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some protector. (ii)
In the past, you and Rafe enter each other’s lives and change in ways neither of you expect. In the present, you’re worried that you haven’t changed one bit.
good girl/pogue!reader x rafe cameron
chapter one | two
words: 6622
warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of throwing up, allusions to bullying, abusive situations, kissing, lowkey panic attacks, attempts at parallels, possible ooc rafe but only because he’s being sweet
a/n: why is this chapter twice the length of the first one? lmao. i think i like pre-established relationships wayyyyy to much !!!
o2: all at once familiar and foreign
[in the past]
Rafe Cameron is a bit intimidating.
His reputation precedes him. An obnoxious Kook boy who parties too hard and studies too little; a boy who could wreak havoc on your whole school and get away with just a slap on the wrist. Who would dare to step up to someone whose father could drag them into the ground?
Not you… definitely not you.
Not because you couldn’t, more because you had no reason to. You had better things to worry about than some rich kid with zero fear of consequence swimming through his mind. Rafe was as much of a background character in your life than you were in his— sure, you were classmates who saw each other every day, but there’s no reason he’d be interacting with you. The line that separates you from Kook royalty is drawn loud and clear.
Well, that was until you started tutoring Sarah Cameron.
“What the hell?” Were the first words out of Rafe’s mouth when he answered the door on your first day. His first words to you ever. You stood in front of the grand front door of the Cameron house, still dressed prim and proper in your school uniform despite biking from school, while he had already changed out of his: shirtless (because of course he is), and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that sat low enough on his waist for you to lose your train of thought.
He must’ve just showered, with his face flushed and hair damp and messy and sticking to his forehead. You catch yourself staring just long enough to realize that he has caught you staring him down.
“Oh… hi.” You greet him, heart racing. “I’m here to tutor Sarah.”
Rafe tilts his head, “You’re the tutor?”
Your eye twitches because there’s something about the way he says it; like he’s shocked and amused, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh in your face or let you in.
“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Your dad contacted me personally to set this up. Tuesdays and Thursdays after school.”
Rafe hums and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You’re that Pogue girl from fourth period, right? The fisherman’s daughter.”
You raise your chin. “I’m also top of our grade. But sure, let’s go with that.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his face. It’s gone in an instant, replaced with a smirk.
But before he could respond, Sarah’s voice rings out from deeper in the house. “Rafe! Is that the tutor?”
“She’s all yours, princess,” Rafe calls over his shoulder. He steps aside, but not without giving you a once-over that makes your skin feel hot. “Good luck.”
You frown as you walk past him, and you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes on your back.
But try as you might, Rafe Cameron is hard to ignore.
His house was huge; there were too many hallways and high ceilings that should’ve made sure you never crossed paths. Yet, he still finds a way to linger in the background like some sort of ghost for your first few visits. Sometimes you heard his music thumping from upstairs, sometimes he was gone entirely doing god knows what. But there are moments when you catch him watching you. Just glimpses: leaning on the banister above the sunroom where you tutored Sarah, or perched on the stairs as you pack your things. His gaze is unreadable, always lingering a beat too long.
Even in the walls of Kook Academy where everyone else whispered storms around you, you sometimes caught Rafe silently staring at you from across the classroom, or in the hall while you swapped books out from your locker. He kept himself at an arm’s distance, and you paid him no mind the best you could while swallowing the fact that sometimes when you looked up, your eyes were searching for his without even realizing.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
It isn’t until a few weeks of catching glimpses of Rafe that you finally speak to him again.
It was at a party one of the seniors from your club was throwing— something you were offhandedly invited to, and something you were not planning on attending until one of your old friends from The Cut called you in the middle of the night.
“I’m throwing up in the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen.” Her words were slurred over the phone, and after confirming that she doesn’t have anyone to drive her home tonight, you immediately swipe the car keys off the kitchen counter and tiptoe out the front door to pick her up.
When you pull up to the house and walk inside, you’re immediately swarmed by what seems like the entirety of your school’s student body. You brace yourself as you swim through the crowd, eventually jogging up the stairs and repeating to yourself where your friend had told you she was posted. The second floor, four doors to the left.
You turn left and count the doors as you pass them, each decorated with some sort of ornate crowning that would make you feel dizzy if you were actually paying any attention. Four doors. Three doors. Two doors. One door.
“Hey I’m here, are you—” You're quick to open the door, only to be met with Rafe Cameron. Shirtless. Kissing some girl’s neck.
You barely even notice that this door did not open to the most beautiful bathroom you’d ever see. Heat crawls up your neck as Rafe looks up at you, pulling away from the girl he was holding to give you a genuinely surprised expression. His lips part and the beginning of your name starts at the curl of his tongue, but you’re quick to squeak out an apology before he can call out to you, slamming the door shut and scrambling towards the next door over.
There, you’re finally met with your friend groaning over some sort of fancy contraption that you could only assume was a toilet. You try to ignore the image of Rafe Cameron caging some girl against the wall to help your friend up, almost dropping her in the process when you remember the way he looked up at you. Did the mere sound of your voice do that much to take him out of the moment?
“Fuck, sorry.” You huff, wrapping your arm around your friend’s waist to steady her wobbling body.
You walked out the bathroom and into the hall, only to be met with Rafe pulling his shirt back on, his eyes lighting up when he saw that you hadn’t left.
Your mind feels numb, and you aren’t quite sure if the beating in your chest is from the bass reverberating throughout the house or your heart.
“Hey,” Rafe greets, smoothing down his hair before quirking a brow at your friend. “I didn’t know you had friends other than Sarah.”
You roll your eyes, tightening your grip on your friend’s waist.
“She’s a friend from my side of the island.” You muttered, finally glancing at Rafe to give him a quick once-over. His shirt was rumpled, half-tucked into his shorts, and his eyes are still hazy from whatever he was doing before you interrupted. But there’s something sharper behind them now… like he’s awake in a way he wasn’t just moments ago.
He lets out a low chuckle and steps toward you, snapping you out of your trance. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
Your friend groans dramatically in your arms, her head lolling forward and it makes you sigh, already dreading the dead weight she’s about to become.
Rafe watches for a second, then steps closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Here,” he says, voice low. “Let me.”
Before you can even protest, he’s sliding an arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her like she’s nothing. His forearm brushes across your chest briefly. Totally accidental, but something about it still sends a little shock through your spine.
“She’s heavier than she looks,” you manage.
Rafe grins. “Good thing I work out.”
You snort before you can stop yourself, which earns you a glance. A real one. Not the usual smirk or once-over, but something slower, something that lingers.
“You laugh different when you’re not at school,” he says, casually, like he didn’t just say something that made your heart skip a beat.
You blink. “You notice how I laugh?”
His gaze doesn’t flinch. “I notice a lot more than you think.”
Your breath catches for half a second before you look away, heat blooming on your cheeks.
The two of you make your way through the chaos of the house, dodging spilt drinks and stumbling students slurring, “Oh my god, is that the Pogue girl?”, whenever they passed you. You’d be bothered any other day, but for some reason, focusing on Rafe’s back made the chaos of the party unnoticeable.
Once you’re outside, you unlock your truck with a click. “I drove the Chevy my family uses for business. It’s beat-up. You can’t miss it.”
Rafe gives a half-laugh. “The one with the duct tape around the mirror?”
“Hey, that duct tape is structural.”
He lowers your friend gently into the passenger seat, making sure her head doesn’t hit anything. She mumbles something in her sleep, and you watch him silently as he buckled her in.
He closes the door, then straightens up before walking over to where you stood at the passenger side. He looks at you closer now, closer than he probably needs to be. His hand lingers on the roof of your truck.
“You sure you’re good to drive?”
You nod. “Didn’t drink. Just came for her.”
He studies your face for a moment, and the air feels heavier with whatever it is he’s not saying.
Then he cocks his head, “You’ve got that look.”
You frown. “What look?”
His voice dips just slightly. “Like you’re used to taking care of everyone but yourself.”
You don’t answer. Mostly because you can’t. Not when his words settle right in your brain and block your thoughts.
Rafe rocks back on his heels, then gestures to your truck. “Still… be careful. Lots of idiots out tonight.”
You narrow your eyes, trying to stay steady. “Are you… being nice to me?”
He gives a low laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”
But he’s smiling. Not smirking. Smiling. And it makes a wave of warmth crash through your body.
You open the driver’s door but hesitate, glancing back one more time. “Thanks. For helping.”
He lingers, looking at you through his lashes. “You should come to one of these parties not as a rescue mission sometime.”
“And do what?” you scoff. “Shotgun beers with the Kooks?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe just let someone take care of you for once.”
Your breath hitches. He holds your gaze for a second too long, then turns, disappearing into the house like nothing happened.
But you stay there. Frozen, heart thudding stupidly in your chest.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You don’t speak to Rafe until the following Tuesday tutoring session.
(Not that you’re paying attention)
He shows up in shorts and a grey hoodie, zipped up low enough for his chest to be visible. The hood of his sweater loosely covers his hand, and you notice that his hair’s damp again. You wonder if he’d come back from the beach. Sarah gives him a look when he wanders into the sunroom where you're reviewing chemistry formulas with her. “Do you mind?” she says, flicking a pencil at him. “You’re not subtle.”
“I live here,” Rafe deadpans, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and cracking it open. “Didn’t know I needed a reservation to hydrate.”
You keep your eyes on the textbook, even as you feel his stare burn like sunlight against your skin.
Sarah sighs. “If you’re staying, don’t distract—”
“Relax,” Rafe says, already dropping into the armchair across from you both. “I’ll be quiet. Like a ghost.”
He’s not quiet.
He interrupts twice to ask dumb hypothetical questions. At one point, he throws an eraser at Sarah and then blames it on you. Every time you look up, he’s already looking at you: amused, like he knows he’s getting under your skin.
But the weirdest part?
He listens. Actually listens. He doesn’t even pretend to be bored when you’re explaining molar mass. When Sarah groans and throws herself dramatically onto the couch, declaring she’s over it, you expect Rafe to leave with her.
Instead, he stays.
“Think you could tutor me sometime?” He asks with a smirk.
You snort. “Sure. I specialize in lost causes.”
He leans forward, arms braced on his knees, voice lower. “Bet you could fix me if you really tried.”
That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. And yet…
You clear your throat and shut the textbook a little too forcefully. “Session’s over.”
He grins. Like he knows he got to you. Because he did.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You couldn’t get Rafe out of your mind.
There was something confusing about him… he’s been hanging around you for months now, and the more you got to know him, the more you found out that he wasn’t all that he seemed. He teased you yet he seeks you out whenever you’re around. He was crass in a way all the Kooks in Figure Eight were, but at the same time he was kind like so many others hadn’t been. He was known as a stupid asshole party boy but was as clever as a whip, with a quiet kind of curiosity that made you feel seen.
You think about the way he leans in close whenever you speak, how his lips part whenever he says your name, how his lips were attached to that girl's neck at the party those fewmonths ago—
Fuck, you think, increasing the speed of your pedalling as you bike to the Cameron house. You had to stop thinking…
And it works, because Sarah had cancelled tutoring at the last minute, texting that she’s going out with friends. You showed up anyway—mostly because you forgot, mostly because you already made the ride.
You step inside when no one answers the door, calling out a soft hello.
No answer.
The house is oddly still.
You’re about to leave when a low voice catches your ear, muffled but sharp. You hesitate before following the sound, slow, careful not to make the floorboards creak. You knew who it came from, and something about his tone made you worry.
