "what's the master bed for then, huh?"
ex-husband!rafe will know everything about your dating life/borderline which may seen creepy but somehow you know it's for your health and somehow you understand it all
ex-husband!rafe will let the goddamn pretentious expensive preschool know that his daughter is worth the world and the last thing they want to do is piss the cameron's off
ex-husband!rafe would find himself desperately cracking an inside in an attempt to reminisce about times before your split
ex-husband!rafe will still introduce you as his wife in business outings, a sharp smile on his face while his hand wanders possessively low at the small part of your back, and sometimes you liked how he took stake of what was his
ex-husband!rafe would always attend school events for their daughter, cheering their daughter at the soccer match, and making decisions over coffee
ex-husband!rafe would have you a new bouquet every single time he comes to your house- almost as if to make up for every single one he didn't give you when the two of you were together
ex-husband!rafe still glances at you in that way where dull sparks travel up into your heart, and you feel the testament of time and the feeling that you would never forget the imprint he has on your mind
ex-husband!rafe always compliments you, and sometimes he kisses your forehead, and when you're crying too hard he bundles you in his arms and tells you everything
ex-husband!rafe watches cheesy romance movies with you, both of your legs entwined, and he watches you during those rom coms all teary eyed and telling him it was the best time for romance
ex-husband!rafe lets you know everything that happens in his life, if it's for a little chat or a ride in his car- and his car? he still drives you everywhere. who knows the types of sickos there are in the world? that's what he says to say as he rants furiously
ex-husband!rafe is still the first emergency contact in your phone, and when you get in trouble - he's running to you, arms open to cradle you in his warmth. he always knows how to handle the situation
ex-husband!rafe starts baking for you, and sometimes he leaves a few cupcakes or muffins every single he comes. at this point you feel the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him every single time he cheekily leaves more loafs of bread for you
ex-husband!rafe loves your daughter and you to the moon and back, and he calls the two of you, "his girls," and you swear sometimes you feel your heart break when you see the wary look on his face
ex-husband!rafe always avoids the question regarding why you split up, because he sees the way hot tears well up in your eyes, and the way your hands shake underneath the table and the last time a bastard asked that question--rafe almost punched him in the face
ex-husband!rafe curses himself every single day for signing those papers and letting the best goddamn thing he ever had go.
#ex-husband!rafe#rafe x you#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#obx fic#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#angst#rafe obx#fluff#drabble#headcanon#sad thoughts#i'm not crying you are#pls send me asks for this man#ex husband!rafe x reader#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe concepts#rafe fluff#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x fem!reader#obx3#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x fem!reader
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guys send me requests!! i'm really motivated to write something :)
#anon#asks open#please help a girl out#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe cameron#pope heyward prompt#jj mayback x reader#john b routledge#obx fic#slytherin boys
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three mistakes
words: 880
tags: kook!pope x reader
note: thank you @princessbrunette for reading the draft !! love u <3
when pope first met you he didn't think much.
after all he was the smartest kid in the grade, so of course you were insignificant. you may have been a scholarship kid, a nice one at that. that was your number one mistake, and there were three that you committed that first week you arrived at kook academy.
two. you were a little too sweet on him, he thought because you always smiled brightly at him, and wore those cute little skirts. last week you had given him a brownie that you said you, "made." but then you dropped the napkin and leaned down to get it for him it was the school uniform, but you sure knew how to lay it sweet.
so what? you were pretty, but pope didn't fall for that sort of thing. nah, he had seen enough pretty bimbos, and after you were new. you couldn't change anything.
three. that was until science class. it was one of his easier subject but then again what subject was hard for him? and then he was laughing to his friends, the desk pushed back, and a smirk on his face. you were sitting in front of him, head bowed down and deep in thought. you were still thinking even after the teacher had left for a few minutes.
he had a sudden thought, just a small comment might tip you off. he'd experienced this with other girls. they liked it to argue, or teasingly fight, and you were there in front of him, just waiting to be messed with.
but what to say to you? pope had to be sly with these comments, just something to make your cheeks go red without causing your smile to wilt. it was art what pope could do with his sweet mouth, and pretty soft eyes. some said that his dick was the size of his ego, and some put it a little nicer — that he was charming. but that didn't matter because when he looked at you he knew he had to say something sweet but scandalous enough to cause you to giggle. he would never admit this—but he wanted to hear your laugh.
suddenly he remembered the butterfly necklace you always had on. it was silver, and so shiny on you. he swore that there was some sort of school regulation about jelewy, but you had managed to pass by with that cute necklace. it was little dangly thing that lay before your chest. it had dainty wings, and glittery in the sun. it reminded him of you.
"y'know i always thought butterflies were like cockroaches with wings. ugly you know?" pope muttered to his friend. but he couldn't help but gesture at you in a sly moment, and his friends got it. they sniggered, and pope knew in another life he would ditch the bastards for how stupid they were. antoni was the smartest of the bunch.
it was almost as if that piqued your interest. you turned around, doe eyes wide almost as if you were shocked and taken aback.
"i think butterflies are beautiful," you whispered outraged, tightly holding onto your necklace. pope could barely keep in his laughter at your dumbstruck expression. he leaned in to take a full look at your face before looking back at his friends with a mock surprised face.
"yea' you think?" he whispered crudely. "can a dumb little bunny like you think?"
suddenly, you seemed to coil in, biting your lip, hot tears welting up in your eyes. he could see the way your hands shook beneath the desk as you furiously turned around to face him. "butterflies can see ultraviolet colors that are invisible to the human eye," you cried out.
pope found him stopping in his tracks because he swore there were tears in your eyes when you whispered out the fact. yet, he couldn't find himself to care, somehow he found himself enjoying the look on your face. almost wonderstruck, he found himself taking in your pretty face.
what he wanted to say to you was, "so what?" but he found grinning at you like you were a child.
his friends were laughing behind his back, and but he could feel the stinging sensation that what you had said had mattered a lot more than the stupid conversations that he had.
and somewhere in the middle of this, you were glaring at him, and then sniffed before turning away from him.
but he shrugged it off. what could you do anyways? huh? cry to your parents about how pope heyward couldn't take you seriously. for all you knew, if your parents did complain, the dean of kook academy probably shrug you off because pope heyward was an asset to their school. but there was something inside of him, something soft and nice said that knew he should say sorry, yet when the bell rung he watched you leave the room in a rush only leaving him with a dirty glare.
so he forgot about it. you were just another dirt poor scholorship kid? the last one had to leave because they couldn't take the academics. funny. maybe the same would happen to you.
