summary: After escaping an abusive ex, you find love and safety with Rafe, your best friend turned boyfriend. When your ex’s obsession escalates into violence, Rafe does what he has to, to save you.
warnings: TW!! Domestic violence, violence, fights, blood, lots of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft rafe.
notes: yall this is a long one, i should’ve made it two parts but oops! i promise it’s worth it<3
You stared out the window of your condo, watching as the rain tapped rhythmically against the glass. The mug of tea in your hands had gone cold, forgotten in your grip. Across the room, Rafe moved easily in the kitchen, his voice filling the space as he hummed some tune he’d probably heard on Spotify earlier.
“Found them!” he called out, holding up the coffee filters he’d been hunting for.
You smiled despite the weight in your chest. Rafe’s presence was a warm blanket on a freezing night—comforting, grounding, and so unlike the chaos you’d known before. Being with him was the first time in over a year you felt like you could breathe, even if it was still shallow at times.
He turned, coffee filters in hand, and grinned at you. “What are you thinking about over there?”
You blinked, quickly forcing a wider smile. “Nothing. Just tired.”
He frowned slightly, walking over and sitting next to you on the couch. His arm draped over your shoulders as he studied you with those piercing blue eyes. “You sure? You’ve been kinda quiet today.”
“I’m fine, Rafe,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “Promise.”
He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t push. That was something you appreciated about him, Rafe always gave you the space to open up on your own time. You’d never felt pressured, never felt the looming weight of expectations. It was so different from what you’d known before.
Your ex, Jack, was charming at first, in the way that all toxic men are. He’d swept you off your feet with grand gestures, sweet texts, and a charisma that felt like sunlight after years of loneliness. For a while you thought you’d found everything you ever wanted.
But the cracks began to show. Slowly at first—a comment about the way you dressed, a critique of how you spent your time. Then came the accusations, the jealousy that lurked behind every question, and the sharp words that cut you down whenever you didn’t comply. But the worst part came when his anger turned physical. No matter how hard you tried to avoid conflict—carefully choosing your words, keeping your tone soft, doing everything you could to keep the peace—it was never enough. The smallest mistake, the slightest misstep, would ignite a storm. And once his temper reached that breaking point, you knew you’d bear the brunt of it.
By the end, you were a shadow of yourself, constantly walking on eggshells, wondering how to avoid setting him off. Even after you’d finally found the courage to leave, Jack hadn’t made it easy. He’d called, texted, begged for forgiveness, and then turned cold when you didn’t respond.
It took months before the calls stopped and even longer before you felt safe again. And after months of constructing walls around your heart, letting Rafe in was nothing short of terrifying.
Rafe had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember—your best friend, your rock, the one person you could always rely on. But then came Jack. Jack saw what you and Rafe had, the unshakable bond, the quiet understanding, and he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand him.
So, out of fear, you drifted away. You stopped hanging out with Rafe, stopped calling him, stopped being his friend.. But not because you wanted to, but because Jack made sure you felt you had no choice.
And when you finally broke free from Jack, Rafe was there. He didn’t question you, didn’t get angry or demand explanations. He didn’t judge you for pulling away. Instead, he met you with patience and understanding, quietly reminding you why he had always been the one person you could trust.
He was everything Jack wasn’t. Rafe never raised his voice, never made you feel small. When you told him about your hesitancy to date again, he’d nodded, saying simply, “Take your time. I’ll be here.” And he had been.
You’d let him in, piece by piece, until it felt natural to have him in your life. He made you laugh, made you feel like you were worth something. He’d brought light into the dark places you thought would never see the sun again.
That light, however, had begun to dim in the last few weeks, ever since Jack resurfaced.
It started with the texts. You didn’t recognize the numbers, but the messages were unmistakable:
You can’t ignore me forever.
At first, you’d brushed it off. Blocked the numbers and pretended it was nothing. But then you started seeing him.
The first time was outside your work. You were on your way out of the office, when you spotted a familiar figure across the street. Jack leaned casually against a black car, his eyes locked on you. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, you considered calling someone—Rafe, maybe, or your coworker Liz. But you didn’t. Instead, you ducked back inside and pretended to be busy until he left.
The second time was worse. You were at the grocery store, balancing a bag on your hip while fumbling for your keys, when you felt it, that prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Turning, you spotted the black car parked at the end of the lot. You couldn’t see inside, but you didn’t need to.
The worst part was how easily you fell back into old habits. You locked yourself in your condo, closed the blinds, and tried to convince yourself it was nothing. And when Rafe came over later that night, you acted like everything was fine.