It’s coming from Ward Cameron’s office.
You’re halfway down the hall when you finally hear Rafe’s voice.
“I told you, I have it under control.”
Ward’s voice is colder. More precise. “What you have is a goddamn pattern, Rafe. Picking fights. Blowing money. Scaring off the clients we need. You think you’re bulletproof?”
“I’m doing everything you ask—”
“You’re doing everything wrong,” Ward cuts in, and the silence that follows is so thick you feel it in your teeth.
“You keep throwing my mistakes in my face,” Rafe says, quieter now. Bitter. “But you’ve made worse. You just hide yours better—”
That earns a sound that makes you flinch. Sharp, angry, skin making contact with skin.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that in my house.”
You flinch like you were slapped. You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.
You take a step back, heart thudding in your throat, only for your shoe to catch on the edge of the hallway rug with the softest shuffle of fabric.
Silence from the office.
Fuck.
You barely make it two steps off the porch before the door swings open behind you.
“Hey.”
Your breath catches.
Rafe.
He’s standing there like he was already on his way out, like he knew. His jaw’s clenched, cheeks flushed; not in that golden-boy, post-surf way, but like something just snapped.
Your stomach drops at the red mark blooming on the side of his face.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice low, guarded.
“I—” you hesitate. “Sarah canceled. I forgot. I was just leaving.”
“You heard that?” he asks, cutting straight through the lie.
You open your mouth. Close it again.
What point was there in lying?
His expression flickers. Not angry. Not yet. Just… raw. Like you peeled back something he’s spent years trying to bury.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he mutters, stepping out onto the porch, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you say quickly. “I—I wasn’t trying to snoop or whatever. I just… heard your voice.”
He laughs, but it’s bitter. Humorless. “Yeah, well. That’s what I am, right? Loud. Screwed up. Impossible to ignore.”
You shake your head. “That’s not—”
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you care.”
Your pulse jumps.
“Rafe, I—”
He says, stepping closer. “What do you even know? You’re just the perfect Golden Child with her whole life ahead of her while I’m some fuck-up who can’t do anything right.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering.
“Fuck,” he adds, voice softer now. “You’re always somewhere you’re not supposed to be. When I’m getting my ass handed to me, when I was at that party…”
He stops himself. Breath hitching. It’s like he’s weighing something dangerous on his tongue.
“I didn’t mean for you to see me like that,” he says. “With him. With that girl. With any of it. I didn’t mean for you to see me at all.”
And there it is.
The truth.
“You think I care about that?” you whisper, the words leaving before you can stop them. “That you’re not perfect? That you fight with your dad? Rafe, I don’t think less of you for any of that.”
He looks at you like he doesn’t believe it.
Like no one’s ever said that to him before.
You step closer, your voice trembling. “But I do care for you… but also, fuck. I’m worried, Rafe, of… whatever this is between us. Because it’s confusing and it’s not supposed to be happening.”
“Why not?” he says, voice rough.
“Because I’m supposed to keep my head down and get into college and not get tangled up with a Cameron.”
His eyes darken.
“But I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scaring me.” you admit. “It’s driving me insane.”
He moves then. Fast, but not reckless. Like he’s wanted to do this for weeks but was holding back out of some twisted sense of mercy. He cups your jaw with one hand, the other settling on your waist like he needs something to ground him.
“You don’t have to be scared,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Not of me.”
Then he kisses you.
And every second leading up to this; every stare, every smirk, every sleepless night replaying the way he looked at you just clicks.
Because this? This was always coming.
But by the time you process all of that, you barely notice, too focused on kissing him back to care.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You don’t see Rafe at school the next day.
Or the day after.
No lazy smirks across fourth period. No shoulder bump in the hallway. No lingering in the back of Sarah’s tutoring sessions.
You keep your head down and spend your time trying to convince yourself that you didn’t imagine it. The way he kissed you like the world might end mid-breath. The way his hands curled at your waist like he didn’t know how to let go.
You’re not sure what you are to him now, and maybe he isn’t sure either.
Tutoring feels weird today. Sarah’s restless, asking for breaks every fifteen minutes, texting someone under the table. You can’t even blame her. You’re not exactly making English sound all too interesting.
You’re finishing up, quickly sifting through some vocab when you hear him.
Footsteps from upstairs. Slow. Careful.
Your heart kicks up even though you’re pretending to focus on irregular verbs.
A beat. Then another. He stops in the hallway, just outside the sunroom.
You freeze.
"Hey," comes his voice. Soft. Almost too soft to catch.
You look up. He’s leaning on the doorway, dressed down in a hoodie and gym shorts, like he just rolled out of bed. But his eyes are alert. Tired, maybe, but tracking yours like they’re trying to say something his mouth can’t yet form.
"Hey," you say back, quieter than you mean to.
Sarah doesn’t look up, still glued to her phone.
There’s a long pause. Rafe scratches the back of his neck, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s even doing here. His gaze flicks to your notebook, then back to you.
“I was gonna… ask if you wanted a ride home.”
Your heart stumbles.
You blink. “Oh. Um… I biked.”
His lips twitch, something like a smile. “Right. Forgot you’re stubborn like that.”
You can’t help the small smile that slips through. “And you’re nosy.”
His hand drags through his hair, anxiously. Endearingly. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
You don’t know what to say next, and you think he might fill the silence, but then Sarah groans and mutters something about needing to pee, sliding out of her chair with her phone still in hand.
You and Rafe are left in silence.
And just before he turns away, he looks at you again; softer this time. Vulnerable, like a deer approaching a man with a gun.
“I meant what I said, you know,” he murmurs.
You tilt your head. “Which part?”
His jaw shifts, like he’s afraid of saying too much. “The part where I kissed you.”
You struggle to form a single thought. The air feels like it holds its breath with you. Rafe just gives a quiet nod, like he’ll take whatever you can give, even if it’s nothing yet.
But you call out to him as he’s about to turn around and leave.
“Rafe,” You call, heart skipping a beat at the speed he turns back to look at you. “Maybe I… I’ll take you up on that ride.”
He takes a beat before nodding silently, mumbling something about how he’d put your bike in the back of his truck and wait for you while you cleaned up your space. You barely remember to say bye to Sarah as you make haste towards the driveway, where Rafe was leaning against the passenger door. He opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you in as if your family didn’t also own a huge vehicle.
When he settles into the driver’s seat and starts the car, it’s the beginning of a long, long ride.
The air is charged with a sort of tension that’s happy to rest on your shoulders. You think about what you said earlier. What he said earlier. And the words, the feelings that have been building up since that kiss, make your pulse race all over again. The quiet moments, the stolen glances… everything feels different now.
The only sounds that fill the silence between you two are your directions and the soft rumble of the truck. You fidfet with the hem of your skirt, glancing out the window to avoid looking at him too directly. But by the time you reach your neighbourhood, you finally use a moment to take Rafe in; the way he chews the inside of his cheek and furrows his brow in thought… the way his eyes are focused on the road but you know his mind is probably thinking about all the same things you were…
The sun had already set as he pulled into your driveway, and it’s only then when you realize you’d barely spoken to him the whole ride here.
“Rafe,” You start, taking in how he immediately turns towards you in anticipation. You bite your lip, “Thank you for the ride.”
He nods. “No problem—”
“Wanna come inside?” His eyebrows raise at the offer, and even though your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest, you remain calm. “We should talk… away from my nosy neighbours.”
“Your parents would let a rowdy Cameron kid into your room with you alone?”
“No… just park a block away and come back through the window to my room, Rafe. I’ll let you in through there.”
Rafe is silent, taking a beat to consider your offer before he nods at your instructions. You leave the truck and unlock the door to your house, greeting your family before telling them you didn’t want to be disturbed in your room while you studied. They brushed you off with a nod, and you immediately head to your room to open your window; just a crack.
You take the time to quickly tidy your room; loose clothes and books were strewn across your room, and you picked them up and threw them in the closet with a clumsy quickness. The thought of a boy in your room… of Rafe Cameron in your room, even if he was just there to talk, made warmth bloom in your cheeks.
You’d tossed the last novel on top of your desk when you heard the tap on your windowsill— so quiet that you almost missed it.
Your breath catches as you turn towards your window because he’s there. Rafe Cameron, standing just outside your window, one hand on the ledge, hair wind-swept, eyes lit like he’s been wandering around in a storm and finally found home.
“You got here faster than I thought.” You say, moving to let him inside. Your eyebrows raise at the sight of him holding your bike by one handle.
He shrugs, “You left it in the back of my truck.”, and the thought of Rafe Cameron riding your beat-up pink bike back to your house makes you laugh a bit too loudly. He smiles back, carefully leaning your bike against your house before climbing in like it’s second nature, like he’s done it a hundred times before.
Rafe lands lightly on the floor of your room, his presence filling the space with a quiet intensity. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances around; eyes flitting over the books, the mismatched posters on your walls, the small trinkets scattered across your desk. He huffs out a chuckle at a picture of you posing with your brothers when you were kids, but there’s a moment of quiet, a bit of awkwardness that lingers between you both as he takes in the room.
You clear your throat, feeling the need to break the silence, even though you’re not entirely sure what to say.
“Rafe,” you start, catching his attention. He’d been smiling tensely, but upon seeing how you were looking at him, his lips quickly faded into a more serious expression. “What did you want to say to me earlier?”
He’s quiet, mustering up his words; the words that had been left unsaid.
“I guess,” he begins, voice a little rougher now, “I just wanted to make sure that kiss wasn’t just something that happened in the heat of the moment.”
You feel your heart leaping out of your chest as you shake your head, eyes locked on his.
“It wasn’t.” You whisper, your heart hammering in your chest as the words slip out before you can stop them.
Rafe’s expression softens at your response, his eyes searching yours, as though he’s trying to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood you. You can feel the weight of the conversation settling between you two, but something about it is different now… something in the way he’s not afraid that you’ll run away from him anymore.
He steps closer to you, the space between you getting smaller, until he's standing right in front of you. His eyes flick to your lips briefly, but he doesn’t move in just yet.
His gaze flicks to your collarbone, then back up to your eyes. You feel the heat between you both, thick in the space, as he leans in just a fraction, like he's waiting for permission, waiting for you to pull him the rest of the way in.
You know you’re the one to close the gap.
But before you do, your hand instinctively reaches out. You touch the side of his face, your fingers grazing the bruise there; the one he’d gotten from Ward the day you two kissed. It’s faint, a mix of purple and yellow, and you trace it with the tips of your fingers, barely pressing.
Rafe’s breath catches at the touch, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the soft sound of your breathing and the rush of your heart in your ears. His hand is warm as it reaches up to cover yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, his eyes locked on yours, vulnerable in a way he hasn't been before.
“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispers, his voice raw, “To hurt you, to make things complicated.”
You give a small shake of your head, your touch lingering on the bruise, fingers lingering on his skin for just a moment longer. “It’s not complicated. Not really.”
The moment stretches, holding you both in its pull, and without thinking, you’re leaning up. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels different this time; softer, but more certain. It’s not frantic, not desperate. It’s a slow, deliberate thing, full of the things unsaid between you.
And as you pull back, the two of you stay close, your hand still on his cheek, his thumb brushing your wrist gently, neither of you quite ready to move away just yet.
