Dude I feel so silly lol. I saw your military rafe on my fyp and then the one of Simon came up. I didn’t even read the account name and I thought someone stole your fic and just changed some stuff.
don’t be, thank you for looking out for me nonetheless !!
I feel like you and Willow have the closest friendship out of the writers for Outer Banks and I love it. I feel like nobody is friends anymore and you two make me have hope for humanity 🥰
aww this is so cute!! im not very involved in the obx community unless its for her and @/rosiecherie so i dont know any other friendships but i appreciate the compliment! i adore willow so much, shes the sweetest person ever and im so glad our friendship makes you as happy as she makes me 💙💙
simon "ghost" riley who has absolutely no idea what the trend is. soap tries explaining it to him three separate times.
"she's supposed to just stand there and stare at you until you fold, lt."
"why?"
"for the video."
"that's stupid."
"that's the point."
and somehow soap convinces him anyway. mostly because ghost doesn't care enough to argue but also because he knows you and there's no chance in hell you're actually following through.
ghost who pretends he isn't looking for you the second he steps into the homecoming hangar, except he is immediately scanning the crowd automatically the same way he scans every room he enters, except this time he's not looking for threats: he's looking for you.
ghost who spots you standing near the barriers and physically slows down. after months away it's always a little shocking, seeing you in person again, seeing someone soft after spending so much time surrounded by hard things seeing home
ghost who notices you're trying very hard not to move, hands clasped together, biting the inside of your cheek, eyes already shiny. he instantly realizes this challenge is about to fail spectacularly
ghost who feels his chest tighten the second your eyes meet. god, he missed you. he missed you so much it stopped feeling like a normal emotion somewhere around month two. after that it became something else entirely, something that sat permanently beneath his ribs
ghost who watches your entire expression collapse. the determination? gone the attempt at self-control? gone. because suddenly you're looking at him like you've been holding your breath for months
ghost who doesn't even make it a second himself. that's the funny part: everyone assumes it'll be you. but the second he sees your face his feet are already moving
ghost who starts walking toward you immediately, long strides, eyes never leaving yours and you break the second you realize he's coming
ghost who sees you start running and for one brief moment he actually smiles, a real one, the kind that almost nobody ever gets to see
ghost who opens his arms before you even reach him. there is absolutely no universe where he's making you stop at arm's length after months apart. absolutely none
ghost who catches you when you practically throw yourself at hiim, arms wrapping around his neck, face immediately buried against his chest. his arms lock around you so quickly it's almost startling. like muscle memory, like instinct and like he's been imagining this exact moment every night before sleep
ghost who lifts you clean off the ground without thinking because he needs you closer. having you pressed against him still doesn't feel close enough somehow
ghost who buries his face against the side of your head, eyes closed. just for a second, just long enough to breathe you in. he missed that too: your shampoo, your perfume. you
ghost who doesn't say anything immediately. his throat suddenly feels tight: emotions have never been his strongest skill. he's spent months imagining this and somehow reality is worse or better, maybe both
eventually all he manages is "there she is." voice rough and completely wrecked
ghost who keeps one hand cradling the back of your head the entire time, fingers tangled in your hair: protective and grounding like he's reassuring himself you're real
ghost who notices you're crying immediately because he notices everything about you. especially now "hey." forehead pressing against yours, gloved thumb wiping beneath your eye "don't cry." meanwhile he's holding you like if he lets go you'll disappear
ghost who absolutely forgets there's an audience. forgets about soap filming, forgets about the entire base. the second you're in his arms nothing else matters. nothing
ghost who gets mercilessly teased afterward when everyone watches the video. the footage shows you breaking almost instantly but it also very clearly shows ghost reaching for you first before you've even started moving, before the challenge technically begins. already opening his arms, already walking toward you
soap replaying it over and over
"look at him."
"lt lasted about half a second."