“Good day at the work?” he’d asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Yeah,” you lied, your smile forced but convincing enough.
You hated lying to him. Rafe deserved the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. The thought of dragging him into Jack’s mess made you sick. So you kept it to yourself.
Even when Jack showed up at your office.
You were alone, finishing some paperwork when the chime above the door rang. Your stomach dropped as Jack strolled in, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you.
“Hi darling,” he said, his voice calm and casual. “Long time no see.”
“What are you doing here?” you demanded, gripping the desk to steady yourself.
“I just wanted to talk,” he replied, taking a step closer. “You’ve been ignoring me.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” you said, your voice shaking.
His expression darkened, but before he could respond, Liz walked in. Jack’s mask slipped back into place, and he gave you a pointed look before turning to leave.
You thought about telling Rafe that night. You almost did. But the words caught in your throat, and you convinced yourself it wasn’t worth worrying him.
It wasn’t until the night Jack broke into your condo that you realized you couldn’t keep hiding.
The sound of the window sliding open woke you instantly, the rush of cold air sending a chill down your spine. At first, you thought it was a dream, but then you felt Rafe stir beside you.
“What was th—” he mumbled, his voice groggy but alert.
You both turned toward the window, your heart stopping when you saw the shadowy figure climbing inside.
“Stay here,” Rafe ordered, his voice sharp as he slid out of bed.
But you couldn’t move, frozen as Rafe crossed the room. The intruder froze, too, his eyes meeting Rafe’s before narrowing.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” Rafe muttered, his voice low and furious.
Before you could process what was happening, Rafe lunged. The room filled with the sound of fists colliding, furniture scraping against the floor, and Jack’s muffled curses.
“Rafe, stop!” you cried, scrambling out of bed to grab your phone and call 911.
Rafe didn’t stop until Jack was slumped against the wall, clutching his face.
“Why the fuck is he here?” Rafe demanded, turning to you.
Your mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Y/N,” he pressed, his voice softer now. “What the hell is going on?”
And that’s when you broke. The tears came fast and uncontrollably, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything. The texts, the car, the nights you’d spent too afraid to sleep.
Rafe listened in silence, his jaw tight and his hands curling into fists at his sides. When you finished, he shook his head.
“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with something dangerous.
“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” you whispered.
“That’s not your call,” he said, stepping closer and cupping your face in his hands. “You’re mine, Y/N. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around. You hear me?”
You nodded, tears streaming down your face as the distant wail of sirens grew louder. Regardless of what just happened, you felt a flicker of hope. Because with Rafe by your side, maybe, just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.
Rafe had been relentless in his efforts to keep you safe since the break-in. Every morning, he was parked outside your place before sunrise, his truck rumbling softly as he waited to drive you to work. Even if you told him you could handle it, he didn’t waver.
“No chance,” he’d said the first time you brought it up. “I’m not letting you deal with this alone.”
You tried to argue, but his resolve was unshakable. He made sure to stay involved in every part of your routine: texting you during your shifts, picking you up without fail, and spending every night either at your place or having you stay with him.
At night, he held you close, his warmth and steady breathing lulling you into the first semblance of peaceful sleep you’d had in weeks. But no matter how safe you felt with Rafe, a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that Jack was still out there, lurking in the shadows.
And you were right, Jack wasn’t gone.
You saw him again a week later.
It was during your shift, just as you were finishing up with a client. When you glanced up at the window, your stomach dropped. Across the street, parked under the dim glow of a streetlight, was the black car.
You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it was him. The way the car sat idling, its headlights off, was enough to send a chill down your spine.
You stepped back from the window, your hands trembling as you tried to focus on anything but the car. The rational part of you screamed to call Rafe, but you didn’t. He’d been doing so much for you already—driving you everywhere, checking in constantly, ensuring you were never alone. You didn’t want to be a burden.
You convinced yourself it was fine. Jack wouldn’t try anything again. Not after what Rafe had done to him that night.
But the sightings continued.
Every few days, the black car would appear, parked across the street from your work or down the block from your condo. And the texts—always from new numbers—started up again.
You can’t hide from me Y/n.
I’ll make you see that we belong together. You’re mine, don’t forget that.
Each time, you blocked the number and deleted the messages, determined not to let him win. You told yourself that ignoring him would make him go away. That he’d get tired eventually.
You didn’t tell Rafe about any of it. He’d done so much already, and you couldn’t bear the thought of adding to his worries. Besides, you convinced yourself that Jack was just trying to scare you. He wouldn’t actually do anything.