The breeze from your open window sweeps over you, and the smell of the sea wafts into your room to wash away your worries.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
[the present day]
“Fuck!” You let yourself scream before you could cover your mouth, surprising Rafe in the process since you’d opened your window a crack before showering. He jumps, shocked as if he hadn’t just snuck up to your window like some thief in the night.
“You alright in there?” Your mom calls, her tone concerned as you run towards your bedroom door.
“I’m— shit— I’m fine! Just got scared by my reflection…” You yell back, closing your door as she mumbled something about profanity.
Your attention switched back to Rafe, who’d been frowning at your window like some sort of dog who got locked out of his owner’s house. You frown back, stomping towards where he stood as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“What the hell?” You ask bitingly. If you were paying any less attention to the man on the other side of the glass, you wouldn’t notice how his shoulders almost flinched at your tone. “Are you going to stalk me now that I’m back in town? What made you think it was okay to just show up at my house like this?”
If Rafe couldn’t tell you were angry before, you’d think he’d became a blind man. You doubt he was even confused in the first place; if there’s one thing about Rafe Cameron it’s that he could read you like an open book, whether you liked it or not. He knew your tells, knew that every twitch in your face meant something different. He’d know you’d be livid to see him come to your window. It’s as if the last three years of no contact meant nothing to him as he stood in front of you, brow furrowed as he stared up at you. He was messing with you because he’d know. You know he’d know.
He’d know… yet you don’t quite understand why he looks so worried as he examines your expression.
“Your dad got into an accident.” He says, more as a statement than questioningly.
You roll your eyes, “Gee, news travels slow up in Kook-dom.”
Rafe’s frown deepens. “That’s why you’re back?”
“Rafe—”
“Are you okay?”
Your lips press together in an emotion you can’t quite describe. It’s the anger at seeing Rafe’s face mixed with the relief of feeling his concern… The juxtaposition of emotions makes your heart ache.
Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew how to respond, and Rafe’s reaction is immediate as his hands find your window pane.
“Let me in—”
“Wait.” Your voice is shaky as your hands come up to stop Rafe from opening your window and climbing into your room. He’s silent, watching the tears you’d left unshed in front of your family finally escape from your eyes.
“You’re not okay.” He says, sternly and plainly. He kept his hands on your window but didn't continue sliding it fully open, even though he could easily overpower your strength if he wanted.
You sniffle, “I’m fine.”
“Your dad is hurt and you had to go back in that boat. You’re not fine.”
“Fuck, Rafe.” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was no need to ask why he’d come all the way to The Cut to see you in your family’s quaint house by the water. History be damned, he knew you needed someone the way your family needed you; someone to lean on while you kept your household glued together. “How were you so sure I’d even talk to you?”
Rafe sighs, “You left your window open a crack.”
“It was out of force of habit!” You cry, finally crumbling at the reminder of a ritual between the two of you that had long passed its intended purpose.
It was all too much, being back at the Outer Banks. You cried like the child you were when you left, and couldn’t find it in yourself to care when Rafe moved to finally open your window. He climbed into your room with a practiced ease, and pulled you in an embrace that was all at once familiar and foreign. His larger frame engulfed yours like you were jumping into water.
Rafe stayed with you until you calmed down, sitting the both of you down on your bed while wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs once you stopped sobbing. He didn’t speak, waiting for you to break the silence as your breathing evened out.
After a few minutes of quiet, you finally look over at Rafe to take him in.
He’d always been handsome, but he turned from a boy to a man in the few years you were apart. Looking at him now, he’s broader than you remember, with arms lined with muscle that he didn’t have as a baby-faced teen. The delicate features on his face that once made him look innocent like a child had been hardened by something you weren’t quite able to grasp; a seriousness that made you feel small in comparison. The only thing that hasn’t changed was the feeling of warmth radiating from his palm as he rubbed your back.
Your eyes travel to his, and you wonder if he was studying you the same way as he looked you over.
“Rafe,” You start, catching his attention. His gaze is gentle, almost hopeful as he locks eyes with you. “Why were you at the harbour?”
“Oh. Stuff for my dad. He was there too; at a place near where your boat is docked.” He says, almost deflatedly.
You hum in response at the mention of Ward Cameron, and you barely notice how telling your frown is until Rafe huffs out a chuckle.
“What, you worried about me or something?” His smile is crooked when he asks, and now things are feeling way too familiar.
“Don’t joke. You shouldn’t have come here,” You sniff, deciding not to mention how he was the one who went out of his way to watch you set your sails this morning. He was the one who crossed the island just to see you when he knew you’d be home. He was the one who’s wiping your tears because he’s worried. “I told you the last time we saw each other that I didn’t…”
Rafe’s smile falters at the very mention of the memory, and you almost feel bad for him as he looks down at your lap to distract himself from it. You could still feel how his mood shifts— it’s suffocating. Rafe Cameron controls the air around him like he’s flicking a switch.
“I mean fuck, Rafe,” You felt your heartbeat quicken at his silence. “You can’t just— I can’t. I need to focus on what my family needs from me here… my dad needs surgery on the mainland and my mom has never been on her own and my brothers are way too young to—”
“Stop. I get it, okay? How long is your dad going to be recovering for?”
“A few months… at least six.”
“Shit…”
You know what Rafe wants to ask. You really can’t afford some help for a few months? Well, no… your family does well enough for life on The Cut but it’s only because your father works as much as he does. Early mornings to late evenings just like his father and his father’s father. And with the incoming hospital fees… no. You can’t afford to hire someone who wouldn’t put all their earnings back into your family.
But Rafe knows this. He may be a spoiled Kook but you know he knows… when he’d confide in you about his family, you’d confide in him about yours. That’s how it went back then. He knew you well enough not to ask.
There’s nothing more to say. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments longer before you speak up again.
“You should go home. I have an early day tomorrow.”
Rafe stills before nodding slowly, and the warmth of his hand on your back is suddenly gone as he moves to stand up. You follow close behind, leading him back to your window from whence he came.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay? You or your family. I can help, y'know." Rafe says, climbing out of your room and softly landing back onto the ground outside. He looks up at you as you lean out your window to see him off, just like you always did.
You take a beat to answer, taking in the sight of Rafe Cameron standing in front of your window. You always used to joke that he was some sort of Romeo whenever he said goodbye like this. Too sweet and cheeky to you for someone that was otherwise so apathetic and vicious towards everyone else. You look at him now, all grown up, and realize how long ago that all was.
“I hear things about you, dangerous things.” You start, studying Rafe’s face as your hands unintentionally find your window sill to come closer towards him. “If you want to help me out then stay out of trouble, Rafe. Please just stay safe.”
You can almost feel the tears welling up in your eyes again, and you know he can read your mind. Please stay safe. Please don’t make me worry about you, because you know I will.
Rafe’s expression turns from one of surprise into one of knowing, all in an instant. His smile is almost pained as he stares back up at you.
“After all these years apart, you're still the only person here who worries for me.” He says, more to himself than to you. You don’t respond, and the two of you take one last moment to put each other to memory before Rafe turns around and leaves without another word.
You watch him depart until he’s out of sight when you move to slide your window down, making sure it’s closed all the way before you make your way to your bed.
why do i keep seeing “young!ditzy!reader” or “trophywife!reader” or stupid shit like that where authors make the ‘reader’ the most fragile person in the world??
at the end of the day, this recession theory shit is real. and it is seen clearly as day on this app.
why are the inspo pics for the oneshot just blonde and skinny white girls?? why are we making the reader sweet and innocent and fragile??
and look, there’s nothing wrong about being a blonde and skinny white girl, but after seeing the same pictures as inspo for a series or a oneshot, it gets annoying and repetitive how there’s no diversity.
also, i’m not saying every post in the “x reader” tag is like this, but they just keep popping up on my feed and i had to speak my mind about it.
please, if anyone reads this, tell me if you found the same problem or i’m just going crazy.
Bruhhhh😭 i keep on biting myself in the ass by not posting at 11:00 pm on a Saturday when all the girls are in bed and craving white men💔💔
some protector. (ii)
In the past, you and Rafe enter each other’s lives and change in ways neither of you expect. In the present, you’re worried that you haven’t changed one bit.
good girl/pogue!reader x rafe cameron
chapter one | two
words: 6622
warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of throwing up, allusions to bullying, abusive situations, kissing, lowkey panic attacks, attempts at parallels, possible ooc rafe but only because he’s being sweet
a/n: why is this chapter twice the length of the first one? lmao. i think i like pre-established relationships wayyyyy to much !!!
o2: all at once familiar and foreign
[in the past]
Rafe Cameron is a bit intimidating.
His reputation precedes him. An obnoxious Kook boy who parties too hard and studies too little; a boy who could wreak havoc on your whole school and get away with just a slap on the wrist. Who would dare to step up to someone whose father could drag them into the ground?
Not you… definitely not you.
Not because you couldn’t, more because you had no reason to. You had better things to worry about than some rich kid with zero fear of consequence swimming through his mind. Rafe was as much of a background character in your life than you were in his— sure, you were classmates who saw each other every day, but there’s no reason he’d be interacting with you. The line that separates you from Kook royalty is drawn loud and clear.
Well, that was until you started tutoring Sarah Cameron.
“What the hell?” Were the first words out of Rafe’s mouth when he answered the door on your first day. His first words to you ever. You stood in front of the grand front door of the Cameron house, still dressed prim and proper in your school uniform despite biking from school, while he had already changed out of his: shirtless (because of course he is), and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that sat low enough on his waist for you to lose your train of thought.
He must’ve just showered, with his face flushed and hair damp and messy and sticking to his forehead. You catch yourself staring just long enough to realize that he has caught you staring him down.
“Oh… hi.” You greet him, heart racing. “I’m here to tutor Sarah.”
Rafe tilts his head, “You’re the tutor?”
Your eye twitches because there’s something about the way he says it; like he’s shocked and amused, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh in your face or let you in.
“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Your dad contacted me personally to set this up. Tuesdays and Thursdays after school.”
Rafe hums and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You’re that Pogue girl from fourth period, right? The fisherman’s daughter.”
You raise your chin. “I’m also top of our grade. But sure, let’s go with that.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his face. It’s gone in an instant, replaced with a smirk.
But before he could respond, Sarah’s voice rings out from deeper in the house. “Rafe! Is that the tutor?”
“She’s all yours, princess,” Rafe calls over his shoulder. He steps aside, but not without giving you a once-over that makes your skin feel hot. “Good luck.”
You frown as you walk past him, and you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes on your back.
But try as you might, Rafe Cameron is hard to ignore.
His house was huge; there were too many hallways and high ceilings that should’ve made sure you never crossed paths. Yet, he still finds a way to linger in the background like some sort of ghost for your first few visits. Sometimes you heard his music thumping from upstairs, sometimes he was gone entirely doing god knows what. But there are moments when you catch him watching you. Just glimpses: leaning on the banister above the sunroom where you tutored Sarah, or perched on the stairs as you pack your things. His gaze is unreadable, always lingering a beat too long.
Even in the walls of Kook Academy where everyone else whispered storms around you, you sometimes caught Rafe silently staring at you from across the classroom, or in the hall while you swapped books out from your locker. He kept himself at an arm’s distance, and you paid him no mind the best you could while swallowing the fact that sometimes when you looked up, your eyes were searching for his without even realizing.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
It isn’t until a few weeks of catching glimpses of Rafe that you finally speak to him again.
It was at a party one of the seniors from your club was throwing— something you were offhandedly invited to, and something you were not planning on attending until one of your old friends from The Cut called you in the middle of the night.