"didn't even pretend."
and ghost just stares at him, expression completely blank before taking the phone and secretly sending the video to himself
ghost who watches it alone later that night, not because of himself but because of you because it catches the exact moment your face lights up when you see him. the exact moment you stop trying to be brave. the exact moment you run straight into his arms like you belong there and for a man who's spent most of his life feeling untethered from everything
military!rafe who gets convinced by one of his buddies to do that stupid trend where the girlfriend is supposed to stand still and just stare at her boyfriend when he gets home
"mine lasted thirty seconds."
"mine started cryin'."
“film it, cameron.”
meanwhile rafe is already smirking because he knows you, absolutely knows you
you've spent the last seven months counting down days on a calendar. there's no universe where you're standing there calmly
so one of the guys starts recording as rafe steps off the bus, duffel bag over one shoulder, uniform slightly wrinkled from travel and exhausted in that way only military travel can make someone exhausted but the second he spots you, he wakes up because there you are.
standing near the barrier, already looking emotional, already fighting tears, already losing this challenge before it even starts. for exactly half a second, you manage it, maybe less, just standing there staring at him and taking him in
the familiar face you've only seen through blurry video calls for months, the same blue eyes, the same crooked smile. the same man you've missed so badly it physically hurt sometimes
then rafe starts moving and that completely ruins whatever self-control you had because the second you see him shift his duffel bag and open his arms, you're done
“oh screw this.”
and suddenly you're running
meanwhile rafe is laughing because he knew itz knew there was no chance. the second you launch yourself toward him he's already reaching for you like his body moves before his brain does.
months apart and instinct wins. you hit him so hard he nearly loses his balance arms immediately wrapping around his neck face buried against his shoulder and rafe catches you automatically, both arms locking around your waist, pulling you completely off the ground.
he buries his face in your shoulder for a second before saying anything because he missed this. missed you, missed being able to hold you whenever he wanted.
rafe who laughs softly when you immediately start crying. not making fun of you, just completely unsurprised "baby."
"don't."
"you lasted about half a second."
"shut up." but his own voice is suspiciously rough. you know he’s emotional too: he’s just hiding it better.
your voice is already shaking. because you've barely looked at him for three seconds before you're crying. and suddenly rafe's smile disappears, replaced by that softer look he only gets around you
the one nobody else ever sees because now he's holding you just as tightly as you're holding him
"hey, hey." one hand cradling the back of your head, pressing you closer, “i got you.”
like he wasn't just as desperate for this. like he hadn't spent the entire flight imagining this exact moment
the video catches the way neither of you let go not after ten seconds, not after thirty, not after a minute. just standing there in the middle of the crowd holding each other like the rest of the world stopped existing
and later when the guys send him the video, they immediately start making fun of him because they catch the exact moment you start running and the exact same moment rafe drops his duffel bag without even hesitating. he pretends to be annoyed when the guys point it out
"look at that."
"man's dropped the bag already."
"didn't even give the challenge a chance."
and rafe just rolls his eyes but secretly saves the video to his favorites because it catches something he’ll never see: the exact moment both of you try to be strong and both of you failing miserably.
In every year after forturen, after they are back together,does the reader trust rafe fully ?like is he really fully loyal to her now and he only has eyes for her?like was eh with anyone else after not being together for four years ?
i think in the beginning definetly not in terms of her trusting him, but probably when she realises that he truly does regret it and actually stays constantly there in her life then she realises he does, and noo after that rafe was 100% loyal!!
i did say in the story (i don’t mean this in an upper hand or offensive tone at ALL) that he didn’t cheat on her because he was bored of her or wanted another relationship/any attraction or because she was lesser, it was just something that could take away the stress he was going through even temporally (because their relationship was in shambles)
bf!toji who genuinely, sincerely, spectacularly forgets valentine's day. not because he doesn't love you, not because he doesn't care but because his relationship with dates is absolutely terrible.
he doesn't know what day it is half the time. he pays bills at the last possible second. his calendar is empty. his reminders are nonexistent.
so valentine's day arrives and toji is completely unaware.
bf!toji who notices you've been acting strangely all morning. you're quieter, a little distracted, checking your phone but also looking at him every now and then like you're waiting for something. but he's clueless. absolutely clueless. "what?" he asks eventually.