⊹˚. ♡
you ran home crying, mascara running down your face, as you pulled your tiny skirt down. you had tried to be nice, you had tried to kind and most of all you had tried your best to be friends with everyone. goddamn it you had even given heyward a brownie! he clearly didn't like you.
what was it? what was so wrong with you that he felt the need to be mean to you? all you had done was tried. you had always tried, as your head felt empty and studied till your hands were sore from highlighting and your eyes felt bleary from scanning pages. until it all paid off and you were off to kook academy.
your cousin kiara had told you to wear your butterfly charm, and the two of you made brownies. she had yelled bye to you that first day, and now you sat next to her crying your eyes out.
"what went wrong?" she asked you quietly, as you burrowed your head into your pillow. you groaned, and shook your head furiously.
"don't wanna talk about it," you whispered looking up at her. she looked at you sternly, and you finally let out a soft sigh, "it's pope heyward," at this she rolled her eyes, tilting her head as she thought of a plan. you hoped that somehow she would find an answer - a solution to your problem
"i think you should get back at heyward. be smarter than him. that's how assholes like him work. they have crazy big egos but that's all he has. he looks wimpy to me," she scoffed looking at the previous yearbook where you had furiously crossed out pope's face.
"yeah right," you huffed at her, crossing your arms as your eyebrows were knit together. "he's ten times smarter than me."
"no, i think your underestimating yourself. just wait and see, and don't you dare lose the butterfly charm."
so you listened to her, and the next day you had little pink bows with butterfly imprints. in fact you strutted up to pope and gave him a dirty look, and you saw the way his eyes got wide before he opted for his all-knowing smirk.
"looking like a really pretty bunny. did you wear those bows for me?" he snickered, nudging his friends when he said that. you gritted your teeth and just walked the other way.
you were going to beat him. you knew you were going to. today the class was getting their results back for the major english assignments. you were hoping to get something high enough to throw in his face, and you knew you would relish the look on his face.
"class, we'll be handing out test scores now for the written passage. ," your teacher droned before stopping before your test and handing you yours with a smile. you felt happiness bloom in your heart-it had to be good right?
quickly you turned it around, and looked at the circled number. 100, a pristine number that was circled along with a "distinct voice." you felt yourself beaming, until you felt a tap on your back. it was heyward, yet he looked uneasy. he was glancing at your hidden paper.
"what did you get?"
of course he'd want to know. he'd want to know what you got so he could average it himself. after all this was your first test of the year, and he was checking if you really were the scholarship kid that could get the best grades. you found yourself smiling secretly, biting your lip.
finally he gave you a pointed look, "do i need to clarify? what did you get on your test?" he asked exasperated.
you bit your lip from beaming too hard, and shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "full marks, i guess."
"what does that mean?" he grinned, "is that a 60% for you? would make sense, bunny," he muttered, his brown eyes glinting with humour. now you would have been sadder, but instead there was a venomous bite to your speech.
"do i need to clarify? it's a hundred percent."
he shut up, glaring at you, "you're lying."
"yeah, what did you get?" you bit back.
he shook his head, "none of your business."
so that was it. you let it go and turned away looking pleased. the last went by easier, and the golden hundred was still shining in the paper. it was a triumph. a win that pope heyward understood.
it was here that pope realised that he had made one mistake.
he had underestimated you.
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after a long and traumatic week, seeing and experiencing dreadful things — puppy!reader gets into the habit of needing john b to rock her to sleep. every night.
if he doesn’t, there’s tears — and bless your heart he understands. before these few weeks, he’d managed to protect you from it all. being shot at, stumbling on skeletons and dead bodies all for the sake of finding the next clue for the treasure that seemed so far away. at the time, and for your safety he had to bring you along — but as he watches your lip curl over, clinging to his chest back at the chateau — he regrets not finding a way around it.
“well sleep is important, bubba. you need rest.” he stresses, trying to ease you into relaxing as you argue against him. “c’mon. i know you’re tired. i can tell.”
“but i know i’m going to have a nightmare again! ugh.” in a moment of stress, you softly bury yourself into his arm, sinking teeth gently into his tanned bicep.
“noooo you won’t.” he croons in that comforting deep voice of his, slotting his hand between your face and his arm so that he can stroke your cheek with his thumb until you ease up on your bite. you huff, flopping back into his arms dramatically like you’d died mid conversation and he smiles, softly manhandling you until you’re lying directly on his chest. “i’ll tell you why you’re not gonna have any nightmares, pup. it’s because i’m gonna be riiight here. all night. you’re gonna get all hot and bothered and wish that you had your own bed, seriously.” he keeps his tone lighthearted as you get comfortable, but his face falls when he hears you sniffle. “hey, i know.” he acknowledges solemnly, kissing the top of your head.
“jus’ nervous.” you slur, muffled into the fabric of his shirt and he nods in understanding. without thinking much of it, john b starts to sway your body left to right, gently rocking you to attempt to halt your tears. after a moment, you seem to quieten down. “keep doing that.” you rasp after a few minutes, barely awake.
“mhm.” he hums, trying not to disturb you as much as possible with his response, continuing to rock you in his arms. for the first time in a while, you sleep soundly — with no bad dreams.
because of the success in john b’s new technique — you started to require it every night. as soon as you feel the tiredness creep up on you, you’re crawling into his lap, making a rocking motion with your body to communicate what you want. doing this every night might become tiresome to some, but your boyfriend was filled with guilt — accidentally putting you in such dangerous scenarios lately that your body was now riddled with anxiety, needing the gentle motion in order to have a stress free sleep. whatever he could do to help you, to rid himself of the guilt — he would comply.
occasionally, you had required this treatment during a nap in the middle of the day too — straddling him on the couch with the shy request.