“I’m throwing up in the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen.” Her words were slurred over the phone, and after confirming that she doesn’t have anyone to drive her home tonight, you immediately swipe the car keys off the kitchen counter and tiptoe out the front door to pick her up.
When you pull up to the house and walk inside, you’re immediately swarmed by what seems like the entirety of your school’s student body. You brace yourself as you swim through the crowd, eventually jogging up the stairs and repeating to yourself where your friend had told you she was posted. The second floor, four doors to the left.
You turn left and count the doors as you pass them, each decorated with some sort of ornate crowning that would make you feel dizzy if you were actually paying any attention. Four doors. Three doors. Two doors. One door.
“Hey I’m here, are you—” You're quick to open the door, only to be met with Rafe Cameron. Shirtless. Kissing some girl’s neck.
You barely even notice that this door did not open to the most beautiful bathroom you’d ever see. Heat crawls up your neck as Rafe looks up at you, pulling away from the girl he was holding to give you a genuinely surprised expression. His lips part and the beginning of your name starts at the curl of his tongue, but you’re quick to squeak out an apology before he can call out to you, slamming the door shut and scrambling towards the next door over.
There, you’re finally met with your friend groaning over some sort of fancy contraption that you could only assume was a toilet. You try to ignore the image of Rafe Cameron caging some girl against the wall to help your friend up, almost dropping her in the process when you remember the way he looked up at you. Did the mere sound of your voice do that much to take him out of the moment?
“Fuck, sorry.” You huff, wrapping your arm around your friend’s waist to steady her wobbling body.
You walked out the bathroom and into the hall, only to be met with Rafe pulling his shirt back on, his eyes lighting up when he saw that you hadn’t left.
Your mind feels numb, and you aren’t quite sure if the beating in your chest is from the bass reverberating throughout the house or your heart.
“Hey,” Rafe greets, smoothing down his hair before quirking a brow at your friend. “I didn’t know you had friends other than Sarah.”
You roll your eyes, tightening your grip on your friend’s waist.
“She’s a friend from my side of the island.” You muttered, finally glancing at Rafe to give him a quick once-over. His shirt was rumpled, half-tucked into his shorts, and his eyes are still hazy from whatever he was doing before you interrupted. But there’s something sharper behind them now… like he’s awake in a way he wasn’t just moments ago.
He lets out a low chuckle and steps toward you, snapping you out of your trance. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
Your friend groans dramatically in your arms, her head lolling forward and it makes you sigh, already dreading the dead weight she’s about to become.
Rafe watches for a second, then steps closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Here,” he says, voice low. “Let me.”
Before you can even protest, he’s sliding an arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her like she’s nothing. His forearm brushes across your chest briefly. Totally accidental, but something about it still sends a little shock through your spine.
“She’s heavier than she looks,” you manage.
Rafe grins. “Good thing I work out.”
You snort before you can stop yourself, which earns you a glance. A real one. Not the usual smirk or once-over, but something slower, something that lingers.
“You laugh different when you’re not at school,” he says, casually, like he didn’t just say something that made your heart skip a beat.
You blink. “You notice how I laugh?”
His gaze doesn’t flinch. “I notice a lot more than you think.”
Your breath catches for half a second before you look away, heat blooming on your cheeks.
The two of you make your way through the chaos of the house, dodging spilt drinks and stumbling students slurring, “Oh my god, is that the Pogue girl?”, whenever they passed you. You’d be bothered any other day, but for some reason, focusing on Rafe’s back made the chaos of the party unnoticeable.
Once you’re outside, you unlock your truck with a click. “I drove the Chevy my family uses for business. It’s beat-up. You can’t miss it.”
Rafe gives a half-laugh. “The one with the duct tape around the mirror?”
“Hey, that duct tape is structural.”
He lowers your friend gently into the passenger seat, making sure her head doesn’t hit anything. She mumbles something in her sleep, and you watch him silently as he buckled her in.
He closes the door, then straightens up before walking over to where you stood at the passenger side. He looks at you closer now, closer than he probably needs to be. His hand lingers on the roof of your truck.
“You sure you’re good to drive?”
You nod. “Didn’t drink. Just came for her.”
He studies your face for a moment, and the air feels heavier with whatever it is he’s not saying.
Then he cocks his head, “You’ve got that look.”
You frown. “What look?”
His voice dips just slightly. “Like you’re used to taking care of everyone but yourself.”
You don’t answer. Mostly because you can’t. Not when his words settle right in your brain and block your thoughts.
Rafe rocks back on his heels, then gestures to your truck. “Still… be careful. Lots of idiots out tonight.”
You narrow your eyes, trying to stay steady. “Are you… being nice to me?”
He gives a low laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”
But he’s smiling. Not smirking. Smiling. And it makes a wave of warmth crash through your body.
You open the driver’s door but hesitate, glancing back one more time. “Thanks. For helping.”
He lingers, looking at you through his lashes. “You should come to one of these parties not as a rescue mission sometime.”
“And do what?” you scoff. “Shotgun beers with the Kooks?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe just let someone take care of you for once.”
Your breath hitches. He holds your gaze for a second too long, then turns, disappearing into the house like nothing happened.
But you stay there. Frozen, heart thudding stupidly in your chest.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You don’t speak to Rafe until the following Tuesday tutoring session.
(Not that you’re paying attention)
He shows up in shorts and a grey hoodie, zipped up low enough for his chest to be visible. The hood of his sweater loosely covers his hand, and you notice that his hair’s damp again. You wonder if he’d come back from the beach. Sarah gives him a look when he wanders into the sunroom where you're reviewing chemistry formulas with her. “Do you mind?” she says, flicking a pencil at him. “You’re not subtle.”
“I live here,” Rafe deadpans, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and cracking it open. “Didn’t know I needed a reservation to hydrate.”
You keep your eyes on the textbook, even as you feel his stare burn like sunlight against your skin.
Sarah sighs. “If you’re staying, don’t distract—”
“Relax,” Rafe says, already dropping into the armchair across from you both. “I’ll be quiet. Like a ghost.”
He’s not quiet.
He interrupts twice to ask dumb hypothetical questions. At one point, he throws an eraser at Sarah and then blames it on you. Every time you look up, he’s already looking at you: amused, like he knows he’s getting under your skin.
But the weirdest part?
He listens. Actually listens. He doesn’t even pretend to be bored when you’re explaining molar mass. When Sarah groans and throws herself dramatically onto the couch, declaring she’s over it, you expect Rafe to leave with her.
Instead, he stays.
“Think you could tutor me sometime?” He asks with a smirk.
You snort. “Sure. I specialize in lost causes.”
He leans forward, arms braced on his knees, voice lower. “Bet you could fix me if you really tried.”
That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. And yet…
You clear your throat and shut the textbook a little too forcefully. “Session’s over.”
He grins. Like he knows he got to you. Because he did.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You couldn’t get Rafe out of your mind.
There was something confusing about him… he’s been hanging around you for months now, and the more you got to know him, the more you found out that he wasn’t all that he seemed. He teased you yet he seeks you out whenever you’re around. He was crass in a way all the Kooks in Figure Eight were, but at the same time he was kind like so many others hadn’t been. He was known as a stupid asshole party boy but was as clever as a whip, with a quiet kind of curiosity that made you feel seen.
You think about the way he leans in close whenever you speak, how his lips part whenever he says your name, how his lips were attached to that girl's neck at the party those fewmonths ago—
Fuck, you think, increasing the speed of your pedalling as you bike to the Cameron house. You had to stop thinking…
And it works, because Sarah had cancelled tutoring at the last minute, texting that she’s going out with friends. You showed up anyway—mostly because you forgot, mostly because you already made the ride.
You step inside when no one answers the door, calling out a soft hello.
No answer.
The house is oddly still.
You’re about to leave when a low voice catches your ear, muffled but sharp. You hesitate before following the sound, slow, careful not to make the floorboards creak. You knew who it came from, and something about his tone made you worry.
It’s coming from Ward Cameron’s office.
You’re halfway down the hall when you finally hear Rafe’s voice.
“I told you, I have it under control.”
Ward’s voice is colder. More precise. “What you have is a goddamn pattern, Rafe. Picking fights. Blowing money. Scaring off the clients we need. You think you’re bulletproof?”
“I’m doing everything you ask—”
“You’re doing everything wrong,” Ward cuts in, and the silence that follows is so thick you feel it in your teeth.
“You keep throwing my mistakes in my face,” Rafe says, quieter now. Bitter. “But you’ve made worse. You just hide yours better—”
That earns a sound that makes you flinch. Sharp, angry, skin making contact with skin.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that in my house.”
You flinch like you were slapped. You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.
You take a step back, heart thudding in your throat, only for your shoe to catch on the edge of the hallway rug with the softest shuffle of fabric.
Silence from the office.
Fuck.
You barely make it two steps off the porch before the door swings open behind you.
“Hey.”
Your breath catches.
Rafe.
He’s standing there like he was already on his way out, like he knew. His jaw’s clenched, cheeks flushed; not in that golden-boy, post-surf way, but like something just snapped.
Your stomach drops at the red mark blooming on the side of his face.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice low, guarded.
“I—” you hesitate. “Sarah canceled. I forgot. I was just leaving.”
“You heard that?” he asks, cutting straight through the lie.
You open your mouth. Close it again.
What point was there in lying?
His expression flickers. Not angry. Not yet. Just… raw. Like you peeled back something he’s spent years trying to bury.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he mutters, stepping out onto the porch, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you say quickly. “I—I wasn’t trying to snoop or whatever. I just… heard your voice.”
He laughs, but it’s bitter. Humorless. “Yeah, well. That’s what I am, right? Loud. Screwed up. Impossible to ignore.”
You shake your head. “That’s not—”
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you care.”
Your pulse jumps.
“Rafe, I—”
He says, stepping closer. “What do you even know? You’re just the perfect Golden Child with her whole life ahead of her while I’m some fuck-up who can’t do anything right.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering.
“Fuck,” he adds, voice softer now. “You’re always somewhere you’re not supposed to be. When I’m getting my ass handed to me, when I was at that party…”
He stops himself. Breath hitching. It’s like he’s weighing something dangerous on his tongue.
“I didn’t mean for you to see me like that,” he says. “With him. With that girl. With any of it. I didn’t mean for you to see me at all.”
And there it is.
The truth.
“You think I care about that?” you whisper, the words leaving before you can stop them. “That you’re not perfect? That you fight with your dad? Rafe, I don’t think less of you for any of that.”
He looks at you like he doesn’t believe it.
Like no one’s ever said that to him before.
You step closer, your voice trembling. “But I do care for you… but also, fuck. I’m worried, Rafe, of… whatever this is between us. Because it’s confusing and it’s not supposed to be happening.”
“Why not?” he says, voice rough.
“Because I’m supposed to keep my head down and get into college and not get tangled up with a Cameron.”
His eyes darken.
“But I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scaring me.” you admit. “It’s driving me insane.”
He moves then. Fast, but not reckless. Like he’s wanted to do this for weeks but was holding back out of some twisted sense of mercy. He cups your jaw with one hand, the other settling on your waist like he needs something to ground him.
“You don’t have to be scared,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Not of me.”
Then he kisses you.
And every second leading up to this; every stare, every smirk, every sleepless night replaying the way he looked at you just clicks.
Because this? This was always coming.
