summary — gojou satoru is the best f1 racer of the new generation racing for tokyo jujutsu racing, one of the best teams in the world. everything changes when you uncover his deepest secrets that no one knows about, even those closest to him for your silly little journalism project. but the truth is, you've got a wicked mind and the attitude to match, but so does gojou. drugs, money, love, sex—what could possibly go wrong?
word count — 6.3k
warnings/tags — nsfw content (minors dni). explicit sexual content, age difference, alcohol use, angst, drugs, money, formula one AU gojou satoru, journalist!reader, ooc gojo, heavy angst, + more to be added
CHAPTERS.
one // two // three // four // five // six // seven // eight // nine // ten // eleven // twelve // thirteen // fourteen // fifteen + epilogue
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia.
chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;
Rafe had been clean for the past three years.
Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing.
It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.
He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.
Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.
It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours.
Until Ward died.
Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty.
Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect.
To Rafe, that meant something. Everything.
Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.
At first, you were there for him, no question.
He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.
You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.
At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.
He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around.
After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.
For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it.
Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that.
He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.
Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?
He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.
Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.
After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.
If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat.
It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.
This was different, a slower, quieter process.
Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.
So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that?
He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.
Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.
Grounded.
Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.
You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything.
Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.
She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.
But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.
He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.
Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.
“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”
It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.
“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”
The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.
It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.
He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.
“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”
Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face.
“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”
You were mad at him.
It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.
“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”
There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.
As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.
His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.
By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you.
You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.
He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.
“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”
“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”
You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”
Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.
“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”
He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.
“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.
“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”
He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.
“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”
“I know what you deserve.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”
“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”
He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.
“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”
You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.
“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”
His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.
“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"
You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.
“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.
His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”
“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.
He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.
“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”
"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”
Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.
He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.
“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”
“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”
You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.
That was it.
Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.
He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you.
That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.
He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.
He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.
But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?
No, no, no.
Sofia was what he needed.
Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights.
She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.
He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.
It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it.
So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.
Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.
Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have.
He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.
Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her.
“I’m here because she called me.”
“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”
Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.
“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”
He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”
“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”
“Go away. I’m driving her home.”
She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.
“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”
A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”
“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”
He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.
But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.
“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”
Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.
It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came.
His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.
Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.
You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.
But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.
He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital.
Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.
His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.
He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here?
Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.
Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.
But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?
This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.
He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system.
He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.
Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.
If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.
He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.
He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.
He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him.
You’ll just prove her right.
He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push.
As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.
He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.
"Wake the fuck up."
He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”
But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.
“What the hell happened?”
Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.
Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”
Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.
Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.
“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”
If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm.
Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.
Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.
She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.
“Hi.”
You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”
You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”
She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”
She’d made him leave.
You could imagine his face distorted with anger.
You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away, giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.
You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.
“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.”
Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.
You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.
Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.
“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”
You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”
“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”
You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.
"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”
There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.
You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.
Not like this, with the IV in your arm.
"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”
This.
You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside.
“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”
Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”
“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”
A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to.
“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”
You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.
This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.
"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.
Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.
“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.
"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.
But it didn’t.
You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away.
Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation.
Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.
“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.
You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.
“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"
You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.
“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."
“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.
“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”
Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”
You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.
“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”
“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”
The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.
“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”
“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”
Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”
“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”
“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”
She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”
“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.
“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”
You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”
She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”
“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.
“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”
You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”
When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.
You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.”
The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.
She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.
“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."
Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.
You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”
“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”
You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.
And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.
“Thank you.”
And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.
you wake up sweaty, the sheets clinging to your skin. there’s an unfamiliar pressure on your hips, and you almost feel stuck. when you open your eyes, there are four staring back at you in the dark.
instinctively, you open your mouth to scream, but sukuna is faster than you. one of his large hands is covering your face before you can even blink, muffling your scream completely.
he leans into you, close enough that you can smell faint wisps of smoke coming from him.
“you remember me.” it’s a statement, not a question. “let me have you like this.” outside of your head, he thinks.
he watches as you glance at the clock across the room. 3:56. you close your hand into a fist, pressing your nails into your palm before raising it to your face and counting all five fingers. you look back at the clock. still 3:56.
you’re awake.
the pressure on your hips—his hands holding you down—goes away as he shifts positions, lifting you into his lap. suddenly, you feel overly exposed in the tank top and underwear you wore to bed. his double erection presses into your side, twin promises of what’s to come.
just like in your dreams, he makes the first move with little hesitation, pulling your underwear off you in one swift movement. you follow his lead, tugging your tank over your head and tossing it to the floor.
you’re already wet enough for him to slip three of his thick fingers inside you without prepping you first. he chuckles to himself as he watches the way your pussy greedily sucks his fingers in. you squirm a bit, trying to subtly push yourself down on his hand, hoping for more.
he pauses. “what? this not enough for you?”
the stern tone of his voice makes your legs tense, bringing them together. sukuna tuts, “don’t run away now, you just said you wanted more.” he pushes your legs back open, wider than they were before.
you purse your lips. “technically, i didn’t say that.”
he stares down at you, unfamiliar with this kind of back-talk from a human. he expects attitude from succubi, always too impish and bratty, but human women? they’ve always been willing and pliant.
you tuck your lips between your teeth and stare back, eyes twinkling.
you aren’t expecting the large smile that breaks across his face, making you feel like a rabbit staring into the maw of a lion.
you’re suddenly on your back, head resting against your pillow. sukuna hovers over you and pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and he looks you in the eyes as he licks them clean. you don’t break eye contact, which only seems to rile him up further.
“you’re a bold one,” he mumbles, pushing your legs up until your knees are nearly to your ears.
you groan at the position, momentarily wishing you’d been stretching more regularly. but you don’t have any time to dwell on it before sukuna presses the fat tip of one of his dicks against your slit.
your breath hitches as he sinks himself all the way in, pushing your legs further back to get deeper.
“oh my god.”
somehow, he feels bigger in real life. your jaw drops at the rude entry, and you watch sukuna’s lips stretch into a sly smile.
he pulls out completely, only to thrust back into you, his tip kissing your cervix. he continues at a steady speed, driving you closer and closer to an orgasm with every movement.
when you come, you swear you see stars. your toes and fingers and ears are tingling, skin prickling all over. your cunt spasms around sukuna’s monstrous cock, clenching and releasing like she’s trying to milk him. you’re so focused on trying to ride it out that you hardly register when sukuna lines up his second dick with your entrance.
you scream when you feel it—sukuna’s twin cocks stretching you open more than you even knew was possible.
he gives you a moment to take it in, whispering for you to breathe as he waits for you to relax around him. one of his hands envelops yours, pinning it to the bedsheets.
the moment you adjust, he goes back to his previous pace, only marginally slower.
the feeling is overwhelming, being so totally stuffed. it only gets worse when he starts thumbing your clit. immediately, your mind goes blank, short-circuiting in response to the devastating amount of pleasure.
you're subjected to more orgasms in quick succession, each one sending shockwaves throughout your body. sukuna keeps going, looking increasingly satisfied every time you come.
the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes start to fall down your temples. a string of “please, please, please, please” spills from your lips, but you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for, too fucked out to be coherent.
you’re vaguely aware of the praises he starts showering you with. something about how you’re his favorite, and how your pussy sucks him in the best, how he’ll never fuck another, blah blah blah. his hips buck at a sloppier pace than before.
you feel his cocks pulse inside you, and for the first time since he’s started visiting you, he comes.
you’re not expecting to feel so empty when he finally pulls out of you. he uses his fingers to stuff his cum as far up as it’ll go, but it leaks out anyways, trickling towards your ass. he lets go of you, letting you lay down your legs and stretch them out on the bed.
in your cum-drunk haze, you latch onto sukuna's hand, tucking it beneath your head and mumbling thank you’s into his skin as you curl up under the sheets. as you begin to drift into unconsciousness, you feel him wrapping you up in his arms, cradling you. a single thought cuts through the fog in your brain: this is new.
you think you hear him tell you you’re welcome just before falling asleep.
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia.
chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion; health risks; insecurities.
You were curled up next to Rafe, head on his shirtless chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breath.
You could hear the crash of the waves. His fingers were tangled in your hair, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.
“Do you ever think about the future?” You asked, not even sure why you said it.
Maybe it was the mood, the quiet.
He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your cheek.
“Future? Baby, we’re in the future right now.” He tilted his head to look down at you, his blue eyes catching the last bits of sunlight, making them almost glow. “What more do we need?”
You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious. What’s next for us?”
He was quiet for a second, and you held your breath, waiting. Sometimes Rafe had this way of avoiding real talk. He’d joke, or deflect, or turn the conversation back to something easy.
