the power play (part two)

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01 ─ PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON

── SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. ── WARNINGS suggestive themes, nudity, swearing, graphic imagery. ── WORD COUNT 5.9k. Yikes. ── NOTES edited from third person perspective to second, so let me know if there are any mistakes. ── SERIES MASTERLIST ── SONG OF THE CHAPTER forget it by blood orange

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, so here.” 

You gather each item of clothing he sporadically scattered across the room earlier, bunching it in your arms and hissing as his belt loop harshly knocks against your elbow. You plop the pile on his belly as Rafe lounges lazily, one arm resting under his head and the other skimming over his bare torso.

The act neglects to faze him as he simply watches you, the thin grey sheets bunch up dangerously low around his hips as the clothes sit – with no intention of going back on his body anytime soon – idly in his lap. 

If anything, his eyes do all the talking: come back to bed. Now.

the power play (part one)

power play (noun)

an offensive tactic in a team sport; a deliberate attempt to manipulate someone.

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒/𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖻 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾

𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌

plot ── after you undergo a procedure to erase rafe from your memory, rafe, devastated by the realization, decides to do the same, only to find himself fighting to hold onto the love you shared, proving that some connections can never truly be forgotten.

main masterlist | ending vote | previous next

same parties, same people, same pull. it had been like that since the night at the gas station. somehow, you and rafe just kept ending up in the same places, running with the same crowd, brushing shoulders like it wasn’t a pattern. maybe it wasn’t at first, maybe it was just coincidence. but at some point, rafe started making sure it happened.

he’d show up, knowing you’d be there. knowing you’d already have a drink in your hand, knowing you’d be tucked into some circle of friends, laughing like you had no idea he was watching. and maybe you didn’t at first, but you caught on quick.

and then it became a game.

he was persistent, always had been, always would be. he had a way of making himself impossible to ignore, stepping into your space like he belonged there, sliding a drink into your free hand like it was a habit. “just take it, c’mon,” he’d say, cocky smirk in place, voice all smooth confidence. like you’d be doing him a favor by accepting it.

and you? you never made it easy.

you took the drinks, sure, because free alcohol was free alcohol, but that was about it. rafe would wait until you took a sip before leaning in, low and lazy, saying something like, “so when are you gonna let me take you out?” and every time, you’d just tilt your head, feigning consideration before smirking over the rim of your cup.

“i don’t do charity work.”

he always laughed when you said shit like that. full-bodied, head-tilted-back kind of laugh, because he knew you were just playing with him. and rafe didn’t mind a chase. in fact, he liked one.

so he kept showing up, kept offering drinks, kept asking. weeks passed, then months. different party, different night, same energy. he didn’t switch up his approach, didn’t try anything new, just kept making himself known, kept being there.

and maybe that’s what made you start to consider it. the fact that he wasn’t pushy about it, not really. he wanted you, yeah, but he wasn’t desperate.

he wasn’t in a rush. when you shot him down, he never sulked, never got pissed. just smirked, shrugged, took his rejection like it was temporary. “not yet, huh?” he’d say, sipping his own drink, like he already knew it was only a matter of time.

it wasn’t about playing hard to get. it was about making sure you actually wanted to be caught.

then one night, something shifted.

maybe it was the way you caught him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. something softer, something unguarded, something that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t like to acknowledge.

or maybe it was the way he just . . . stopped pushing. still made his rounds to you, still handed you drinks, still lingered in your space like he belonged there, but he didn’t ask, not this time. didn’t throw out the usual ‘let me take you out’ like it was muscle memory. he just leaned against the bar next to you, knocked his glass against yours, and muttered, “cheers, trouble.”

and you hated how that made your chest go tight.

so maybe that’s why, when he pulled out his keys to leave later that night, you reached out and plucked them right from his hand.

rafe blinked, watching as you twirled them around your finger, your expression unreadable. “oh, so now you’re stealing my shit?”

“just making sure you’re good to drive,” you mused, clicking the keys against your palm. your gaze flickered to his, then away. “besides. don’t you owe me a date or something?”

rafe went still for half a second, long enough for you to notice, but not long enough for you to comment on it. then he grinned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “baby, you’re the one making it a big thing.”

the poker table was lined with cigarette smoke and men twice rafe’s age, the kind of guys who had real money to lose but played like they didn’t care. it was exclusive, invite-only, the kind of room that sat above the main floor of the club, separate from the noise, the sweat, the bodies moving to the bass downstairs.

rafe had walked them in like he owned the place, a hand on your waist, low, the type of touch that said mine even though you weren’t, not yet.

you weren’t supposed to be here. no, not just here, this close to him.

“you ever played before?” rafe asked, pulling out a chair for you, casual like this was some first-date type shit.

you sank into the seat, thigh brushing his as he took his own beside you. he smelled like money, like the ocean at night, like expensive cologne and bad ideas.