But by the time you process all of that, you barely notice, too focused on kissing him back to care.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You don’t see Rafe at school the next day.
Or the day after.
No lazy smirks across fourth period. No shoulder bump in the hallway. No lingering in the back of Sarah’s tutoring sessions.
You keep your head down and spend your time trying to convince yourself that you didn’t imagine it. The way he kissed you like the world might end mid-breath. The way his hands curled at your waist like he didn’t know how to let go.
You’re not sure what you are to him now, and maybe he isn’t sure either.
Tutoring feels weird today. Sarah’s restless, asking for breaks every fifteen minutes, texting someone under the table. You can’t even blame her. You’re not exactly making English sound all too interesting.
You’re finishing up, quickly sifting through some vocab when you hear him.
Footsteps from upstairs. Slow. Careful.
Your heart kicks up even though you’re pretending to focus on irregular verbs.
A beat. Then another. He stops in the hallway, just outside the sunroom.
You freeze.
"Hey," comes his voice. Soft. Almost too soft to catch.
You look up. He’s leaning on the doorway, dressed down in a hoodie and gym shorts, like he just rolled out of bed. But his eyes are alert. Tired, maybe, but tracking yours like they’re trying to say something his mouth can’t yet form.
"Hey," you say back, quieter than you mean to.
Sarah doesn’t look up, still glued to her phone.
There’s a long pause. Rafe scratches the back of his neck, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s even doing here. His gaze flicks to your notebook, then back to you.
“I was gonna… ask if you wanted a ride home.”
Your heart stumbles.
You blink. “Oh. Um… I biked.”
His lips twitch, something like a smile. “Right. Forgot you’re stubborn like that.”
You can’t help the small smile that slips through. “And you’re nosy.”
His hand drags through his hair, anxiously. Endearingly. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
You don’t know what to say next, and you think he might fill the silence, but then Sarah groans and mutters something about needing to pee, sliding out of her chair with her phone still in hand.
You and Rafe are left in silence.
And just before he turns away, he looks at you again; softer this time. Vulnerable, like a deer approaching a man with a gun.
“I meant what I said, you know,” he murmurs.
You tilt your head. “Which part?”
His jaw shifts, like he’s afraid of saying too much. “The part where I kissed you.”
You struggle to form a single thought. The air feels like it holds its breath with you. Rafe just gives a quiet nod, like he’ll take whatever you can give, even if it’s nothing yet.
But you call out to him as he’s about to turn around and leave.
“Rafe,” You call, heart skipping a beat at the speed he turns back to look at you. “Maybe I… I’ll take you up on that ride.”
He takes a beat before nodding silently, mumbling something about how he’d put your bike in the back of his truck and wait for you while you cleaned up your space. You barely remember to say bye to Sarah as you make haste towards the driveway, where Rafe was leaning against the passenger door. He opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you in as if your family didn’t also own a huge vehicle.
When he settles into the driver’s seat and starts the car, it’s the beginning of a long, long ride.
The air is charged with a sort of tension that’s happy to rest on your shoulders. You think about what you said earlier. What he said earlier. And the words, the feelings that have been building up since that kiss, make your pulse race all over again. The quiet moments, the stolen glances… everything feels different now.
The only sounds that fill the silence between you two are your directions and the soft rumble of the truck. You fidfet with the hem of your skirt, glancing out the window to avoid looking at him too directly. But by the time you reach your neighbourhood, you finally use a moment to take Rafe in; the way he chews the inside of his cheek and furrows his brow in thought… the way his eyes are focused on the road but you know his mind is probably thinking about all the same things you were…
The sun had already set as he pulled into your driveway, and it’s only then when you realize you’d barely spoken to him the whole ride here.
“Rafe,” You start, taking in how he immediately turns towards you in anticipation. You bite your lip, “Thank you for the ride.”
He nods. “No problem—”
“Wanna come inside?” His eyebrows raise at the offer, and even though your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest, you remain calm. “We should talk… away from my nosy neighbours.”
“Your parents would let a rowdy Cameron kid into your room with you alone?”
“No… just park a block away and come back through the window to my room, Rafe. I’ll let you in through there.”
Rafe is silent, taking a beat to consider your offer before he nods at your instructions. You leave the truck and unlock the door to your house, greeting your family before telling them you didn’t want to be disturbed in your room while you studied. They brushed you off with a nod, and you immediately head to your room to open your window; just a crack.
You take the time to quickly tidy your room; loose clothes and books were strewn across your room, and you picked them up and threw them in the closet with a clumsy quickness. The thought of a boy in your room… of Rafe Cameron in your room, even if he was just there to talk, made warmth bloom in your cheeks.
You’d tossed the last novel on top of your desk when you heard the tap on your windowsill— so quiet that you almost missed it.
Your breath catches as you turn towards your window because he’s there. Rafe Cameron, standing just outside your window, one hand on the ledge, hair wind-swept, eyes lit like he’s been wandering around in a storm and finally found home.
“You got here faster than I thought.” You say, moving to let him inside. Your eyebrows raise at the sight of him holding your bike by one handle.
He shrugs, “You left it in the back of my truck.”, and the thought of Rafe Cameron riding your beat-up pink bike back to your house makes you laugh a bit too loudly. He smiles back, carefully leaning your bike against your house before climbing in like it’s second nature, like he’s done it a hundred times before.
Rafe lands lightly on the floor of your room, his presence filling the space with a quiet intensity. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances around; eyes flitting over the books, the mismatched posters on your walls, the small trinkets scattered across your desk. He huffs out a chuckle at a picture of you posing with your brothers when you were kids, but there’s a moment of quiet, a bit of awkwardness that lingers between you both as he takes in the room.
You clear your throat, feeling the need to break the silence, even though you’re not entirely sure what to say.
“Rafe,” you start, catching his attention. He’d been smiling tensely, but upon seeing how you were looking at him, his lips quickly faded into a more serious expression. “What did you want to say to me earlier?”
He’s quiet, mustering up his words; the words that had been left unsaid.
“I guess,” he begins, voice a little rougher now, “I just wanted to make sure that kiss wasn’t just something that happened in the heat of the moment.”
You feel your heart leaping out of your chest as you shake your head, eyes locked on his.
“It wasn’t.” You whisper, your heart hammering in your chest as the words slip out before you can stop them.
Rafe’s expression softens at your response, his eyes searching yours, as though he’s trying to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood you. You can feel the weight of the conversation settling between you two, but something about it is different now… something in the way he’s not afraid that you’ll run away from him anymore.
He steps closer to you, the space between you getting smaller, until he's standing right in front of you. His eyes flick to your lips briefly, but he doesn’t move in just yet.
His gaze flicks to your collarbone, then back up to your eyes. You feel the heat between you both, thick in the space, as he leans in just a fraction, like he's waiting for permission, waiting for you to pull him the rest of the way in.
You know you’re the one to close the gap.
But before you do, your hand instinctively reaches out. You touch the side of his face, your fingers grazing the bruise there; the one he’d gotten from Ward the day you two kissed. It’s faint, a mix of purple and yellow, and you trace it with the tips of your fingers, barely pressing.
Rafe’s breath catches at the touch, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the soft sound of your breathing and the rush of your heart in your ears. His hand is warm as it reaches up to cover yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, his eyes locked on yours, vulnerable in a way he hasn't been before.
“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispers, his voice raw, “To hurt you, to make things complicated.”
You give a small shake of your head, your touch lingering on the bruise, fingers lingering on his skin for just a moment longer. “It’s not complicated. Not really.”
The moment stretches, holding you both in its pull, and without thinking, you’re leaning up. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels different this time; softer, but more certain. It’s not frantic, not desperate. It’s a slow, deliberate thing, full of the things unsaid between you.
And as you pull back, the two of you stay close, your hand still on his cheek, his thumb brushing your wrist gently, neither of you quite ready to move away just yet.
The breeze from your open window sweeps over you, and the smell of the sea wafts into your room to wash away your worries.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
[the present day]
“Fuck!” You let yourself scream before you could cover your mouth, surprising Rafe in the process since you’d opened your window a crack before showering. He jumps, shocked as if he hadn’t just snuck up to your window like some thief in the night.
“You alright in there?” Your mom calls, her tone concerned as you run towards your bedroom door.
“I’m— shit— I’m fine! Just got scared by my reflection…” You yell back, closing your door as she mumbled something about profanity.
Your attention switched back to Rafe, who’d been frowning at your window like some sort of dog who got locked out of his owner’s house. You frown back, stomping towards where he stood as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“What the hell?” You ask bitingly. If you were paying any less attention to the man on the other side of the glass, you wouldn’t notice how his shoulders almost flinched at your tone. “Are you going to stalk me now that I’m back in town? What made you think it was okay to just show up at my house like this?”
If Rafe couldn’t tell you were angry before, you’d think he’d became a blind man. You doubt he was even confused in the first place; if there’s one thing about Rafe Cameron it’s that he could read you like an open book, whether you liked it or not. He knew your tells, knew that every twitch in your face meant something different. He’d know you’d be livid to see him come to your window. It’s as if the last three years of no contact meant nothing to him as he stood in front of you, brow furrowed as he stared up at you. He was messing with you because he’d know. You know he’d know.
He’d know… yet you don’t quite understand why he looks so worried as he examines your expression.
“Your dad got into an accident.” He says, more as a statement than questioningly.
You roll your eyes, “Gee, news travels slow up in Kook-dom.”
Rafe’s frown deepens. “That’s why you’re back?”
“Rafe—”
“Are you okay?”
Your lips press together in an emotion you can’t quite describe. It’s the anger at seeing Rafe’s face mixed with the relief of feeling his concern… The juxtaposition of emotions makes your heart ache.
Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew how to respond, and Rafe’s reaction is immediate as his hands find your window pane.
“Let me in—”
“Wait.” Your voice is shaky as your hands come up to stop Rafe from opening your window and climbing into your room. He’s silent, watching the tears you’d left unshed in front of your family finally escape from your eyes.
“You’re not okay.” He says, sternly and plainly. He kept his hands on your window but didn't continue sliding it fully open, even though he could easily overpower your strength if he wanted.
You sniffle, “I’m fine.”
“Your dad is hurt and you had to go back in that boat. You’re not fine.”
“Fuck, Rafe.” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was no need to ask why he’d come all the way to The Cut to see you in your family’s quaint house by the water. History be damned, he knew you needed someone the way your family needed you; someone to lean on while you kept your household glued together. “How were you so sure I’d even talk to you?”
Rafe sighs, “You left your window open a crack.”
“It was out of force of habit!” You cry, finally crumbling at the reminder of a ritual between the two of you that had long passed its intended purpose.
It was all too much, being back at the Outer Banks. You cried like the child you were when you left, and couldn’t find it in yourself to care when Rafe moved to finally open your window. He climbed into your room with a practiced ease, and pulled you in an embrace that was all at once familiar and foreign. His larger frame engulfed yours like you were jumping into water.
Rafe stayed with you until you calmed down, sitting the both of you down on your bed while wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs once you stopped sobbing. He didn’t speak, waiting for you to break the silence as your breathing evened out.
After a few minutes of quiet, you finally look over at Rafe to take him in.
He’d always been handsome, but he turned from a boy to a man in the few years you were apart. Looking at him now, he’s broader than you remember, with arms lined with muscle that he didn’t have as a baby-faced teen. The delicate features on his face that once made him look innocent like a child had been hardened by something you weren’t quite able to grasp; a seriousness that made you feel small in comparison. The only thing that hasn’t changed was the feeling of warmth radiating from his palm as he rubbed your back.