“You,” he said, his voice low like he was confiding you a secret. “You’re what’s next. What’s always next.” His arm tightened around you, pulling you into his lap.
You smiled, that stupid, giddy smile that probably made you look ridiculous, but you didn’t care. His breath tickled your forehead as he kissed you there slowly.
He was so sure in that moment, like nothing could touch you two.
You lifted your head, just enough to look at him.
His face was so clear, each detail spot on, you could reach out and touch it. His messy beach hair, the way it fell into his eyes, his crooked smile, that scar on his chin from when he’d wiped out on his bike in high school.
All of him was yours.
“Promise?” You asked, like a part of you needed to hear it again, needed the reassurance.
Rafe leaned in, his lips grazing yours before he whispered against them, “Promise.”
He had this way of making all feel so simple, like the future wasn’t some big, scary thing.
“I’m never letting you go,” it sounded more like a prayer coming from his lips, fingers tracing small circles on your arm, sending these tiny electric shocks through you. “You’re stuck with me, Thornton.”
“Good.”
But then something changed.
His grip loosened. His warmth started to fade, and you blinked, confused. You lifted your head, trying to find his eyes, but his face was different.
Blurred. Distant.
“Rafe?” You whispered, reaching for him, but he wasn’t there.
The warmth was completely gone, replaced with cold, empty air. You turned, searching for him, but all you saw were shadows where he used to be.
The waves crashed louder, and you realized you were alone. Just like that, everything was gone, everything he promised, was gone.
You sat up in bed, gasping, hands instinctively going to your stomach in the darkness of your bedroom.
He wasn’t here. He was with her. You were alone.
Pregnant.
You tried to stabilize your breathing, wiping away the tears that had slipped out during your sleep. The bed felt too big, empty without him. And the memory of his touch, his words, felt cruel now.
You stared up at the ceiling wondering how a memory could feel so real, so vivid, but that was all it was. Just a memory. Just another piece of the past you kept chasing.
You looked down at your stomach, your hand still resting on the bump, if you could call it that. You weren’t showing at all, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. You knew it was.
Your very first appointment was in a few hours, and the thought of it made you want to throw up.
You needed to know how far along you were. It would be easier to stay in bed and let the what ifs spiral in your head than to face them, but you didn’t hold that privilege anymore.
You dragged yourself out of queen-sized bed, avoiding the mirror as you moved around the room.
You didn’t want to see your reflection right now, you dreaded facing the girl who had let herself get into this mess.
You threw on a pair of loose, old sweats and a hoodie, one that swallowed you whole, hiding everything.
The kind of outfit that made you feel invisible, and right now, that’s exactly what you wanted. It’s not like anyone around here cared much anyway, rich girl or not, kooks were experts at pretending.
You grabbed your keys, your phone, and the one thing you couldn’t forget today —courage.
One foot in front of the other. One breath at a time.
The appointment was soon, and you needed to get there. You kept reminding yourself that you’d figure it out once you knew how far along you were, everything would make sense after that.
The drive there was a mess, the anxiety and anger, you didn’t want to acknowledge today were taking turns messing with your head.
You didn’t want to think about how you’d once imagined a future with Rafe, how he’d promised you a lifetime under the sun.
You could never feel guilty about keeping this from him. He’d made his choices, and now you had to make yours.
You rolled up in your car and had to park in the visitor lot, trying to sneak in like you weren’t a whole mess of nerves behind the wheel of a brand-new Range Rover.
It was practically empty, which was fine by you, less people to run into, less eyes on you, since every second you spent there was a second someone could recognize you.
Someone could see, that was the last thing you needed — for this to become some juicy little rumor for the Kildare gossip mill to chew up and spit out.
You pulled your oversized sunglasses lower on your face, hoping they’d hide the fact that you were shaking.
You hated the fact that you were even in this position as you sat there, tapping your foot impatiently, checking the clock every five minutes like it was some kind of countdown to freedom.
Every noise from the hallway made you flinch, like any second someone familiar would burst through the door, see you there.
You winced in horror when your name was called out, following the nurse leading you down a sterile hallway that smelled of antiseptic. You tried to keep your mind off the fact that this was the first step toward the most life-altering decision you’d ever have to make.
"The doctor will be in soon."
Times like these you wished you’d chosen a private clinic, but you had to avoid as many kooks as possible, even if it meant slumming it in this hospital.
This was real.
Sitting down on the exam table, the paper crinkled under you, the sound making you cringe. You felt so small in that room, so alone. You’d always had someone—Rafe, even Topper. But right now, it was just you.
Your legs dangled off the edge of the table as you waited.
It felt like forever before there was a knock on the door, and the doctor entered.
"Hi, I’m Dr. Madison," she greeted you, offering you a smile as she sat down on the stool beside you. "How are you feeling today?"
What the fuck were you supposed to say? That your life was falling apart? That you didn’t know what to do?
So you settled for a, “"I’ve been better," looking anywhere but at her.
She nodded like she understood, she’d most likely heard it all before.
"Alrigh’, we’re just going to take a look and see how far along you are, okay? I’ll need you to lay back."
You did as she said, leaning back against the stiff pillow, trying to relax.
"This is going to be a little cold," she warned as she reached for the ultrasound gel.
A little? You nearly jumped off the table as the gel hit your stomach, cold and slimy, like ice against your skin. You winced but tried to keep still as she spread it over your lower abdomen.
The machine whirred to life, and she placed the probe on your stomach. You sucked in a breath, trying not to cry as the screen lit up with grainy images.
She moved the probe slowly, methodically, her eyes glued to the monitor, and you couldn’t breathe.
You forced your eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at the monito, refusing to see. You couldn’t let yourself get attached, not like that.
If you saw what was on that screen—if you saw the shape of something, anything—it would kill you. Your breaths were shallow, and your fingers clenched the sides of the exam table, gripping the paper until it tore under your hands.
Dr. Madison was quiet as she moved the probe over your skin, you knew she was seeing something. You could hear the beeping of the machine, the faint hum of the monitor.
"Okay. Looks like you’re about thirteen weeks along."
"How long is that?"
"Almost 3 months, give or take."
No, that couldn’t be right, you’d barely felt any different.
You were at thirteen weeks. Just over the line.
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry.
"Thirteen?" you repeated, like maybe if you said it out loud, it would make more sense. But it didn’t.
"Alright," you told her, voice even, like that number wasn’t echoing in your head, smashing through the calm you’d been faking this whole time.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Madison eyes scanned your face, probably trying to gauge how much of this you were even absorbing. “I know this is a lot to take in.”
A lot? That didn’t even begin to cover it.
The doctor cleared her throat gently. “In North Carolina, after twelve weeks, the options for termination become much more limited unless it falls under specific conditions like rape, incest, or a fetal anomaly. I know this might be overwhelming, but I’m here to walk you through what’s possible.”
You nodded, but it was a lie. You weren’t hearing any of it, you were already listing other possibilities, another place.
Your mind was a step ahead, planning out the details, flights, or maybe driving. Somewhere where no one would ask questions, where you could walk in and get this over with.
Just slip away for a couple days.
She kept talking, saying something about other options, but you weren’t hearing it. It sent your heart into a stampede.
"Thanks, Doctor," you said when you realized she was done speaking, your voice perfectly polite, perfectly controlled.
It felt like you were watching someone else speak.
You were nodding like you understood like you had a plan. Inside? You were screaming. Your thoughts were a mess, colliding into each other—Oh my God, what now, what the fuck are you going to do? So much more work just because you were stupid enough to wait.
Dr. Madison gave you this list—appointments to schedule, things you should and shouldn’t do, prenatal vitamins to pick up. She might as well have been speaking a different language for all you heard.
You mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” as she handed you the prescription, barely glancing at the paper.
“Is there really nothing I can do?”
You couldn't confide your plans to her, for obvious reasons.
“I can’t advocate for any illegal options, but I understand your concern. If you were just a week earlier, we could have discussed a simple outpatient procedure. However, now you’re facing a more complex situation.”
You never felt so frustrated in your life, “But I’m—I can get you anything. You don’t understand, I can pay—”
“Miss Thornton,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet sympathetic, “I know you’re not trying to bribe me right now. I need you to understand that legality and ethics come into play here. What you’re suggesting isn’t something I can support or even discuss further. We have to work within the framework of the law.”
You bit your tongue, resisting the temptation to lash out at her.
“So that’s it, then? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m stuck with this?”
“There are still options we can explore together. We can discuss what’s next in terms of prenatal care, adoption, or even resources that might help you if you choose to carry the pregnancy to term. But I can’t ignore the fact that you’re beyond the legal limit for a straightforward abortion.”
You blinked rapidly, “Adoption?”
The idea of keeping the baby made your stomach bend into a different shape, but that alternative felt just as wrong.
