dollface

description: After a fight with Ward, Rafe takes his anger out on you that night. A night you've kept secretly to yourself for years.

includes: shouting, cursing, aggressive/violent behavior, toxic!rafe, stepc*st

wc: 2,067

now playing - crack baby by mitski (instrumental)

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You still remembered the night so vividly. Every detail you remembered, down to the smell. The one that caused the shift in him towards you, the subtle coldness and detachment that came after it. The night you two never talked about again after it happened. The night that changed you and Rafe's relationship forever.

The heavy door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the empty house. They were gone, your mother and Ward had left for the weekend for one of his business trips. The house felt unnervingly quiet after the ongoing screaming you had heard going on for the past hour between Rafe and Ward. The new found silence was thick and suffocating.

Then you heard it. A crash from the living room that made your heart leap into your throat, it was the sound of expensive things breaking, a sound you’d come to associate with Rafe and Ward’s "discussions." You moved slowly, your socked feet silent on the floor, peering around the corner.

Rafe stood in the center of the room, his back to you. His shoulders were heaving, the fabric of his polo shirt straining against the tension. On the floor, porcelain shards laid on the floor, the remnants of one of Wards prized vases. An empty crystal tumbler lay on its side on the expensive rug, a dark stain spreading.

"Rafe?" you whispered, your voice barely there. You took a tentative step forward, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his forearm. His skin was hot, feverish. "What's wrong?"

He moved so fast you barely registered it. He wrenched his arm from your grip with a violent jerk, the force of it making you stumble back a step. He whipped around, and the full force of his rage hit you. His eyes were wild, the blue of them almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. The smell of alcohol wafted off him in a nauseating wave.

"He thinks he can just do anything he wants!" he shouted, his voice cracking. He wasn't looking at you, not really, he was looking through you. "He ruins everything and then he just… replaces it! Like I'm a fucking broken vase he can just sweep up and throw away!"

He started pacing, each step aggressive, his hands raking through his hair. "I had it handled! The business, the logistics… I had it! But no, that's not good enough for King Ward! He knows best! He always knows fucking best!" He punctuated his words with a sharp, bitter laugh.

You stayed still, watching him, your own fear a cold knot in your stomach. This was the Rafe you only ever saw in the aftermath of his father's "talks." "Hey." you said softly, trying to break through the haze of his anger. "Rafe, what's going on?"

He stopped pacing and turned his full attention to you, the shift was terrifying. Hs focus narrowed, and you became the target of all that pent up fury. "What's going on?" he sneered, taking a big step toward you. "What's going on is our dear father, the kook king, the fucking man of the year, just told me I'm a disappointment. Again. Told me I'm useless. That I'll never be half the man he is."

He took another step, and you instinctively took one back. He matched it, his advance deliberate. "He stood there, in my own house. In my own fucking house!" he shouted. He was so close now you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He kept backing you up, pushing you backward. Your calves hit the edge of the couch, and you fell, plopping down onto the soft cushions with a soft gasp. He stood over you, invading your space.

You put your hands up, planting them firmly against his chest to stop him from getting any closer. His heart was hammering under your palms, frantically, matching your own beating heart.

And then you saw it. Glistening in the low light, pooling at the corners of his eyes, tears. The anger was a mask, but underneath, he was just a boy crying for a father who couldn't see him. The sight of his tears shattered your fear. "Oh... Rafe." you breathed, your voice gentle. You moved your hands from his chest, reaching up to cup his face. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

The reaction was violent. He roughly grabbed your wrists, his grip like iron, and threw your hands away from him as if your touch had burned him. "Don't." he said, his voice low. "Don't you pity me." "Rafe—" you started, pushing yourself up from the couch.

You saw the movement a split second before it happened. His hand shot out, grabbing a heavy table lamp from the small table next to the couch. He didn't even look at you. With another guttural groan, he hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall just inches from your head, the sound of it shattering a deafening explosion in the quiet room. You screamed, a sharp, terrified sound that was swallowed by the crash.

"Rafe, stop!" you cried, your voice trembling uncontrollably. Pure instinct took over. You bolted, scrambling to get away, to put distance between you and him. You made a run for the stairs, your only thought to lock yourself in your room.

You didn't even make it to the first step. A hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with brutal force. He yanked you back, spinning you around to face him. His grip was too tight, a shot of pain that made you wince. You could feel the bones grinding together.