"nothing."
"don't give me that shit."
"give you what?"
"the face."
"what face?"
"the one you're making."
you immediately look away. that doesn't help him figure it out at all.
bf!toji who gets home later that evening and finally notices because the apartment looks nice. not over-the-top but just thoughtful.
you've made dinner and there are candles. you changed into a dress he knows you only wear when you want to feel pretty. and sitting on the table — a small gift.
for him. his stomach drops immediately. suddenly he remembers the date. the silence is deafening. you know the exact moment it clicks. you watch it happen on his face, watch his eyes dart toward the calendar on the wall, watch realization hit him like a freight train. "oh."
bf!toji who has never wanted the floor to swallow him more in his entire life because you smile and somehow that's worse, way worse.
it's not an angry smile. it's not a disappointed smile. it's one of those smiles people use when they're trying really hard to pretend something didn't hurt, the one where your lips disappear and you shrug.
and toji immediately feels sick. "baby."
you shake your head. "it's okay."
it is not okay. toji knows it isn't okay. you spent time planning this. he can see the effort everywhere. the dinner and he brought absolutely nothing. not even flowers.
bf!toji who sits awake all night afterward. literally all night. you told him it was fine. you insisted. you kissed his cheek. you told him not to worry about it.
somehow that makes him feel even worse because you deserved to be upset and instead you protected his feelings. so the next morning he wakes up before you (which never happens. ever) and immediately leaves.
bf!toji who spends the entire day trying to fix it with absolutely no idea how. the problem isn't that he forgot to buy something. the problem is that he forgot something important to you and that's eating him alive.
he shows up with flowers first then more flowers because he doesn't know which flowers you like best. so he buys multiple bouquets. then chocolates. then your favorite snacks. then a necklace. then another necklace because he hates the first one. then he spends twenty minutes arguing with himself in a store aisle because none of it feels like enough. did he use all of his funds from his broke ass to do that? yes but it's irrelevant.
bf!toji who is actually pacing when he gets home. pacing. toji fushiguro. pacing. he's nervous, he knows he screwed up. badly. when you open the door, he immediately starts talking. "before you say anything—"
"toji—"
"no, lemme finish."
you blink. he looks genuinely distressed. "i know i fucked up." straight to the point. "i forgot." his jaw tightens like he hates admitting it. "and that's not an excuse." you open your mouth but he keeps going. "i don't care if it's just a date." his voice gets quieter, "it mattered to you. you spent all that time planning something nice." his eyes flick toward the floor. "and i made you feel like i didn't care."
you can actually hear how guilty he feels.
bf!toji who is not a naturally apologetic man. he's stubborn, prideful and fucking annoying. but for you? he'll swallow every ounce of pride he has.
"i love you." he pauses, swallowing, "and i don't want you to ever think i don't."
your heart immediately squeezes. he hands you the flowers. all of them, there are too many flowers. you start laughing and the visible relief that crosses his face is almost painful. "you laughing?"
"there's enough flowers here for a funeral."
"good."
"good?"
"means i bought enough."
bf!toji who spends the next week making up for it. not because he thinks gifts solve everything but because he wants you to know he was listening. that he cares, that he noticed. and after that? he never forgets again. ever.
not once. not a single year. because the image of you sitting at that candlelit table with that little hopeful smile permanently burned itself into his brain.
bf!toji who starts setting reminders months in advance. months which is honestly shocking. he'll pretend it's not a big deal, pretend he's casual about it. but every year after that, valentine's day arrives and somehow he's already planned everything.
flowers, dinner, a gift. the whole thing. and if you tease him about it? "thought you forgot valentine's day."
"don't bring up then."
"still traumatized?"
"very."
toji can handle a lot of things. fights, injuries. debt (not really). stress. whatever. but making the woman he loves feel unimportant? once was enough. he'd never let it happen again.
Are there any fans/readers of yours that you have that you recognise now?