She looked at you with genuine empathy.
“I understand that this is overwhelming. The decision is ultimately yours, but I need to emphasize that time is of the essence, and the choices you make today will have lasting implications.”
Then she was gone, leaving you alone in that sterile room with your head spinning.
You couldn’t even fucking remember the last time you felt normal. Now, you were staring down the barrel of a pregnancy you didn’t even know was this far along. The doctor’s speech about vitamins, checkups, and avoiding alcohol bounced off around in your head.
You swallowed down the nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness, grabbed your purse, and walked out like nothing had just changed.
You shoved the papers into your purse without a second thought, your mind already screaming to get out, to run, to go somewhere.
Anywhere but here.
As you walked out into the waiting area, you spotted a mother with her toddler, the kid giggling and playing with his toys. Would your baby be that happy? Would they giggle like that?
No, no, you couldn’t go there.
Your fingers were numb as they fumbled for your keys, and you somehow managed to get into the Rover.
The second the door slammed shut, the tears you’d been restraining started to fall.
All you could think about was getting far, far away from here, somewhere no one would recognize you, where people didn’t know your last name or expect you to show up to some debutante ball with a well-behaved husband, a kid on each arm, perfectly polished.
"Fuck..." you whispered through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut like maybe that could make it stop. But it didn’t. Your whole body was trembling, hands shaking so hard you couldn't hold the wheel right.
You leaned your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to catch your breath.
Thirteen weeks.
You couldn’t stay here, in this parking lot. You needed to go somewhere safe, somewhere that made sense. You needed them.
Without really thinking, you turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the lot.
You didn’t even know where you were going at first, your body knew, the same familiar route you’d taken too many times. You didn’t realize where you were going at first, but once you passed the last stoplight before the cemetery, it hit you.
You parked haphazardly, not caring if your car was straight or if anyone saw. This was the only place you could think of. The only place that wasn’t ruined by all the mess in your life.
Your parents. Your sister.
Their graves were tucked away in the back corner, under the big oak tree that had been there for as long as you could remember. You parked the car and got out, the ground crunching under your feet as you made your way to them.
You sank to your knees in front of their headstones, your fingers brushing against the cool marble as if touching them could somehow make them feel closer. They’d been gone for five years, and no matter how many times you came here, that fact never got easier to swallow.
“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out, stopping to bite down on your bottom lip hard to keep from completely breaking down. “I’m so... I’m so fucking lost.”
The wind rustled the leaves above you, and for a second, you wished it would just take you away too. Make everything disappear.
“I’m pregnant.” You spit the words out, voice cracking, like admitting it was burning your throat. “Thirteen weeks,” you added, saying it out loud for the first time. Your hands curled into fists, fingers digging into the grass.
The tears came back, harder this time, and you bent forward, clutching your stomach, forehead pressing into the ground as if you could just bury yourself there.
“I can’t—I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to do this without you.”
Your voice broke completely, turning into a sob that you couldn’t stop. You were crying so hard you couldn’t even breathe, gasping, like you were drowning in it.
“Why aren’t you here?” you cried, “Why did you leave me? Why did you—” but the words caught in your throat, turning into another round of weeping.
You stayed for a long time, curled up on the ground, crying so hard it hurt, until the tears finally slowed, until you felt empty, drained.
Afterwards, you sat back, wiping at your swollen eyes with the back of your hand.
“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, this time softer, “And I can’t... I can’t tell him. He’s with her, and I—I just can’t.”
You sniffed, cleaning your nose with your sleeve, feeling ridiculous and broken all at once.
Your breath hitched again as you forced yourself to stand up, even though every part of you wanted to collapse back onto the ground.
They were gone, it was just you. Alone. You think that’s why there was this tiny persistent voice in the back of your brain whispering things you weren’t ready to hear.
This was a chance, wasn’t it? To finally have someone again, someone you didn’t have to say goodbye to.
The second the thought crossed your mind, you felt a gush of panic, a nauseating conviction that you were nowhere near capable of raising a child. You barely remembered to take care of yourself, so how could you possibly take care of a baby?
It felt so fucked up to you, to think this could be a “fresh start” or something like it—no, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that. Not when you’d barely coped to get through the last five years.
You remembered the doctor’s voice, factual, mentioning adoption.
Carrying this baby only to hand it over to someone else—someone who might be better equipped—Could you do that? Carry a piece of your family’s future, only to give it away? It felt wrong.
You were halfway to your car, still wiping the tears from your face, when you heard someone call your name.
“Hey... Is that you?”
You froze. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone, especially now. Not here, not like this.
Turning slowly, you saw her — Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister — standing by her mom’s grave.
She was holding a bouquet of wildflowers, brown eyes narrowing as she took you in. She looked like she'd been here a while, but the moment she saw your state, she dropped what she came here to do.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising with worry.
Her eyes, so different from Rafe’s, scanned over you, taking in your bloodshot eyes, the messy hair, the way your clothes were dirty from sitting on the ground too long.
You hadn’t taken sides when her and Topper split up; you’d just known, deep down, that they weren’t right for each other. He had this stubborn, idealized version of her that she could never live up to, and that had been the beginning of the end.
You opened your mouth to say something, to tell her you were fine, that you didn’t need her sympathy right now. Instead, you just stood there like a fucking idiot, eyes wide, as Sarah dropped the flowers and rushed to your side.
“Hey, hey,” she panicked, as if she was talking to a wounded animal. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Sarah touched your arm gently, and that’s when it hit you, the fear, the panic, the loneliness — it overwhelmed you.
Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding on tight.
You didn’t even care how desperate it looked, how messed up you were right now. You just needed someone.
She froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then she softened, her arms wrapping around you tightly. She was warm, solid, and so there, and the moment she hugged you back, the floodgates opened for the millionth time that week.
You started crying again, silent but hard, your face buried in her shoulder as your whole body shook.
Sarah didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions, just focused on holding you tighter, her hand smoothing over your back like she was trying to calm you down. The kindness of it, the warmth,you hadn’t grasped how much you needed it until right now.
“Shh, it’s okay,” her voice was soothing. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
You hadn’t seen her in months — not since everything went down with her and Rafe after Ward died.
The whole family had fallen apart after that.
Sarah had cut ties again, another fallout with Rafe. Things between them were always like a ticking time bomb, and Ward’s death had blown everything wide open. You knew they hadn’t been on speaking terms since.
It made this moment even weirder, seeing her here, of all places. She looked different, too, she was carrying her grief, her pain, that wild spark in her eyes a little more dim than you remembered.
As you pulled away from the hug, you blinked through the tears, and her face came back into focus. She was still looking at you, her brows knitted with worry, the wildflowers she’d brought for her mom now forgotten on the ground behind her.
She looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but she was waiting for you to speak first.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you finally said something, trying to wipe your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. It was a lame thing to say, but you couldn’t find any better words.
Sarah gave a small, sad smile, shrugging a little.
“Yeah, I just… I come here sometimes. To see my mom.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and you could hear the strain behind it, “I guess I needed it today.”
You understood the feeling all too well.
You both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and you could tell she was dying to ask why you were here. Why you looked like you’d just been rolling around in the dirt.
Instead, she said, “You okay? I mean, really?”
In some weird way, you’d always thought you’d be able to keep this part of yourself locked away, hidden and safe where no one could see it
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, the lie slipping out too easily. “Just… rough day, you know?” Your voice was hoarse, still shaky from the crying.
Sarah frowned, not convinced. She stepped closer, her hand hovering near your arm like she wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if you’d let her.
"You sure? You don’t look fine."
You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot.” You didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to unload everything.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little.
“Okay. But… you know if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here, right?”
You blinked, not really sure how to answer to that, nodding away, hoping she’d drop it.
“I know I was just Rafe’s little sister,” she continued with pursed lips, “but you’ve always been like a big sister to me. Okay? Him being an asshole to both of us doesn’t change that. Ever.”
You could see she meant it. This wasn’t just some passing offer out of pity, Sarah was genuinely worried, wanting to be there for you.
You just nodded dumbly.
Sarah smiled softly with that same old Cameron determination. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on, I’m here.”
You stepped back, breaking the small bubble of comfort, you didn’t even realize you’d let her create.
“I should probably go,” you awkwardly muttered, brushing your hair out of your face and trying to straighten out your hoodie like that could somehow make you seem more put together. “But thanks, Sarah. Really.”
She just watched you with that worried look still across her face, but then she nodded. “Anytime.”
You turned to leave, feeling her eyes on your back as you walked away, your steps slow on the grass.
The loneliness had been suffocating, and even though you didn’t tell her anything, just hearing Sarah say she was there, that she still saw you as family—it meant more than you wanted to admit.
