“okay, but i’m serious this time,” you said, squirming back against the beach towel while rafe kissed down your stomach. “don’t, like.. do that thing with your tongue unless you’re prepared.”
he looked up from where his mouth hovered over your mound, brow raised, lips already shiny. “what thing? baby, my tongue’s got a long menu. you’re gonna need to be more specific.”
“you know what i mean!” you whined, wiggling under him, hands braced on his shoulders. “the curl..that evil curl thing. the one that makes my legs do the funky chicken.”
“ah,” he said, smiling slow. “you mean the soul-eater..noted.”
“you’re such a dick.”
“you love my dick,” he said, pressing a kiss right at the top of your slit, grinning when your whole body jumped. “and my tongue. and me.” you groaned, covering your face with one arm. “yes, i love you, now shut up and get back to work.”
“say please,” he said, licking a line from your entrance to your clit. your hips jerked automatically.
you gasped, “please..”
“good girl..” his hands instantly gripped the insides of your thighs, holding you open with casual strength, and then he buried his face between your legs like you were his first meal in a full-blown year.
you let out the loudest moan and whimper, “oh my gosh, rafe—”
his tongue worked you slow at first. lazy licks that teased more than they gave; he wanted you to whine, wanted you to squirm maybe even cry. he flattened his tongue, dragged it up your slit, then sucked your clit between his lips with obscene gentleness.
“you’re so wet already,” he said, pulling back just long enough to breathe against you. “what’s got you this needy, huh? was it the swimsuit? me telling you to bend over for sunscreen?”
“yes,” you gasped, toes curling. “you were rude about it!”
“i was honest.” he went right back in, licking with more purpose now, mouth noisy and shameless. your back arched, fingers twisting in his hair.
“rafe—fuck—oh oh my, don’t stop—” it's very obvious he didn't; his tongue flicked over your clit, faster now, then slower, then fast again. he knew exact what he was doing, and he wanted you to know that he knew. his fingers dug into your thighs to try and still your body, but you couldn’t help it, your hips rocked against his face, chasing everything you could.
“you taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, teasing you, “like fuckin’ candy..my pink sugar pussy?”
“you’re disgusting,” you moaned, your whole body tensing.
“and you’re about to cum.”
“no i’m not,” you lied immediately, not giving him the satisfaction.
he pulled back, blinked up at you, lips wet. “baby..”
you blinked down at him, wide-eyed, panting. “what?”
“you’re clenching like you’ve got a gun to your head. even your eyes are crossing, just cum.”
“don’t tell me to cum like it’s that easy—” as soon as he curled his tongue, you shrieked. it wasn’t a scream, exactly. more like a choked-out cry that you didn’t even recognize. your legs snapped around his head, body jerking from the immense pleasure and liquid coming from you.
your eyes flew open in panic. “rafe—” he pulled back, arousal dripping, stunned for half a second, then a proud grin graced his very attractive face.
“holy shit, you just squirted.” your face went nuclear. “oh my god—oh my gosh—no i didn’t—”
“you did! baby, i felt it hit my face! i saw it! dammit baby i felt it!” you tried to close your legs but he held them open, just staring at the mess. the towel underneath you was soaked. his chest was damp, and his chin was shiny.
“i—i think you broke me,” you wailed, covering your face. “i’m never coming back from this. i’m dead. bury me in the sand.”
he leaned up, kissed your wet thigh, nipped it with his teeth. “you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he said, voice softer now. “embarrassed over something that just made me hard as fuck.”
“you’re so annoying!”
“you’re so sensitive now. i could just look at your pussy and you’d flinch.” you whimpered as he blew cool air on your clit and laughed when you jerked. “stop! i’m tender!”
“i know, baby,” he said, crawling up to kiss your mouth, not caring at all that his face was soaked with you. “you’re perfect.”
“i can’t believe—”
“believe it,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “you squirted all over my face like the good little mess you are.”
“i’m never letting you go down on me again.”
“you say that every time.”
“i mean it this time.”
he just smiled, pressed his hand over your fluttering belly, right where the orgasm had wrecked you. “sure, sweetheart,” he said. “until next time.”
coco's notes: i’m having soooo much fun writing for chichi right now! and i just wanted to say the BIGGEST thank you for 5k followers—i’m seriously so grateful that any of you even take the time to read my stuff, let alone follow me! closer to the end of the month, a 5k celebration will be post so def look out for that!