“get on in here.” he opens his arms to wrap around you, letting you burrow down into him. as soon as he begins to rock you side to side, your brain starts to power down, even able to partially ignore jj when he loudly strolls in, aware of your habits.
“damn, it’s rockin’ time already? a little early.” the blonde converses casually making the brunette frown and wave one arm at him.
“shh, but yes. yes it is.”
unable to control his behaviour, maybank begins to dance, moonwalking across the wooden panels of the chateau floor. “i wanna rock with you, alllll night.” he sings, making you groggily lift your head to blink an eye at him.
“are you done?” john b deadpans.
“oh hey there sleepy-pooch. my bad, go ‘head and take that nap.” jj busies himself with a beer bottle, grabbing it to settle down with on the couch, eyes latching onto the tv.
you’re fast asleep in a matter of minutes, the gentle humming of the tv mixing with the sounds of your soft snores. “damn, she’s out like that already? guess they found the cure to insomnia. hey, can i try next?” jj teases, lifting the bottle to his lips making the brunette shake his head, not even bothering to glance away from the tv.
“would you shut-up? maybe?” he mumbles in careless retaliation, just happy his sweet pup was getting the rest she deserves.
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three mistakes
words: 880
tags: kook!pope x reader
note: thank you @princessbrunette for reading the draft !! love u <3
when pope first met you he didn't think much.
after all he was the smartest kid in the grade, so of course you were insignificant. you may have been a scholarship kid, a nice one at that. that was your number one mistake, and there were three that you committed that first week you arrived at kook academy.
two. you were a little too sweet on him, he thought because you always smiled brightly at him, and wore those cute little skirts. last week you had given him a brownie that you said you, "made." but then you dropped the napkin and leaned down to get it for him it was the school uniform, but you sure knew how to lay it sweet.
so what? you were pretty, but pope didn't fall for that sort of thing. nah, he had seen enough pretty bimbos, and after you were new. you couldn't change anything.
three. that was until science class. it was one of his easier subject but then again what subject was hard for him? and then he was laughing to his friends, the desk pushed back, and a smirk on his face. you were sitting in front of him, head bowed down and deep in thought. you were still thinking even after the teacher had left for a few minutes.
he had a sudden thought, just a small comment might tip you off. he'd experienced this with other girls. they liked it to argue, or teasingly fight, and you were there in front of him, just waiting to be messed with.
but what to say to you? pope had to be sly with these comments, just something to make your cheeks go red without causing your smile to wilt. it was art what pope could do with his sweet mouth, and pretty soft eyes. some said that his dick was the size of his ego, and some put it a little nicer — that he was charming. but that didn't matter because when he looked at you he knew he had to say something sweet but scandalous enough to cause you to giggle. he would never admit this—but he wanted to hear your laugh.
suddenly he remembered the butterfly necklace you always had on. it was silver, and so shiny on you. he swore that there was some sort of school regulation about jelewy, but you had managed to pass by with that cute necklace. it was little dangly thing that lay before your chest. it had dainty wings, and glittery in the sun. it reminded him of you.
"y'know i always thought butterflies were like cockroaches with wings. ugly you know?" pope muttered to his friend. but he couldn't help but gesture at you in a sly moment, and his friends got it. they sniggered, and pope knew in another life he would ditch the bastards for how stupid they were. antoni was the smartest of the bunch.
it was almost as if that piqued your interest. you turned around, doe eyes wide almost as if you were shocked and taken aback.
"i think butterflies are beautiful," you whispered outraged, tightly holding onto your necklace. pope could barely keep in his laughter at your dumbstruck expression. he leaned in to take a full look at your face before looking back at his friends with a mock surprised face.
"yea' you think?" he whispered crudely. "can a dumb little bunny like you think?"
suddenly, you seemed to coil in, biting your lip, hot tears welting up in your eyes. he could see the way your hands shook beneath the desk as you furiously turned around to face him. "butterflies can see ultraviolet colors that are invisible to the human eye," you cried out.
pope found him stopping in his tracks because he swore there were tears in your eyes when you whispered out the fact. yet, he couldn't find himself to care, somehow he found himself enjoying the look on your face. almost wonderstruck, he found himself taking in your pretty face.
what he wanted to say to you was, "so what?" but he found grinning at you like you were a child.
his friends were laughing behind his back, and but he could feel the stinging sensation that what you had said had mattered a lot more than the stupid conversations that he had.
and somewhere in the middle of this, you were glaring at him, and then sniffed before turning away from him.
but he shrugged it off. what could you do anyways? huh? cry to your parents about how pope heyward couldn't take you seriously. for all you knew, if your parents did complain, the dean of kook academy probably shrug you off because pope heyward was an asset to their school. but there was something inside of him, something soft and nice said that knew he should say sorry, yet when the bell rung he watched you leave the room in a rush only leaving him with a dirty glare.
so he forgot about it. you were just another dirt poor scholorship kid? the last one had to leave because they couldn't take the academics. funny. maybe the same would happen to you.
⊹˚. ♡
you ran home crying, mascara running down your face, as you pulled your tiny skirt down. you had tried to be nice, you had tried to kind and most of all you had tried your best to be friends with everyone. goddamn it you had even given heyward a brownie! he clearly didn't like you.
what was it? what was so wrong with you that he felt the need to be mean to you? all you had done was tried. you had always tried, as your head felt empty and studied till your hands were sore from highlighting and your eyes felt bleary from scanning pages. until it all paid off and you were off to kook academy.
your cousin kiara had told you to wear your butterfly charm, and the two of you made brownies. she had yelled bye to you that first day, and now you sat next to her crying your eyes out.
"what went wrong?" she asked you quietly, as you burrowed your head into your pillow. you groaned, and shook your head furiously.