It was a Thursday night when everything changed.
Rafe had called earlier to tell you he’d be late. He rarely stayed late at work, always finding a way to pawn off extra shifts or swap with a coworker. But tonight, it wasn’t possible.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” he said over the phone, frustration heavy in his voice. “I tried to get out of it, but I’m the only one here tonight.”
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“I don’t like leaving you alone,” he muttered.
“You’ve already done so much for me, Rafe,” you said softly. “It’s one night. I’ll lock all the doors and windows, and I’ll be asleep by the time you get here. Promise.”
He sighed heavily. “Alright. But I’m calling you as soon as I leave work, and you better pick up.”
“I will,” you said with a small laugh.
After hanging up, you went about your nightly routine, double-checking the locks and closing all of the blinds. By the time you stepped into the shower, you felt more relaxed, the hot water washing away the stress of the day.
But you failed to notice the bathroom window was left unlocked.
It was nearly 12:30 a.m. when the loud bang jolted you awake. You sat up in bed, your heart racing as you strained to listen. For a moment, all was silent. Then you heard it, the creak of a floorboard just outside your bedroom
Panic gripped you as the door swung open, revealing Jack.
His face was contorted with fury, his eyes wild as they locked onto you. “Get up,” he hissed, stepping closer.
You froze, your body paralyzed with fear.
“Get up!” he snarled, his voice rising. “Or I swear, I’ll kill him. I’ll find Rafe and I’ll kill him.”
The mention of Rafe sent a jolt through you. Your mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. Jack was bluffing—you were sure of it. But the rage in his eyes made you hesitate.
Slowly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your hand brushing against the lamp on your nightstand.
Jack was too focused on his anger to notice as you gripped the base of the lamp. Summoning every ounce of courage, you swung it with all your strength, the sound of glass shattering filling the room as it struck his head.
He stumbled back, clutching his face, but his fury only grew.
“You stupid bitch,” he growled, lunging at you.
He grabbed you by the arm, throwing you to the ground with a force that had your head cracking against the floorboards. He straddled you, his fists colliding with your face in a brutal rage.
“You think you can just leave me?” he spat, his voice venomous. “You think you’re safe with him?”
The blows left you disoriented, pain radiating through your body. But the adrenaline coursing through you gave you enough strength to knee him in the balls.
Jack let out a guttural cry, rolling off you, and you scrambled to your feet, desperate to escape.
His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back down. This time, he wrapped his hands around your neck, his thumbs pressing hard against your windpipe.
“You really fucked up darling,” he hissed, his face inches from yours.
You clawed at his hands, gasping for air as the world around you began to blur. Your vision darkened, and in that moment, you accepted death.
Then the door burst open.
Rafe stood in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and fury. In an instant, he was across the room, ripping Jack off of you with a strength you’d never seen before.
“You’re never gonna lay a fucking hand on her again,” Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Jack barely had time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his face. The room filled with the sound of flesh hitting flesh as Rafe unleashed his rage, pummeling Jack with a fury that left you trembling.
“Rafe!” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the assault. “Stop! Please!!”
Rafe froze at the sound of your voice, your cry cutting through his rage like a blade. His fist hovered in the air, knuckles already raw and bloodied, as his gaze shifted to you. Jack lay crumpled and unmoving on the floor, but Rafe didn’t look back at him again.
He was at your side in an instant, his eyes wide and frantic as he took in your bruised and battered face. “Y/n,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
You tried to nod, muttering out a faint, “Yeah,” as tears streamed down your cheeks. But your body felt weak, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears as he rambled.
“I’m so sorry. This is my fault—I should’ve been here,” he choked out. His voice cracked with guilt as he frantically looked over your injuries. “I should’ve protected you.”
You tried to shake your head, your lips parting to reassure him. “It’s not your fault, Rafe—”
But the words barely escaped before the room started spinning, the world growing dim. You slumped against him, your body going limp as unconsciousness took over.
“Y/n?” Rafe’s voice was high-pitched now, panicked. “No, no, no. Stay with me!” He shook you gently, his hands cradling your lifeless form as tears filled his eyes.
The sound of sirens outside grew louder, but Rafe barely registered it, too focused on you. “Come on, baby, open your eyes,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me!”
When the paramedics rushed in, they had to forcefully pull him away from you. “Let us work!” one of them barked, but Rafe fought against their hands, unwilling to let you go.
“She’s not breathing right! Help her!” he shouted, his voice raw with fear.
The medics worked quickly, loading you onto a gurney and securing you for transport. Rafe followed close behind, ignoring their attempts to hold him back.