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i need to see a oneshot of scc!rafe and scc!reader at an event or something and scc!reader comes back and she “sees” a woman infront of rafe (his back is turned towards her so reader can’t rlly see either of them well yk) and she’s on her tippy toes n it looks like she’s kissing rafe cause he isn’t pulling away (but they weren’t!!!!) then scc!reader doesnt know what to do so she ignores rafe the whole day but then he finds her crying in the kitchen in the middle of the night and then its such a sad moment where she’s crying so hard asking him if he even loves her anymore, if he cares about her and the kids and if he wanted a divorce he could’ve just said so and then finally rafe realizes how much she’s been through and she does love him alot that's why she’s literally crying an ocean :(
well, for both of you. some sleek fundraiser or gala thing—another country club obligation with champagne flutes and low lighting, where wives wore silk and smiled and the men were all on their second scotch by 8pm.
and you’d done everything right.
wore the dress he liked. let him zip you in. curled your hair soft, the way he liked it falling down your back. said yes when he placed his hand on your waist and led you into the room like a doll.
you were a good wife tonight.
so it’s cruel, so cruel, when you walk back from the powder room, heels clicking against marble, and you freeze at the edge of the ballroom—heart folding in on itself.
he’s across the room.
rafe.
and there's a woman in front of him.
not just any woman—tall, manicured, country club perfect. she's close to him. closer than you’ve seen anyone be all night. he’s facing away from you, and you can’t see his expression.
you blink.
you know you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. but she’s standing on her tiptoes, hand touching his arm. her face tilted up toward his, smiling like they’re sharing something secret.
and he doesn’t move.
doesn’t back up. doesn’t pull away. just lets her do it.
you don’t even wait to see more.
your stomach turns. you duck your head and slip away.
you don’t breathe until you’re back at the table, gripping your clutch like it’s the only thing holding you together.
you don’t say a word on the way home.
when he puts a hand on your thigh in the car, you gently push it off.
he doesn’t say anything.
you shower in silence.
crawl into bed and turn your back to him even though you always sleep curled into his chest.
your side of the bed stays cold all night.
he knows something’s wrong. of course he does.
but you keep up the act all day. making the kids breakfast. folding laundry. setting out his lunch like you didn’t sob in the bathroom the night before.
you pretend you’re okay, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.
but by midnight, your chest hurts.
like the ache is its own living thing.
so you sneak downstairs in your nightgown, that pale one he bought you when you first got married. the hem pools around your ankles as you lean over the sink, elbows braced on the counter, trying to catch your breath.
you’re crying too hard to be quiet.
you try, but the sobs are ripped out of you.
you don’t even hear him until he’s behind you.
“hey—hey, baby…”
his voice is quiet. confused. gentle.
he says your name like a question, and then again like a plea.
“what’s wrong?”
you don’t turn around.
you can’t.
you just shake your head, gripping the counter until your knuckles go white.
“sweetheart,” he says, hand ghosting your back. “what happened?”
your voice breaks.
it comes out in a sob.
“do you even love me anymore?”
the silence that follows is crushing.
you turn around slowly, finally meeting his eyes.
“because if you don’t, rafe—” your throat catches—“if you’re done with me, if you want someone else, you could just say it.”
he looks like you slapped him.
“what the hell are you talking about?”
“last night,” you whisper, voice shaking. “at the gala. i saw you. she was touching you. and you—you just stood there, rafe, you didn’t even—” you hiccup, pressing a fist to your mouth. “i thought she was kissing you.”
“no.” his voice is firm. sharp. “no, she wasn’t.”
“then what was it?”
he runs a hand down his face. “she came up to say hi. to congratulate me on the company expansion. she leaned in to say something—i don’t even know what, I wasn’t listening. i wasn’t even looking at her.”
you shake your head. “but you didn’t pull away—”
“i didn’t even realize she was that close,” he snaps—then softens when he sees you flinch.
his voice drops, rough with guilt.
“baby, no. i didn’t let anyone kiss me. i swear to god.”
you wipe your cheeks with your sleeve, sniffling.
“then why… why don’t you touch me like you used to?”
the words fall out, so honest they make your chest ache.
“why don’t you see me the way you used to?”
his jaw tenses. “what’re you talking about?”