Your eyes travel to his, and you wonder if he was studying you the same way as he looked you over.
“Rafe,” You start, catching his attention. His gaze is gentle, almost hopeful as he locks eyes with you. “Why were you at the harbour?”
“Oh. Stuff for my dad. He was there too; at a place near where your boat is docked.” He says, almost deflatedly.
You hum in response at the mention of Ward Cameron, and you barely notice how telling your frown is until Rafe huffs out a chuckle.
“What, you worried about me or something?” His smile is crooked when he asks, and now things are feeling way too familiar.
“Don’t joke. You shouldn’t have come here,” You sniff, deciding not to mention how he was the one who went out of his way to watch you set your sails this morning. He was the one who crossed the island just to see you when he knew you’d be home. He was the one who’s wiping your tears because he’s worried. “I told you the last time we saw each other that I didn’t…”
Rafe’s smile falters at the very mention of the memory, and you almost feel bad for him as he looks down at your lap to distract himself from it. You could still feel how his mood shifts— it’s suffocating. Rafe Cameron controls the air around him like he’s flicking a switch.
“I mean fuck, Rafe,” You felt your heartbeat quicken at his silence. “You can’t just— I can’t. I need to focus on what my family needs from me here… my dad needs surgery on the mainland and my mom has never been on her own and my brothers are way too young to—”
“Stop. I get it, okay? How long is your dad going to be recovering for?”
“A few months… at least six.”
“Shit…”
You know what Rafe wants to ask. You really can’t afford some help for a few months? Well, no… your family does well enough for life on The Cut but it’s only because your father works as much as he does. Early mornings to late evenings just like his father and his father’s father. And with the incoming hospital fees… no. You can’t afford to hire someone who wouldn’t put all their earnings back into your family.
But Rafe knows this. He may be a spoiled Kook but you know he knows… when he’d confide in you about his family, you’d confide in him about yours. That’s how it went back then. He knew you well enough not to ask.
There’s nothing more to say. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments longer before you speak up again.
“You should go home. I have an early day tomorrow.”
Rafe stills before nodding slowly, and the warmth of his hand on your back is suddenly gone as he moves to stand up. You follow close behind, leading him back to your window from whence he came.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay? You or your family. I can help, y'know." Rafe says, climbing out of your room and softly landing back onto the ground outside. He looks up at you as you lean out your window to see him off, just like you always did.
You take a beat to answer, taking in the sight of Rafe Cameron standing in front of your window. You always used to joke that he was some sort of Romeo whenever he said goodbye like this. Too sweet and cheeky to you for someone that was otherwise so apathetic and vicious towards everyone else. You look at him now, all grown up, and realize how long ago that all was.
“I hear things about you, dangerous things.” You start, studying Rafe’s face as your hands unintentionally find your window sill to come closer towards him. “If you want to help me out then stay out of trouble, Rafe. Please just stay safe.”
You can almost feel the tears welling up in your eyes again, and you know he can read your mind. Please stay safe. Please don’t make me worry about you, because you know I will.
Rafe’s expression turns from one of surprise into one of knowing, all in an instant. His smile is almost pained as he stares back up at you.
“After all these years apart, you're still the only person here who worries for me.” He says, more to himself than to you. You don’t respond, and the two of you take one last moment to put each other to memory before Rafe turns around and leaves without another word.
You watch him depart until he’s out of sight when you move to slide your window down, making sure it’s closed all the way before you make your way to your bed.
some protector. (r. c.)
As the Golden Child of The Cut, you left the Outer Banks years ago in search of a better life. Now that you’ve been called on to return, the ghosts of your past remind you why you had to leave, but also why you need to stay.
good girl/pogue!reader x rafe cameron
chapter one
words: 3241
warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, mentions of drug use, mentions of violence, aged up characters, canon divergence, not beta-read, no use of y/n, maybe too much reader backstory but whatever!
a/n: not me reviving my fuckass fanfiction blog because i’m infatuated with drew starkey… idky i love men who look like they’d call me slurs. i wrote this like a madwoman even though i have a bunch of essays due. whatever! i hope y’all enjoy <333
o1: the little pogue girl that could
Rafe Cameron seems to be someone who does not regret.
At least, that’s what you’d always thought. How could he? Someone who grows up with the world at his fingertips doesn’t have room in his heart for regret. Rafe Cameron was always someone who fought for what he wanted with full force, while always coming out the other side victorious. Rafe got mostly everything he wanted; when you grow up achieving everything you desire, how could there be a chance to feel regret for what you don’t have?
Rafe Cameron gets what he wants, just like any other rich brat from Figure Eight. There’s nothing he needs to feel regretful for, yet the face he makes when he sees you for the first time in three years may say otherwise.
But who knows? It’s not your problem as you catch a glimpse of Rafe staring at you on your father’s fishing boat from the harbour. Why he was even down here this early and not asleep in his ginormous mansion is beyond you. Why should you care? When you left the Outer Banks to go to university, Rafe Cameron made it clear that you’d always be a pathetic little Pogue no matter where you stepped foot. You shouldn’t care that seeing the regret on his face all these years later makes your stomach churn.
“Hey, isn’t that Rafe?” Your younger brother Leon’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and your head whips back to the helm where he’d been perched. He quirked an eyebrow at your scowl as you looked back into the water. “I thought you guys were close…”
You rolled your eyes, “Nope. I haven’t spoken to him since I left.”
“Oh… I thought when you used to tutor Sarah—”
“We barely spoke.”
“But back then Sarah always said—”
“Drop it.”
Knowing better than to press the issue any further, Leon drove your father’s small fishing boat in silence until he reached your fishing spot. He eventually changes the subject to talk about how business had been steady since you’ve been away; how his friends from school still visit him since he graduated to work on the boat, how the sea had somehow seemed more unruly since your father had his accident. So much has changed since you left.
You barely notice. Everything your kid brother says goes in one ear and out the other as your mind replays Rafe’s expression over and over again.
You try not to dwell on it for long. Getting back into the groove of the boat took a stronger priority than your unresolved feelings for Rafe Cameron. You pushed down the memories you pretended didn’t exist in favour of listening to your brother’s instructions on casting the net.
Things were simpler here on the boat. Your family came from a long line of fishermen, so you grew up with the principle that the sea was something that had all the answers. You yourself never had that calling; unlike your mother and middle brother who were people of the sea, you found solace in your studies. Unlike your mother and brother, you found the answers to your problems in the prospect of leaving The Cut; of leaving a life of hard labour behind in favour of a cushy desk job in some big city.
Everyone in your family knew you’d be the first to leave. No one was more eager to send you off than your equally bookish fisherman of a father. He enrolled you into Kook Academy where he knew you’d graduate at the top of your class, despite your Pogue background. You’re destined for much more than what this island has to offer, is what he’d always said. His words rang in your mind back then when you accepted the full ride scholarship to go to university away from the Outer Banks, and they rang in your mind again as you came straight back after graduating to help on the boat.
It was because of an accident at sea… an injury from the boat that even your usually diligent father couldn’t see coming; something that could’ve been much more fatal if he weren’t such a careful man. Ironically, it was the man who made you promise to never look back at the sea that had you come running to its clutches. He could barely look you in the eye when you told him you’d be taking his place while he recovered for a few months. Your brother couldn’t man the boat on his own; the vessel may be Leon’s responsibility to inherit as the eldest son, but it was your responsibility as the eldest child overall to take care of your family.
You returned without question, and realized while you helped your brother haul fish from the sea, that despite all the work you did to get away from the water, being near its vastness made all your worries smaller in comparison. Maybe these were the answers you’d been looking for. Beyond your father, you looked at the sea and thought about your traditional mother who was less enthusiastic than you’d expected at the reality of your return to Outer Banks. You thought about your youngest brother, Clem, a boy with his whole life ahead of him who was probably even smarter than you when you were his age. You thought about Leon, who handled the ancestral responsibility you dumped on him at an age when he was too young to think for himself.
And you thought about Rafe… a boy you remembered having the world weighing down on his shoulders. Someone who was the same as you despite being worlds away. Someone who was the only person that understood you despite being so different. Someone who you loved and hated at the same time, who you gave all your firsts to while swearing to never want to see again. Someone who could make you laugh and cry all at once.
“He’s trouble, y’know.” Your brother grunts, helping you pull up the net strewn onto the side of the boat. You two had been working away on the boat for a few hours and Leon has decided he’s run out of other things to talk about. You wonder if it’s because he can tell your mind keeps circling back to the blond man staring at you from the harbour. You pretend you didn’t hear him as silver scaled fish fall against your feet but he continues anyways, “Rafe Cameron has only gotten worse since you’ve been gone.”
“You say that as if that’s my fault.”
“What?” Leon, never one to be good with his words, frowns at your response. “That’s not… it’s because of his dad or something.”
That catches your attention, “Mr. Cameron has always been like that. He’s a lot harder on Rafe than he is on Sarah or Wheezie.”
You see Leon nodding slowly in the corner of your eye as he helps pick up the net to pour your catch into the last bucket. “Well you should see Rafe now. He’s a fucking reckless cokehead who picks fights anywhere he can. Blame Mr. Cameron all you want but Rafe is old enough to know better.”
Your silence is telling of what you think of it all. Of course you’ve heard what Rafe has been up to these last few years. Try to get away from Outer Banks all you want, but the grapevine is never lacking stories about what goes on in this godforsaken island. The violence, crime, and scandal that happens here wouldn't be believable to your sheltered university friends in the slightest. This island is cursed. You knew it better than anyone, and it’s one of the many reasons you left.
“You say all this shit about Rafe as if either of us know him well enough to care.” You mumbled as you picked up a mop to begin cleaning the boat’s floor, loud enough for Leon to give you an unreadable stare. You glared back at him, daring him to continue.
“I’m just saying,” he starts carefully. “remember you’re only back here for our family. For dad, who didn’t even want you stepping foot on the boat in the first place. Don’t get distracted and stay longer than you need to.”
You’re silent as Leon takes the mop from you to hand you a cloth instead.
“Nothing here is worth giving up the life you’ve made for yourself. You’re destined for much more than this island has to offer.”
—
You and Leon had just finished hauling your catch onto the back of your family’s pickup truck when he told you to start making deliveries. You quirked your brow as he tossed you the keys and a list of stops, “Are you sure you don’t want me to help clean up?”
“You look like you can barely stand.”
You shoot your younger brother a glare, but he shrugs when you don’t retaliate. He’d know better than anyone that your body wouldn’t be used to a full day of work on the boat.
“Just go. A lot of these guys will be happy to see your face again.”
“I hate it when you tell me what to do.”
“Then maybe you should’ve stayed and become captain instead.”
Leon’s smirk is barely there as he shoos you away, and you scoff as you climb into the driver’s seat of the truck. You start the engine and wonder when your kid brother, three years your junior, had grown up so much.
“That little shit… he’s not even captain yet. There’s no way in hell dad would let his nineteen year old kid be captain.” You mumble to yourself, steering the truck into your first stop of the evening.
Deliveries went smoothly— it’s not as if there were a lot of establishments a small fishing boat like yours could rely on. The places that bought your fish were restaurants and seafood stores your family had been in business with for generations. Just as Leon predicted, everyone was more than happy to see The Little Pogue Girl That Could back in The Cut.