“poker?” you shrugged, watching the dealer flick cards across the table. “only once, and i won.”

rafe smirked, tossing in a chip without hesitation, without looking at his cards. “then let’s see if you’re lucky or if you just talk a big game.”

you felt eyes on you. not just from him, but from the other men at the table, some amused, some annoyed. rafe wasn’t subtle about you, hadn’t been all night. he poured your drinks for you, let you lean into him when you laughed, touched your wrist when he wanted your attention.

when the next round came, he slid half his stack in front of you.

you raised a brow, “what are you doing?”

“you’re playing,” he said, like it wasn’t a question. “with my money.”

you glanced at the chips, then back at him. “you trust me with that?”

rafe leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, voice so low only you could hear it. “princess, i’d give you my whole fucking wallet if you asked.”

your breath hitched, but you didn’t let it show. instead, you picked up the cards, glanced at them like you knew what you were looking at, and matched the bet across the table.

the next few hands blurred together, full of stolen looks and his arm slung over the back of your chair, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. you didn’t win every round, but you played smart, and rafe watched you the entire time, his knee knocking against yours under the table.

and when you did win, raking in a fat pile of chips, he just grinned.

“see?” you smirked, holding up a chip between your fingers, turning it over between the tips. “lucky.”

rafe took it from you, slow, deliberate, his fingers brushing yours.

“nah,” he muttered, watching you like he had you all figured out. “i think you just like taking my money.”

you bit your lip, tilting your head, feigning innocence. “is that a problem?”

rafe laughed, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair. “not at all, baby,” he murmured, voice dripping with something darker, something dangerous. “not at all.”

@luvrclub @nemesyaaa @flvredcas @montanajgbn @f4dedtouch @psychocitylights @faephoria @annaconscience @congratsloserr @rafekisser @grandfartvoid @vampiriito @countryclubwhore @yktayy9669 @lilou0401 @gemininormouzz @k4yr14 @pinkamenap1e @nelo321 @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @dreamybabbyy @peachyparkerr @drewstarkeytruelove @wtfisastiles @adoreeyou

𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚏

𝗒/𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗃 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗌

𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 @luvrclub

𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌

plot ── after you undergo a procedure to erase rafe from your memory, rafe, devastated by the realization, decides to do the same, only to find himself fighting to hold onto the love you shared, proving that some connections can never truly be forgotten.

main masterlist | previous

if you asked rafe when he first saw you, he’d say it was the gas station off route 12 just three years ago. not at some party, not tangled up in his sheets, not pressed against his truck with your hands fisting the collar of his shirt.

no, it was here, under the fluorescent lights, the buzz of the sign above him barely audible over the faint hum of cicadas in the thick summer air.

he wasn’t even supposed to be there. barry was waiting for him, and rafe was supposed to pick something up before heading to the house. but he figured he had time to kill, and the needle on his tank had been creeping toward empty. so he pulled off, already annoyed at the way the pump was slow as hell, and leaned against his truck, lighting a joint as he waited.

he probably wouldn’t have noticed you if you hadn’t made a scene.

“no, it’s not declined. i literally just used it earlier.”

your voice cut through the quiet, sharper than the static playing through the gas station speakers. rafe exhaled smoke through his nose, flicking his lighter shut, curiosity getting the best of him as he turned his head toward the store.

the cashier, some guy who looked like he barely gave a shit about his minimum-wage job, shrugged. “it’s not working.”

through the glass, rafe watched you huff, rifling through your bag like you might magically find cash stuffed at the bottom. but you hesitated, the pause just long enough to tell him that, no, you weren’t finding shit.

before he could think about it, he was already moving.

the bell chimed overhead as he stepped inside, the cool air of the store contrasting against the heat clinging to his skin. you turned fast, eyes narrowing when you saw him.

“put it on mine.”

the words came easy, and you blinked, lips parting slightly, like you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. “i don’t need your charity,” you muttered, arms crossing over your chest.

“good,” rafe shot back smoothly, flicking a twenty onto the counter. “wasn’t offering it.”

he watched the way your lips twitched, your expression shifting between irritation and something else, something more calculating. rafe knew that look well. you were debating whether or not to argue.

but, in the end, you didn’t. a full tank for free? hello?

you just let the cashier ring you up, grabbing the receipt without another word before pushing past him, the faint scent of coconut and tequila lingering in the space you left behind.

he followed you out, back into the sticky night air, watching as you pulled the nozzle from its holster.

“what?” you finally asked, shooting him a look.

rafe leaned against his truck, taking another slow drag of his joint. “nothin’. just wondering where a girl like you is going this late.”

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. “a girl like me?”

his smile is faint. “yeah. alone at a gas station, about to drive off into the night. could be dangerous.”

you rolled your eyes, twisting the cap back onto your tank. “i’m meeting my friends at a party.”

rafe nodded, like that made sense. “where?”

you hesitated. rafe took that as a good sign. “house on the north end,” you finally said. “heard of it?”

his grin was slow, cocky. “baby, that’s my party.”

the flicker of surprise across your face was brief. you were good at hiding things, he’d give you that. but he caught it anyway, the small tell in the way your fingers clenched around your keys.