“you used to love me like i was everything,” you whisper. “like i was the only thing that made sense in your life. and now i just feel like… like something you have to deal with.”
he steps closer.
“you think i don’t see you?” he says, low. “you think i don’t come home every day and thank god you’re here?”
your lip trembles.
“you haven’t said it in weeks, rafe.”
he curses under his breath. you don’t know if it’s at himself or at the situation or the world. maybe all of it.
his hands come up, slowly, to cup your face.
“i didn’t know you needed to hear it every time,” he says quietly. “i didn’t know you thought… i’d leave.”
your eyes are wide and wet. “you married me when i was barely out of high school. sometimes i think you only picked me because i was soft enough to mold. easy enough to keep.”
he flinches. “don’t say that.”
“why not?” you whisper. “it’s true.”
“no. it’s not.” his voice cracks. “i picked you because you were good. because you made me better. because you looked at me like i wasn’t broken.”
you’re both crying now. your fists in his shirt. his thumbs brushing your tears away.
“i’m not going anywhere,” he says. “you’re the only thing in this life i’ve never wanted to run from.”
“do you still love me?”
he kisses your forehead. then your cheeks. then your mouth.
“i love you,” he says, “more than i’ve ever known how to say.”
your body folds into him.
and for the first time in weeks, he holds you like he means it.
rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.
and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?
like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.
“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.
“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”
rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”
y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”
and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.
so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”
she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”
he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”
because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.
“what did i say, baby?”
she pouts up at him. “but—”
rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”
she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.
“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”
rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”
“yeah.”
he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”
she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.
“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”
she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.
“maybe.”
rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”
she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.
so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.
when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”
-
now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.
and he can’t help himself.
his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.
“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.
y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”
he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”
she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”
and his heart melts.
because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.
so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”
she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”
rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”
she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.
he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.
and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.
he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.
yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.
-
rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.
his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)
he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.
rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.
he has to kiss her.
so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.
but she feels it.
she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.
“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.
rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”
her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”
“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”
her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.
he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”
y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.
rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”
she exhales. “you.”
and he’s done for.
he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”
“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.
“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.
she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”
rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.
because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.
when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.
rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.
.ᐟ cw: fluff! soft!rafe, bf!rafe, fear of flying, just rafe being really sweet
.ᐟ notes: rewatching supernatural sparked this idea lol, i love the early seasons of the showwww
first class, window seat, clouds hanging heavy outside the glass. your stomach was all twisted up, something about being so high off the ground just felt wrong. the kind of wrong that doesn’t let you breathe right. like the sky could swallow the whole plane without thinking twice.
rafe noticed. of course he did.
he didn’t say anything at first, just reached over and tucked the blanket tighter around your lap. then his hand found yours, warm and steady, like it always does. like he could anchor you to the earth even from 30,000 feet in the air.
"hey," he said, soft enough for just you. "got you something."
he dug around in his backpack for a second and came up with a bag of sour gummies, your favourite. the ones you always buy at the gas station even though they make your teeth hurt. he handed them to you like it was nothing, like he hadn’t been thinking about it since last night when you told him you hated flying.
"also," he added, pulling out a worn paperback. your book. your exact copy, spine cracked where you left it on your nightstand. he must’ve grabbed it this morning before the cab.
you blinked at him.
he just shrugged. "figured you’d wanna read. or pretend to."
you smiled then. kind of. it wobbled. but it was real.
the plane started to taxi and your fingers curled tighter around the armrest. rafe leaned in and kissed your temple.
"i’ve got you," he said.
"i know."
"you wanna listen to music?"
you nodded, so he handed you one of his earbuds and you tucked it in, head resting against his shoulder. he didn’t move when you leaned all your weight into him, just shifted slightly so you could fit there better, his hoodie already starting to smell like the little packet of peanuts they gave him at check-in.
takeoff felt like being launched out of your own skin. but rafe’s hand stayed locked with yours the whole time.
he rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, slow and mindless, like he didn’t even know he was doing it. like it was just instinct. like he always had to be touching you.
halfway through the flight he tore open the gummies and handed you one without asking. then he opened your book, flipped to the right page, and set it in your lap.
"you’re gonna be okay," he murmured. "you’re already okay."
later, when the sky turned from blue to gold and the seatbelt light dinged off, you realised you hadn’t looked out the window once. you hadn’t needed to. rafe had been looking at you the whole time.