10000%, i wont properly tag them just incase they dont want to be (but these are also those who comment on my posts)
@/heathanddrewstarkey , @/soulbreaks , @/portalss have been my top three since it's been a few months now, but i do recognise others when i check my posts and see their comments there!
bf!toji who pretends he's annoyed every single time you ask him to do something for you, but somehow he's already doing it before you've even finished your sentence. you'll barely get out a quiet "can you—" before he's sighing dramatically, standing up and grabbing whatever you need. he acts like you're inconveniencing him, but the truth is he likes being relied on. likes knowing you're comfortable asking him for things. if anyone points out how whipped he is, he'll deny it immediately while carrying your bags, holding your drink, and checking whether you've eaten lunch.
bf!toji who absolutely melts whenever you fall asleep on him, though he'd rather die than admit it. you'll wake up sprawled across his chest, one of his arms wrapped securely around your waist, only to find him already awake and scrolling on his phone.
the second you smile at him? "don't."
"don't what?"
"look happy."
"...why?"
"because now i gotta stay like this." and he doesn't move for another hour.
bf!toji who never remembers important dates but remembers every tiny thing about you. your coffee order. the side of the bed you prefer. which blanket you steal every night. the exact face you make when you're trying not to cry.
he'll forget what day valentine's day falls on but somehow knows you've been quieter than usual for the past three days and keeps finding excuses to stay close to you because he knows something's bothering you.
bf!toji who is unbelievably touchy once he's comfortable with you. he just always has to be touching you somehow. a hand on your lower back, your legs thrown over his lap, his fingers tangled with yours while you're walking.
he's not even aware he's doing it half the time. if you move away, he'll unconsciously pull you back. if you're sitting beside him, he'll tug you against his side. it's become such a habit that when you're not around, he catches himself reaching for you and gets irritated afterward.
bf!toji who claims he hates shopping but suddenly becomes very invested when you're buying clothes. he'll sit in a chair looking bored out of his mind for twenty minutes then you'll walk out of the fitting room and suddenly he's paying attention. "turn around."
"what?"
"lemme see."
he acts like he's judging the outfit critically but really he's wondering how one person manages to look good in literally everything.
bf!toji who has a reputation for being intimidating until people see how he acts around you. suddenly this terrifying six-foot-something man is carrying your purse because your shoulder hurts. holding your umbrella, letting you steal all the blankets, walking on the outside of the sidewalk automatically.
bf!toji who looks at you differently when he thinks you aren't paying attention. that's the biggest giveaway. his usual expression is relaxed, lazy, sometimes amused. but when you're distracted? reading. talking. focused on something else. his face softens completely like he's still trying to figure out how someone like you ended up in his life.
and every time you catch him staring? he immediately looks away and acts annoyed. "what?"
"you were looking at me."
"and?"
"why?"
"...because you're standing there." he's a terrible liar.
bf!toji who acts tough when he's sick right up until the moment you start taking care of him then suddenly he's the most dramatic man alive.
"i'm dying."
"it's a cold, baby."
"tell my story."
"to who?"
"the world."
five minutes later he's asleep with his head in your lap while you're playing with his hair.
bf!toji who never expected to become the kind of man who plans a future around another person but then you happened and now every decision quietly includes you.
every apartment he considers. every job. every plan. without even realizing it, he stopped thinking in terms of me and started thinking in terms of us which is probably the most serious proof of love he'll ever give.
PAIRINGS: childhoodbsf!rafe x sweetheart!reader ➜ frat!rafe x sweetheart!reader➜military!rafe x sweetheart!reader ➜ frat!rafe x sweetheart reader➜ husband!rafe x sweetheart!reader
rafe he knew fucked up.
throughout his entire life, he always had another route. if he smoked too much, he could turn to drinking. if ward screamed at him, he could escape to the roof or turn to drugs.
which, in short, meant there had always been another option for when something was fucked up in his life. but now, where the warmth and energy of her once had been was now just grey, gone. rafe couldn't walk his way back in, charm her, promise her sweet things that always ended up turning sour.
this time she was done.
not forever, maybe, she didn't know but she was done listening and rafe realized very quickly that losing her attention hurt far worse than losing her love.