“well then,” you said, voice light, “guess i’ll see you there.”

you slid into your car, headlights flashing on as you pulled away. rafe watched you go, the faint scent of burnt rubber lingering in the air as you sped off into the night.

yeah, he’d definitely be seeing you later. and when he did, the party was already in full swing.

the house was packed, music pulsing through the open windows, the bass vibrating under his feet as he stepped out into the backyard. he wasn’t looking for you. not really. but then he saw you.

perched on a cooler near the pool, a red solo cup in your hand, legs crossed at the knee. you weren’t with your friends anymore, left to watch the chaos unfold on your own.

rafe wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just watching.

then some guy, some nobody, some random idiot who clearly didn’t know who you were, stumbled up to you, leaning in too close.

rafe saw the way your expression shifted, the way your fingers tightened around your cup. you weren’t interested, but the guy was too drunk to care.

before you could shove him off, rafe was already there.

his hand clamped down on the guy’s shoulder, yanking him back hard enough that he nearly lost his footing.

“c’mon, man. she’s taken.”

you blinked, surprised, looking up at him. “am i?” you asked, voice teasing, but there was something sharp in your eyes.

rafe smirked, stepping closer, bracing his hands on either side of the cooler, slotting himself between your legs.

“you will be.”

you inhaled slow, your gaze never leaving his.

he could smell the liquor on your breath, the slight sheen of chlorine on your skin from your dip in the pool earlier. you tilted your head, studying him like you were deciding whether or not he was worth it.

he already knew your answer.

rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. “so what do you say?” he murmured, voice dripping with arrogance. “wanna let me drive you home tonight?”

you didn’t say yes. but you didn’t say no, either.

instead, you smirked, knocking back the rest of your drink before setting it aside. then you slid off the cooler, pressing a hand to his chest as you passed, palm dragging slowly over the fabric of his shirt.

“you’ve gotta catch me first,” you murmured, throwing him a look over your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

rafe grinned, exhaling slow.

he loved a challenge.

he loved you.

@luvrclub @nemesyaaa @flvredcas @montanajgbn @f4dedtouch @psychocitylights @faephoria @annaconscience @congratsloserr @rafekisser @grandfartvoid @vampiriito @countryclubwhore @yktayy9669 @lilou0401

plot ── after you undergo a procedure to erase rafe from your memory, rafe, devastated by the realization, decides to do the same, only to find himself fighting to hold onto the love you shared, proving that some connections can never truly be forgotten.

rafe stares at the card, his fingers gripping the edges so tightly the paper starts to bend. his breath is slow, shallow, like his body is forgetting how to function properly. the words blur together, but it doesn’t matter. he’s already memorized them.

he lifts his gaze to his father. ward stands stiff, arms crossed, staring down at his shoes like he’s the one who’s been blindsided. like he’s the one who just had his entire world gutted out of him in a single fucking sentence.

there’s guilt in the way he exhales through his nose, in the way his jaw slides ever so slightly, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“this is real?” his voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud will make it more true.

ward hesitates, then nods.

rafe lets out a short, breathless laugh, his chest rising sharply before sinking under the weight of it all. he shakes his head, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the card again, like maybe this time the words will rearrange themselves into something less impossible.

“so, what?” he scoffs, wetness pricking at his eyes. “they just . . . deleted me? like a fucking file on a computer?”

ward sighs. long, slow, through his nose. he knew this would be hard to explain.

“how many?” rafe asks. how many memories are gone now?

his father doesn’t answer right away. his jaw shifts, gaze dropping to the floor like he doesn’t want to say it. or maybe he’s just trying to soften the blow of something that can’t be softened.

when he finally speaks, his voice is careful. deliberate. “all of ‘em, bud.”

rafe scoffs again, but it’s weaker this time, like his body is struggling to keep up with his disbelief. he smiles, but it’s the kind that only comes when someone is trying not to fall apart.

“no . . . no. she didn’t. she wouldn’t do that.” he shakes his head again, faster this time. “that’s not even a fucking thing— i mean, erasing someone from your mind? since when did we have the tech for that bullshit? that didn’t happen.”

he throws the card onto the table like it burns to hold it any longer. gets up so fast his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. his chest is rising and falling too quickly, hands threading behind his head as he paces across the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, his fingers digging into his scalp.

ward doesn’t stop him. he just watches, his own grief settling deep in his expression. and maybe it’s not the same kind of grief. maybe it’s not the gut-wrenching, all-consuming, ‘i’ve lost the love of my life kind’, but it’s still there.

because he’s seen lacuna inc. before, out near the edge of the island, where no one really looks unless they’re desperate enough to. he’s seen it and he’s hoped no one he loves would ever consider walking through its doors.

but you did. a girl who once sat at his dinner table, who used to laugh with his family, who was supposed to be his daughter-in-law one day.

was rafe really that bad? bad enough to make you want to erase him?

rafe stops pacing so suddenly it’s like something clicks into place inside him. he turns, slipping out of the kitchen without another word. his father calls after him, but he doesn’t listen. his hands move on their own, grabbing his keys from the hook by the front door, pushing outside, stepping into the thick outer banks air like he’s coming up for air after drowning.

he doesn’t know where he’s going.

apparently, he can’t go to you.

but he’ll do something.

a/n: just the short little prologue so def let me know if ud like to be tagged for this one!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"come on,” rafe whispered, his voice soft but urgent as he tugged you through the trees, his fingers laced with yours. the sun had already started its slow descent, casting golden streaks through the leaves, and the salty air from the nearby beach clung to your skin.

