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blueicequeen19 · 4 months

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Party Foul

Warnings: fingering at a party 🎉

JJ looked up from his beer just as a gorgeous Kook girl appeared feet from him, clearly breathless and disheveled. Her hair was up in a bun and her clothes were askew like she’d taken them off and hurriedly shoved them back on. She was hot, even in her fearful state.

She was running from someone.

JJ knew that look too well. When her eyes suddenly land on JJ and she makes her way forward, his breathing seems to stop.

“Just go with it.” You insist just as you drop down on JJ Maybank’s lap and burying your face in his warm neck.

“What the—.” JJ’s entire body tenses beneath you but when he feels you shaking, his arms immediately wrap around you as his eyes try to track the source of your discomfort. The raw urge to protect immediately took hold.

“I’m gonna take your hair down.” JJ says softly after a few moments while the party continues around you. You nod, your lips finding his neck and sending a zap of pleasure through his body. JJ fights back a moan as he tugs your hair loose from its tie but he can’t stop his cock from starting to swell.

You whimper, shifting on his lap and against his cock as your intoxicating scent washes over him. You smelled incredible. You felt even better. JJ grits his teeth as his hands tighten their hold on your waist just as Rafe Cameron comes into view, clearly looking for someone. Now JJ felt even better about what he was about to do. His hands slid lower to find the swells of your plump ass and gave a squeeze. Rafe’s eyes scanned the party, not even settling on where JJ was seated before walking off in another direction.

JJ was just about to tell you that Rafe was gone when your fingers tightened in his shirt and your hips rolled just a little. He was fully hard now and there was no hiding it. Your gasp rang in his ear as you did it again. And again.

“Stop.” JJ rasped, his hands squeezing your ass harder in an attempt to halt your movements but you only moved harder. He could feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of his swim trunks, making his head spin.

“Stop.” JJ bit out again, his hand sliding down the crack of your ass to cup your pussy from behind. You jerked, your tongue coming out to taste the skin on his neck and JJ nearly blew his load right then and there.

“If you don’t stop..” JJ’s words trailed off as you took a chunk of his flesh between your teeth.. and sucked. You marked him. He knew it. He could feel the heat behind your bite and the way your tongue thrashed at the skin.

JJ sucked in a breath as he cupped your pussy harder, dipping his hand low enough to find your slit while his other hand pushed you down harder on his cock. You were trembling again but it wasn’t from fear.

“Is this what you wanted? Use me to get off? Your boyfriend not doing it for you?” Jealousy washed over him at the thought of Rafe touching you and you weren’t even his.

“I’m not close to getting off.” You finally spoke, an edge to your voice that made him smirk. If you weren’t in the middle of a house party, JJ would impale you on his cock and hold you there, not letting you move until you were left a whimpering, begging mess.

“I can feel how wet you are through your fucking shorts.”

“That’s normal when you’re sitting in someone’s lap.” Her smart mouth surprises him and he doesn’t think as he moves his hand between the two of your bodies and dives his fingers under the cuff of your shorts. JJ’s rings dig into your skin as his fingers stroke your slit, the evidence of your arousal no longer a lie.

“So this is normal? It would take nothing for me to slip inside you with all this.” JJ growled, pressing firmly against your clit. You jerked, biting him again in anger. JJ chuckled, circling your clit over and over again until your body shook and your nails pierced his chest through his shirt. You whimper against his neck, fighting the urge to roll your body against his hand.

“Okay.. okay.. stop.. please..” You practically beg, burying your face against his shoulder.

“Not till you cum. Show me how not wet you are or how close you are. Lie to me again.” JJ’s teeth sink into your shoulder and you shatter.

“Oh god..” Your body tightens just as his fingers dip inside your aching pussy and his free hand finds your hair, pulling hard. Your orgasm gushes from you and the only thing muffling your sounds is the music and his shirt between your teeth as you rode out your high.

“Yep. Feels pretty dry to me.” JJ’s sarcasm was evident as his hand slid out of your shorts and you sat up in his lap with a glare. His intense blue gaze didn’t leave yours as he popped two of his fingers into his mouth, tasting you and humming in delight. You licked your suddenly dry lips as he lowered his hand to smirk at you.