"Let go!" you sobbed, the tears now streaming freely down your face. "You're scaring me! Rafe, stop it! you're hurting me!" His face was full of anger, but your words seemed to pierce through it. For a fraction of a second, his eyes flickered, replaced by something else, something broken. "You don't get to walk away." he ground out, his voice shaking almost as much as yours. "I'm talking to you. You don't get to just leave me, too."

"Rafe, please." you whimpered, the pain in your wrist mixing with your adrenaline. "Your hurting me. You're hurting my wrist." And just like that, the switch flipped. The storm in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dawning, horrified comprehension. He looked down at his hand clamped around your wrist, as if seeing it for the first time. He saw the way you were wincing, the tears on your face, the fear in your eyes. The anger drained out of him so completely it was like a plug had been pulled. He let go of you so fast you stumbled forward.

The tears that had been rimming his eyes finally broke, spilling over and tracking down his face in silent tears. He collapsed, his knees hitting the hardwood floor with a thud. He looked completely shattered.

"God." he choked out, his voice thick with self loathing. "I—God, I'm sorry." He shuffled forward on his knees, his hands reaching out grabbing the back of your thighs, clinging to you. He dropped his forehead against your stomach, his whole body shaking with the force of his sobs. "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what comes over me. I'm—Please don't… please don't leave me. I can't—you. I can't."

Your own tears were falling now, hot and fast, dripping onto his hair. You threaded your fingers into his soft hair, holding him as he broke apart against you. "I won't." you whispered, your voice thick. "You're not going to lose me, Rafe. I'm right here." you told him softly, as he cried.

You crouched down, meeting his level, watching him break apart. He looked up, his face a ruined, beautiful mess of desperation. His eyes searched yours, and then he was moving. He surged up, grabbing your face in his hands, pulling you down until your foreheads were pressed together. You were both breathing heavily, the air between you charged with something new, something electric. He was so close you could see the flecks of darker blue in his irises, could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your mouth.

He started to pull your face closer, slowly. Your lips were a breath apart, so close to touching. This was the line, the one you'd never cross. "Rafe… what… what are you doing?" you whispered, your voice trembling. It was a plea, but you weren't sure what you were pleading for, for him to stop, or for him to finally close the distance.

He closed his eyes, as if your voice was both a salvation and a torment. His lips brushed yours, a feather light touch that was devastating. For a second, you leaned into it, your body betraying your mind, craving the comfort only he could offer. Your lips were touching at this point, so close to moving together, so close to—.

The sound of the front door bursting open, followed by Sarah and Wheezie's oblivious laughter, was like a bucket of ice water being thrown over you. "…I liked it, the ending was stupid but you know I love a good romcom!" Sarah's voice echoed from the entrance.

Reality crashed down with the force of a physical blow. You shoved Rafe's chest with both hands, scrambling backward so fast you lost your footing and tumbled to the floor. You landed hard, propped up on your forearms, your heart hammering against your ribs violently.

Rafe was still on his knees, his face frozen in a mask of shock and grief, the tears still glistening on his cheeks. Sarah walked into the living room, her smile faltering as she took in the scene. You, disheveled on the floor. Rafe, on his knees, looking destroyed. The shattered vase, the busted lamp, the dark stain on the rug.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with suspicion. Wheezie appeared behind her, her eyes widening as she took in the destruction. "Rafe, what happened to the light?" she asked, pointing a finger at the broken lamp near the wall.

Silence. The air was thick with to much unspoken tension. You could feel your face burning with guilt. "What's going on here?" Wheezie pressed, her gaze darting between you and her brother.

You scrambled for an excuse, any excuse, a lie. "Rafe broke a light." you said, your voice coming out in a high, nervous tone. You forced a small smile. "We're… we're just cleaning it up."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. She wasn't buying it, she saw the tear tracks on Rafe's face, the terror still lingering in your eyes, the look on Rafe's face and your off energy screamed way more than just some broken lamp. She looked from your guilty face to Rafe's devastated one, her expression of concern.

"Right." she said slowly, drawing the word out. She dropped her bag by the door, her movements slow. "Well, don't cut yourself while you're cleaning it up." She gave Rafe one last long, searching look before turning away. "Come on, Wheez. Let's go."

You held your breath until you heard their footsteps retreat up the stairs and a door click shut down the hall. Only then did you let it out, the air leaving your lungs in a shaky, whooshing rush.

You slowly pushed yourself up, sitting on the edge of the couch. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a deep exhaustion and a throbbing ache in your wrist. You looked over at Rafe.