“rafe,” you giggled, stumbling over a root. “slow down before I fall on my face.”

he only grinned, the kind of smile that was all yours — not the cocky smirk he wore around his friends, but something softer, something real. “youre not gonna fall,” he said, squeezing your hand. “ive got you.”

you rolled your eyes, but the blush creeping up your neck told a different story.

finally, you broke through the tree line and there it was — your hammock, swaying gently between two sturdy pines, tucked away where no one else could find it. your spot.

rafe let go of your hand for a second, grabbing the pile of blankets you’d hidden there last time. “alright,” he said, already climbing in and holding the hammock steady. “get in.”

you raised an eyebrow. “bossy much?”

“only when you take forever,” he teased, smirking as he watched you crawl in next to him. the second you were settled, rafe pulled you close, wrapping one arm firmly around your waist and using the other to tug the blankets over both of you. the hammock rocked softly beneath your combined weight, the familiar creak blending with the rustle of the wind in the leaves.

“you good?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

you nodded, nuzzling into his chest. “when im with you? yes.”

rafe chuckled, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to find yours, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand. “youre really gonna kill me with this sweet talk,” he said, but his voice was warm, his usual sarcasm softened by the weight of the moment.

“you love it,” you whispered, tilting your head back just enough to look at him.

his smile faltered for a beat — not because he was upset, but because the look on his face was suddenly too tender, too raw. “yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “i do.”

you watched him for a moment, taking in the little things — the way his jaw clenched slightly, like he was fighting the urge to kiss you again; the way his hand never stopped moving against yours, like he needed the contact as much as you did. this was the rafe cameron no one else got to see. the boy who held you like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

silence settled between you for a while — not awkward, but comfortable. the kind of quiet that only came when two people didn’t need to fill the space with words. the sky slowly shifted from gold to soft pink, the waves a distant murmur behind the trees.

after a while, you broke the silence. “do you ever think about… not hiding anymore?”

you felt rafe chuckle, his hand tightened around yours before relaxing again.

“all the time,” he finally said, his voice a little rougher now. “i think about walking you home and kissing you on your front porch — not caring if your brother’s watching. i think about marking you up all pretty, letting them talk. hell,” he chuckled softly, “i even think about your brother threatening me. at least then, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

your heart twisted — not in a bad way, but in that way it always did when rafe said things like this.

he shook his head. “i just… i don’t want to hide you. not from anyone.”

he didnt give you time to answer, pressing his lips to yours. the kiss he gave you then wasn’t rushed or rough — it was soft, lingering, like he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him. the hammock rocked gently with the motion, the blankets still tangled around you both, the trees swaying above. his hands cup your jaw, and you let him guide you.

when you finally pulled back, breathless, you rested your forehead against his. “you know,” you murmured, “when my brother finds out… you might actually die.”

rafe chuckled, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “worth it.”

you smiled, your heart swelling at the simplicity of his answer. “youre insane.”

“im in love,” rafe countered, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

your breath hitched. it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but every time, it still hit you like a wave. he didnt hand out his love like candy, so it was liberating to hear those words.

“im in love too,” you whispered back.

rafe grinned, pulling you even closer — if that was possible. “good,” he said softly. “because you’re stuck with me, pretty girl." his lips meet yours once again. rafes lips parted against yours, and you responded, your hands finding their way to his neck, pulling him closer. the kiss deepened, slow and intentional, a perfect rhythm only the two of you seemed to know.

his fingers slipped through your hair, sending sparks racing across your skin as he kissed you like he never wanted to stop.

his hands moved quickly, one sliding into your hair, tugging you closer, while the other slipped to the small of your back, pressing you into him. you could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes, the strength of his arms, and the undeniable need in the way he kissed you.

the kiss deepened, and this time, there was no holding back. you parted your lips, letting his tongue slide against yours. a soft moan escaped you, and rafe responded with a growl, the sound vibrating in his chest. his hand slid from your back to your thigh, sliding under the edge of your shirt, his fingertips lightly grazing your skin.

you arched into his touch, your hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. rafe pulled back just long enough to look at you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

“are you sure about this?” his voice was low, like he was trying to catch his breath, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

you didn’t hesitate, your lips finding his again, this time with more urgency. your fingers pulled at his shirt, finally getting it off, your hands roaming across his chest as you felt the solid warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

rafes hands moved faster, slipping under your shirt, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, sending shivers through you. his lips left yours, trailing down your neck, kissing you with a hunger that made your pulse race. “you drive me crazy,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin.