"thanks for not making fun of me," you whispered.
"never," he said.
and he meant it. he always does.
somewhere over the clouds, your breathing finally steadied, and you thought, if being in the sky could ever feel safe, it’d be here, in his hoodie, in his arms, head tucked just beneath his jaw, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear like gravity finally letting go.
sensitive to sound. soft spoken. sickeningly sweet. teddy bears. deers. old country ballads. arts & crafts. overalls. trailer park lifestyle. books. occasional drinker. floral bedsheets. doe-like eyes. vanilla candles. being bathed in sunlight.
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PAIRING: husband!soft!rafe cameron x wife!fem!reader
SUMMARY: rafe started to get more busy with his business, and you couldn’t help but start to feel neglected by him.
WARNINGS: soft soft SOFT rafe, he's so lovesick for his wife it is crazy (no it isn’t that’s practically canon), slightly suggestive content but it’s written with a fluffy intent, usage of nicknames like goddess & baby, and just loads of sweetness over all, very very slight angst (?) and intentional use of lower case
EDITH SPEAKS: this fic is more on this, you can’t look at that picture and not think that’s rafe, cause it is! thank you so so much to @glimodejun who commented their idea which prompted me to write this 🫶🏼 i was supposed to write a blurb but I got carried away, clearly, and this is pushing 2k words 😁
anyways, please please reblog if you liked this and feedback is always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 🫧
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oh will wonders ever cease? blessed be the mystery of love
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
it was starting to get a little out of hand.
you always knew how important rafe’s business was to him, especially after he inherited it all from his father. the burgeoning fire in him to make the business bigger and better than it had ever been and be so much more powerful than his father, who couldn’t give him an ounce of attention or praise his entire childhood was one of the biggest things fueling his motivation.
that, and wanting to give you everything you could possibly need in great abundance so that you never felt you were at a loss of anything under his roof.
so you knew he tended to sometimes spend longer hours at the office, to get everything done, to not let a single mistake fall into place in front of his eyes, everything perfectly coordinated and right up to his standards.
he always made sure to call you or send you a text if he was going to be late, informing you why he was going to be late, the tentative time he should be back home, with a small ‘i love you’ and ‘i miss you’ accompanied with the occasional red heart he only ever used for you.
since the past few days, unfortunately you hadn’t been receiving the texts you always did. if you did, it was short, something along the lines of ‘i’ll be late’. but no explanation as to exactly what had been keeping him busy, and no words of endearment at all. he started coming home really late, most of the times when you had tried your best to stay up till he comes home, but the exhaustion would always defeat him in the race and you’d be out like a light.
and the next morning wasn’t close to being better than the night. if you were lucky, you would catch him getting ready for work, and you would always prompt him to stay for at least breakfast. but he would be in a hurry and shake his head no, saying something like ‘i have to leave, it’s important’ and leaving you with a chaste kiss to your lips.
whatever you’d ask, his answers to you would be short, concise and quick, and you felt as if you’re catching the subtle drift of vexation and annoyance in his tone. was it actually there or were you just imagining it? you didn’t know.
and if you weren’t lucky, you wouldn’t even get to see him leave. by the time you would be up, you would only feel the cold wrinkled sheets next to you, the faint scent of him lingering in the air as a burning memory of the love of your life.
this specific night, exactly one week after since the first day this peculiar behavior of his started, you were seated on the edge of the bed after a shower, applying your lotion on your arms as you prepared yourself for another night of waiting for rafe, falling asleep in the process, and letting it be a mystery solved only by some higher power if you would see him in the morning or not.
as you were rubbing the lotion into your skin, you couldn’t help your wandering mind. how were you supposed to deal with this situation? were you supposed to confront him and demand answers? or were you supposed to tread slowly? you knew you were nearing the end of the american fiscal year; 30th of september being right around the corner. it involved loads of financial and accounting work, preparing end-of-year accounts and statements, and what not. so him being busy felt justified. but he should be able to spare a moment to at least send you a proper text, shouldn’t he?
no, you shake your head. you’re his wife, for god’s sake. you shouldn’t be reducing your worth down to some text. heck, you should be getting proper calls from him. you’ve been so wonderfully patient, not complaining for a second for the past week. the least you can get is a proper conversation with him.
as you made up your mind firmly, your thoughts were cut through firmly when the door to your bedroom opened. you looked up to see rafe entering inside the room, his blazer off and resting on his shoulder, and his sleeves messily rolled up to his elbows.