“Not bad for a Kook.”

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chxrryhansen · 3 months

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౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Concepts 6/50

Character; Rafe Cameron

Kink; Non con (DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT)

Dialogue; “Look at the mess you made.”

Requested by; Anon <333

As always, this blog contains 18+ content only, your media consumption is your own responsibility, THIS IS A DARK FIC!!! Please be warned, this fic is NON CONSENSUAL. Read at your own risk

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

You stirred in the silky bed sheets, yawning as you woke from your nap, attempting to raising your hands to wipe away the crust.

Except they wouldn’t move.

You shot up, slowly becoming more aware of your surroundings as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Each of your wrists were cuffed to opposing ends of a king size bed. The cuffs restraining you jingled as you attempted to pull your hands free.

How could this have possibly happened?

Your memory jogged as you recalled being at a party, hosted by a random boy you hadn’t even met. A party you didn’t want to attend in the first place but of course caved at your best friend’s pleads and bribery to pay for your drinks for the night- and the next few.

You remembered being blackout drunk, no longer caring about manners you had crawled into the first bed you found. Falling into a deep sleep.

As your eyes adjusted you noticed a tall male frame standing at your left. Due to the darkness of the room you couldn’t quite make out the face of the mysterious figure.

“Wh-Who are you?” you trembled, your body shaking in fear.

“Spread your legs.” the male commands, ignoring your question, his voice stern but oddly familiar. Your breathing picks up as you begin to panic, your hands flailing as you begin to scream “Help! H-“ He rushes forwards, his large hand smacking over your mouth essentially silencing your cries.

“Scream like that again and i- i swear to god i’ll fuckin’ kill you.” he growled.

“You got that?” he pressured once again, you nodded your head at a rapid pace, believing his threat to be true.

His hand fell from your mouth as he straddled you from above, his thick hands pulling up your dress and pushing your panties to the side. He groaned at the sight of your pretty pussy, soaked for him already and you didn’t realise it.

Before you knew it, the mystery man had removed his boxers and began to palm his cock in his hand. His thick shaft leading up to a swollen pink tip. His balls big and full of cum, ready to empty inside you.

Without warning he pressed his bulbous tip against your hole and thrust forcefully into you. Bottoming out in a single thrust as you began to scream at the top of your lungs.

His hand once again covered your mouth, only this time his other hand pinched your nose alongside it. Oxygen left your lungs faster than you imagined, your body thrashed, legs kicking, arms flailing. Still impailed on his fat cock, your pussy clenched in desperation of breath making him let out a long moan as he smothered you.

Just as you felt your body still and you begin to roll back he removed his grasp. You gasped desperate to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as you could get.

You were cut off as he began to thrust his length into you, your walls sucking him in. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, always knew you were a whore.” he sneered as you cried out. You begged him to stop, telling him he didn’t need to do this and that you promised not to tell anybody which only seemed to entice him further.

Suddenly you felt a knot in your stomach begin to tighten “No no no.” you choked, desperate to not cum all over your rapists cock.

You couldn’t hold in your moans of pleasure as you squirted, your juices coating his cock and his abs. “F-fuck look at the mess you made, dirty fuckin’ girl” he grunted.

His hips stuttered as his warm seed began to fill you up, hot ropes of cum spurted into your cunt, leaking out due to the amount of sperm he emptied inside of you. You quivered and shook around his length, coming down from your forced high.

He leaned over you, flicking on the light switch beside his bed.

You closed your eyes as the bright light made them sting, slowly blinking as your pupils shrunk down and your vision became less blurry.

Your face fell further as you recognised the figure infront of you. Your squirt still dripping down his body and his cum still leaking out of your own.

“Cmon’ don’t look so shocked you slut, it was only a matter of time before i found you.” Rafe chuckled as he watched your eyes begin to fill up with tears once again. How did he find you?

How does he always fucking find you.

#chxrrys concepts #rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey fic #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #dark! rafe cameron #rafe x reader #dark rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey

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boneblushed · 7 months

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Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

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

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