“them stop talking,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. his hands moved quickly, one sliding into your hair, tugging you closer, while the other slipped to the small of your back, pressing you into him. you could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes, the strength of his arms, and the undeniable need in the way he kissed you.

the kiss became more frantic, more desperate, as the world outside seemed to disappear. it was just the two of you now, tangled in the hammock, bodies pressed together, each kiss a promise of something deeper.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

We Are the People

The sun is sinking low, spilling gold across the highway, and the wind whips through your hair as Rafe flies down the empty road, one hand on the wheel, the other curled around your thigh.

The windows are down, music blasting, something with a pulsing beat that makes your chest feel light, makes you want to throw your head back and close your eyes.

You do.

The wind rushes past, warm and endless, carrying the scent of salt and sun-baked asphalt. You stretch your arm out of the window, fingers cutting through the air like you could reach out and touch the sky.

Rafe glances at you, that sharp, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“What?” you ask, voice barely carrying over the wind and the music.

He shakes his head, eyes flicking back to the road. “Nothin’. Just like seein’ you like this.”

Like this. Like free. Like untouchable. Like you belong nowhere and everywhere all at once.

His grip on your thigh tightens for just a second, like he’s grounding himself, like if he lets go, you’ll slip right through his fingers.

You turn your head, watching him. The golden light catches on his cheekbones, on the sharp line of his jaw, on the way his hair falls just right, sun-bleached and messy from the wind. He looks like he was made for this. For the speed, the recklessness, for the way summer bends around him, like it’s his for the taking.

“Faster,” you murmur, just to see what he’ll do.

His smirk deepens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The car roars as he presses the gas, the world blurring around you. Your heart stutters, then soars. Rafe laughs, wild and bright, and it’s infectious, spilling out of you like you can’t hold it in.

You feel alive. Weightless. Invincible.

The car screeches to a stop, sand crunching beneath the tires. You’re already out, your feet sinking into the warm sand before the door even closes. Rafe’s right behind you, grabbing your hand, pulling you toward the water.

The sky is a canvas of orange and pink, the sun hanging low above the horizon, the world bathed in golden light. The air smells like salt and freedom, and the waves crash softly against the shore as if they’re part of some secret you’re in on.

Without a second thought, you kick off your shoes and run, your laughter spilling into the air as you race toward the water. Rafe’s not far behind, but when he catches up, he pulls you into the surf, his hands on your waist as he spins you around, the cool water splashing against your skin.

“Wanna see if you can outrun me?” he teases, his voice barely audible over the rush of the waves.

You grin, heart racing, eyes glinting in the fading sunlight. “You’re on.”

You sprint, water spraying up around you, the sound of your feet slapping against the wet sand. But Rafe’s faster—always faster—and before you can make it far, he catches you, his arms locking around your waist, pulling you under the water with him.

You break the surface, gasping for air, laughing harder than you thought you could. His hands are still on you, warm against your skin, and his touch is so easy, so natural, like nothing in the world could ever be as simple as this moment.

Rafe’s eyes hold yours, the light reflecting in them, making them almost as bright as the sunset itself.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice soft, but heavy with something that makes your heart skip.

You smile, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, brushing away the water dripping down his face. “You too.”

And right there, with the sun sinking lower, with the ocean stretching out endlessly before you, you know—this won’t last forever.

Because nothing this good ever does.

But for now? For right now, with Rafe’s arms around you, with the world at your feet and the sky burning gold—this is everything.

And you let yourself believe in it.

(i listened to the song we are the people by empire of the sun while writing this so yeah it inspired me i also miss the summer so so much)

TAGLIST @bluemerakis @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deanswidow @beausling

title: rafe's personal playboy bunny

warnings: 18+, smut

background: before moving to obx with your best friend, you were featured in a small playboy spread. when rafe found out about your past gig, he decided he needed to take some photos of his own.

the first purchase was a camera. top of the line, mirrorless, sleek in his hands like it belonged there. he spent too long in the store testing lenses, zooming in and out, asking questions he already knew the answers to. but it wasn’t just about the camera—it was about the setup, the lighting, the fucking vision he had in his head of you spread out and glistening under a spotlight, looking like something out of a magazine, but better. raw. real.

then came the tripods, the softboxes, the LED panels. he wanted precision, control over every shadow and highlight. you weren’t just a girl in front of his camera. you were a masterpiece he was going to create, frame by fucking frame. he tested angles in his room before even bringing you into it, adjusting the height, the placement, imagining the way the light would kiss your skin, the way the shadows would carve out every perfect line of you.

by the time he called you in, the room was transformed. not just a bedroom anymore, but a set. the walls lined with blackout curtains, the bed pushed to the center like a stage, soft sheets rumpled just enough to look inviting. and then, there was the table—laid out with more than just camera equipment. a collection of toys, sleek and glistening under the studio lights, each one carefully chosen. he wanted to see you use them, wanted to capture everything.