He hadn't moved. He was still on his knees, staring at the spot on the floor where you had been. He looked up at you now, his expression raw and stripped of all its defenses. He was just a boy again, your boy. The one who used to massage your neck for you after ballet. The one who would be the older middle school boy to scare the stupid elementary boys in your class from messing with you. The one who had held you while you cried for a father you barely remembered. The one who had just terrified you, and then begged for your forgiveness.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything that had just happened and everything that almost happened. He looked completely lost, waiting for you to say something, to pass judgment. What the hell do you do now?

MASTERLIST

“i’m just not into you like that— what the fuck more do you want me to say?”

it was public knowledge that you’d been hopelessly in love with rafe cameron for the past two years. you had to admit you didn’t try to hide it at all, chipping into conversations that he was having, always hoping he’d finally notice you.

you also knew that people felt sorry for you because rafe never hesitated to tell his friends that you weren’t his type. that he felt he was “out of your league.” the words spread around the island faster than you could pretend they didn’t bother you, and before long everyone knew exactly how one-sided your crush was.

so when you asked to grab dinner with him for the second time he laughed, making sure everyone around heard his answer.

“i don’t know rafe, im just telling you how i feel. i like you.” you say.

“yeah that’s pretty fuckin’ obvious from how you keep stalking me okay? listen, let me make it clear to you.”

you brace yourself for the worst.

“i think you’re boring, alright? there i said it.” he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “and honestly, there are plenty of girls way hotter than you so just give up okay? i would never date someone like you.”

his words stung more than you would admit. you felt your soul getting crushed as you looked around to see everyone who was now shamelessly staring at the interaction, jaw dropped. some were even laughing.

but in that moment, something clicked in you. it was like the pedestal you put him on had finally collapsed, and you started to realize how much of an asshole he was. you would never date someone who spoke to you like that. someone who would belittle you and publicly humiliate you just because you had confessed your feelings.

“okay.” you say, nodding and walking away before people around rushed over with their fake pity as they pretended to care.

you actually felt the most alive the days following that. for the first time in two years, you weren’t checking to see if rafe had shown up somewhere before deciding whether to go. you weren’t finding excuses to join conversations you weren’t welcome in just to see if he’d talk to you.

you stopped caring. and with that came a kind of freedom you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

you started saying yes to things you’d always turned down because rafe wasn’t there. spending time with friends, laughing more, you even slept better. rafe had been sucking the life out of your eyes and people around you started to notice the change.

even rafe.

at first it was the little things. how you weren’t at every party he went to. how you stopped trying to catch his eyes across the room. how empty his phone was when you weren’t texting him asking what he’s up to. there were no awkward smiles, no nervous waves, no desperate attempts to talk to him which he had found quite funny.

it was just quiet. he figured you had finally gotten the message. that you would leave him alone and stop embarrassing him in front of his friends. and that’s exactly what he wanted wasn’t it?

but then a week passed. then two. and he couldn’t help but notice you.

when he saw you at topper’s party for the first time in weeks, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. you laughed louder than he ever remembered. you looked so much happier. lighter. it was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as he watched you take a shot with your friends, throwing your head back and giggling carelessly at something someone had said.

people gravitated toward you now. guys who had never looked your way before suddenly lingered around you, maybe because you had always been turning them down for him, or maybe because you were just glowing. he couldn’t tell.

it shouldn’t have bothered him. how you were letting guys touch your hair, put their hands on your waist and drunkenly dance with you like nothing else mattered. but it did.

he knew it was unfair to you. he had made it painfully clear that you didn’t deserve him. he was the one that humiliated you. whenever he thought back to that day you had confessed your feelings, guilt gnawed at his chest and how badly he handled the situation. he could still picture the way your face fell, how you looked around only to realize people were making a laughingstock out of you. the way you swallowed whatever you were feeling before walking away. it left such a bitter taste in his mouth.

“bro what the fuck are you thinking about? you good?” kelce interrupts his train of thought, passing a bottle of beer. “yeah-yeah i’m fine. just tired.” rafe replies, chugging the bottle as he continues to stare at you flirting with another guy across the room.

for the next few days, rafe contemplated texting you. apologizing about what he said, asking for forgiveness. ‘just to make things right,’ he convinces himself. he pulled out his phone countless times throughout the day, opening your chat. it really didn’t help that his last chat with you was when you asked, “i’m watching this tv show i think you’ll really like it! what are you up to?” to which he replied, “nothing.”

eventually, he gave up on the idea of texting and decided he would start finding you in person instead. it was never intentional. at least that’s what he told himself.