“You can’t ride with her,” one of the paramedics said firmly, blocking his path. “We need you to stay here—those hands need treatment too.”
“I don’t give a shit about my hands!” Rafe yelled, his voice thick with desperation. “She’s all that matters!”
Eventually, he relented enough to follow in his truck, but the second you arrived at the hospital, Rafe was back by your side. He pushed past nurses and doctors, ignoring their protests as they wheeled you into the emergency room.
“Sir, you need to wait outside,” one of the doctors said sharply, stepping in his path.
Rafe didn’t listen. “Is she going to be okay? Please just tell me she’s going to be okay!”
“She’s critical,” the doctor replied, moving swiftly. “She might have a brain bleed. We need to get her into surgery now.”
The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut. He froze, his hands trembling as he watched them wheel you away.
One of the nurses gently guided him back, urging him to sit. “We’ll keep you updated, but you need to let them work.”
For the first time since the nightmare began, Rafe let himself collapse into the nearest chair. His bloodied hands hung limp at his sides, his mind consumed by a single thought: you had to be okay. You just had to be.
The bright lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed softly above him as he sat, motionless. The metallic scent of his own blood clung to his hands, but he didn’t care. Nurses had already tried to approach him, insisting he get his knuckles cleaned and bandaged, but he’d waved them off every time. His focus wasn’t on himself, it was on you.
The minutes crawled by, turning into hours, and every horrible possibility ran through Rafe’s mind. What if the surgery didn’t work? What if you didn’t wake up? What if he’d walked in just a second too late? His jaw clenched as he fought against the rising tide of guilt and fear.
The familiar voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looked up to see Sarah standing in front of him, her face a mix of worry and determination. She’d clearly rushed to get there, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and her expression urgent.
“Hey,” she said softly, sitting down beside him. Her eyes flicked to his hands, which were still caked in blood. “Have you let anyone take care of those yet?”
He shook his head, barely acknowledging her question. “I don’t care about my hands, Sarah,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“I know you don’t,” she replied gently, “but you can’t sit here like this. Let me get someone to clean them up. I’ll wait with you for Y/n—okay?”
Rafe hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the double doors that led to the surgical unit. He hated the idea of leaving for even a second, but Sarah gave him a look that told him he didn’t have much of a choice.
“Fine,” he muttered, standing reluctantly as Sarah called over a nurse. While the cuts on his knuckles were cleaned and his hands were wrapped, he sat in silence, his jaw tight. Even Sarah’s presence wasn’t enough to soothe the storm in his mind.
When they returned to the waiting area, Rafe fell back into the same chair, his hands now bandaged but his heart just as heavy. Sarah sat beside him, offering quiet reassurance while they waited.
Hours passed. Each tick of the clock on the wall felt like a punch to his chest. He barely moved, barely blinked, until a figure in scrubs approached. He didn’t even register their presence until Sarah nudged his arm gently.
“Rafe,” she said softly, “they’re here for Y/n.”
His head shot up, his back straightening so quickly it made Sarah flinch. “What? How is she? Is she okay?” he asked, his words tumbling out.
The doctor gave him a kind but measured look. “She’s stable,” he began, his tone professional. “She did have a brain bleed from the impact to her head, but we were able to relieve the pressure, and the surgery was successful. She also sustained a broken nose, a fractured eye socket, and significant bruising across her body. Her face will remain swollen and bruised for at least a week, but the discoloration and swelling will subside over time. The rest of the bruises should fade in the next week or so as well.”
Rafe’s heart pounded as he processed the news, a flood of relief mixing with a lingering dread. “She’s going to be okay?”
“Yes,” the doctor assured him. “She’ll make a full recovery. However, she won’t be awake for the next 10 to 12 hours as she recovers from the surgery. You’re welcome to sit with her, though.”
Rafe didn’t even wait for the doctor to finish before he asked, “What room is she in?”
The doctor gave him the room number, and Rafe stood immediately, turning to Sarah. “Thank you for coming, Sarah,” he said, his voice softer now. “You can go—I’ll let you know as soon as she wakes up.”
Sarah hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave him alone. But she saw the determination in his eyes and nodded. “Okay. Call me if you need anything,” she said, squeezing his arm before heading out.
Rafe made his way to your room, his heart pounding as he stepped inside. The sight of you hooked up to monitors, your face swollen and bruised, nearly broke him. He pulled the uncomfortable hospital chair closer to your bed and sat down, his eyes fixed on you.