“strip,” he said, adjusting the focus, not even looking at you yet. the camera clicked as you peeled away your clothes, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight through you. his voice was low, measured, but you could hear the edge to it, the hunger buried beneath control. “slow. take your time.”

he guided you, not with touch, but with words. told you where to sit, how to arch, where to let your hands wander. the camera clicked with every motion, freezing you in time, making you immortal in pixels. and then, his voice dipped lower, dark amusement curling around each word. “pick one.”

your eyes flicked to the table. so many choices. some familiar, some new. you hesitated, and he caught it, a smirk tugging at his lips as he zoomed in, the lens capturing every little flicker of anticipation across your face. “don’t be shy now. you posed for strangers before, didn’t you? this is just for me.”

heat coiled in your stomach as you reached out, fingers grazing over the cool surface of a toy before wrapping around it. the moment you held it up, the camera clicked again, a satisfied hum escaping him. “good girl,” he murmured, stepping closer, adjusting the angle. “now show me how you use it.”

his voice guided you, steady, unwavering, the authority in it making your breath hitch. “start slow,” he instructed, eyes never leaving the viewfinder. “press it to your skin first. tease yourself.”

you obeyed, trailing it over your thighs, over the soft dip of your stomach, your lips parting when you felt the first shiver of pleasure. the camera clicked. “yeah, just like that. drag it lower.”

his breath was audible, heavy through the silence, the sound of the camera shutter filling the space between you. “spread your legs wider. let me see everything.”

your pulse pounded as you followed his orders, your fingers trembling slightly as you brought the toy exactly where he wanted it. the moment it pressed against you, a sharp inhale echoed from behind the lens. “fuck, that’s beautiful. turn it on.”

the vibration jolted through you, and the camera caught the exact second your mouth fell open, your eyes fluttering shut. “keep them open,” he reminded you. “look right at me. let me see what it does to you.”

his commands were precise. “circle it. slower. now press it in—yeah, just like that, princess.” the camera clicked with every change in your expression, capturing the way your brows knitted, the way your lips trembled. “use your other hand,” he murmured. “play with your tits. make it pretty for me.”

heat coiled tight in your stomach as you did exactly as he said, teasing and touching as he dictated, the pleasure intensifying with each passing second. the room was nothing but the sounds of the toy, your own soft gasps, and the rhythmic snap of the shutter as he immortalized every filthy moment.

“push it deeper,” he ordered, voice thick. “fuck yourself on it.”

you whimpered at the words, legs shaking as you moved the toy in and out, every motion perfectly timed to his direction. “yeah, just like that,” he praised, the camera still clicking. “God, you’re gorgeous honey.”

he didn’t stop until he had everything he wanted. until you were spent, trembling, and completely undone beneath the heat of his lens, captured forever in a way only he would ever see.

tags: @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl

SAD!STRIPPER!READER WITH NICE!POGUE!RAFE.

warnings — mentions of stripping from a young age, paying for sexual services, angst, fluff if u like squint ig, mentions of underage stripping (18) mentions of abuse, profanity, idk thats like it ok enjoy

plz plz keep in mind that i am not a stripper n this fic is likely not accurate

BONUS POINTS IF U NOTICE THE DETAIL IN THE ENDDD

reader is technically latina in my mind , but u can imagine her as different if u want idc. reader is shorter, n more petite for the storyline

enjoyyyy and lmk ur thoughts in the notess

this wasnt rafes first choice. he had just gotten off work, and all the bars had closed at 2am around 30 minutes ago. but he desperately needed a glass of whiskey. the only place still open that served alcohol, was the towns one and only strip club.

he thought it once over, weighing the pros and cons in his head, before ultimately deciding that there wasnt too much that could go wrong if he went. it was so late, it probably wouldn’t even be too busy. he would get his drink, and go home.

or so he thought. he was right about the busyness of the place, but the second he saw you sitting on the edge of the stage, legs dangling, leaning back on your hands, he knew he wasnt gonna leave right away. he was the only guy in there, thank god.

he managed to make it to the bar, ordering a double instead of his usual single. he knew he had to talk to you, but he also knew he needed the extra confidence. you weren’t facing the bar, allowing him to really analyze your face. you looked, sad. now that he really looked at you.

it was odd. you didnt even look temporarily sad, it looked permanent. like the emotion had been etched into you since birth. he couldn’t stop looking. his eyes finally left you when the barkeep set his bill down infront of him. he called out after, “who do i talk to for a private session?”

the bartender sighed, rolling her eyes. “there’s only like two dancers left here, ‘n they probably aint up for a session right now.” rafe shook his head, speaking up again. “i’ll pay good. as much as she’ll take.” the woman glanced up, behind rafe. “go talk to james, up there. he’ll set you up.” rafe nodded, leaving a $20 on the bartop and heading over to the man.

he was an older guy, he looked rough. tired. he was sitting in a chair, counting money. the mans eyes looked up at him, looking him over. he spoke. “what you need, kid?” rafe cleared his throat, a bit nervous. “was looking for a private session. with the girl over there.” the man chuckled, the gravely noise filling the air. “bambi. her names bambi.”

rafe nodded, taking his wallet out. “yeah— i want her.” the man raised his brows at the leather in rafes hand, speaking. “you want a vip session, or a private?” rafe furrowed his brows, confused. “whats the difference?” the man smiled again, clearly amused.