“Just as long as you’re not staying here for good,” Heyward, one of your family’s longtime customers, eyes you as he pays. You smile in return and thank him before climbing back into your truck to drive to The Wreck, your last stop of the day.
“Delivery!” You call, ice box in hand as you open the back door of the restaurant with your foot. Faced with a busy kitchen, you call again until a familiar voice calls back.
“Sorry for the wait— oh my god!” Kiara gasps when she sees you and you stare back in surprise. You’d forgotten her family owned the restaurant in question.
“Kie!” You smile as you put the box of fish down to hug the younger girl, recognizing her more as one of Leon’s good friends than the rebellious girl you attended Kook Academy with. She hugged you back before pulling away, holding your shoulders to take you in.
“Holy shit— I’m sorry I just didn’t expect you. Leon told us about what happened with your dad but I had no idea you’d be back to help out too.”
You laugh, “I’m glad you’re keeping him in check even after you’ve all graduated.”
“Of course… oh god, your payment…” Kiara grinned as she fished into her apron to hand you the pay for your delivery. You thanked her, not doubting that memories of you helping her, Leon, and their other three friends out of sticky situations came flooding her mind. “Fuck, I owe you so many dinners here.” She says, as if she was reading your mind.
You laugh and shake your head, “I’ll take you up on that next time when I’m with Leon. He gave me an easy way out of cleaning the boat on my first day.”
“Your whole family is too soft on each other.” Kiara chuckles. “Actually, all of our friends are here for dinner, you’ll at least come say hi, won’t you?”
Already in a good mood at seeing the Carrera girl, you nodded in agreement. You remembered the other three boys Leon hung around: John B. the leader, JJ the rascal, and Pope the brain, as well as the student who would’ve achieved the same scholarship you did to leave the island. You weren’t close to any of them but they did seem to appreciate you as their friend’s older sister who doesn’t ask too many questions about what mischief they’d been up to. The appreciation is mutual as you think about Leon’s otherwise strict childhood being offset by his ragtag group of fellow Pogue friends.
Kiara leads you from the kitchen to the restaurant’s dining area, where you’re met with one more familiar face than you were expecting.
Sarah Cameron, the quirky Kook girl you used to tutor, sat beside John B., casually sipping on her cup of pop before her mouth gaped open at the sight of you.
“No way—”
“Sarah?”
The blonde squealed as she jumped out of your seat to launch her body at you, as if she’d been waiting for you like you were a soldier returning from war. You laugh at her reaction and hug her back, surprised at her presence with Leon’s old school friends.
“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, breaking the embrace to look at you. “I haven’t seen you in years!”
“I know. You’ve grown up so much, Sarah.” You grin and look back at John B., JJ, and Pope. “You all have.”
The three boys turned men smile at you before Sarah steals back your attention, “Ugh your brother should’ve told us you were coming, were you helping on the boat?”
“Yep, I just made a delivery for Kie’s family.”
“Of course,” she started, biting her lip as she took you in. “Did you see Rafe at the harbour?”
The mention of Sarah’s older brother makes you stiffen, and her smile falters a bit before she continues. “He was down there this morning to take care of some business for our dad…”
“I don’t know.” You responded flatly, pretending that his face at the harbour wasn’t flashing in your mind at the very mention of his name. Sarah nods slowly, noting that you weren’t quite denying what she was asking.
“He and I still aren’t that close but he’s been having a hard time these days… you two used to get along so well; I’m sure he’d be so happy to see you—”
“I was wondering why Leon was mentioning you so casually earlier. I didn’t know you all hung out.” Sarah’s lips pressed together at the way you changed the subject. You smile at her sheepishly and run your hands up and down her arms, “Pogue life suits you, Sarah Cameron.”
Kiara calling your name from the kitchen gave you the distraction you needed. Your attention turned to the brunette, who handed you a to-go bag with The Wreck’s logo printed on the front.
“For you and Leon. You’re both probably hungry enough for two portions of dinner.”
“Thank you, Kie.” You smile, ignoring Sarah’s worried expression.
—
After not even twenty four hours after you stepped on this island, Rafe Cameron was haunting your thoughts. You thought about him on the car ride back to the boat, you thought about him as you ate the food Kiara packed for you and Leon on the drive back home, and you thought about him some more as you ate your second helping of dinner at home.
You tried to keep up with your mom’s questions about your day on the boat, “Yes it was as hard as I remember.” “No, Leon and I didn’t fight.” “No, I am not moving back to the Outer Banks.” Your dad grunts disapprovingly at the question while your mom rolls her eyes, but it was all in good fun. You barely pay any mind as the conversation shifts to Clem’s day at school, and your thoughts wander back to Rafe.
How hard of a time was he having? Ward Cameron was not a man to take lightly, and there was no doubt that he was the cause of Rafe’s suffering. Rafe… a pitiful Kook who was much more sensitive than he’d like to admit. Rafe with the world stacked up on his shoulders, Rafe who would make you hug his body and kiss his temple to keep his worries away. Rafe, a man so vulnerable that his guard was up even to you, the only other person he knew who truly understood him.
Dinner ends as quick as it begins, and your mom tells you to wash the day off in the shower. Dad discusses business with Leon, who reminds you to set your alarm for another early day tomorrow. Your baby brother Clem starts the dishes. Life is simple back at the Outer Banks, yet your feelings about it remain complicated.
You wash the smell of sweat and salt from your body, the warm water soothes your soreness. Rafe still swims in your mind; everyone on this island looked at you like you were the answer to all their problems, but you knew your return wasn’t going to fix anything. Your presence wasn’t going to fix your dad’s broken body, it wasn’t going to make the sea any less unruly, and it definitely was not going to help Rafe Cameron out of his troubled lifestyle.
You get dressed into your pyjamas after you finish showering and enter your time capsule of a room. Stupid posters from magazines that you and your friends at Kook Academy liked littered your walls, and knick knacks your mom bought you were strewn throughout the room as small presents to remind you that you were her only daughter and that she wasn’t just some strict, domineering presence in your life.
Everything you’d gotten from three years of being with Rafe was thrown out in a fit of rage when you two had fallen out, all except for one gift: a necklace he’d bought you for your one year anniversary.
The piece of jewelry hung on your bedside lamp, and you toyed with it as you wondered what exactly your relationship with Rafe was back then for him to buy you something that you’d like so much. Looking back, a chain with a singular Pearl strewn on it is barely enough to count as a thoughtful gift, but you still wore it every day while you were with Rafe. He knew you’d love it, something simple and inconspicuous while still showing that he cared… a Pearl, which reminded you of the sea your family devoted their lives to, and a Pearl that represented Rafe’s loyalty and love towards you, despite the mutual ambiguity towards your relationship.
You sigh as you realize that if you really didn’t care about Rafe like you said you did, you would’ve thrown this necklace away years ago. How could you forget about a boy who you gave all your firsts to? The boy who felt more abandoned by your absence than your own family?
You study the necklace some more, but the sound of a tapping at your window makes you jump up in surprise.
In a sight familiar and unfamiliar all at once, you turn to your window to see Rafe Cameron staring at you from behind the glass, his expression filled with the same look of regret as when you saw him on the harbour.
some protector. (i)
As the Golden Child of The Cut, you left the Outer Banks years ago in search of a better life. Now that you’ve been called on to return, the ghosts of your past remind you why you had to leave, but also why you need to stay.
good girl/pogue!reader x rafe cameron
chapter one | two
words: 3241
warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, mentions of drug use, mentions of violence, aged up characters, canon divergence, not beta-read, no use of y/n, maybe too much reader backstory but whatever!
a/n: not me reviving my fuckass fanfiction blog because i’m infatuated with drew starkey… idky i love men who look like they’d call me slurs. i wrote this like a madwoman even though i have a bunch of essays due. whatever! i hope y’all enjoy <333
o1: the little pogue girl that could
Rafe Cameron seems to be someone who does not regret.
At least, that’s what you’d always thought. How could he? Someone who grows up with the world at his fingertips doesn’t have room in his heart for regret. Rafe Cameron was always someone who fought for what he wanted with full force, while always coming out the other side victorious. Rafe got mostly everything he wanted; when you grow up achieving everything you desire, how could there be a chance to feel regret for what you don’t have?
Rafe Cameron gets what he wants, just like any other rich brat from Figure Eight. There’s nothing he needs to feel regretful for, yet the face he makes when he sees you for the first time in three years may say otherwise.
But who knows? It’s not your problem as you catch a glimpse of Rafe staring at you on your father’s fishing boat from the harbour. Why he was even down here this early and not asleep in his ginormous mansion is beyond you. Why should you care? When you left the Outer Banks to go to university, Rafe Cameron made it clear that you’d always be a pathetic little Pogue no matter where you stepped foot. You shouldn’t care that seeing the regret on his face all these years later makes your stomach churn.
“Hey, isn’t that Rafe?” Your younger brother Leon’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and your head whips back to the helm where he’d been perched. He quirked an eyebrow at your scowl as you looked back into the water. “I thought you guys were close…”
You rolled your eyes, “Nope. I haven’t spoken to him since I left.”
“Oh… I thought when you used to tutor Sarah—”
“We barely spoke.”
“But back then Sarah always said—”
“Drop it.”
Knowing better than to press the issue any further, Leon drove your father’s small fishing boat in silence until he reached your fishing spot. He eventually changes the subject to talk about how business had been steady since you’ve been away; how his friends from school still visit him since he graduated to work on the boat, how the sea had somehow seemed more unruly since your father had his accident. So much has changed since you left.
You barely notice. Everything your kid brother says goes in one ear and out the other as your mind replays Rafe’s expression over and over again.
You try not to dwell on it for long. Getting back into the groove of the boat took a stronger priority than your unresolved feelings for Rafe Cameron. You pushed down the memories you pretended didn’t exist in favour of listening to your brother’s instructions on casting the net.
Things were simpler here on the boat. Your family came from a long line of fishermen, so you grew up with the principle that the sea was something that had all the answers. You yourself never had that calling; unlike your mother and middle brother who were people of the sea, you found solace in your studies. Unlike your mother and brother, you found the answers to your problems in the prospect of leaving The Cut; of leaving a life of hard labour behind in favour of a cushy desk job in some big city.
Everyone in your family knew you’d be the first to leave. No one was more eager to send you off than your equally bookish fisherman of a father. He enrolled you into Kook Academy where he knew you’d graduate at the top of your class, despite your Pogue background. You’re destined for much more than what this island has to offer, is what he’d always said. His words rang in your mind back then when you accepted the full ride scholarship to go to university away from the Outer Banks, and they rang in your mind again as you came straight back after graduating to help on the boat.
It was because of an accident at sea… an injury from the boat that even your usually diligent father couldn’t see coming; something that could’ve been much more fatal if he weren’t such a careful man. Ironically, it was the man who made you promise to never look back at the sea that had you come running to its clutches. He could barely look you in the eye when you told him you’d be taking his place while he recovered for a few months. Your brother couldn’t man the boat on his own; the vessel may be Leon’s responsibility to inherit as the eldest son, but it was your responsibility as the eldest child overall to take care of your family.
You returned without question, and realized while you helped your brother haul fish from the sea, that despite all the work you did to get away from the water, being near its vastness made all your worries smaller in comparison. Maybe these were the answers you’d been looking for. Beyond your father, you looked at the sea and thought about your traditional mother who was less enthusiastic than you’d expected at the reality of your return to Outer Banks. You thought about your youngest brother, Clem, a boy with his whole life ahead of him who was probably even smarter than you when you were his age. You thought about Leon, who handled the ancestral responsibility you dumped on him at an age when he was too young to think for himself.