"don't wanna talk about it," you whispered looking up at her. she looked at you sternly, and you finally let out a soft sigh, "it's pope heyward," at this she rolled her eyes, tilting her head as she thought of a plan. you hoped that somehow she would find an answer - a solution to your problem
"i think you should get back at heyward. be smarter than him. that's how assholes like him work. they have crazy big egos but that's all he has. he looks wimpy to me," she scoffed looking at the previous yearbook where you had furiously crossed out pope's face.
"yeah right," you huffed at her, crossing your arms as your eyebrows were knit together. "he's ten times smarter than me."
"no, i think your underestimating yourself. just wait and see, and don't you dare lose the butterfly charm."
so you listened to her, and the next day you had little pink bows with butterfly imprints. in fact you strutted up to pope and gave him a dirty look, and you saw the way his eyes got wide before he opted for his all-knowing smirk.
"looking like a really pretty bunny. did you wear those bows for me?" he snickered, nudging his friends when he said that. you gritted your teeth and just walked the other way.
you were going to beat him. you knew you were going to. today the class was getting their results back for the major english assignments. you were hoping to get something high enough to throw in his face, and you knew you would relish the look on his face.
"class, we'll be handing out test scores now for the written passage. ," your teacher droned before stopping before your test and handing you yours with a smile. you felt happiness bloom in your heart-it had to be good right?
quickly you turned it around, and looked at the circled number. 100, a pristine number that was circled along with a "distinct voice." you felt yourself beaming, until you felt a tap on your back. it was heyward, yet he looked uneasy. he was glancing at your hidden paper.
"what did you get?"
of course he'd want to know. he'd want to know what you got so he could average it himself. after all this was your first test of the year, and he was checking if you really were the scholarship kid that could get the best grades. you found yourself smiling secretly, biting your lip.
finally he gave you a pointed look, "do i need to clarify? what did you get on your test?" he asked exasperated.
you bit your lip from beaming too hard, and shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "full marks, i guess."
"what does that mean?" he grinned, "is that a 60% for you? would make sense, bunny," he muttered, his brown eyes glinting with humour. now you would have been sadder, but instead there was a venomous bite to your speech.
"do i need to clarify? it's a hundred percent."
he shut up, glaring at you, "you're lying."
"yeah, what did you get?" you bit back.
he shook his head, "none of your business."
so that was it. you let it go and turned away looking pleased. the last went by easier, and the golden hundred was still shining in the paper. it was a triumph. a win that pope heyward understood.
it was here that pope realised that he had made one mistake.
he had underestimated you.
#pope heyward#pope heyward prompt#kook!pope#academic rivals#academic weapon#scholarshipbunny!reader#shy!reader#angst#fluff#drabble#obx fic#pope heyward x reader#pope heyward fanfiction
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SHE DID NOT DISAPPOINT. SHE ATE AGAIN AS USUAL, arhhhh i ended more more more bc i love this fic so much <33
GOT WHAT YOU WANTED
summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.
now spinning: too many nights by metro & future
word count: 11.5k
warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)
truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry.
it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs.
those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.
to jj that is.
you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.
jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you.
“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this.
“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire.
jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.
“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.
“other.. boy?”
“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.
“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”
“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”
“no. it didn’t come up.”
“ah. got it.”
“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.
“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.
you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.
“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”
“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”
“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”
“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.”
“no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-”
“just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve.
and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.
but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it.
you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder.
“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”
“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you.
“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.
“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.
“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it.
it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.
“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”
“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.
“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”
“guys-”
“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”
“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”
“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.
“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj.
whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.
“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”
“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”
“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.
“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”
“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.
“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.”
“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.
“yes, you do.”
“no, i don’t.”
“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.
“no, she’s not.”
“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-”
“m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”
“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”
“no you fuckin’ don’t.”
“who are you to tell me-”
“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”
you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.
“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.
“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”
“what else do you want me to say, huh?”
“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”
“m’not ignoring anything-”
“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”
“shut up.”
“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”
“what? what do you want?”
“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”
“don’t talk like that.”
“rafe.”
exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you.
that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet.
you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with.
the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.
rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.
“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out.
you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.
“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.
“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.
“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”
“is that your way of apologizing?”
“it’s not an apology.”
“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”
“i didn’t.”
“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”
rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.
“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.
“thanks rafe.”
“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window.
“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.
“kid.”
“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.
“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.
“but you get to do it?”
“that’s different-”
“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.
“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”
“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”
“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”
“excuse me?”
“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”
“rafe. shut up.”
“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”
“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”
“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”
“rafe?”
“yeah?”
“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.
“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”
“goodbye, rafe.”
you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.
sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality.
then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you.
key word: maybe.
the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement.
maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.
you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.
.☘︎ ݁˖
rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him.
“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”
“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.
“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.
“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”
“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.
“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.
“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”
“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”
“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”
“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”
“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”
“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.
“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”
“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.
“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.”
“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.
he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped.
when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning.
you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.
if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you.
kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.
“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.
“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.
“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water.
“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”
“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.
“then shut up ‘bout it.”
“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.
when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.
“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you.
the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.
“yeah. i guess i am.”
you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.
“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.
“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”
“you need a ride?”
“no, i drove here, remember?”
“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”
“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.”
“yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.
“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.
“talk about it? talk about what?”
“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”
“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.
“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”
.☘︎ ݁˖
at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.
“oh my god-”
“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.
“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”
“what? your mom let me in.”
“you didn’t even text-”
“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”
“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”
“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.
“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.
“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”
“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.
“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”
“oh.”
“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.
“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.
“what about that girl?”
“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”
“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”
“oh. okay. promise?”
“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.
“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.
“alright. get on the bed.”
“rafe-”
“what? i just said-”
“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”
“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”
“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”
“ha-ha. get on the bed.”
“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”
“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”
you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe.
you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head.
the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.
rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.
“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”
“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.
“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.
he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.
“you wearin’ anything under this?”
he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no.
“good girl.”
your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties.
you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.
“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”
before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.
“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!”
“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”
you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.
you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you.
rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers.
“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand.
limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.
“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?