“vip, you can touch her, and she can take off her clothes. but she charges however much she wants. how long you want her?” rafe ran the mans words through his mind, thinking. he wanted to talk to her for a while. he wanted to see her fully, no matter the price. “the vip. i want her for an hour.”

the man nodded, writing something down on a piece of paper. “she’ll probably charge you around $850 for that. that okay?” rafe nodded, wincing a bit at the price. the man spoke up again, “also, if she does end up taking her clothes off, tip her well. really well.” the man smiled eerily creepy, insinuating something that made rafe feel off.

the manager yelled something in spanish at the girl, her understanding. she headed to the door behind her. the manager yelled something nodded rafe off to follow her. he trailed behind her, noticing her skimpy yet comfortable clothes. she had on a tiny bra, barely covering her nipples. and a thin as floss thong underneath the black sweats that hanged low on her hips.

she had really long hair. down past her ass. it was straight too.

he wanted to know if that was its natural state or not.

he wanted to know her. in and out. her pet peeves, her hobbies, her fears.

she led him to a room, lit up by red lights. it contained a large velvet black couch, a coffee table, and a pole. the girl sat down on the couch, her knees tucked to her chest. rafe paused infront of her, unsure. he had never been anywhere like this. she looked up at him, her sad looking eyes, before she spoke. “are you gonna sit?” he nodded quickly, sitting to the side of her.

she was looking at him, and he returned her gaze. she was beautiful, genuinely. she wasn’t even wearing any makeup either, completely bare. he liked looking at her. a lot. she spoke, again. “are you okay?” he laughed, not on purpose. just on instinct. “yeah? why do you ask?”

she let her chin rest on her knee, still keeping his gaze. “because you aren’t telling me what you want me to do.” he studied her expression, accidentally stopping at her lips for a moment. “i just want you to do whatever you wanna do.” she sat up at this, checking his face to make sure he was serious.

he could tell she didnt know how to respond, so he spoke again. he was starting to get more comfortable. “you wanna tell me about you?” she nodded, before answering. “what do you wanna know?” he shrugged. he honestly just wanted to hear her talk. “how’d you get into stripping?”

she let her eyes drop from his, fidging with the drawstring of her sweats instead. “i was really young. like, younger then i should have been. i needed money— and i just went to the first club i could find. then i moved states, started working here.” he nodded, listening to her talk. he liked her voice.

“why’d you move?” she glanced around the room, before nervously speaking. “this ex boyfriend. wouldn’t leave me alone, so i left.” he nodded, looking straight ahead now too. he felt guilty for asking, but he didnt know why. he knew she seemed uncomfortable about it though. he wouldn’t mention it again.

“you like what you do?” he asked. she nodded. “mhm. its fun, ‘n the moneys good.” he registered her words, holding on to them. “why’d you get into it so young?” she tensed up, again. he felt bad. “needed to get out of my dads house. needed to eat.” rafe nodded. the more he listened to her, the more he analyzed her features, he realized just how truly sad she seemed.

“isnt it dangerous? bein’ so young and stripping. has anything ever happened?” she chewed on her bottom lip, looking down. “more at the first club then here.” he nodded, urging her to continue. “what happened at the first club?” she sighed, rolling her eyes. she seemed, off.

“the manager— he wasn’t good. he was pimping on the side ‘n would use girls from the club. he wouldn’t give us a choice about it either; if you didn’t wanna walk the blade, he would— take more out of your pay, beat on the girls ‘n stuff like that.” she spoke. rafe felt nauseous. it was so sick. this girl was no older then 21. she started working underaged at the club, to a pimp who beat her.

rafe spoke. “you were a hooker?” she looked at him, disappointedly. “no. i told him i wouldn’t do it.” rafe felt bad for asking that. she seemed offended. “so he beat you?” rafe spoke, her answer being a light nod. “yeah. he set me up too.” he looked at her, his brows furrowed concerningly.

“set you up like how?” he asked, softly. she tucked her knees back to her chest, before speaking. “had these guys jump ‘n rape me when i was leaving work. why are you asking me this?” her expression was one that rafe couldn’t make it out. it seemed like she was almost nonchalant about the topic.

“i just— sorry. im sorry. you dont have to talk to me about it.” rafe spoke. that killed him. she was a small girl too, defenseless really. and she probably thought that treatment was normal. like she deserved it. she studied his expression for a moment, before looking away. a silence fell in the room. for a while, too. until finally, she spoke again. “why haven’t you told me to take my clothes off yet?” she asked, looking back to him. he shrugged. that idea hadn’t even came to mind yet.