“hey,” he muttered as he closed the door behind him, keeping his bag on the side and disappearing behind the washroom door.
“hey,” you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor as you heard the washroom door close. you remained seated on the edge of the bed, clad in a satin black robe which he swore made you look even more of a goddess than you already did as you waited for him to come out.
you heard the shower run inside for some time, after which the door opened and you were greeted with rafe sporting a pair of grey sweatpants, his upper body bare with some water droplets still trickling down his skin.
as he came out, he saw you in the same position at the edge of the bed as before. “hey why aren’t you going to sleep hm?” he asked as he busied himself with applying his moisturizer to his face.
“no reason,” you muttered, your back to him as you kept your gaze down at your feet.
rafe was very quick to catch the dejection in your voice, and before you knew it, he was making his way around the bed to you, standing right in front of you as he looked down at you.
“baby, look up please,” he murmured softly, one of his hand coming to rest on your cheek.
you lifted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyelids heavy as you look up at him through your lashes. “yeah?” you mumbled.
rafe exhaled softly at your bleak tone. he sank down on his knees in front of you, his gaze coming to your level.
“listen baby,” he sighed softly, placing both his hands on your thighs right below the hem of the robe. “I… I haven’t been the best husband the past week and I’m… so so sorry about that,”
his heartfelt words reached your ears and caused your eyes to widen, your mind started to work away the gears to process his words.
“I haven’t been giving you the attention and love I vowed to give you on day one,” he whispered looking deep in your eyes, his own eyes softened to such an extent it had you melting completely. “I haven’t been communicating well with you I…” he muttered, running one hand over his prickly buzzed hair, “I didn’t mean to do that baby I’m so sorry…”
you wanted to say something, anything, for that matter, but you were rendered completely speechless when you started feeling him press kisses over your thighs.
“I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered into your skin, “I hope you can forgive me for everything I did… I’ll make it up to you I promise…”
your lips parted to let out shuddering gasps as you felt him slowly move the satin of your robe up to reveal more of your thighs, his lips pressing kisses against your inner thighs and trailing over your outer thighs.
“I’m so sorry… so sorry, my goddess…” he whispered. “i won’t ever do this again… you’re my top priority, always, and there will never be a second where you don’t feel that way…”
his words left a searing mark on your skin, his lips trailing up to your left hip bone. one of his hands came to rest on your right hip, rubbing gentle circles onto your hip bone through the satin of your robe, and his other hand shifted your robe even higher to grant him more access to your skin. his lips landed on your hip bone and he pressed the most tender kisses along the bone, a soft gasp escaping your lips at his actions. your hand came to rest on the side of his face, your head leaning back as you felt the sensations of his lips on your sensitive hip bone thrum all throughout your body, lighting up each and every nerve that constituted you.
“I love you so much…” he whispered against your skin, starting to gently suck on your skin, his eyes fluttering shut. a hum of pleasure tumbled past your lips, your own eyelids getting heavier. “I love you so so much darling and I’m…” his lips started to trail over your lower abdomen, pressing kisses through the soft satin of your robe that still covered your upper half, “I’m never making this mistake ever again I promise... please forgive me…” he pleaded, his lips making over to your other hip bone and kissing on it, before gently sucking on it the same way he did earlier.
“you only deserve the best…” he murmured, lips trailing a path down to your inner thigh again. “just the best… cause you are so amazing…” he whispered, nipping on the soft skin of your inner thigh. your fingers curled over the nape of his neck to give you some leverage, soft gasps leaving your lips, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chest starting to heave from every kiss and nip of his lips and teeth.
his both hands now rested on the sides of your thighs as they gently kneaded into the flesh and his lips peppered insistent kisses all over your inner thighs. he looked up from your thighs up to you, a pleading expression in his eyes, his lips slightly parted as breaths escaped them.
“please forgive me, my beautiful goddess…” he implored, his voice a mere whisper. “please please forgive me, I’ll never do the same I promise…”
you looked down at him, your fingers trailing to the side of his face to gently cup his cheek. he snuggled into the warmth of your hand almost immediately, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a soft sigh, letting his lips press a chaste kiss to your palm.
“I forgive you, rafe…” you whispered.
that made him look up at you, his eyes widened and the pleading expression draining out to be replaced with a hopeful one.
“yeah? you do?” he asked, squeezing your thighs in return.
“yeah,” you whispered back, giving him a small smile as you trailed your fingers to the side of his neck, gently scratching your nails against it. he let out a soft exhale at the sensation, letting his head drop to your thighs as your fingers made their way to the back of his neck, continuing the scratching motion. he almost purred in your lap at the feeling, nestling his face into your thighs.
“thank you…” he whispered against your skin. “I won’t disappoint you again, I promise,”
you let out a gentle sigh as you looked at his buried face in your thighs, your expression softening more.
“I know you won’t,” you mumbled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his head.
that night, he held you in his arms and kept you pressed against him, his warmth lulling you in the most beautiful slumber you had experienced in that past week. he made sure you fell asleep comfortably, his lips always pressing random kisses to whatever part of your skin he could succumb to, whispered sweet nothings stumbling past his lips to your ears to alleviate you to great heights.
it’s the annual fourth of july party at tannyhill. rafe is standing over the balcony, looking over the back yard. he’s holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and has his free arm wrapped around your shoulders.
“you see this?” he asks you, pointing out to the crowd below. he’s a bit drunk, letting loose for your favorite holiday. you love fourth of july. the fireworks, the massive inflatable water slide that ward had rented, the red white and blue themed desserts—everything was perfect.
“mhm, so pretty,” you respond. you’re not as drunk as he is but you’re getting there.
“it’s gonna be ours someday.”
you smile with your teeth showing. you loved when he got like this. he always promised you big things for your future and never failed to accomplish them. you’ve been together for a little over three years now, desperately waiting for him to put a massive ring on your finger.
“I can’t wait,” you stand on your tippy toes and press a warm kiss against his cheek.
he nodded his head, tossing back the rest of his whiskey down his throat. he placed the glass down on the edge of the balcony carefully before reaching down and picking you up. you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, but a pout rests on your face. “baby I wanna see the fireworks.” you whine quietly.
a/n: if ur seein this its my first fic on here <3 hope its good, i actually don't hate it. it's long for my first tho.
word count / 1.3k
warnings: mean turned nice rafe, angst, fluff, vulnerability, sexual activity mentioned once non-explicitly
to you, love was just something people found in the movies. it was fiction. you had given up on finding love a long time ago.
but here you were. looking at him and feeling so much love. rafe cameron. you smiled to yourself. how did you get here? how did you even know that you loved him? that you were in love with him? you just knew.
if someone had told you that you'd be here in bed, spending your early morning with rafe, you wouldn't have laughed. no, you would've looked at them like they were deranged. "are you fucking crazy?" you'd say. "never in a million years."
you hated each other. rafe was the biggest asshole ever and you were the only girl who wouldn't put up with his shit. in your eyes he was some spoiled brat who turned to drugs when things didn't go his way. you hated how everyone glorified rafe and ignored who he really was. and you were like a punching bag to him. you frustrated him immensely. he hit and hit and hit you over and over again. only you hit back. he was so used to running over people with no regard to their feelings. he had to admit, he enjoyed the fight a bit.
the first time you had seen rafe differently was at topper's party, last spring. it was hot and muggy outside. it had stopped raining a couple hours earlier, before the party started. you were out back, sitting on the edge of the pool with your best friend niya. there were people everywhere and you were starting to sweat. "i need out or im gonna die," you told niya. you got up and walked toward the house.
she shouted after you. "please don’t take your sweet time!"
you rolled your eyes and smiled.
i need to find a bathroom. i can get away from everybody in there.
you kept walking throughout the house knocking on and opening doors until you found one. finally, shit. when you opened the door all the way, you were met with an unfortunately familiar face.
"what the fuck?" he looked at you with disbelief.
"rafe?" you're kidding.
you were pissed now. you were hot and sweaty and just when you thought you had a chance to breathe you run into him.
"get out."
"gladly," you were about to turn around when you noticed something. his nose was red, his eyes watery. almost as if he’d been crying. "wait, were you crying?”
"get the fuck out, now."
"no, not until you answer my question."
he rolled his bloodshot eyes. "no, i wasn't crying."
"it's okay to have feelings rafe, i know you're not used to it."
that set him off. his tough exterior crumbled when he was around you. you never failed to get under his skin. he lunged for you, grabbing you by your arm before you could react. he dragged you inside the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you, reaching down to lock it.
"and i know you're not used to being anything other than a fucking bitch."
while you would've fired back with some smart ass comment any other time, you weren't worried about his insults right now. no matter how rude he was to you, you were genuinely concerned. you'd never seen him show any emotion other than anger or annoyance.
"rafe, i'm serious. are you okay?" you asked softly. you and rafe stared at each other for what felt like years. he was scared now. he didn't show it but it felt like you could see right through his big, scary act. but he couldn't look away. you had him hypnotized and he could see the genuine worry in your eyes.
"what do you care?"
"im not as big of a bitch as you say i am. i have a heart."
he realized he had you against the door, your head caged between his arms. he stepped back and broke eye contact to stare at the ground.
"i just- i'm going through it right now." he dragged his hands down his face. "i dont wanna talk-" the tears were back.
you stepped towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist. the fuck? what is she doing? he stood there confused. the hug actually felt....good. so he let his arms hang and the tears fall.
"it's okay rafe, you don't even have to tell me."
he finally hugged you back. now he was sobbing, pouring his heart out into the hug. into you. you hugged him tighter. you were so sweet, he realized. he couldn't believe he spent all this time hating you, insulting you every chance he got. how could anyone hate this sweet, sweet girl? nobody had been there for him like this.
his father didn't believe in emotions. maybe that was why he was like this. he felt like he had to be an asshole. not because he wanted to but because if he didn't protect himself, who would?
rafe tucked his head into your shoulder. you smelled amazing, like strawberries and vanilla. it added to your sweetness.
"shhh it's okay." you rubbed his back. "let it all out."
so he did. and when he was done, he pulled away from you and you let him. your heart panged a little at the loss of warmth. but you were glad he let you in. it wasn't as hard as you thought because you genuinely were a good person. rafe just had it out for you for some reason. you acted how you did towards him in self defense.
"dont say shit about this to anyone." good ole rafe.
"oh im so ready to tell everyone," you deadpanned.
"seriously."
"i would never."
"thanks." he sniffled, glancing at you then at himself in the mirror. "really, thank you."
"anytime." you smiled that sweet smile. he hated that he actually liked it.
rafe found a hand towel then turned the sink on, wetting it. he turned it off and wiped his tears away. he looked at you one more time and actually smiled. you stepped out of the way as he reached for the door, opening it and walking out.
you hadn't talked to rafe for a couple months after that. you'd see him around but he'd make it a point not to look at you. at least not while you were looking at him.
it wasn’t until the beginning of summer that you’d heard from him again. you were lying in bed, watching the sunset out the opened doors of your balcony when he called you. how rafe got your number you couldn’t figure out (you make a mental note to ask him about it when he wakes up). but you picked up, and thank God you didn't hate him anymore or you would've hung up when you heard his voice.
thank God you didn't hate him.
he hated to admit it but, "i need you." he said. "please."
and so you ran out your room and drove over to tanneyhill without a second thought. and you were there for rafe. eventually it became routine. he would call you when he needed a shoulder to lean on.
suddenly, his hate for you was gone. maybe it had been love masked as hate.
rafe let you know that he was there for you too, of course. after being around a vunerable rafe for a while, you finally let him in.
you and rafe spent the whole summer together. at the end of everyday, you found yourself wrapped in his warm embrace. you pretty much lived at tanneyhill. being with him felt better than the all the movies you’d watched and the books you had read.
you made love. you argued. you cried in each others arms. you laughed together. and kissed. and held each other, and so much more. but most importantly, you loved each other. and looking at him now, lying on his stomach , the sunrise shining on his toned back, you realized love wasn't fiction. it was real. you had found love. or maybe it had found you.
rafe was love.
a/n: i thought my first fic would be a drabble or smth, but it kept goin and goin and goin. i have drabbles in my drafts and they'll prob turn into full on fics. hope smb see's this and loves it! i would love feed back and suggestions. i dont have a masterlist or anything yet so this is just me trying smth out, thanks @littlelamy for encouraging me. i’m dedicating this to you! <3