he’d stop to say hi when he passed you at the country club. strike up a conversation while you waited for your drinks at the bar. wander over if he saw you sitting on the beach with your friends. if there was an empty seat beside you at a bonfire, somehow he’d end up taking it.

and you were always polite. nothing less, nothing more. you always smiled at him, answering his questions like nothing had ever happened between you two. but that was it. no lingering conversation. you treated him exactly the same way you treated everyone else.

that stung him more than if you’d ignored him completely. and somewhere between those brief conversations, rafe started noticing things he and never paid attention to before. the way you thanked every server by name. how you remembered everyone’s birthday. the way you laughed so hard you had to grabs someone’s arm to steady yourself. how easily people gravitated toward you without you ever having to try.

he couldn’t believe he had spent the last two years reducing you to ‘the girl who had a crush on him.’ there was so much more to you than that. and the more he noticed, the heavier the guilt became.

his friends started noticing the shift in his demeanor toward you as the weeks went on. one afternoon, while driving to the golf course with topper and kelce, rafe’s eyes landed on you across the street. you were sitting at an outdoor café, an iced coffee in hand laughing with a guy he didn’t recognize.

“who’s that guy?” he asked, pointing his finger through the car window.

“some new guy who just came to town. ruthie said he’s ‘super charming’” topper answers, rolling his eyes while quoting the air.

“why’s she even talking to him?” rafe mutters, topper and kelce sending each other looks of confusion.

“why do you care? you’re the one who rejected her.” topper says.

“yeah in front of everybody too.” kelce starts. “honestly bro she’s pretty fucking hot if you look at her so i don’t know why-”

“shut up i know it was fucked up okay? i’m just saying, she could do so much better than that guy.”

“what, are you like in love with her now?” topper teases, giving rafe a shove in the shoulder jokingly.

that same night, rafe decided he had to talk to you. properly. so he called you after hours of pacing his room, phone shaking in his hand as he dialed your contact nervously. it rang three times before you picked up.

“rafe?”

his heart starts to pound as he tries to gather the words he wants to say to you.

“hey uh..what- what are you doing right now? you busy?”

“no i have time. why?”

“i-i wanted to talk to you about something.”

“sure, what’s up? is everything okay?” the concern for him in your voice after everything he’s put you through makes him wince.

“yeah, no everything’s fine. i just wanted to apologize for that day-”

“it’s fine rafe. it doesn’t matter anymore.” his heart drops as you quickly shrug it off as if it never happened.

“no-no it’s not fine. i’m really fucking sorry i acted like that,” he starts to ramble. “it was so fucked and i should have never treated you like that you know? you-you’ve always been nice to me and i just don’t know what happened but i messed up and i feel terrible-”

“i forgive you, rafe. don’t worry about it okay?”

“don’t-” he cuts himself off with a frustrated laugh. “don’t say it like that.”

“like what?”

“like it’s nothing.”

“it isn’t anymore.”

the words knock the air out of his lungs.

“no, it is something,” he says quickly. “it was fucked up. i treated you like shit.”

“you did.”

“so why are you acting like you don’t care?”

you pause for a moment before answering.

“because i don’t. not anymore at least,” your voice is calm. “it hurt for a while. then i got over it.”

rafe presses his lips together, his jaw tightening. your words hurt more than if you’d screamed at him.

“so-so that’s it?” he asks quietly. “you just… got over me?”

you let out a small laugh. “i had to eventually, rafe.”

he closes his eyes for a second. he’d spent weeks building up this conversation in his head, convinced that if he apologized, maybe he’d undo some of the damage.

“can’t we just- just talk it out in person? i can take you to dinner or something nice-”

“i would never date someone like you, rafe.”

he's the most violent fuck you've ever known. everything about his actions scream brutality and so, it doesn't become a shock when he's harsh in bed.

he fucks you like there's no tomorrow, ignoring the fact that your body probably can't keep up with him. all he does is coke and fuck (you).

"fuck— you're so tight," he comments, head thrown back as his cock is swallowed by your warmth completely. he can't deny he's shocked that you're even able to take him for more than a few minutes, not that he's calling you weak or anything.

the grip he has on you is enough to leave marks, more bruises forming as you continue your intimate session together. your moans are like a reward to him, letting him know that how well he's doing despite not really caring about you. it feeds into his ego pretty well.

you let out a soft gasp, an orgasm following soon after, twitching while your jaw is still dropped.

but he doesn't stop. he still continues thrusting into you through it, portions of it spilling out every time he pushes his cock in. he's not looking to pleasure anyone other than himself, so excuse you if you need time.