she still loved him. he knew she did. he saw it every time she looked away first. every time her voice cracked and every time she refused to meet his eyes. that was the problem. she loved him and still wouldn't take him back which meant love wasn't enough anymore. for the first time in his entire life, love wasn't enough.
as soon as she left and packed up her things, and in the entire process of it, he wouldn't stop calling her. wouldn't stop apologising to her.
the truth was, they both knew it wasn't because he didn't love her. they both knew rafe loved her more than anyone in the world, more than anyone he was ever capable of loving. it wasn't because she was lesser: it was because rafe had such a big pit of insecurity that it had to consume everything, and she was always the result of it.
but, a week after it, after the thousands (he had counted every single one, hoping to see she had read it) texts he had sent, only one came through.
just until she comes
their baby. their daughter. rafe saw the "just" and clung to it like religion. the alternative was unbearable. for the first time in his life, rafe learned what it felt like to be on the other side because he'd spent years disappearing. years making people chase him, years assuming they'd always wait. and now he was the one waiting. waiting, and in fucking agony.
after then he saw her, obviously, he was the father of their child. she only spoke to him when necessary, at the doctor's appointments. baby preparations. medical forms. important conversations.
everything else disappeared.
the worst part about it was that she was polite. and even worse was that every single time, she'd look at him for several seconds before dropping her gaze, as if she just could physically not look at him for too long.
rafe would've preferred screaming.
"appointment's at ten."
"okay."
always okay. always calm. always distant. she stopped calling him baby, stopped reaching for him, stopped looking for him in crowded rooms.
rafe learned there were things worse than hatred. indifference, because hatred at least meant somebody still cared enough to feel something.
every apology died immediately. "i'm sorry." silence. "i know that doesn't fix anything." silence. "i hate myself for it."
silence. and then eventually she just looked at him and said: "you should."
he deserved that. she wasn't trying to hurt him anymore. she was just being honest. honesty from her had always been the thing that cut deepest. he'd learnt that since they were kids, when they'd sit together and he'd always ask her if she thought he was fucked up.
one night around eight months pregnant, he found her asleep on the
couch. a blanket over her, one hand resting on her stomach their daughter kicked hard. he saw it through the blanket and his chest immediately tightened at the sight. slowly, carefully, he knelt beside her.
for months she'd barely let him touch her but she was asleep. so before he could stop himself, he rested his hand lightly against her stomach. another kick. his daughter, his little girl.
something broke inside him immediately. suddenly all he could think was: i almost destroyed this. not the relationship. her, them, his family for one stupid selfish decision. he sat there for nearly an hour, crying quietly.
she never knew.
when labor started, neither of them were prepared. it was three in the morning, pouring rain and absolute chaos.
all the distance between them disappeared, because fear overrides everything. rafe had never moved so fast in his life. hospital bag, car keys, phone, insurance.
she was barely through the front door before he was beside her again. "breathe."
"i am breathing."
"you look like you're dying."
"i'M PUSHING A HUMAN OUT OF MY BODY."
"right."
"RAFE."
"RIGHT."
he was absoloutely terrified. it would've been funny if she wasn't in labour.
but for twelve hours straight, he never left her side. not once. every contraction. every nurse. every monitor. every panic.
he stayed. when she screamed, he stayed. when she cried, he stayed. when she nearly crushed his hand and he swear he felt his vein pop, tendons tear and bones break, he stayed.
the whole time he looked like somebody standing trial, like this was his punishment, atonement. he would gladly endure anything if it meant she was okay.
finally — after hours — a cry filled the room. tiny but perfect. their daughter.
their daughter.
the nurse placed the baby carefully against her chest. for a moment the entire world stopped. suddenly there she was: dark little eyes, tiny fingers, impossibly small.
real.
she looked over at rafe, who was crying. "she's beautiful."
his voice broke halfway through the sentence. she'd never heard him sound like that before. reverent, like he was standing in church.
the nurse carefully placed the baby into his arms.