It wasn’t like anything was magically better.
You used to think this island would keep you safe forever, that it was big enough to hold your problems.
Now, it felt like it was shrinking around you.
You were curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees.
You’d googled “abortion options United States,” expecting answers, but all you found were long lists of restrictions, rules, states drawing hard lines.
You already knew that in North Carolina, you were already past the point of no return. So you kept digging, checking every single state until you found one, a random thread on some forum, that talked about New Mexico.
No restrictions on timing.
You scrolled, following link after link, getting deep into some Reddit threads, reading accounts from women who’d done it, who’d had to pack up their whole lives, fly out, handle everything on their own.
No one to tell, just a flight, a few days’ stay in a place that looked nothing like home, just to try and get back to normal. The whole time you were reading, this weird sense of relief and fear entwined in your gut.
So you can get out of this.
By the time you shut your laptop, your head was pounding but at least you had something that felt like a plan.
The next morning, you woke up before the sun, tossing on yesterday’s clothes and brushing your hair as best you could with one hand. You scrolled through the numbers you’d scribbled down last night and dialed the first one.
You had to it straight away, without a chance of backing out. So you closed your eyes with all your might and hit call.
A woman’s voice picked up on the fourth ring.
“Women’s Health Center, this is Amanda. How can I help you?”
You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal. Like you weren’t shaking like a leaf.
“Hi. Um, I’m calling to see about scheduling… an appointment. I’m about thirteen weeks.”
“We do have availability. Our next spot is ten days from now.”
Ten days. Shit. Could you wait that long, or was that too soon? Shouldn't you think about it some more?
Maybe you needed more time.
Or maybe you shouldn’t be doing this at all.
You were already running through a hundred different what-ifs, a panicked mental list of everything you hadn’t thought through.
“Is that… is that the soonest?” You surprised yourself by asking.
There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear the kindness in Amanda’s voice.
“Yes, it’s our first available spot for a procedure beyond twelve weeks,” she informed you, “We’d also want to complete a few assessments with you, along with some necessary paperwork and counseling. I can walk you through everything if that helps.”
You nodded automatically, realizing a second too late she couldn’t see you. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”
“I’ll go over a few things with you, so you’re prepared. Do you have a pen handy?”
You grabbed a random envelope and pen from the countertop, jotting down every detail.
“You’ll need a form of ID, proof of residency—we’re required to check for that. Some basic insurance information if you have it. You’ll also have some health assessments here when you arrive, mostly standard but including a psychological evaluation just to ensure everything’s covered from a health perspective.”
It was all just words, logistics. You weren't exactly processing the information, just robotically writing it down.
“There’s also a mandatory counseling session we’ll need to go through. In case you have questions, or concerns. This will all be confidential, but it’s for your safety, both physically and emotionally.”
“Right,” you said, just to say something. You didn’t know if you even wanted to talk about it, not with her or anyone. You just wanted this to be over with.
“The procedure itself is straightforward, but it’s still a surgery. It’ll last anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, with a little more time afterward for recovery. We’ll go over any complications with you once you’re here—risk of infection, bleeding, discomfort. We make sure you’re clear on what to expect before anything happens.”
You forced yourself to nod, then remembered she couldn’t see you. “Got it. I’ll—yeah, I’ll get the paperwork together.”
"Just one last thing," Amanda added, "Given the nature of the procedure, we ask that you bring a companion along, someone to stay with you. They don’t have to be in the room, of course, but they’ll need to be present to help you get back safely after."
Your hand stopped. A companion?
"What?"
The small sense of peace was gone in a heartbeat.
You wanted to tell her that it would be fine, you’d figure it out, because, rationally speaking, who could you ask or who would you even trust with this?
"It's a requirement,” Amanda clarified, “For your safety. You’ll need someone there with you. It’s non-negotiable.”
“Right. So, like… a friend? Or…” You trailed off, trying to hide the fear overcoming your senses.
“Exactly,” she said. “A friend, a family member—just someone you’re comfortable with. It’s standard procedure for anything this involved.”
A friend. Family. Someone who could sit in that waiting room and just… know everything. You didn’t even have anyone who could know you were pregnant, let alone be with you for this.
“The total will be around $3,500, which we typically split into a down payment and a final balance due at the time of the procedure. We can take payment in cash, card, or even a wire transfer if you need that flexibility. We’ll also require a 20% deposit to hold your spot, which you can pay over the phone now or through our secure online portal.”
You glanced at the envelope where you’d jotted down notes, biting your lip as you stared at the numbers. “Right, um, yeah, I can do the deposit now.”
“That’s perfect. One moment, please.” There was a click as she transferred you, and while you waited, you blinked down at the deposit amount.
Seven hundred, you thought. Seven hundred dollars just to hold a place. It was nothing to you and yet it felt monumental.
A robotic voice greeted you, and you keyed in the card information, watching the screen as it processed. The payment cleared, and you felt the strangest sense of finality.
It was real, stamped and sealed.
Amanda returned to the line, “Thank you for taking care of that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
“No, that's all. Thank you."
“Of course. We’ll see you in ten days.”
Now you were at this god for saken country club brunch. Why you even came, you had no idea.
Maybe it was a pathetic attempt to feel normal.
You were trying so hard to look casual, like you hadn’t just been on the phone with a stranger, scheduling the most personal appointment of your life.
Thankfully, Ruthie had canceled last minute — some emergency with your cousin, no doubt. Small miracles. The last thing you needed was her crazy ass analyzing everything you did.
The spread of food on the table looked like a minefield of smells.
Just the sight of the eggs benedict made you want to hurl on your seat, and the fruity smell of the mimosas wafting through the air was…torture.
You’d kill for a sip, maybe even two.
You were watching the sunlight catch on the bubbles, sparkling like they were tauting you. The craving was there, whispering thoughts that felt equal parts impossible and unavoidable. The idea hovered, tempting you with a cruel promise.
A few mimosas could maybe make this go away, couldn't it? Maybe you’d get lucky and this nightmare would just end on its own.
But the thought made you sick.
You could almost feel it, this new life clinging to you, sticking around no matter how much you wished it’d leave. There was some echo of a moral sense—some annoying, reasonable, voice within your head that wouldn’t let you grab the damn mimosa even though your fingers were twitching for it.
What was the problem if you were getting rid of it anyway?
You forced yourself to look away from the mimosas, knowing that just one glass might make you feel something—anything—other than this sick dread.
With an effort, you forced yourself to say, “Water, please.”
Of course, the universe just had to have its laugh, because the one bringing it wasn’t just any waiter.
It was Sofia.
How come everyone got a break from shitty things happening to them, and you didn’t?
You must’ve been really awful in your past life.
Perhaps you were one of those medieval villains who ordered people to be drawn and quartered, or some spoiled empress tossing servants into dungeons for looking at you wrong.
How else could you explain it? Life kept pilling more shit on top of you. Or maybe it was less about karma and more about some fucked up endurance test. You were still here.
Rafe’s latest… girlfriend? Hookup? Whatever the hell they were, she had that title, and now she was in front of you, all fresh-faced, her apron hugging her like she’d just walked out of some pinterest brunch board.
Her hair was pulled back in this cute little bun, and her face held that perfectly innocent smile that made you want to scream.
She was practically glowing.
Her skin had that effortless, sun-kissed warmth like she’d just gotten back from the Maldives or something. Not a shadow under her eyes, not a single stray hair — just this easy, perfect beauty that looked even more surreal under the soft morning sunlight.
It was ridiculous.
Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Dark circles, a slight breakout on your chin, and an overall look of someone who hadn’t slept in… weeks? or was it months?
The last good night before nausea became a part of your daily life, and the constant anxiety kept you up at all hours, staring at the ceiling and wishing it’d all just disappear.
And here she was, gliding around like she was untouched by anything so messy, so…human.
You glanced down at your outfit, the pristine, tailored Miu Miu set from the new collection —the cropped blazer was light and airy, perfectly cinched at the waist, with sleeves just long enough to make it feel sophisticated but breezy, paired with a sleek, high-waisted mini skirt, the whole ensemble skimmed your frame effortlessly, made just for you.
You knew you looked expensive, the kind of look people envied, even if they’d never admit it.
Every stitch, every button on this outfit screamed privilege and class, and yet here you were feeling like some tragic, half-dead version of the old you.
Why the fuck were you even comparing yourself to her? She was still a pogue, for god’s sake.
Rafe’s latest toy or project or whatever, you had no business even wasting brain cells on her. So what if she looked a little too chipper, too perfect?
She wasn’t worth the mental energy.
Just as you forced yourself to refocus, Sofia reappeared, setting a glass of water in front of you with that same innocent, syrupy smile.