For the next eleven hours, Rafe didn’t move except to use the bathroom. He ignored the stiffness in his body and the ache in his hands, his sole focus on you. Each beep of the machines was a small reassurance that you were still here, still breathing.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered at one point, his voice raw. “Wake up. Just wake up.”
The room was silent, except for the hum of the machines and the occasional murmur of nurses outside. And though exhaustion pulled at him, Rafe tried to stay alert, to make sure he could see your eyes open again.
When your eyes finally fluttered open, a low groan of pain escaped your lips as the harsh fluorescent lights overhead pierced through your disoriented state. Every inch of your body ached, a deep, relentless pain that made it hard to focus. But amidst it all, one sensation stood out—a warm, familiar hand clasped tightly around yours
You didn’t have to look to know whose hand it was. It was Rafe’s.
Turning your head slightly, you let your gaze drift toward him. He sat slumped forward, his exhaustion etched into every detail of his face—the disheveled hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the vacant, almost numb stare he had fixed on your joined hands.
You gave his hand a small, deliberate squeeze, and his head snapped up instantly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, his expression froze, a mix of disbelief and relief washing over him.
“You’re awake?” he breathed, his voice trembling before it turned into an almost frantic exclamation. “Oh my god, you’re awake!”
He practically leapt out of the chair, his hands cupping your face with a gentleness that contrasted with the desperation in his movements. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to convince himself this was real. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve been there—”
“Don’t, Rafe,” you cut him off, your hands reaching up to cover his still resting on your face. Your voice was soft but firm, even as tears blurred your vision. “It’s not your fault. You saved me, Rafe. I’m here because of you. Don’t you dare blame yourself for a second.”
His eyes glistened with tears he couldn’t hold back anymore. “I was so scared, Y/n,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought—God, I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I know,” you whispered, your own tears slipping down your cheeks now. “I know, baby. But I’m okay, and it’s all because of you.”
Rafe leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was tender yet filled with an aching intensity. It was a kiss of relief, of longing, of all the pain and love he couldn’t put into words. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady this time. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Rafe,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of your words clear.
Moments later, the doctors came in to explain your condition. You listened as they laid out everything: the brain bleed they had successfully treated, the broken nose, the fractured eye socket, the extensive bruising across your body. You nodded along, but it was Rafe who absorbed every word like his life depended on it. He asked questions, made notes in his mind, and ensured he knew every detail about what your recovery would entail.
When the doctors left, Rafe stood silently for a moment before moving toward your bed. Carefully, he adjusted the wires and tubes connected to you, making room for himself to climb in beside you. He wrapped an arm gently around you, mindful of your injuries, and pulled you close. For a long time, the two of you stayed like that, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you.
Eventually, you broke the silence, your voice tentative. “Rafe… what happened to him? To Jack?”
Rafe tensed at the mention of his name, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face as he met your gaze. “The cops brought him to the hospital after… after I dealt with him,” he said, his voice calm but edged with anger. “Once he was stable, they took him straight to the station. But you don’t need to worry about him anymore. Ward made sure they threw the book at him. He’s not getting out anytime soon.”
Relief washed over you, and you nodded, your gaze drifting away as your mind tried to process everything. Rafe noticed the shift in your demeanor, his hand gently tipping your chin so you’d meet his eyes again.
“He’s not going to hurt you again, Y/n,” he said firmly, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I promise. Never again.”
“I know,” you replied softly, offering him a faint smile before settling against his chest once more.
After a moment, Rafe spoke hesitantly, “I had cleaners go through your condo—it was such a mess. And Sarah’s ready to pack up your things whenever you say the word… I mean, if you want to come stay with me. But if you don’t, that’s totally okay too, I just—”
“Rafe,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain, “I’d love to come stay with you.”
Relief flooded his face as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll let Sarah know.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, broken only by the faint hum of the machines. After a while, you tilted your head to look up at him.
“Hmm?” he hummed, his fingers brushing gently over your cheek.
“Thank you. For everything. I know this probably isn’t what you signed up for when you asked me out, but… I’m so grateful you’re still here.”
Rafe’s eyes softened, his thumb tracing small circles on your cheek. “Don’t thank me, baby. I’d do anything for you. And I’m not going anywhere. I love you—all of you. There were moments I didn’t think you’d wake up, and just the thought of losing you…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t ever be without you.”
A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you reached up to brush it away before smiling faintly. “I love you too, Rafe. So, so much.”
He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding you as if he’d never let go. And you knew he wouldn’t. You knew you’d be okay with him by your side.
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