"she's real."
the room laughed softly but rafe wasn't joking, she could tell. he stared at his daughter like she was the first good thing he'd ever touched.
then he looked at her, for the first time in months. "thank you."
"for what?"
"for giving me a family after every reason not to."
"i know i don't deserve this." his voice shook. "i know i don't deserve you." another breath. "or her." he looked down at the baby, then back at her and she saw something she'd never seen before. not panic, not self-hatred, not fear. humility. the complete understanding of what he'd almost lost. "but i'll spend the rest of my life earning it." his voice cracked completely. "if you'll let me."
and for the first time since he cheated — she didn't look away. sitting there with their daughter in his arms, crying harder than she'd ever seen, looking more ashamed than angry, more grateful than entitled —he finally looked like a man who understood that forgiveness wasn't owed.
it was given.
and if he ever got it — it would be because he spent every day proving he deserved to keep it.
three years later, they still weren't entirely sure what they were which was objectively insane.
they had a daughter, a mortgage, shared custody that had slowly become "whatever, just stay for dinner." and approximately seven hundred photos of the same little girl taking up both of their camera rolls.
her name was christina. christina cameron, christie for short though rafe called her approximately forty-seven different nicknames.
"princess."
"my queen."
"baby."
christie accepted all of them. christie absolutely adored her father which honestly felt unfair sometimes. because rafe cameron was an absurdly good dad.
the universe, apparently, had jokes.
all those years spent terrified he'd become ward and then he became the complete opposite.
he attended every preschool recital, every doctor's appointment, every random tea party involving stuffed animals.
he knew her favorite color, favorite movie, favorite bedtime story. he knew she hated blueberries but loved blueberry muffins which somehow made sense to her.
and christie worshipped him.
one afternoon she walked into the living room and found christie sitting on rafe's shoulders while he crawled around the floor pretending to be a horse. a six-foot-something former frat boy, reduced to livestock.
"faster, daddy!"
"christina, i've served my country."
"FASTER."
"yes ma'am."
and off he went.
she laughed so hard she nearly dropped her coffee. rafe immediately looked over and there it was.
that look. still, after all this time. god. three years later and he still looked at her like she was something miraculous. would've been easier if he didn't also look guilty every time.
the cheating never vanished completely.
they'd rebuilt, healed, co-parented, become friends again but there was still a scar and sometimes she caught him touching it. emotionally, like checking if it still hurt.
it always did, just less. enough that neither of them had ever officially gotten back together which was why situations like this kept happening.
"you staying for dinner?" she asked one evening.
rafe looked up from helping christie color. "you asking me out?"
she rolled her eyes. "i literally made chicken."
"that's not a no."
christie immediately gasped. "OOOOOOOH."
"christina."
"mommy likes daddy."
rafe looked like he was having the best day of his life. absolutely insufferable prick. "you hear that?"
"rafe."
"our daughter has spoken."
"RAFE."
he grinned, actually grinned, and for a second she saw him again. the old version. the boy on the dock. the teenager who kissed her then got so embarassed about it he didn't talk to her for years. the man she married on a high, all existing simultaneously inside the person sitting at her kitchen table.
suddenly her chest hurt. she still loved him. of course she did. that was the problem. she'd never stopped, she just got better at carrying it.
that night after christie finally fell asleep, they ended up sitting on the porch together.
something they did more often lately. quiet conversations. shared beers. comfortable silences, the kind of intimacy that sneaks up on people.
rafe sat beside her, arms crossed, looking out into the darkness. for a while neither spoke. then quietly: "she asked me something today."
she glanced over. "what?"
his smile appeared instantly, but a sad one. "asked why mommy doesn't live with daddy."
her stomach dropped. ah. that. eventually it was always going to become that. "what'd you say?"
rafe looked down at the beer bottle in his hands. turning it slowly and thinking, an old habit he'd never seemed to grow out of. then: "told her sometimes grown-ups make mistakes."
silence.