“Here’s your water,” she chirped.
You hated that sound.
She didn't look or sound in-your-face or territorial, more salt on an open wound.
Just hours ago, you were piecing together plans to get rid of the very thing that tied you to Rafe, and now here she was.
You gave the glass a pointed look and then raised your eyes to meet hers. “I asked with ice.”
No, you didn’t.
You were supposed to be above this kind of petty bullshit, weren’t you? But the bitterness rooted in your gut like the mimosas you wanted so desperately.
“Oh?” Her face froze, that little smile twitching just a bit. “You did? I must’ve heard wrong. I’ll be right back with it.” She looked genuinely flustered as she turned to head back to the bar, her apron fluttering behind her.
You caught yourself feeling the tiniest bit pathetic.
An unspoken vendetta against the girl serving water? Really? You almost felt a little ridiculous… almost.
“Oh, beautiful girl!”
It was Mrs. Aldridge, an old friend of your mother’s, all pearls and Chanel, her wrinkled hands wrapped around her mimosa.
“How’s your darling Rafe? I haven’t seen you two in ages!”
Instead of thinking better about it, your eyes slid over to Sofia.
She was setting the glass down, her face draining of color, frozen mid-action like a deer caught in headlights. It was almost too perfect.
You were gonna have fun with this, putting on your best sympathetic casually as if you’d had this conversation a hundred times.
“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” you said, tone dripping with faux sweetness as you nodded in Sofia’s direction. “She is.”
Mrs. Aldridge’s eyes widened, almost bulging out of her head as she followed your gaze, putting two and two together with the slow, scandalized horror that only old-money kooks could manage.
You could hear her brain struggling to comprehend the fact that Rafe Cameron was now involved with the server.
The other women at the table leaned in, whispering behind manicured hands and designer sunglasses, eyebrows shooting up as they stole obvious glances at Sofia.
She was still standing there, stunned, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something. You half-expected her to look annoyed, maybe give you the scathing glare you’d be giving her all morning.
Instead she looked like she wanted to disappear into the woodwork.
“Oh dear…” Mrs. Aldridge’s voice trailed off, her eyes scanning her from head to toe with the kind of judgmental precision only years of country club experience could bring.
She cleared her throat as if she could somehow undo the fact that the help had captured Rafe Cameron’s attention.
“I suppose he’s… rebelling, then?” Another old lady muttered, eyebrows raised in suspicion, already delighted by the gossip forming on her tongue.
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? That’s Rafe for you.”
You took a sip of your water, feeling satisfied as murmurs spread across the table, surprise and judgment all directed squarely at Rafe and Sofia, who looked like she might faint on the spot.
You couldn’t lie — it was the most fun you’d had in weeks.
“Such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Aldridge mused, her gaze fixed on Sofia, who was now engaging another table with her bubbly personality. “But bless her heart, she doesn’t quite belong here.”
“Definitely not,” you clicked your tongue, allowing the disdain to seep into your voice, even as a small part of you felt like a spineless bitch for feeding her to the sharks.
“New money, if you ask me. I can’t take them seriously. Remember when Ward was just a pogue with big dreams, trying to make a name for himself.”
You saw her again, just a gimplse of her still taking orders with that big grin, still doing her job.
This was exactly what you’d wanted, right?
To see her squirm in her hand-me-down shoes, to show her the world she’d trespassed on wasn’t as welcoming as she might have believed.
But your conscience decided to make an apperance, one more time, slipping in with a knowing sigh. You wanted to hurt Rafe, not her.
This was cruelty, plain and simple, the girl was only trying to survive.
She was dealing with these judgmental eyes and assumptions, probably used to being reminded that she didn’t belong, that she didn’t measure up, and you were sinking to that same level of entitlement and superiority.
The satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as you’d thought it would be. Dragging her into it was cheap, easy, like pushing someone off balance simply because they happened to be standing there.
You forced a giggle to match the others, playing the charade, but inside, something started to feel uncomfortable. You knew what it was like to be scrutinized, to have them pick you apart, to whisper behind your back.
You remembered how much it hurt.
To these people, you were only steps away from that same old judgment. If they knew about the appointment...their conservatives asses would ruin your reputation.
They’d tear into you in the same way, a scandal spread in manicured lawns and private golf courses.
Mrs. Aldridge leaned in conspiratorially, her aged perfume filling the air. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself like this.” She sighed, looking at you like she expected you to agree.
You took a breath, one that felt painful, because were you really about to do this shit?
“It’s Rafe’s life,” you replied, shrugging. “Maybe she makes him happy. Who knows?”
The table quieted, a few eyebrows raised, flabbergasted that you hadn’t indulged in more snide remarks. At the end of the day, the life you wanted — it wasn’t this.
Warnings: swearing, sort of attempted murder, slight spoilers for s4
Summary: you're spending the day at the beach when your ex boyfriend appears with his Kook friends.
Word count: 5.1k
A/N: no turtles were harmed in this! also first ever rafe fic but im literally obsessed with him rn so.....
The waves were perfect, giant curls of water crashing down, creating a spray of sea salt hosing down anyone in its vicinity. The sun was shining, your deck chairs all set out, and you were ready for a day of surfing, sun baking, and hanging out with your friends.
“Those are some sick waves!” JJ whooped, kicking the sand in celebration.
You laughed along with him, unpacking the final board from the top of Twinkie and handing it to Kie. Dusting your hands you turned to survey the beach with an appraising look, eyes scanning the waves and the shine the sun casted on them.
You went back to the Twinkie and helped John B carry out the ice box, grunting slightly at the effort and receiving a teasing glance from the boy across from you. “Too heavy for you?”
You scoffed. “As if. I was the one who lugged the wood from Poguelandia for a mile when the truck broke down, remember?”
John B gave a tilt of his head. “Touche.”
The both of you planted the box by the chairs and opened it up, as many drinks as you could fit packed in among the ice inside. JJ snatched the first one and you chucked him the beer opener, a satisfying click accompanying the action as he opened the bottle.
Hand in the box to get one yourself, you paused when you heard the telltale growl of vehicles heading your way. You stood up, squinting into the distance as you spotted a line of cars driving towards you.
“You’re joking.” To your dismay you recognised the shiny, expensive cars as those belonging to the Kooks that shared this island with you. You scowled along with the rest of your group, eyeing the cars with barely disguised contempt.
“Keep going,” JJ muttered under his breath, eyes fixed to the line of vehicles as they passed you by.
Some attempted a pitiful chance at civilness, giving half hearted waves and strained smiles. Others saw the uselessness of it and kept their gazes ahead, pretending as if you didn’t exist. The worst were the ones who gave you the backlashing smiles and devil eyes, each glance a dig at you and your friends.
“Anywhere but here,” Kiara murmured from beside you.
You couldn’t help but agree with her sentiment, willing the cars to continue by without stopping. You wanted to enjoy the day, and you found the idea hard to do if there were a bunch of Kooks next to you.
You watched the cars intently, and felt a sharp stab of disappointment and frustration as you noticed them slowing down, rolling to a stop about 30 metres to your left.
“Oh you're joking,” Kie said. “Of course they stop here.”
You tried to smother the anger rising up inside you as you watched them start exiting their cars. “Why wouldn't they? When there's an entire beach.”
“We were here first,” Sarah pointed out, as if it’d help us. It didn’t matter if we were first or not. The Kooks got what they wanted regardless of what Pogues were in the way. You were all too familiar with that fact of life.
JJ shook his head and kicked the sand again, except there was anger in the action rather than excitement. “It's a waste of waves, if you're asking me.”
“Don’t let them ruin the day for us,” you advised. “It’s just what they want.”
John B let out a sigh but continued unpacking, and you felt relief in your chest. The last thing you needed was a fight to break out between the Pogues and the Kooks. You could be civil to one another. Hopefully.
It wasn’t long until you were all ready for the day ahead, the Twinkie empty and sitting to the side. You’d just sat down in your chair, drink in hand, when your gaze had strayed to the Kooks, wanting to keep an eye on them.
You hadn’t wanted to see Rafe there, settling down on a beach chair similar to your own, sunglasses covering his face. Even so, you could tell when he noticed you staring, the slight stiffening of his shoulders, his mouth curling into a small scowl.
You knew your own face was mirroring his expression and quickly looked away lest your emotions get the better of you.
“Great,” Sarah said, also noticing Rafe. “My brother’s here.”
All eyes were immediately on you and you resisted the urge to glower at them. Your friends were well aware of the relationship you’d once had with Rafe, a strange sort of understanding you’d shared that no one else could make sense of. They also remembered how it ended, with Rafe on the airstrip, demanding you not go on the plane to South America. You could still hear his ultimatum ringing in your head, ‘if you get on that plane, we’re done.’