“nothin’.”
“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”
“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now.
“well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.
“what?”
“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea.
he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to.
“god, you’re such a boy.”
“shut up.”
“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.
“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.
“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.
“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.
“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”
“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away.
you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.
you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.
he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder.
your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.
with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours.
you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.
he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy.
rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.
“you didn’t last very long.”
“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”
“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”
“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.
“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay.
you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry.
“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest.
“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”
“your parents are downstairs, remember?”
“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.
“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”
“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”
“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.
“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes.
“why? got nowhere else to be.”
“oh. okay.”
“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”
“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.
“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”
.☘︎ ݁˖
your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.
and the part where you slept with your best friend.
a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.
top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere
kelce: maybe princess finally killed him
top: stop hanging out without us
kelce: top lets just pull up next time
you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.
“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.”
“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”
“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”
rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.
“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”
you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.
“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”
rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.
“you wanna say that again?”
“uhh-”
“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”
“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”
“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.
“get out!”
“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”
“okay! wait, stay.”
“s’what i thought.”
“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.
“you woke me up.”
“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”
“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.
“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.
“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone.
about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.
you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.
but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it.
with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not.
after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead.
the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.
“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.
“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”
“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.
“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”
“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”
“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”
“you too. tell them i say hi.”
the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.
you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you.
you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.
“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.
“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.
“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”
“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.
“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”
“thanks top.”
you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top.
walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.
it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on.
“hey.”
“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”
“yeah.”
“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”
“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.
“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”
“yeah, i did.”
“i just hope they’re sweet.”
“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”
“it’s a great day. good weather.”
“you already said that.”
“oh.”
“would you stop and look at me?”
“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.
“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.
“i’m fine.. are you okay?”
“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”
“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”
“you were on board-”
“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”
“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.
“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”
“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.
“why are you being so nice about it?”
“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”
“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”
“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”
“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”
“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”
“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.
“you’re starin’.”
“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”
“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”
turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.
from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.
“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.
“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”
you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear.
he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.
“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.
“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?”
“shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”
“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”
“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck.
“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away
“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.
“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.
your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.
you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.
“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.
“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.
“fun. what time?”
.☘︎ ݁˖
finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.
“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.
“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat.
you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.
topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now).
you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.
inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks.
the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.
“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.
“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.
“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.
he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands.
if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.
“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.
he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.
“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.
“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot.
he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.
“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.
“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”
“but i made the last one!”
“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”
“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.
for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.
“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.
“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”
“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you.
“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.
“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer.
“alright, you’re cut off.”
the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him.
you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.
“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”
“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.
“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.
“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.
“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch.
you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.
this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are.
rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.
“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”
“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.
“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”
“man, why am i always on top watch-”
in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.
“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.
kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now.
“enough. why?”
“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.
“you saw me?”
“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.
“what, you jealous, kid?”
“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.
“no, m’not.”
you bite your cheek and stare out the window.
“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.
tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.
you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.
you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?
grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.
“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.
“the couch.”
“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”
“i’m starting something new.”
“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.
you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.
“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.
rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.
“what the hell was that?”
“this whole thing was a mistake.”
“it’s been two days.”
“well i’m an emotional fuck!”
“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.
“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?”
“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”
“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”
“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”
“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?”
in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.
or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.
the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you.
you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.
and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.
“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”
“you should have just confessed.”
“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”
“it’s been two days,” you mock.
“yeah, well, we tried it.”
“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.
“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”
“so if we break up-”
“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”
“shut up.”
“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”
“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets.
“learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”
“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”
“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.
“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”
#will be thinking about this all night#love this so much#love love love you#please continue writing bc i love ur fics and i think i will fall in love#i am in love
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stupid boy (part 1/2)
[13.04.2024]
note: this is like a childhood series that i kinda wanna do...enemies to lovers obviouslyyyy!! (depends on what y'all want - but i might do a series for it/i will be adding a part 2 thooo)
words: 1,180
⊹˚. ♡
rafe was someone constant in your life.
from when you were little, with scraped knees, lolly pop in hand. you had moved to kildare when you were seven years old, and couldn't fit in at all. you felt like a lost cause, moping around the house. you didn't know who he was, yet you knew there was a bold boy next door, who climbed trees and claimed to have seen peter pan at night.
yet, you didn't know this about him when you were a small seven-year-old, no you met him at your lowest.
when your parents told you they were getting divorced.
"honey, your dad and i.." your mother began, and both of them shared a knowing look, and then your mother leaned closer to you. you felt the turmoil in the air, yet little seven-year-old you didn't know what was going on.
"your mom and i are getting a divorce." your dad finished the sentence.
divorce.
the word sounded foreign to your lips as you tried to whisper it out, the words were too cold as you tried to stretch it out. it didn't sound good.
"what does that mean?" you asked slowly.
at this your mother winched, "we'll be having a break. you won't see your dad a lot. maybe for a while," she finished, giving your dad a cold look. he seemed to cave into himself, and when you tried to meet his eyes he gave you a sad smile.
you heard your voice go shakey, "divorce?"
"honey-listen, you'll have two christmas, two birthdays-" your dad began almost to console you.
instead, you felt your heart race and hot tears pool in your eyes.
the question you begged to ask was 'why,' and then you wanted to scream, yell and tear the house down.
but you did none of that, instead, you sat there, your hands shaking and hot tears streaming down your face. as a seven-year-old this was too much to process, too much to think about.
your pretty dress was drooping, and before you knew it you were sprinting as fast as you could, a horrible croaking coming out of your mouth. the wind whipped in your face, and your chest heaved as you made it to the park.
the park with its whimsical trees, and its cool wind. you picked berries nearby, and let yourself get dizzy on the swings. the slides were high and daring. it was the place of adventure, and to you, it was a place of safety.
suddenly a small hand tugged at your hair. you gasped looking up to a roguish boy who squinted down to look at you. he had deep cobalt eyes, and eyed you with distaste. you knew him...he was rafe cameron, a year older than you and lived nearby.