And you thought about Rafe… a boy you remembered having the world weighing down on his shoulders. Someone who was the same as you despite being worlds away. Someone who was the only person that understood you despite being so different. Someone who you loved and hated at the same time, who you gave all your firsts to while swearing to never want to see again. Someone who could make you laugh and cry all at once.
“He’s trouble, y’know.” Your brother grunts, helping you pull up the net strewn onto the side of the boat. You two had been working away on the boat for a few hours and Leon has decided he’s run out of other things to talk about. You wonder if it’s because he can tell your mind keeps circling back to the blond man staring at you from the harbour. You pretend you didn’t hear him as silver scaled fish fall against your feet but he continues anyways, “Rafe Cameron has only gotten worse since you’ve been gone.”
“You say that as if that’s my fault.”
“What?” Leon, never one to be good with his words, frowns at your response. “That’s not… it’s because of his dad or something.”
That catches your attention, “Mr. Cameron has always been like that. He’s a lot harder on Rafe than he is on Sarah or Wheezie.”
You see Leon nodding slowly in the corner of your eye as he helps pick up the net to pour your catch into the last bucket. “Well you should see Rafe now. He’s a fucking reckless cokehead who picks fights anywhere he can. Blame Mr. Cameron all you want but Rafe is old enough to know better.”
Your silence is telling of what you think of it all. Of course you’ve heard what Rafe has been up to these last few years. Try to get away from Outer Banks all you want, but the grapevine is never lacking stories about what goes on in this godforsaken island. The violence, crime, and scandal that happens here wouldn't be believable to your sheltered university friends in the slightest. This island is cursed. You knew it better than anyone, and it’s one of the many reasons you left.
“You say all this shit about Rafe as if either of us know him well enough to care.” You mumbled as you picked up a mop to begin cleaning the boat’s floor, loud enough for Leon to give you an unreadable stare. You glared back at him, daring him to continue.
“I’m just saying,” he starts carefully. “remember you’re only back here for our family. For dad, who didn’t even want you stepping foot on the boat in the first place. Don’t get distracted and stay longer than you need to.”
You’re silent as Leon takes the mop from you to hand you a cloth instead.
“Nothing here is worth giving up the life you’ve made for yourself. You’re destined for much more than this island has to offer.”
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
You and Leon had just finished hauling your catch onto the back of your family’s pickup truck when he told you to start making deliveries. You quirked your brow as he tossed you the keys and a list of stops, “Are you sure you don’t want me to help clean up?”
“You look like you can barely stand.”
You shoot your younger brother a glare, but he shrugs when you don’t retaliate. He’d know better than anyone that your body wouldn’t be used to a full day of work on the boat.
“Just go. A lot of these guys will be happy to see your face again.”
“I hate it when you tell me what to do.”
“Then maybe you should’ve stayed and become captain instead.”
Leon’s smirk is barely there as he shoos you away, and you scoff as you climb into the driver’s seat of the truck. You start the engine and wonder when your kid brother, three years your junior, had grown up so much.
“That little shit… he’s not even captain yet. There’s no way in hell dad would let his nineteen year old kid be captain.” You mumble to yourself, steering the truck into your first stop of the evening.
Deliveries went smoothly— it’s not as if there were a lot of establishments a small fishing boat like yours could rely on. The places that bought your fish were restaurants and seafood stores your family had been in business with for generations. Just as Leon predicted, everyone was more than happy to see The Little Pogue Girl That Could back in The Cut.
“Just as long as you’re not staying here for good,” Heyward, one of your family’s longtime customers, eyes you as he pays. You smile in return and thank him before climbing back into your truck to drive to The Wreck, your last stop of the day.
“Delivery!” You call, ice box in hand as you open the back door of the restaurant with your foot. Faced with a busy kitchen, you call again until a familiar voice calls back.
“Sorry for the wait— oh my god!” Kiara gasps when she sees you and you stare back in surprise. You’d forgotten her family owned the restaurant in question.
“Kie!” You smile as you put the box of fish down to hug the younger girl, recognizing her more as one of Leon’s good friends than the rebellious girl you attended Kook Academy with. She hugged you back before pulling away, holding your shoulders to take you in.
“Holy shit— I’m sorry I just didn’t expect you. Leon told us about what happened with your dad but I had no idea you’d be back to help out too.”
You laugh, “I’m glad you’re keeping him in check even after you’ve all graduated.”
“Of course… oh god, your payment…” Kiara grinned as she fished into her apron to hand you the pay for your delivery. You thanked her, not doubting that memories of you helping her, Leon, and their other three friends out of sticky situations came flooding her mind. “Fuck, I owe you so many dinners here.” She says, as if she was reading your mind.
You laugh and shake your head, “I’ll take you up on that next time when I’m with Leon. He gave me an easy way out of cleaning the boat on my first day.”
“Your whole family is too soft on each other.” Kiara chuckles. “Actually, all of our friends are here for dinner, you’ll at least come say hi, won’t you?”
Already in a good mood at seeing the Carrera girl, you nodded in agreement. You remembered the other three boys Leon hung around: John B. the leader, JJ the rascal, and Pope the brain, as well as the student who would’ve achieved the same scholarship you did to leave the island. You weren’t close to any of them but they did seem to appreciate you as their friend’s older sister who doesn’t ask too many questions about what mischief they’d been up to. The appreciation is mutual as you think about Leon’s otherwise strict childhood being offset by his ragtag group of fellow Pogue friends.
Kiara leads you from the kitchen to the restaurant’s dining area, where you’re met with one more familiar face than you were expecting.
Sarah Cameron, the quirky Kook girl you used to tutor, sat beside John B., casually sipping on her cup of pop before her mouth gaped open at the sight of you.
“No way—”
“Sarah?”
The blonde squealed as she jumped out of your seat to launch her body at you, as if she’d been waiting for you like you were a soldier returning from war. You laugh at her reaction and hug her back, surprised at her presence with Leon’s old school friends.
“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, breaking the embrace to look at you. “I haven’t seen you in years!”
“I know. You’ve grown up so much, Sarah.” You grin and look back at John B., JJ, and Pope. “You all have.”
The three boys turned men smile at you before Sarah steals back your attention, “Ugh your brother should’ve told us you were coming, were you helping on the boat?”
“Yep, I just made a delivery for Kie’s family.”
“Of course,” she started, biting her lip as she took you in. “Did you see Rafe at the harbour?”
The mention of Sarah’s older brother makes you stiffen, and her smile falters a bit before she continues. “He was down there this morning to take care of some business for our dad…”
“I don’t know.” You responded flatly, pretending that his face at the harbour wasn’t flashing in your mind at the very mention of his name. Sarah nods slowly, noting that you weren’t quite denying what she was asking.
“He and I still aren’t that close but he’s been having a hard time these days… you two used to get along so well; I’m sure he’d be so happy to see you—”
“I was wondering why Leon was mentioning you so casually earlier. I didn’t know you all hung out.” Sarah’s lips pressed together at the way you changed the subject. You smile at her sheepishly and run your hands up and down her arms, “Pogue life suits you, Sarah Cameron.”
Kiara calling your name from the kitchen gave you the distraction you needed. Your attention turned to the brunette, who handed you a to-go bag with The Wreck’s logo printed on the front.
“For you and Leon. You’re both probably hungry enough for two portions of dinner.”
“Thank you, Kie.” You smile, ignoring Sarah’s worried expression.
𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲
After not even twenty four hours after you stepped on this island, Rafe Cameron was haunting your thoughts. You thought about him on the car ride back to the boat, you thought about him as you ate the food Kiara packed for you and Leon on the drive back home, and you thought about him some more as you ate your second helping of dinner at home.
You tried to keep up with your mom’s questions about your day on the boat, “Yes it was as hard as I remember.” “No, Leon and I didn’t fight.” “No, I am not moving back to the Outer Banks.” Your dad grunts disapprovingly at the question while your mom rolls her eyes, but it was all in good fun. You barely pay any mind as the conversation shifts to Clem’s day at school, and your thoughts wander back to Rafe.
How hard of a time was he having? Ward Cameron was not a man to take lightly, and there was no doubt that he was the cause of Rafe’s suffering. Rafe… a pitiful Kook who was much more sensitive than he’d like to admit. Rafe with the world stacked up on his shoulders, Rafe who would make you hug his body and kiss his temple to keep his worries away. Rafe, a man so vulnerable that his guard was up even to you, the only other person he knew who truly understood him.
Dinner ends as quick as it begins, and your mom tells you to wash the day off in the shower. Dad discusses business with Leon, who reminds you to set your alarm for another early day tomorrow. Your baby brother Clem starts the dishes. Life is simple back at the Outer Banks, yet your feelings about it remain complicated.
You wash the smell of sweat and salt from your body, the warm water soothes your soreness. Rafe still swims in your mind; everyone on this island looked at you like you were the answer to all their problems, but you knew your return wasn’t going to fix anything. Your presence wasn’t going to fix your dad’s broken body, it wasn’t going to make the sea any less unruly, and it definitely was not going to help Rafe Cameron out of his troubled lifestyle.
You get dressed into your pyjamas after you finish showering and enter your time capsule of a room. Stupid posters from magazines that you and your friends at Kook Academy liked littered your walls, and knick knacks your mom bought you were strewn throughout the room as small presents to remind you that you were her only daughter and that she wasn’t just some strict, domineering presence in your life.
Everything you’d gotten from three years of being with Rafe was thrown out in a fit of rage when you two had fallen out, all except for one gift: a necklace he’d bought you for your one year anniversary.
The piece of jewelry hung on your bedside lamp, and you toyed with it as you wondered what exactly your relationship with Rafe was back then for him to buy you something that you’d like so much. Looking back, a chain with a singular Pearl strewn on it is barely enough to count as a thoughtful gift, but you still wore it every day while you were with Rafe. He knew you’d love it, something simple and inconspicuous while still showing that he cared… a Pearl, which reminded you of the sea your family devoted their lives to, and a Pearl that represented Rafe’s loyalty and love towards you, despite the mutual ambiguity towards your relationship.
You sigh as you realize that if you really didn’t care about Rafe like you said you did, you would’ve thrown this necklace away years ago. How could you forget about a boy who you gave all your firsts to? The boy who felt more abandoned by your absence than your own family?
You study the necklace some more, but the sound of a tapping at your window makes you jump up in surprise.
In a sight familiar and unfamiliar all at once, you turn to your window to see Rafe Cameron staring at you from behind the glass, his expression filled with the same look of regret as when you saw him on the harbour.
[The Baron] looked up at the new talismans flanking the exit to his hall--the mounted bull's head and the oil painting of the Old Duke Atreides, the late Duke Leto's father. They filled the Baron with an odd sense of foreboding, and he wondered what thoughts these talismans had inspired in the Duke Leto as they hung in the halls of Caladan and then on Arrakis--the bravura father and the head of the bull that had killed him.
This half smile oh my God.
Flirty Bucky Barnes
idiot (affectionate)
Timothée Chalamet as Edgar Scissorhands
good luck to anyone who struggles around the holidays. sending some love.
thinking abt how y’all got horny after watching that skinny wh*te boy be goofy on snl ..