You didn’t regret your decision. You’d choose the exact same if you had the chance. Your friends needed help. You’d never turn your back on them. It was just a shame that Rafe perceived that as you turning your back on him.
In summary, you were both harbouring hard feelings for one another, and seeing him there today did nothing to help your mood.
You cleared your throat, fingers clasped tightly around the drink in your hand. “Let’s just ignore them, yeah?”
If any of your friends noticed the tightness of your smile they didn’t comment on it, eager to go along with your suggestion and not allow the Kooks to ruin your day. That was until you noticed Topper heading your way and John B walking to meet him.
You let out a sigh, sharing a look with Sarah. None of you wanted a fight to break out, but you were all well aware of how much boys let testosterone lead instead of their head, these two boys in particular.
You were watching the rather tense conversation between them, too far to actually hear anything, when your gaze slid to Rafe. A hot flush went through you when you noticed he was already watching you.
You held his gaze, his eyes eating up the distance between you before devouring you yourself. Even from here you could spot the familiar hunger in his eyes, and you tried to tell yourself you didn’t enjoy it, clinging to the words even when your stomach flipped when he still didn’t look away.
“Y/n?”
Tearing your gaze away first felt like losing somehow, but you couldn’t keep blatantly staring at him after your friends called for your attention. So, with a strange feeling of defeat coating your mouth, you turned to Kiara, the girl watching you with an indecipherable expression.
You managed a smile. “Yeah?”
The girl hesitated, mouth slightly open as she thought over her words. Eventually she gave you a half smile, a knowing look in her eyes. “You gonna make that drink you learned in Chile?”
You grinned. After El Dorado you’d taken a month to travel abroad, spending some of your share of the small fortune you’d all managed to pull together. The other’s had been supportive of your wanting to leave. Even if they had never liked Rafe, they all understood what it was to lose the person you loved, and they shared your belief that some time away would help heal your wounded heart.
And it had helped. You’d forgotten all about him on your trip (mostly) and hadn’t thought about him (much) after you got back.
“Sure will,” you said, “but be warned. This drink is strong. Not for the weak.”
Kie grinned back at the idea of a challenge, just as John B walked back to you, glowering but fully intact.
To cheer everyone up, you decided making your drink would be a good idea, give them a challenge. All your friends liked a challenge. Plus, you wanted to see JJ chug a whole glass and regret it. The guy was good with alcohol but even he wouldn’t see this coming.
You hummed a tune under your breath as you prepared the drinks, singing along to the music blasting through the Kooks’ speakers. Even from here it was loud enough to hear the words and you quietly sang along as your friends relaxed around you.
“Alrighty,” you spoke, a tray of drinks in your hand. “Everyone take one, take one, there you go.”
When the tray was empty except for one last glass you took it and raised it in the air. “Ready? One, Two, Three!”
You didn’t even bother to take a sip, watching intently as JJ chugged the whole drink just as you expected. And just like you expected he became a spluttering mess, choking and coughing, making a whole big deal.
Loud enough to garner attention from the Kooks too. When John B followed JJ’s footsteps, apparently deciding JJ couldn’t handle it but he could, and also following in JJ’s footsteps of deeply regretting it, your whole group was laughing and cheering.
It was enough for the Kooks to take a peek.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Topper asked, walking over.
You looked past and found a trail of sorts of Kooks making their way to you, and with a jolt you realised Rafe was one of them. He wasn’t actually going to come over, was he? Yet he didn’t stop his procession and suddenly was standing right next to Topper and you had to fight to keep your eyes from straying to him.
“Trying out some drinks,” you said, because the rest of your friends had suddenly become mute. “I learnt a pretty good recipe when I was in Chile and-”
“You were in Chile?”
You stopped at Rafe’s words, the velvety lilt of his voice all too familiar. You finally let yourself look at him, finding him staring at you intently, a small frown plastered on his face.
“Um, yeah,” you said. “I went for a bit of travelling.”
Rafe looked like he wanted to ask something else but held his tongue, gesturing for you to continue what you’d been saying previously. Hesitantly, because part of you was uneasy with Rafe standing right there, and the other part slightly nervous with all the Kooks’ attention on you – because they’d all come over now – you continued your story. You detailed where you’d discovered it, who taught you how to make it, and most importantly, the utter strength and devastation of the drink.
By now the Kooks were getting exciting, slapping each other on the chest and making bets of who could take it. They’d all seen JJ and John B’s display and wanted to try it out for themselves.
“You mind making a few extra for us to try?” Topper asked.
You hesitated. You'd always gotten along with Topper, and had spent more time with him than the other Pogues had – excluding Sarah, of course – because of his relationship with Rafe. Of course your view on him was different now, after the incident with him burning John B’s house down, but you weren’t as opposed to him as your other friends were.
As if also remembering the friendship you’d once shared, Topper gave you a smile, and you didn’t really see the point in denying them, especially if you wanted to keep the peace between the two tribes.
“Sure,” you said, with a smile only slightly strained. “I’ll start making another batch now.”
There were cheers from the group as you turned back to your preparation table, going through the motions of making the drink all over again. JJ appeared at your side. “You don’t gotta do this you know. We can tell em’ to get lost and that will be that.”
You were already shaking your head. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind. And if it keeps them from ruining our day all the better.”
JJ gave you a long look, eyes narrowed. He glanced at Rafe, milling about with some of the Kooks who’d stayed while the others went to grab more chairs. Apparently they were moving over here for the time being.
“And it’s got nothing to do with your ex boyfriend being here?”
You scowled at JJ. It was an unspoken rule that none of the Pogues mentioned Rafe or your relationship with him. They all saw how hard the break up hit you. JJ just loved breaking rules though. “No, it doesn’t. You should know as well as I do that pissing off Kooks does no one any good.”
JJ sighed, likely because you were right. “Yeah, but it’s so fun though.”
You snorted, shaking your head as you shooed him away from your work, focusing on re-making your drink. You had just enough supplies for a second batch – lucky, because you wouldn’t want to find out what the Kooks would do if you went back on your offer now – and managed to whip it up in less than 10 minutes.
“Alrighty, everybody take one – there should be some left over if anyone wants a second try – and brace yourselves.”
You found your heart was pounding as you passed the tray around the group of Kooks, getting closer and closer to Rafe before you found yourself standing face to face with him. He took the glass, eyes solely on you as he nodded and you passed him by, giving the rest of the Kooks their drinks.
You frowned to yourself as you placed the tray back on the table, only a couple drinks left, and picked up your own. What did that nod mean? Was it a polite nod, just to be civil, or had it meant something else? Had he been trying to tell you something with it?
You mulled it over in your head as the others drank, barely paying attention to their outbursts. They were even worse than JJ and John B though, you managed to pick up that, and the thought made you smile slightly.
To your surprise, after your drinks had been finished or forgotten by the Kooks, they stayed around. Sure, their chairs were further from yours – it wasn’t like you were all sitting in a circle around a campfire or anything – but they were close enough that if you wanted you could have a conversation with them without yelling. Maybe they were planning on having another drink of yours, or maybe they were just too lazy to move back to their original spot. Either way, it put you on edge, and you noticed it did the same to your friends too. Maybe giving them drinks hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
One of the guys – Kelce, if you remembered correctly – whistled, and it was only when he did it a second time did you realise he was whistling at you. You turned to him and raised an eyebrow.
“Get me another drink of yours,” he called out, resting comfortably in his chair.
You scoffed. “I’m not your maid.”
Kelce pretended to ponder your words. “Aren’t you though? I mean you’re a Pogue so-”
“Get the damn drink yourself if you want it Kelce,” Rafe snapped viciously, his body taught as he glared at his friend.
Immediately Kelce backed off, muttering under his breath, but he didn’t finish his sentence. He also didn’t grab another drink, so maybe he didn’t want it that bad. The tension between the two tribes rose after that, but you barely noticed it, eyes trained on Rafe.
He refused to so much as look at you. He’d just defended you in front of all his friends, and he won’t even look at you. You were pissed. Logically thinking, this shouldn’t have made you all that mad, but he was so confusing. He broke up with you and now he was defending your honour and speaking back to his own friends for you. What did it mean?
Eventually the Kooks started leaving, travelling back to their own domain, dragging their chairs behind them. You were relieved, but also disappointed. You were so wrapped up in everything Rafe; you didn’t want it to just end.
Except it was already over, you reminded yourself as you grabbed your board, intending to do a little surfing. Your friends followed your lead and headed out to the ocean to catch some waves. Even Sarah came, catching some of the smaller ones and cheering in celebration when she managed to ride it.