“i ‘dunno. you can if you want.” she narrowed her eyes, her brows furrowed. “you paid $750 to talk to me for an hour?” rafe laughed, before replying. “i guess, if you put it that way.” she smiled, for the first time they had been in that room. “so, you didn’t come in here to fuck?” she asked. he shook his head immediately, answering. “no. god no. i just wanted to talk to you.”

she tilted her head, checking his gaze for seriousness. “why?” he shrugged yet again, “you interested me. you’re really pretty too.” she smiled, again. he liked that it was him that made her smile. “thank you.” she spoke, rafe nodding. “your hours almost up.” she reminded him, rafe sighing. “can i pay for another one?” she looked at him, like he was asking the dumbest question in the world.

“you’re not paying me just to talk. i wont let you. and the clubs gonna close soon.” she spoke. rafe chewed his lip, he wanted to keep talking. he had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if she would even be okay with it. he figured he could try, though. “can we go to your place?” he asked carefully, tiptoeing over the question. she raised her brows, replying. “its against the policy to go home with customers.” she said.

rafe was about to give up, shoving the idea off his mind before he heard her speak again. “just— here,” she trailed off, grabbing a pen from the pocket of her sweats. she took his hand, writing an address on the top of it. “you can come. but we aren’t fucking. or doing anything like that.” rafe was fucking ecstatic.* he didnt even wanna fuck her, he would take what he could get.

he tried to reply as nonchalantly as he could, brushing off the way his fingers felt against hers. how small her hand was compared to his. “yeah. thats perfect— thats fine. thank you.” she nodded, getting up from the couch before turning and looking at him, speaking. “leave 10 minutes after me. dont make it obvious.” he nodded, looking up at the idea of the most beautiful girl he had ever dreamt of.

she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss below his eye. it felt like he was in fucking highschool, painfully hard in his pants from a brush of a hand and a kiss on the cheek. she left the room after that, leaving rafe. he figured she was gonna be leaving then, so he waited his 10 minutes before getting to his truck and leaving too.

he pulled into a small house, deep in the ghetto. it was decorated nicely though, string lights and wind chimes adorning the front porch. he got out of the truck, knocking on the door shortly after. she answered, looking showered with her hair wet. she was wearing a big graphic t-shirt, lettering adorned on the back of it. didn’t seem like she was wearing pants.

“hey,” he spoke, smiling down at her. he realized truly how small she was, tiny really. it was clear now why she was called ‘bambi’. “hi. she spoke, inviting him in. he walked in, analyzing the place. it was clean, very clean. cozy, too. warm lighting filling the room. she walked through the room, him figuring he should follow. he had to be at least a foot taller then her.

he followed, her walking into a room. seemed like it was hers. it was filled with candles, vanilla. he liked it. she sat on her bed, leaving him standing. he didn’t wanna sit on her bed if she didnt want him too. but she spoke, clearing the air. “you can sit.” he nodded, moving to the other side of her bed. he took his shoes off, before she spoke. “you can take your pants off too.” he nodded, slipping his jeans off and sitting to the side of her.

“can i ask you something?” she spoke, him answering with a nod. “why haven’t you asked me for sex yet? and why are you being so nice?” he leaned back, his arms stretched behind his head. her sitting up still, next to him. he spoke “i dont expect you to do things you dont want to do. i just— think you’re a nice girl. i wanted to get to know you.”

she stayed silent for a moment, analyzing his face, before she spoke, “whats your name? he smiled, looking at her. “rafe.” she nodded, speaking back. “i like you, rafe. you’re sweet.” he laughed, replying. “thanks. ‘preciate it.” she laid down, her head unexpectedly going to his chest. he let her, lifting his arm for her to lay on. she pulled the blanket over the two of them, putting on a movie soon after.

this felt— intimate. domestic. he liked it. he wanted to do this often, specifically with her. only her. he carefully let his hand go to her hip, testing the waters. she didnt tense, didnt flinch. in fact, she almost seemed to lean in to his touch. he really, really liked that.

he watched the movie with her, a silence filling the air. except it wasnt uncomfortable. it was more then comfortable, it felt good. he soon felt her go limp against him, presumably falling asleep.

he wouldn’t move a fucking inch. he liked this so, so much. maybe too much. he felt already attached to her. which might have been bad, but he couldn’t bring myself to care. he would savor this moment, and hold on to it as long as he could. he was relaxed by her presence, put at peace.

he soon felt exhaustion fill him, succumbing to rest.

he woke up for a moment, presumably in the middle of the night, to her laying more on top of him now. her head resting to the side of his, her legs tangled with his. he rubbed her back absentmindedly, eyes catching on to her hair. it was dry now. long, pretty, loose curls falling from her head.

now he knew, her natural hair was wavy.

tags — comment if u wanna b added, or taken off.

@lacehartz @battybaby111 @maybanksangel @kittyreposts @littlelamy @theeternaloptimistt @enchantedstarfish @iwishiknew-69 @heavenlyangelbaby @rafesdoe @whinyangel