"why are you crying?"
your lip wobbled, as you felt your tears fall to the ground. he pulled your hair again, and you cried out.
"get off me!" you cried out, wincing as you held your hair to your head. he seemed to go still but peeked at you curiously. you felt annoyed now, and instead of crying you glared at him.
he looked confused now. "look you're not crying anymore."
"yea' cause you're a big idiot." you spat at him, still rubbing the spot on your head. he was a daring boy to do such a thing to you, and if you weren't so messed up you wouldn't hesitate to beat him up.
"why are you crying?" rafe asked you again, and this time you sniffed and turned away from him.
"just cause."
he shrugged now, "i make my sister cry sometimes," he confessed sheepishly, "i shave her barbies hair off, and dad told me i should stop."
you frowned at him, "that's not really nice."
"well, you're not nice either 'cause you're lying to me right now."
that was a fair point, and you found yourself defensively clutching your dress, your hands reaching for something to ground you.
"my parents are getting divorced."
saying out loud made it more real.
"that's it?"
you felt your anger bubble up now, giving another cry. "what do you mean that's it? they were talking about different holidays, and i heard them fight. they scream and yell and- and i'm really scared."
at this, the boy sobered and kicked the weeds under his foot.
"sorry."
you shook your head at his apology, swatting him away. he was an idiot this boy, a mean one at that too. you couldn't believe what he was saying to you. this small idiot of a boy.
"can you leave now?" you told him, ordering him almost. yet he didn't respond to you. finally, you raised your voice, fists balled up. "leave me alone!"
"why?"
he looked confused, dangling his feet below the bench, and staring at you with that intense look. you wondered where his parents were, and then second you wondered if your parents were looking after you.
you struggled for words now, "i don't like you very much, and you're mean, and-and i don't like people seeing me cry."
"i'll tell you a secret."
this piqued your interest, and you tried to pretend like it didn't. but the rafe seemed to notice the way you twitched in interest, and grinned at your curiosity. he inched closer to you, bumping his shoulders next to yours.
"what is it?" you asked him annoyed, yet you couldn't help but look up at him.
"you look ugly when you cry."
your breath caught in your throat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. the fleeting moment of curiosity evaporated, replaced by a surge of hurt and anger.
"how dare you?" you muttered, your voice trembling with indignation. "that's not a secret, that's just mean!"
the rafe's grin faltered, his cobalt eyes widening in surprise at your sudden outburst. but instead of apologising or backtracking, he seemed to double down on his callousness.
"hey, i'm just being honest," he retorted, his tone defensive. "if you don't like it, tough!"
"why do you hate me? you don't even know me," you cried out.
finally, he stiffed, and then folded his arms, and then whispered something under his breath. you couldn't help but gruffly sigh, as you noticed he wasn't going anywhere.
"what did you just say?"
rafe scowled now, "i was gonna tell you to smile more, 'cause you'll look pretty then, but you interrupted me!"
"-and that will make what you just said to me?"
rafe's scowl deepened, but beneath the defiance in his gaze, you caught a glimpse of something else—a flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even regret.
"i thought you might feel better," he muttered giving you a dirty look. yet behind his eyes, you saw confusion.
"well, it didn't."
with that, you turned on your heel and stormed away, refusing to give him a piece of your frustration.
he was a stupid boy.
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my new motto is if it flops, it flops. at least i had fun writing it !
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Love your writing omg its soo good how you Captivate each character and they have their own certain Style love it !!!! But is there going to be a part 2 to birthday day???
awww love u babe! blushing so hard 🤭
there will probably not be a part 2 to birthday boy (although it was planned out perviously, i didn't like the way it turned out,)
also bc i'm scared if i write a part 2 i'm going to ruin a perfectly okay fic <33
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stupid boy (part 1/2)
[13.04.2024]
note: this is like a childhood series that i kinda wanna do...enemies to lovers obviouslyyyy!! (depends on what y'all want - but i might do a series for it/i will be adding a part 2 thooo)
words: 1,180
⊹˚. ♡
rafe was someone constant in your life.
from when you were little, with scraped knees, lolly pop in hand. you had moved to kildare when you were seven years old, and couldn't fit in at all. you felt like a lost cause, moping around the house. you didn't know who he was, yet you knew there was a bold boy next door, who climbed trees and claimed to have seen peter pan at night.
yet, you didn't know this about him when you were a small seven-year-old, no you met him at your lowest.
when your parents told you they were getting divorced.
"honey, your dad and i.." your mother began, and both of them shared a knowing look, and then your mother leaned closer to you. you felt the turmoil in the air, yet little seven-year-old you didn't know what was going on.
"your mom and i are getting a divorce." your dad finished the sentence.
divorce.
the word sounded foreign to your lips as you tried to whisper it out, the words were too cold as you tried to stretch it out. it didn't sound good.
"what does that mean?" you asked slowly.
at this your mother winched, "we'll be having a break. you won't see your dad a lot. maybe for a while," she finished, giving your dad a cold look. he seemed to cave into himself, and when you tried to meet his eyes he gave you a sad smile.
you heard your voice go shakey, "divorce?"
"honey-listen, you'll have two christmas, two birthdays-" your dad began almost to console you.
instead, you felt your heart race and hot tears pool in your eyes.
the question you begged to ask was 'why,' and then you wanted to scream, yell and tear the house down.
but you did none of that, instead, you sat there, your hands shaking and hot tears streaming down your face. as a seven-year-old this was too much to process, too much to think about.
your pretty dress was drooping, and before you knew it you were sprinting as fast as you could, a horrible croaking coming out of your mouth. the wind whipped in your face, and your chest heaved as you made it to the park.
the park with its whimsical trees, and its cool wind. you picked berries nearby, and let yourself get dizzy on the swings. the slides were high and daring. it was the place of adventure, and to you, it was a place of safety.
suddenly a small hand tugged at your hair. you gasped looking up to a roguish boy who squinted down to look at you. he had deep cobalt eyes, and eyed you with distaste. you knew him...he was rafe cameron, a year older than you and lived nearby.