You were catching your own waves too, grinning at the exhilarating feeling of flying over the water, having the waves chase behind you. You could hear your own friends cheering, only elevating your mood, and you didn’t even remember you were sharing the beach with Kooks until you were waiting for the next wave, a rare lull coming over the water, and had them floating nearby.
You noticed Topper among them just as he did you and you gave him a hesitant smile. Topper returned it and moved over to you, taking his Kook friends with him. Your own muttered unpleasant words but didn’t outright tell them not to come over, so you found yourself floating on your board side by side with Topper.
“Been a while,” he commented, glancing at you.
You looked at the water lapping against your thighs that were spread across your board. You nodded your head. “Yeah, it has.”
He hesitated, glancing at your friends behind you. “How are you doing, with… everything?”
Everything being Rafe.
You shrugged noncommittally, unwilling to give the man next to you anything, lest it find its way to Rafe. “I’m good.”
Not exactly a lie. But was it the truth?
“It's getting big out there, huh?” JJ called, gesturing to the rising waves.
Topper nodded his head good-naturedly. “Sure is.”
“See that one?” JJ asked, pointing to the oncoming wave. It was an impressive one, slowly building to a height that beat all the others before it, promising a giant impact when it eventually crashed in on itself.
Topper let out a whoop and JJ grinned at him, though it wasn’t his normal type of grin. There was a maliciousness to it, one that made you uneasy looking at it.
“Is that you?” JJ asked.
Topper looked at him, noticing his grin. He didn’t know him well enough to realise it meant he had ill intentions, nodding with a similar smile. “Yeah baby that’s all me.”
You floated closer to JJ, giving him a stern look. “JJ…”
He gave you innocent eyes, blinking at you. “What? Just being friendly.”
You scoffed, because you highly doubted it, but you’d learnt there was no stopping JJ when he was planning something. Still, you hoped it didn’t end with violence between the Kooks and the Pogues, like it always seemed to.
Topper readied himself for the wave, drifting closer, a tighter grip on his board. It was only when you noticed JJ doing the same thing did you realise his plan.
“JJ no-”
You were too late, the boy sailing on his board and cutting Topper off right at the last minute. There were shouts of dismay from the Kooks and you were tempted to join them. JJ could be so rash sometimes.
There were more disgruntled noises as Topper disappeared from view, appearing moments later sopping wet with a scowl on his face. Realising the civilness between the Pogues and Kooks was effectively over, you swam back to shore, dragging your board over the sand and dropping it rougher than needed on the ground.
It was time to leave. You didn’t want to be there to watch the eventual fight between the Kooks and the Pogues that was bound to happen. After what JJ did you were surprised they didn’t try to drown him in the ocean.
Kiara was thinking along the same lines, helping you pack up the boards on the roof of the Twinkie before folding all the chairs. By the time the others came back from the ocean you were nearly finished, your spot looking unusually bare.
“Woah, what we doing?” JJ asked. “The sun is still out.”
You resisted the urge to snap at him. You knew it was just who he was, but sometimes, when JJ’s lack of thought affected all of you instead of just him, it was difficult to keep calm with him.
“We’d rather not be here when the Kooks go crazy,” Kiaria said shortly, somewhat forcefully taking JJ’s board from him.
JJ made a sound of displeasure, looking around at your friends. When he looked at you all you could do was shrug because Kie was right. It was better to be gone before they decided on revenge.
You were all finally ready to go when you spotted something strange in the sand. It seemed to be moving, as if there was something under it. You stepped closer and let out a gasp as a tiny sea turtle fought its way through the sand, its head peeking out into the world.
“It’s a hatch!” you called. “Kie! Quickly!”
The girl raced over to you and let out an excited shriek, looking at the turtles with awe. Your other friends surrounded them, watching as they slowly made the treacherous journey to ocean water.
“Look at these little nuggets,” John B said, kneeling down to get a better look at them.
Kiaria took a step back. “Wait, wait, back up, give them some space. You can’t touch them.”
You all followed her warning, taking a few steps back. You couldn’t bear to go too far back though, because the sight before you was so special you wanted to drink in every single aspect.
“We’ve gotta make a path right?” you asked, glancing at your friends.
John B nodded, following your train of thought. “Yeah, we need to make it safe. Get these footprints off.”
Kie started calling out orders that we all followed diligently, telling Sarah to look for seagulls and other predators while the rest of you tried to smooth out the sand for the turtles to crawl over.
“We should make like a highway,” John B mused.
You nodded. “A turtle highway.”
“A turtle highway!” Sarah cheered. “Come on kids.”
John B was in front of them, leading the way to the sea. “Come on, follow your human daddy straight to the ocean-ocean.”
JJ frowned. “Why do you get to be the dad?”
John B gave him a look, about to answer when you all heard the sound of the Kooks’ cars. You turned around and recognised Topper’s jeep heading towards you. You were surprised when you noticed Topper in the passenger seat, a girl that must have been his girlfriend in the driver’s seat.
Kie stepped forward, cupping her hands around her mouth as she called, “Hey! Hey stop! There's a hatch!”
The car drove determinedly towards you though, either ignoring or not hearing Kiara’s yelling. The rest of you joined in, waving your arms, shouting at the oncoming vehicle about the hatch right behind you.
“Let’s just get out of the way,” John B said.
Kiara scoffed. “No I don’t think so.”
So the screaming continued, as they got closer and closer to the hatch. At the last minute you all ducked to the side and the jeep drove past, barely missing you but thankfully leaving a wide enough berth for the turtles.
You thought it was over, letting a relieved breath loose, when the car turned around.
“No, no no, no.”
The screaming continued. You planted yourself right in front of the hatch, a barrier, and refused to budge. Topper’s girlfriend noticed your savage stare, the tense set of your shoulders and seemed to choose you as her victim, heading right for you. For the hatch.
Your voice was hoarse from your screaming. How could they not hear you? You were certain the Kooks behind you could, and though the car’s engine was loud surely it wasn’t that loud. With all your voices put together surely they could hear something. Maybe they just didn’t care.
You stood still as the car came closer and closer. She’d stop. She’d have to. She couldn’t kill you. Your resolve was fracturing slightly, however, as the car proceeded forward with no signs of stopping or swerving. By now your own friends were yelling at you to get out of the way, but it was too late.
The car was right there in front of you, so close you could see the horror on Topper’s face and the sneer on his girlfriend’s, and then suddenly you were being pushed aside, a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped around you.
You hit the sand with a thud, feeling your bones ache as the impact hit you. Still, the arms around you stayed there, and it took you a moment to realise why they were so familiar. Because they belonged to Rafe.
The man was breathing deeply next to you, catching his breath as his grip never faltered.
“Let me go Rafe,” you said through gritted teeth.
The man scoffed, ignoring your plea as you both got upright. His arms were now firmly around your waist. “Why, so you can try to get yourself killed again?”
You scowled. “I wasn’t trying to get myself killed-”
“Really? Because you standing there doing nothing while a car headed right for you seemed like getting yourself killed.”
You spun around in his grip, face to face with him. You hadn’t been this close to him since before you broke up. From here you could see the specks of brown decorating the blue of his eyes, the eyes you’d loved so much. Still loved, if you were being honest.
“There was a hatch,” you hissed. “I was trying to protect it.”
“And that’s worth your life?” Rafe asked incredulously. He was staring at you so intently, eyes glued to your face as his hands slightly moved up and down your back, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You can’t do things like that Y/n.”
You felt the familiar anger rise up inside me. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Rafe looked taken aback and angry at your words. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”
Rafe let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. He still didn’t let you go; if anything he held on tighter. “Are you serious right now? I just saved your life.”
You rolled your eyes. “They would have stopped-”
“Oh my god, Y/n, no they wouldn’t have. When are you gonna realise that? Huh? Not everyone is gonna take care of you out there like me,” Rafe accused, getting into that hot headed way of his.
You scoffed incredulously, pushing yourself away from him. His grip tightened for a second before reluctantly letting you go, though he did not look at all happy about it. “Take care of me? As in dumping me on an airstrip?”
“Because you left me!” Rafe burst out, looking harried. “What, I’m supposed to stay with you after you blatantly choose them over me? Do you just not value me as your boyfriend?”
You let out a frustrated groan. Sometimes you wanted to scream at him. “I didn’t choose you over them! They needed me.”
“I needed you,” Rafe hissed. “I needed you and you left me.”
You opened your mouth but paused. Rafe was being unusually vulnerable with you, even if it was disguised by anger, and you started to wonder if maybe he was missing you just as much as you missed him.