"and?"
his jaw tightened briefly. "and sometimes they spend a long time trying to fix them."
god. there it was, always there. underneath every conversation. yearning. three years of yearning. three years of him showing up. three years of proving himself. three years of bedtime stories and packed lunches and dance recitals and scraped knees and consistency.
three years of him never missing a single thing. and still — he never pushed. never demanded forgiveness. never demanded another chance, because he knew better now.
that was maybe the saddest part. young rafe would've fought for her. this version simply waited. hoping, patiently, but terrified of asking for too much.
his voice came quietly. "i miss you."
the confession slipped out accidentally. she knew because his eyes widened immediately afterward like he hadn't meant to say it.
silence settled between them. "that sounded pathetic."
"a little."
"cool."
another laugh, this one sadder. "that's embarrassing."
she smiled despite herself and immediately saw him notice. rafe always noticed, always. his eyes softened and for one terrible moment neither looked away.
years. there were years in that look. childhood. the dock. the first kiss. military school. vegas. christie. everything, an entire lifetime.
then christie's baby monitor crackled softly from inside, breaking the moment. they both looked away immediately.
cowards. absolute cowards. and as she stood to go check on their daughter, she heard rafe murmur quietly behind her: "for the record..." she paused, looked back. rafe smiled faintly.
that same stupid smile she'd been in love with since she was eight years old. "i'd still marry you."
she turned away in time. she was unsure of how to react to that anyways.
for a while after that, nothing changed which somehow made everything worse.
once rafe said it out loud — "i'd still marry you." — it never really left. it sat between them. at school pickups, at birthday parties. during family dinners. during random tuesday afternoons when they found themselves standing too close together in kitchens.
neither mentioned it again. of course they didn't. they were professionals at avoiding things. props of dating rrafe.
but christie noticed. one saturday morning, she was sitting at the kitchen island coloring while rafe made pancakes which mostly meant burning pancakes.
"dad."
"yes, baby?"
"why do you look at mommy weird?"
rafe almost dropped the spatula while she nearly choked on her coffee. christie continued coloring, completely oblivious.
"what?"
"you always do it."
rafe looked horrified. "do what?"
"look at her."
silence. the child pointed with her crayon. "like that."
rafe immediately looked away and christie frowned. "you just did it."
"okay."
"why?"
rafe rubbed a hand down his face. "christina."
"yes?"
"please stop."
"why?"
children were terrorists. she watched rafe physically struggle for an answer. "because i love your mom."
the room went completely still. christie blinked. "oh."
then she went back to coloring, like she'd just asked about the weather. meanwhile she couldn't breathe. rafe had said it so casually. just a fact, because to him it was.
he'd loved her for twenty years. why would he say it any differently?
that night she cried. alone.
it felt ridiculous because nothing had happened, not really, except she'd suddenly realized something terrifying: rafe wasn't waiting because he thought she'd definitely come back.
he was waiting because he loved her. and if she never came back — he'd probably keep loving her anyway. that realization hurt more than the cheating.
the cheating had been ugly and selfish. stupid. this was heartbreak, pure heartbreak. months passed.
christie turned four. rafe showed up to her birthday party carrying approximately six hundred dollars worth of decorations.
"you know she would've been happy with balloons."
"she deserves better."
"she's four."
"exactly."
he looked genuinely confused like obviously their daughter deserved the moon. he loved people completely, sometimes disastrously but completely.
she knew that now because she'd watched him spend four years proving it, day after day without asking for anything back. later that evening, after everyone left, she found him asleep on the couch.
christie curled against his side, both completely unconscious. the television flickering softly. she stood there quietly. watching and suddenly she saw them.
really saw them. her family. not the broken version but the one they'd built anyway. through mistakes and through forgiveness. through surviving each other.
rafe looked older now. not old. just older. the sharp edges had softened. there was a tiny scar near his eyebrow, faint lines around his eyes. evidence of years.
suddenly she remembered being thirteen. watching him jump off docks. watching him grin. watching him become every version of himself.
the nerd. the golden boy. the frat boy. the soldier. the disaster. the father. all of them. every single version. somehow she'd loved all of them. even the ones she shouldn't have.
a week later, christie accidentally locked herself in the bathroom which led to thirty minutes of chaos. "i can't get out!"
"turn the lock, baby."
"i DID."
"turn it the other way."
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS."
eventually christie dissolved into tears. rafe immediately sat outside the door. "hey."
sniffling. "what?"
"you remember when you got your head stuck in the banister?"
"...no."
"good."
she laughed from the kitchen. christie laughed too. within minutes she was calm again and eventually freed. the crisis ended.
but afterward christie climbed directly into rafe's lap. arms around his neck. safe, secure and loved. watching it suddenly shattered something inside her.
that little girl had never once doubted her father loved her. not once. never feared him, never questioned him, never wondered if she mattered. everything rafe promised himself as a child — he'd become.
every single thing and suddenly she was crying. which alarmed everybody. especially rafe.
"what happened?"
"nothing."
"you're crying."
"i know."
"why?"
when she looked at him, she stopped seeing the man who cheated. she stopped seeing the mistake. she stopped seeing the betrayal. instead she saw the boy on the dock.
the teenager she loved. the man who'd spent four years rebuilding trust one brick at a time. the father holding their daughter. the person he'd become.
and god. she was tired. tired of pretending she didn't still love him. tired of acting like she wasn't already halfway home. that night, after christie fell asleep, she found him sitting on the porch again.
same spot, same chair just older now, quieter. still waiting. he looked up when she walked outside. immediately smiling. "hey."
"hey."
"i think i'm angry at you."
rafe blinked. "still?"
"for making me spend four years being miserable."
he laughed. "that's fair."
"i'm serious."
"i know."
another pause. then softly: "i'm angry at me too."
there it was, the guilt, the thing he'd carried every day.
she moved closer, sat beside him and their shoulders touched. neither pulled away. rafe went very still like he always did when she got close, still afraid she'd disappear.
even now, especially now and suddenly she understood. he wasn't waiting for forgiveness anymore. he'd already accepted he might never get it.
he stayed because he loved her. that simple. that devastating. her voice came quietly. "you know..."
his eyes lifted. "what?"
she smiled. small and nervous. "vegas was a terrible wedding."
silence. complete silence. then rafe froze. his brain stopped functioning. "what?"
she laughed. "the wedding."
his mouth opened. closed, opened again. nothing came out for maybe ten full seconds. then: "...are you serious?"
his voice cracked so hard she nearly started crying herself.
after twenty years — after every version of him she'd known — she realized there had never been anybody else. there never would be. some people become woven into your life so completely that removing them means unraveling yourself too.
rafe's eyes were already filling. of course they were. he cried easier these days.
fatherhood did that. love did that. living honestly did that. finally he whispered: "baby."
the nickname, after years. it sounded exactly the same and somehow completely different.
she took his hand. the same hand she'd held when they were children. the same hand she'd let go of. the same hand that found its way back.
again. and again. and again. rafe looked down at their fingers intertwined.
then back at her. and for the first time in years — the hope in his eyes wasn't painful. it was allowed.
finally.
somewhere inside the house, christie snored loud enough to be heard through the baby monitor. both of them burst out laughing. maybe that was fitting. for all the drama and heartbreak and years spent destroying and rebuilding each other — their story didn't end with some grand declaration. it ended the way it began. with two people sitting side by side, laughing, looking toward the future and choosing each other.
AN: anddd thats a wrap! this was my first long-term series and ive enjoyed writing 🥺 im so sorry to everyone who did not get the death of rafe that they wanted, if requested i can write an au where that happens !! but i love each and every single one of you, thank you so much for the support and see you in the next fwb series ill be writing soon , please remember to leave as many comments as you want so i can see how you guys have enjoyed it!!
ive seen a few questions why i dont reblog other people's work and ill just say that everyone uses tumblr differently. its not me hating others authors and their work its literally just how i choose to organise my own space, thats it. i rarely reblog my own work unless its flopping/i want more attention for it.
me not reblogging content isnt unsupportive. most of the ways i support my moots is by messaging them, commenting on their work or sending them several messages in their inbox
hope you guys understand, further asks about this will be blocked and ignored ❤❤