"why are you crying?"
your lip wobbled, as you felt your tears fall to the ground. he pulled your hair again, and you cried out.
"get off me!" you cried out, wincing as you held your hair to your head. he seemed to go still but peeked at you curiously. you felt annoyed now, and instead of crying you glared at him.
he looked confused now. "look you're not crying anymore."
"yea' cause you're a big idiot." you spat at him, still rubbing the spot on your head. he was a daring boy to do such a thing to you, and if you weren't so messed up you wouldn't hesitate to beat him up.
"why are you crying?" rafe asked you again, and this time you sniffed and turned away from him.
"just cause."
he shrugged now, "i make my sister cry sometimes," he confessed sheepishly, "i shave her barbies hair off, and dad told me i should stop."
you frowned at him, "that's not really nice."
"well, you're not nice either 'cause you're lying to me right now."
that was a fair point, and you found yourself defensively clutching your dress, your hands reaching for something to ground you.
"my parents are getting divorced."
saying out loud made it more real.
"that's it?"
you felt your anger bubble up now, giving another cry. "what do you mean that's it? they were talking about different holidays, and i heard them fight. they scream and yell and- and i'm really scared."
at this, the boy sobered and kicked the weeds under his foot.
"sorry."
you shook your head at his apology, swatting him away. he was an idiot this boy, a mean one at that too. you couldn't believe what he was saying to you. this small idiot of a boy.
"can you leave now?" you told him, ordering him almost. yet he didn't respond to you. finally, you raised your voice, fists balled up. "leave me alone!"
"why?"
he looked confused, dangling his feet below the bench, and staring at you with that intense look. you wondered where his parents were, and then second you wondered if your parents were looking after you.
you struggled for words now, "i don't like you very much, and you're mean, and-and i don't like people seeing me cry."
"i'll tell you a secret."
this piqued your interest, and you tried to pretend like it didn't. but the rafe seemed to notice the way you twitched in interest, and grinned at your curiosity. he inched closer to you, bumping his shoulders next to yours.
"what is it?" you asked him annoyed, yet you couldn't help but look up at him.
"you look ugly when you cry."
your breath caught in your throat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. the fleeting moment of curiosity evaporated, replaced by a surge of hurt and anger.
"how dare you?" you muttered, your voice trembling with indignation. "that's not a secret, that's just mean!"
the rafe's grin faltered, his cobalt eyes widening in surprise at your sudden outburst. but instead of apologising or backtracking, he seemed to double down on his callousness.
"hey, i'm just being honest," he retorted, his tone defensive. "if you don't like it, tough!"
"why do you hate me? you don't even know me," you cried out.
finally, he stiffed, and then folded his arms, and then whispered something under his breath. you couldn't help but gruffly sigh, as you noticed he wasn't going anywhere.
"what did you just say?"
rafe scowled now, "i was gonna tell you to smile more, 'cause you'll look pretty then, but you interrupted me!"
"-and that will make what you just said to me?"
rafe's scowl deepened, but beneath the defiance in his gaze, you caught a glimpse of something else—a flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even regret.
"i thought you might feel better," he muttered giving you a dirty look. yet behind his eyes, you saw confusion.
"well, it didn't."
with that, you turned on your heel and stormed away, refusing to give him a piece of your frustration.
he was a stupid boy.
#rafe x you#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe cameron#obx fic#rafe x reader#angst#fluff#rafe obx#drabble#outerbanks rafe#enimies to lovers#childhood friends#light angst#part 1/2#idk why but i kinda like writing for rafe like this...#rafe fanfiction#rafe fic#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#drew starkey
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sweet endearments
[27.3.2024]
note: this is where i got inspo from for the nicknames xxx
summary: sily!pogue!reader meets rafe's parents, but not without some shenanigans.
warning: this is so goofy oml (but so long omg, and i'm 99.9% sure it sucks but whatever)
words; 1,900
"baby, why are you taking so long?" rafe whined from downstairs. you peeked from your stairs seeing your tough boyfriend pouting. you bit your lip from laughing, and then quickly refrained from making fun of him.
lately, he'd gotten more clingy, but you liked it. you would never tell him, but you liked it when he rested his head on your stomach and innocently told you he wanted to hear your heartbeat. you liked that he held your hand in public, your pinkies locked.
but most of all you liked the secret smiles that he gave you. his eyes would shine, and you swore he had dimples when he smiled at you.
he was a heartache to look at.
but you liked his endearments the most.
how he would call you 'cupcake', sometimes 'sweets', and the other times 'baby.' at the beginning of your relationship you had been so confused about who he was talking to, but now you had grown accustomed to the different endearments he had given you. you had gotten so used to the nicknames when he said your name, you were surprised.
"hey! you comin'?" he yelled, as he looked at his watch before tucking his wallet into the pocket in his pants. finally perfecting your red lipstick, you skipped down. you were meeting his parents today, a day that you were extremely nervous about.
rafe looked up from his phone, eyes full of warmth and a teasing smile on his face before he reached for you.
you twirled away from him, a smile on your face before you gave him a spin, and then blew a kiss in his direction.
"do you like it?" you asked him, your voice loud and bubbly. he smirked, and then reached for your face before you could run away from his reach.
"i love it,"
you laughed at the proclamation, and he seemed to soften at your expression, but you watched him fiddle with his golden rings nervously.
this was as new for him as it was for you. you were the last pogue that would be seen around rafe cameron. you were the jokester, the one that skipped school 'cause it was too boring, and sold your short stories in your free time.
you were usually so unserious half of the time he was frowning and the other time he was laughing at the next thing you had said. when he had asked you to meet his parents, you had snorted with laughter before he told you he was serious.
after that you were scared. you didn't know that what you had with rafe was that serious. you had been joking around half the time, and yet now...now what you felt for him was not a joke. you had talked to your girlfriends for assurance and they had told you to pull a small prank on him. that it would lighten the mood. so that's what you were going to do.