“I didn’t mean to,” you said quietly. You saw Rafe’s eyes soften slightly at the change in your tone, and suddenly everything disappeared but the two of you. There were no Kooks, no Pogues, no tension between them. It was just you two, standing on the beach, the unknown of your relationship hanging above your heads. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Rafe’s jaw clenched. He was struggling to find something to say, half of him wanting to snap and tear you down, while the other physically recoiled against the idea of hurting you in any way. Eventually he sighed, rubbing the side of his face tiredly. “Why’d you have to fucking leave?”
“Why’d you have to make me choose?”
You both stayed silent after that, staring at each other. It was obvious you craved each other, missed the other's presence. But could you look past what had already happened between you? Were you able to look past the mountain of problems and pain you’d caused each other?
You desperately wanted to say yes, but you were scared he wouldn’t do the same. Still, you had to try, right?
You took a deep breath, fear making your throat clogged. “Rafe, I miss y-”
You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips were crashing against your own, his hand already tangled in your hair, cupping your head. You melted into the kiss, your arms snaking around his neck, desperate to be closer. After all these months apart the distance between you felt enormous, and you wanted it gone. Rafe seemed to think the same, forcefully tugging you to him, eliminating the space.
He kissed your mouth like a man starved, lips harsh and bruising against your own. You felt heat enveloping your body, goosebumps rising with every swipe of his tongue in your mouth. Pleasure you hadn’t felt in so long was filling your mind, his lips satisfying a craving you’d spent so long trying to ignore.
When air became a factor and you pulled away for a breath he only let you go so far, having your forehead rest against his own. Being this close to him, this familiar, was making your heart ache with longing.
His hands wrapped around your waist and stayed there, now freely wandering up and down your back. He kissed your jaw, your throat, collarbone, anywhere he could as you caught your breath, like he just couldn’t bear not to be kissing you.
“Rafe,” you murmured. When he didn’t answer you said his name again, and a grunt escaped his mouth in acknowledgement, still kissing your throat. “I need to go.”
This made him stop kissing you, and he pulled back to look at you with an angry attitude. “What?”
You gestured behind him, where your friends were waiting by the Twinkie. They’d finished keeping the turtles safe as they went into the ocean, and judging by the calm if irritated air around them, none of the turtles got injured from Topper and his girlfriend’s semantics.
“They’re waiting for me.”
Rafe made a sound of displeasure, pulling you even closer, if that was possible. “You can stay with me.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I can?”
Rafe discerned the second meaning behind your question almost immediately. You could stay with him, for more than just today? As his partner, as you’d once been?
The man let out a breathy laugh, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Of course baby. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe
warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything
a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.
“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.
In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.
You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.
“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”
Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.
Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.
“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.
“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.
“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.
“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.
Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.
You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone.
“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau.
“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him.
“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart.
“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.
“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you.
“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned.
JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know.
“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.
Boy was he mistaken.
——————————————————————
“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.
“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.
You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.
“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.
“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.
“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”
“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.
“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”
“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.
“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.
“I fuck pogues.”
“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.
“Exactly so what’s the issue?”
“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”
He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.
“What's funny?” You challenged.
“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.
“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.
“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.
“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”
“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning.
“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.
“Mhm,” You lied.
“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.
Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.
“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.
“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.
“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.
He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.
You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.
“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.
“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under.
“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”
“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”
“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.
“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.
“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.
“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.
You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.
“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”
And fuck you he did.
——————————————————————
The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.
Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.
Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.
“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”
You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.
You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.
“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.
“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.
“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.
“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.
“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.
“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.
“No?”
“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.
“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.
“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”
With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.
“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.
“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.
“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.
“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.
Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.
“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.
“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.
“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”
“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.
“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“
“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj.
Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”
“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”
“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.
Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.
She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”
A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”
With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.
“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.
“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.
“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.
“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.
“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”
“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.
“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.”
Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.
Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.
“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.
“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.
He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.
1- You’d always share your snacks.
2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.
3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.
Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.
“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”
“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.
JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x Sofia.
chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, of abortion, health risks & death.
Two lines.
Two bold, definitive lines.
You blinked. Once, twice, but it didn’t change. It wasn’t going away.
Two lines, clear as fucking day, staring back at you like they were taunting you.
The universe was laughing right in your face. You felt everything plummet to the very bottom of the earth—the room, the floor, your stomach—it all just plummeted, like you’d been pushed off a cliff with no warning.
The test fell from your grip, clattering onto the marble countertop, but you didn’t care. You backed away from it like it was something radioactive, something dangerous that could destroy you if you got too close. But it already had, hadn’t it?
You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?
You knew how, obviously. You weren’t that dumb. All you could see in your head was Rafe’s stupid fucking face. His name alone made you want to punch something, preferably his balls.
You were pregnant? With his kid? You were so careful with your life, with your image.
You could feel the resentment rise in your throat again, the taste of acid making you want to scream. He didn’t get to do this to you. He couldn’t ruin your life twice, fuck you up this bad and then just leave. You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. You hated it. And worse, you hated yourself.
There you were, stuck with this. Alone with a baby you didn’t even want to think about. The thought of it growing inside you—of carrying some piece of him, some reminder of everything he put you through these past two months—it was loathsome. He wasn’t part of this, not anymore. And you weren’t that girl—you didn’t want to be. You weren’t the one who begged for him to care, who waited around for him to come to his senses, who made excuses.
You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.
You weren’t going to ruin all that hard work over him again. No way.
You pressed a tissue to your eyes—not to cry, but to catch the stray moisture that threatened to ruin your eyeliner—and took a deep breath. You smoothed your dress, and made sure everything was in place.
You didn’t have time to figure it out, or wallow, or throw shit around. You straightened your back, lifted your chin, and forced yourself to feel nothing.
Not the panic, not the nausea, not the rage. Nothing.
You could push it all down, shove it into that deep hellish place in your guts where you put everything else. Later, maybe you’d have to let it out.
Just as you were spiraling deeper into the pit, there was a knock on the door. Loud. It made you jump, pulling you out of your head for just a second.
“Hey!” It was Lily, her voice bright, oblivious. “It’s time. We need you out there. You’ve got like three minutes.”
Right. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.
You stepped out of the room, every movement rehearsed, the smile expertly placed on your lips. You were a master at this—faking it, pretending like nothing in the world could touch you. Not after seeing those two fucking lines.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked through the hallway, down the steps, and into the ballroom. It was filled with kooks being kooks. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake friendships. You weren’t even listening to a word anyone said to you.
“Hi, darling, you look stunning as always,” someone said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled, said thank you, maybe even added a you too, but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your body knew exactly what to do at these things.
Pretend like you gave a shit.
“Your dad would be so proud,” another woman gushed, and you wanted to throw up. You laughed. If he knew what was happening. Pregnant? By a man who didn’t put a ring on your finger?
And there they were, of course—Topper, Kelce and Ruthie, standing in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots. Well, Topper grinning like an idiot. Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and you reached out instinctively, but the waiter, somehow, just missed you. The tray floated right past, and before you could even realize the fact that you didn’t have a drink in your hand, her eyes were on you.
“Oh, you're not drinking?” she asked, voice dripping with fake concern. Her eyes flickered, like she knew something, and you swear to god, your eyelid twitched.
“Not yet,” you replied with the same faux smile.
Ruthie just kept watching you with those too-knowing eyes, like she was looking for a crack, some little tell. Because she always did. You had to be so careful around her. One wrong move, one second, and she’d be all over it, spreading it around the entire town before you even had a chance to breathe.
Your cousin, completely oblivious, was babbling with Kelce about something—probably golf, or the new boat his dad bought, or some other thing you couldn’t care less about. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but you were mentally still in the bathroom, staring at those two lines.
“So, you invited Rafe?” Kelce said it like it was nothing, like bringing up your ex-boyfriend was the most casual thing in the world.
“What the actual fuck did you just say?” You all but growled out, enough to make him choke on his champagne.
He looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t just mention the one person you’d rather hurl off a bridge at the moment. “Yeah, Rafe. He’s on the list, right?”
Your whole body went rigid. You blinked, trying to keep your face from giving anything away, but inside? You were dying. Ruthie’s eyebrows shot up—oh great, now you had her attention too.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Kelce, of course, had the nerve to chuckle.
If Rafe had spoken to them about being taken off the guest list, you’d lose it. The insolence of him mentioning your name—like he still had any right to talk about you? He should’ve buried the memory of you right along with whatever feelings he claimed to have had.
But then, if he hadn’t said a word about it to his best friends—that meant something worse. That meant he didn’t care. He was over it. Over you.
He hadn’t even bothered to tell them that he wasn’t coming to the gala because he wasn’t thinking about it. Or about you.
You hated either possibility.
Kelce like the asshole he was, "I thought you two were—"
"Don't." You cut him off so fast, so hard, he had to take a step back.
You wanted to grab Top by his clueless shoulders and demand answers. