sylvie

౨ৎ hello beautiful people, my name is sylvie!

18. she/her. loves rafe and orchids. pink everything. blush. bunnies. puppies. iced coffee. summer. the beach. taylor swift. strawberry shortcakes. saturdays. crocheting. lip balm. bagels. vanilla. sunrises. love. tan lines. brownies. avacados. books. babydoll tops.

mdni

➸ masterlist ➸ other account: @rafesylvie

nowhere's safe (except here)

plot: a late-night escape from home leads you into rafe's path, and for once, he doesn't let you walk alone.

CONTENT: mentions of abusive (physical and emotional), bruises, implied domestic violence, crying, fear, mentions of an unsafe home, comfort

have fun my beautiful people <3!

the night felt heavier than usual. the walls of your house always pressed in, but tonight it felt like they were trying to crush you. the yelling had been sharp, and the sting from the slap still burned along your cheek. you hadn’t even tried to stop the tears, what was the point anymore? but when the door slammed and the silence came, you couldn’t stand staying in there another second.

so you slipped out barefoot, the screen door creaking behind you, the humid obx air wrapping around your shoulders. you didn’t have a plan. you never really did. you just knew you couldn’t sit there and wait for round two.

your legs carried you down familiar streets you’d walked a hundred times, though never like this. bruises bloomed along your arms, your ribs ached with each breath, and the salt of your tears stung when they slid into the corner of your mouth.

you didn’t hear him at first.

the sound of gravel crunching pulled you out of your fog. you blinked and looked up, chest tightening when you saw the tall frame coming toward you. rafe cameron.

you froze, every muscle in your body going tight. rafe wasn’t someone you knew well, not really. he was a figure from a distance, a kooks’ world kind of boy with sharp edges and a reputation you weren’t sure you trusted. and right now, trust wasn’t something you had left in you.

plot: when a fire tears through your apartment in the middle of the night, you’re forced to trust the firefighter who carries you and your daughter to safety. with nowhere else to go, you accept his offer of shelter—and slowly, in the stillness of his home, you begin to breathe again

CONTENT: house fire, smoke inhalation, trauma responses, implied homelessness, emotional distress, fluff at the end

@darlingshecried <3 have fun!

you don’t remember the smell of smoke at first. just the sharp scent of burnt plastic and something sour in the air, thick enough to make your nose wrinkle as you stirred awake. your baby was still asleep beside you, her tiny fists curled near her face, her lips parted with each soft breath. it was the sudden flicker of orange light bleeding under the bedroom door that made your chest seize.

at first, you thought it was just a weird dream. then came the alarms—shrill, high-pitched, piercing through your skull like a knife. you sat up fast, lungs catching on panic. your daughter stirred, confused, whining softly as the noise startled her.

“it’s okay, baby,” you whispered, already scooping her into your arms. “we’re okay, i got you, i got you…”

but the second you opened the bedroom door, heat hit you like a wall.

★ don't cry, baby

wait i actually lov this

you weren’t even trying to argue, not really. not at first.

you’d just asked a question—maybe a little sharp, maybe too much tension curled in your tone—but it had been innocent in your head. a simple “where were you?” that somehow struck a nerve.

he looked at you like you’d said something cruel. like you’d accused him of something he didn’t do.

and maybe that’s where it all started.

“i told you i was with topper,” he snapped, standing in the middle of the living room with his arms crossed, shoulders tight. “why do you keep asking me that?”

you blinked, trying to keep calm. “because you didn’t answer your phone all night.”

“my phone died,” he shot back. “what, you think i’m lying?”

you didn’t say anything, and maybe that’s what pissed him off the most.

rafe had always been like this—his fuse a little too short, his voice a little too loud when he felt cornered. you’d gotten used to it, most days. he never meant to yell. he never meant to make you feel small. but tonight, your skin already felt raw, and every word he threw sounded sharper than usual.

“jesus, y/n, what do you want from me?” he barked, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to pull the frustration out of his skull. “you want a fucking minute-by-minute breakdown of my night? is that it?”

you flinched, just a little, but enough that his face changed for a split second—like he noticed. like he regretted it.

but you were too far in now.

“no,” you said softly, voice trembling despite your best effort. “i just wanted to know why you didn’t come home.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “i fell asleep, alright? topper’s couch. didn’t know i had to report back to you like i’m on parole.”

“you said you’d be back,” you whispered.

“and i didn’t realize that meant i was gonna get interrogated like this if i wasn’t. god, y/n, i can’t fucking breathe with you sometimes—”

“don’t say that,” you cut in, your voice cracking, and that was the beginning of the end.

your chest felt tight. your face hot. and even though you were still trying—still trying to argue back, to explain, to stand your ground—your eyes were already burning.

he didn’t notice at first. or maybe he did and ignored it.

“you always do this,” he muttered, pacing now. “always think the worst of me. always turn shit into a fight when i’m already f*cking trying.”

“i’m not trying to fight with you,” you said, louder than before, but your voice wobbled on the last word.

and that’s when it happened.

you opened your mouth to keep going—“i just wanted to feel like you cared, like you didn’t forget about me”—but all that came out was a strangled little sob. not cute. not quiet. not something you could play off.

you were crying. fully crying.

and rafe went still.

your hands came up to your face instinctively, wiping at the tears like you could stop them, like that would fix the way your voice broke every time you tried to speak. you shook your head, trying to get it together, trying to finish what you’d started.

“i’m not—” another sob cracked through your words. “i’m not trying to fight, i’m not—god, i’m so tired, i just—i don’t even know—”

rafe’s expression crumbled like wet paper.

“baby—” his voice dropped, suddenly soft, hesitant.

but you kept going. you were spiraling now, sobbing into your palms, barely able to form words between gasps for air.

“you’re always mad at me, and i’m always scared of saying the wrong thing, and i hate feeling like this, i hate crying, i hate this—”

“baby, no—shh, hey, come here, come here,” rafe was in front of you before you could move, hands on your arms, panicked. “fuck, i didn’t—i didn’t mean to make you cry.”

you hiccuped through another sob, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“don’t,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest despite your protests. “don’t push me away. not right now. i’m here, i’m right here.”

you were shaking.

your tears soaked through his shirt. your hands clutched at his sides without meaning to, like your body needed the comfort more than your brain wanted it.

“‘m sorry,” you gasped, half-incoherent. “i don’t cry like this, i swear, i just—I get mad, and then i cry, and i can’t talk when i’m like this, and—”

“shh, baby, stop. don’t apologize. please don’t apologize.”

he held you tighter. rocked you a little. kissed your hair.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he murmured. “this is my fault. i shouldn’t have yelled. i didn’t mean any of that shit, okay? you didn’t deserve that.”

you sniffled, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

he moved one hand to the back of your head, cradling it gently, and kept whispering.

“i just get so fucking stupid sometimes. when i think you’re upset with me, i get loud, and i get mean, and i hate that i do that. you’re the last person i ever wanna hurt.”

you didn’t answer, still catching your breath, tears still leaking from the corners of your eyes even as they slowed.

“you have every right to be mad,” he said softly. “i told you i’d come home and i didn’t. you were just worried, weren’t you?”

you nodded against his chest, miserably.

“and then i showed up and started yelling like a f*cking asshole. jesus, baby, i’m so sorry.”

you mumbled something unintelligible, and rafe leaned down, tipping your chin up gently so he could see your face.

“say that again?”

“i didn’t mean to cry,” you whispered. “i hate crying when i’m angry. i hate it.”

“hey,” he said, brushing your hair back. “look at me.”

you did, barely.

his expression was nothing but soft now, like all the anger had drained out of him the moment he saw your tears.

“you cry because you care,” he said, voice low. “and that’s not a bad thing.”

you swallowed thickly, lip trembling.

“it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s not,” he promised. “it’s not, baby. not to me.”

he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, lingering there for a second too long. like he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you upset.

“you’re so strong all the time,” he murmured. “sometimes you forget you’re allowed to break a little. you don’t have to hold it in with me.”

you leaned into his touch without meaning to, and he took that as a sign to guide you to the couch. he sat down first, pulling you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“you warm enough?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you again. “want a blanket?”

you shook your head, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

he kissed the top of your head.

“i’ll be better,” he said quietly. “i promise.”

you didn’t say anything for a while. your tears dried slow, breath returning steady. you could feel your face aching from crying, throat raw, head pounding.

but rafe held you like he had nowhere else to be. like you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to let go of. he didn’t try to make it better with jokes or fake promises. he just stayed, quiet and steady.

and eventually, when your voice came back, you whispered:

“i just wanted you to come home.”

his arms tightened around you instantly.

“i know,” he said. “and i will. every time. i swear.”

you closed your eyes, exhaling shakily.

“okay.”

he kissed your temple.

“don’t cry, baby,” he murmured again, softer now. “you got me. i’m here.”

୨୧ ♡ safe with you

sorry for getting to this late bby </3 but hope u enjoy!

tannyhill’s quiet tonight—no parties, no chaos, just the soft hum of the fridge down the hall and the occasional creak of old floorboards settling. the lights are dim, the couch is too big for two people who aren’t cuddling, and the horror movie rafe picked is already three jumpscares in.

“this one’s supposed to be psychological,” he says, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch like he’s completely unbothered.

you shoot him a side-eye, shifting the blanket over your legs. “psychological like… mind games? or psychological like… ‘you’ll never sleep again’?”

he smirks, not looking away from the screen. “mm. bit of both.”

you try to match his calm, lean back, pretend like your heart’s not already racing every time the music swells. but the suspense is crawling under your skin, cold and prickly, and when the camera pans just a little too slowly down a dark hallway, you already know something’s coming.

you brace.

and then it happens—loud, jarring, too sudden. something screeches and lunges toward the camera and your hand flies up like instinct, like covering your face could block it all out. but instead of the throw pillow you’d been clutching, you end up leaning into rafe. forehead pressed to his bicep, hand curled in the fabric of his hoodie, breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“woah—” he laughs, just a little, surprised. “damn, babe. didn’t know you were this easy to scare.”

you don’t respond. don’t move. just stay there, curled up against his arm, completely still.

rafe blinks.

“…hey.” his voice lowers, just a bit. “you good?”

nothing. just the tiniest shake of your head against his sleeve.

he pauses then. doesn’t joke. doesn’t tease. just looks down at you—really looks—and his chest tugs a little.

you’re not trembling exactly, but your fingers are curled tight into his hoodie like you don’t even realize it, like letting go might make it worse. your breath is soft and uneven, cheek warm against his skin. and yeah, okay, maybe he thought you were just faking it to be cute—he wouldn’t have blamed you—but now?

his whole face softens.

“alright,” he mutters, more to himself than you, already reaching for the remote. “we’re not doing this.”

screen goes dark. silence rushes in.

“movie night’s cancelled,” he declares, tugging the blanket higher over both of you. “new rule: no haunted dolls, demons, or blood-curdling screams allowed in my living room.”

you peek up at him, eyes wide and a little sheepish, still not all the way calm. rafe just wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, like it’s nothing.

“also,” he adds, glancing down at you with a smirk creeping back into his voice, “you definitely owe me cuddles for the emotional damage.”

you let out a small breath, tension still sitting somewhere in your ribs, but it starts to ease the second rafe settles you against his chest. one of his hands comes up to smooth over your back, slow and steady, like he’s not in a rush to move you or let go.

“you good now?” he murmurs, nose brushing the top of your head.

you nod, not pulling away. “wasn’t that scary.”

he huffs a laugh, but it’s quiet. “sure, babe. totally believable. that shriek you let out? absolutely not rooted in fear.”

you swat at his side, but it’s half-hearted at best. you’re already melting into him.

the blanket is warm, his hoodie even warmer, and the way his fingers keep tracing gentle shapes along your spine is making it harder and harder to stay awake. rafe notices, of course. he always does.

“mhm,” he says, low and teasing, lips brushing your temple. “you fall asleep on me, i’m takin’ a mental screenshot. you know that, right?”

“do it,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “not scared of that.”

he doesn’t answer right away—just looks at you for a second longer. at how soft you’ve gone in his arms. at the way your lashes kiss your cheeks and your mouth tugs into the faintest smile. you, safe and close and finally calm.

his smirk fades into something gentler.

“yeah,” he whispers. “me neither.”

you don’t hear that part. you’re already half-asleep, tucked into him like you belong there, like you always have. and rafe just holds you a little closer, lets the silence stretch, the night slow down.

the tv stays off. the lights stay low. and he stays right there, with you—warm and quiet and full of every excuse he’d ever need just to keep holding you like this.

and maybe next movie night, he’ll pick a romcom.

just in case.

plot: ditzy and forgetful, you live with your head in the clouds-but rafe never minds picking up the pieces you drop. in his quiet, steady way, he reminds you that being loved doesn't mean being perfect.

CONTENT: mild language, mentions of self-doubt/insecurity, lots of fluff

have fun!

you forget your keys. again.

rafe’s leaning against the doorframe, brows arched, watching you pat every pocket like it’ll magically fix something. you’re juggling your tote bag, your phone, a half-eaten granola bar you swear you don’t remember picking up, and your water bottle that keeps sloshing like it’s trying to escape.

he doesn’t say anything. just holds up the familiar pink keychain with the chipped “hello kitty” charm that’s seen better days.

you gasp. “you’re magic.”

“nah,” he says, voice flat but soft at the edges. “you just leave ‘em in the fridge.”

you blink. “the fridge?”

he nods.

“…why would i put my keys in the fridge?”

-> pt.1

you were late.

like, really late.

only ten minutes, but it felt like a hundred when you were standing in front of the mirror trying to figure out if your sandals were too shiny.

(“can sandals even be too shiny?” you asked out loud. “is that a thing?”)

you changed outfits three times.

first it was the pink dress — but then you worried it was too pink.

then it was jeans — but what if it looked like you weren’t trying?

then it was your favorite sundress, the one with little strawberries on it.

you spun around once, tripped over your own feet, and decided: okay. this is the one.

your phone buzzed just as you were grabbing your bag.

: ̗̀➛ falling short

i dunno how to feel abt this one..but enjoy! <3

it’s a quiet saturday afternoon, but the tension in the air is thick. you’re sittin’ on the couch, scrolling through your phone, pretending you’re lost in whatever nonsense the internet’s showing you. but it’s hard to focus when rafe’s been so distant the last few days. you can’t quite figure it out—he’s been so on edge, snappy even, and you can tell it’s not about you, but every time you try to bring it up, he shuts it down.

you don’t know what’s been goin’ on with him, but the worry has started to eat away at you. you want to talk to him, but you’re scared. every time you open your mouth, he looks at you like you’re addin’ to his stress, not helpin’ it.

today, though, you decide to push it. you can’t stand the silence anymore, the walls growing higher between you. it’s like you’re right here, but still so far away. you glance over at him, where he’s leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed as he stirs a cup of coffee. something in his posture, the way he holds himself, is off. so you clear your throat, trying to catch his attention.

“rafe?” you ask softly, but it’s the wrong time. his head jerks up, his eyes flashing irritation.

“what?” he snaps, more harshly than you were expectin’. his voice is sharp, and it stings more than it should. “you need somethin’?”

you blink, thrown off by the tone. he’s never like this, not really. sure, he has his moods, but this is different. this is… mean.

“i—i just wanted to check in,” you start, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “you’ve been actin’ different. i miss you, rafe.”

he clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath before setting the cup down with a little too much force. “i’m fine,” he mutters, his words flat, the anger simmering beneath them. “just tired, okay? work’s been hell. i don’t need you askin’ a million questions.”

you swallow hard, the tightness in your chest pulling you in. “i’m not askin’ to make things harder,” you whisper, trying to make sense of the frustration swirling in the air. “i just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“well, maybe i don’t need you to make sure i’m alright,” rafe snaps, and his voice cuts through you like a knife. you didn’t expect it to go this far, didn’t think he’d really snap at you like that. “you never get it, do you? always askin’ about dumb shit. why don’t you just take a minute and think before you talk for once?”

the words hit like a ton of bricks, and you freeze, heart hammering in your chest. you try to speak, but it feels like your voice is stuck. everything in you crumbles. the worry, the fear—it’s all bubbling to the surface now, like a dam ready to break.

“rafe…” you whisper, but it’s barely a sound. the tears start to build up, but you push them down. you don’t want him to see. you don’t want to be even more of a disappointment.

“you don’t have to be so mean…” you murmur, but your voice is shaky, barely a whisper. “i’m just—i don’t know, i’m just tryin’ to help, rafe.”

he lets out an exasperated breath, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with the whole situation. “you’re always tryin’ to help, but you don’t even know what’s going on half the time” he says, voice low and sharp. “it’s like you’re livin’ in your own world, where everything’s fine and dandy, and i’m the one who has to deal with all the shit. i’m sorry i’m not as perfect as you think i am, but sometimes it’d be nice if you just got it.”

you feel the tears well up before you can stop them, the way his words twist in your chest, pulling at the last thread of confidence you had left. it’s like he’s telling you everything you already feared—that you’re not good enough, that you’re just too much of a mess, too dumb for him.

you turn your head quickly to hide the tears, but they slip down your cheeks anyway. “i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, “i’m sorry i’m so dumb, rafe. i just… i just don’t know what you want from me. i try so hard, and i always mess up. always.”

rafe’s anger falters for a moment, but the coldness still hangs in the air. he doesn’t step forward. doesn’t reach for you right away. he just stands there, face twisted with frustration, unsure of how to fix what he’s just broken.

“i didn’t mean it like that, okay?” he says after a long pause, voice quieter, but still laced with tension. “i’m just—i’m not mad at you, i’m mad at everything else. work’s been a shitshow, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have.”

you nod, but you don’t move, still wrapped in the sting of his words. he’s sorry, but you don’t know if it’s enough yet. you feel small, stupid for caring so much about what he says, but it’s hard to push away the feeling that maybe he’s right. Maybe you are too much of a mess to keep up.

“i’m just… i don’t know, rafe,” you mumble, wiping at your face. “i try, i do… but i mess up all the time. i’m dumb. i get everything wrong.”

there’s a long silence, and you wait for him to push past this, to make it better. but he doesn’t. he stands there, just watching you, as if he’s trying to figure out how to get back to you. he doesn’t speak for a long while, and it feels like you’re on opposite sides of a huge chasm, too far for him to bridge with just a couple of words.

“baby, please… i’m not sayin’ you’re dumb, okay? i’m not,” rafe says, finally stepping closer, his voice gentler now, like he’s still unsure of how to make things right. “i’m just mad, and i took it out on you. but you’re not dumb. you’re not stupid. i don’t ever want you to think that.”

you look up at him, the hurt still there, but now it’s mixed with confusion. “but you just called me that… like, it’s all i do. mess up. ask questions. forget things. i know you’re tired, and i know i can be… well, a mess, but i just— i just don’t get why it feels like i’m always falling short.”

rafe’s hand shakes slightly as he reaches for you, but when you flinch away, his expression falters. he doesn’t push any further, instead letting the space between you remain. “baby, please, don’t cry. m’sorry,” he says, voice thick with regret. “i shouldn’t have said that. i wasn’t thinkin’ when i snapped. i don’t care about you forgettin’ stuff or askin’ questions. i care about you, and i messed up, okay?”

you don’t respond right away, letting the silence settle over you, the tears continuing to fall, but now they feel different. they feel less like they’re from hurt, more like they’re from confusion, from needing to understand why he would hurt you, why it got this far.

you shake your head slowly. “i don’t know if i can just forget what you said.”

rafe nods, his face creasing with guilt. “i get that. i just need you to know that i never meant to make you feel… small, sweetheart. you’re not. you’re everything to me. i was frustrated and i took it out on you. i promise, you don’t deserve that. not ever.”

there’s another long pause, and you feel like you’re breaking and rebuilding all at once. finally, you take a deep breath, looking at him through blurry eyes. “you sure?” you whisper. “you sure i’m not dumb?”

“i’m sure,” he says, voice low and steady now, and he steps forward, slowly this time, giving you the space you need. “you’re not dumb, baby. you’re perfect the way you are. i love you just as you are, quirks and all.”

you let out a shaky breath, and something in you softens, even though the hurt’s still there, lingering. but it feels different now, not like a deep wound. more like a bruise that just needs a little time to heal.

“i love you too, rafe,” you whisper, finally reaching for him, letting him pull you into his arms. “but you gotta be better. you can’t just call me dumb when i’m tryin’ so hard.”

“i know,” he murmurs, holding you close. “m’sorry, baby. i’ll do better. i swear.”

you nod against his chest, the tension between you starting to melt, slowly but surely. you don’t know if everything’s okay yet, but you know it will be. it’s just gonna take time. it always does.

only ever you ──── ୨୧ ────

i should be working on my research paper...but oh well. i had to write this!!

the bonfire was already burning high when you got there, the sky dark and the air thick with smoke and laughter. you weren’t really in the mood for the crowd, the noise, the stupid stuff kelce and topper always got into when they were drunk off their asses—but you figured maybe you’d catch a glimpse of him. that usually made it worth it.

and sure enough, there he was, leaning against the cooler, his eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for something. your stomach did that familiar flip when you saw him. he was rafe. and you were definitely looking for him.

you swung your legs from where you sat on the back of someone’s truck, drink in hand, talking to a girl whose name you didn’t care enough to remember. you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. it was easy to laugh around rafe. always had been.

you spotted him then, the way his eyes flicked over you before narrowing in, catching your gaze. his face softened, just for a second. you felt your heart stutter.

you hopped off the truck—almost tripping on your way down—and made your way over to him, grinning like an idiot. his expression softened the moment you were close, and your heart sped up.

“rafe!” you chirped, bumping into his side as you got close. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

he smiled back, a real, wide smile that made something flutter in your chest. “wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his voice low and warm as his eyes softened.

you felt that familiar warmth spread across your cheeks, a shy little laugh escaping as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. you looked up at him, all wide-eyed. “thought you were mad at me or something,” you teased, half serious.

rafe frowned, leaning down a little so you could hear him over the music. “why the hell would i be mad at you, baby?” he asked, voice rougher than he probably intended.

you shrugged, sheepish, suddenly feeling small. “dunno. just felt like maybe i was being… annoying. kept texting you today.”

his expression shifted, like you’d just taken the wind out of him. he shook his head and reached out, without thinking, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers brushed your cheek, and you nearly melted right there.

“could never be mad at you,” he said, his voice low, like he meant every word. “ain’t nothing you could do that’d annoy me, m’sweet girl.”

your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, your cheeks flushing even deeper. you ducked your head, laughing softly. “you’re just saying that.”

“ain’t,” he murmured, softer now, his gaze locked onto yours like it was just the two of you standing there. he almost said something else, you could tell, but then someone called his name from across the fire, and he broke his gaze, looking away. you pulled back, swaying on your feet as you tried to act normal again.

“i’m gonna go get another drink,” you said, nodding toward the coolers. “you want something?”

he shook his head, his eyes never leaving you as you turned. “nah, i’m good.”

you smiled again, a little smaller this time, and made your way to the coolers, leaving him standing there with your heart all tangled up in his gaze.

“jesus christ,” kelce said, sidling up next to him with a shit-eating grin. “you only smile like that with her, y’know.”

rafe scowled, taking a long pull of his beer. “shut the fuck up, kelce.”

“no, for real,” kelce laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “you’re hopeless, man. everybody sees it. everybody. she’s fuckin’ made for you or something.”

rafe didn’t respond. he just stared into the fire, the words sitting heavy in his chest. he thought about the way you looked at him, like he was something worth looking at. he thought about the easy way everything was with you. nothing ever felt right unless you were there.

fuck.

maybe he was hopeless. maybe he’d been hopeless for a long time.

when you came back, arms full of two drinks even though he’d told you he didn’t want one, you handed him one with a proud little grin, like you’d done something important.

“got you one anyway,” you said, looking up at him with a smile that had his heart stuttering again.

he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, and for a second, neither of you pulled away.

“thanks, baby,” he said, his voice thick in a way that made your insides twist.

the two of you ended up sitting on the tailgate of his truck, away from the loudest parts of the bonfire, the firelight flickering over your face as you told him some story about losing your shoe at the mall earlier that week. he listened like it was the most important thing in the world, hanging on every word you said.

every laugh, every wide-eyed look you gave him, pulled him deeper under, like he didn’t even have a say in it.

at some point, you leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. “dunno what i’d do without you, rafe,” you mumbled, half asleep, half dreamy.

he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours. “you’ll never have to find out, baby,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone but you to hear.

maybe you didn’t understand it fully yet—not the way he did, not all big and heavy and aching—but you felt it. you could feel it in the way you stayed close, in the way your hand found his without thinking.

rafe looked down at you, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and smiled.

hopeless.

and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

only ever you

loves... icecream. lace. pastels. cotton. romcoms. cafes. shopping.

dislikes... being rushed. stress. conflict. puzzles. comparisons

WORKS....

strawberries on the sidewalk -> how ditzy!reader met rafe