"babe?"
he hummed in response. his hand rested on your thigh in true rafe fashion, and you found yourself laughing in a true passenger princess manner. finally, he rolled his eyes, though his expression was tinged with suspicion. obviously, he knew you wouldn't be so well-behaved for so long.
you loved how well he knew you.
"what is it?"
"i was thinking, as one does-"
and you were cut off by his groan, as he pulled the car car muttering something incoherent . his eyes looked at you tired and then raised an eyebrow when the car had finally parked.
"what is it now?"
you giggled, and then bit your lip, "y'know how much i love your endearments right?," you rambled quickly trying to keep a serious face, "-but you know how unoriginal they are right... and like i was thinking of you calling me 'big dwag,' from now on,"
"what the hell do you mean by 'big dwag?'" rafe cut you off, his jaw clenched, his voice so gruff that you wanted to burst into laughing. he looked so shocked, and confused at the same time that you were glad he had stopped the car to talk to you.
"okay, okay! so like when you introduce me to your parents... i want you to call me 'big dwag," instead of your girlfriend."
"oh my god- you're so fucking weird."
"listen bro-"
"did you just call me bro? it's the ultimate betrayal. my heart can't take this sweets."
you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. rafe did the same, his eyebrows scrunched, and then tilted his head, as he pinched the pinched the bridge of his nose.
"sweets. i really love you, but i really don't want to call you that," he said slowly, compassionately as if he trying to get you to understand. you pouted, as he frowned at you.
"no, i get it you won't call me big dwag. it means a lot to me you know?"
"i can't deal with this," and he puts his head in his hands, while leaning back in his seat sounding absolutely exasperated "i'm not taking you to meet my dad and introduce you as big dwag. i can't do that."
"it's two words."
"i thought you loved my endearments," he said frowning at you.
now you felt bad, as he looked at you. you groaned and then gave him your best puppy eyes.
"please?"
finally, he let out a gruff sigh. "okay. okay, from now on i will be calling you big dwag."
"really? i love you so much!"
"if my dad ask me to break up with you, it will be this obscene nickname's fault."
then he gave you a final glare and started the car. you hummed happily to all of your favorite songs trying not to notice the way he wasn't trying to smile at your expression. he was so in love with you.
then you leaned back satisfied. obviously, he wasn't going to use the nickname, he was just playing with you. that was until the both of you made it to his house. it was beautiful and gigantic, and at other times you would have paid more attention to it as a whole until you saw the smirk on rafe's face.
"c'mon let's go."
♡
all of you ate comfortably on the porch of the cameron's house. all night you had sat well-behaved, laughing at ward's jokes and asking if you could help rose. the whole time rafe hid his laughter by coughing. wheezie had loved you so much that she had told rafe that you were her favourite girlfriend by far.
"you are a wonderful girl," rose murmured to you after the dinner finished and as you helped her fix the plates. "but i wonder if you could do better."
"warning her off already? man, you really can't let me have anything good, can you? " rafe muttered, his voice full of scorn as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. his eyes were full of possesiveness, his body language showed he was ready to start a fight.
you rested your palm on his chest, as if to calm him. but he ignored your soft touch and instead stared rose down. you could see some unease in rose's eyes as she opened her mouth again before closing it, as if she decided that it wasn't worth it. then she muttered something about helping wheezie leaving the two of you together.
it was clear that rafe didn't like her. you had already felt rafe hovering over you like a hawk, anxiously, and attentively, almost as if you were going to flee at a single warning. he had to remember many people had warned you about him.
"rafe?"
you looked up at him, worried what you would find in his eyes. "are you okay?"
rafe shook his head, and then gently nudged you to the pool. "i'm alright. just let me fix something up. i'll be back."
you nodded uncertain, anxious thoughts floating in your head. he didn't trust you. he didn't trust you.
finally, you found yourself resting near the pool, your feet dipped inside.
"how's my big dwag?"
you turned around a hand on your forehead as you squinted to see rafe smiling down. he looked calmer now, almost as if that minute alone had done him well. his well-fitted shirt made you want to kiss him, but the hurt feelings still left a stinging sense on your heart. the sun shone so bright you could barely see a single thing. but this time instead of saying something funny, you found yourself feeling stupidly insecure your knees tucked against your chest.
"i'm okay."
rafe frowned at your expression before he sat down next to you.
"my girl can't be feelin' sad. not with me around."
you squirmed as he reached for you with his strong arms but his gentle touch and peppered kisses all over your face, and protested that he was ruining your dress. finally, when you looked into his eyes and you let out a loud laugh.
it was settled.
today wasn't the day to open old wounds.
"you're stupid, rafe cameron."
instead of making fun of you, he wrapped his hands around your waist, and you found yourself smiling as he kissed you. he was so soft, so attentive, and you practically melted in his warm hands. when you pulled away, you had forgotten the stupid feelings that you were overwhelmed with. when you pulled away you wanted to rest your head on rafe's shoulder, but he had other plans. rafe had gotten up and said he had yelled something at ward.
"dad!"
ward looked away looking shocked, and then furrowed his expression, holding the barbecue skewer awkwardly in his hands.
"dad, did you know that this girl here is my big-" he mocked, jerking a hand to your direction before you squealed, and covered his mouth with your hands.
"shut up, shut up!"
then you turned to rafe with a vengeful expression "pull a stunt like that again and i'm sending that photo of you butt naked to john b."
rafe looked absolutely shocked, completely silent, looking as if he was going to blow a vein. "sweets, you're absolutely crazy. and you would never!"
you giggled, and then ran away from him, as he followed you a grin on his face.
he was used to your stupid threats, and finally, when you stopped and looked back at rafe, he gave you a silly proud smile. you swatted him away when he tried to hug you, but before you knew it he had gathered you in his arms and jumped into the pool with you tightly squeezed against his chest.
when you finally submerged, sputtering while you glared at rafe. "don't ever call me that again, you jerk!"
he was soaked with water, a stupid smile on his face before he hummed and pulled you into his arms. you didn't resist and only splashed him with water. his face turned into a scowl before he pinched your cheeks and kissed your forehead.
"you're lucky i'm crazy about you dumbass."
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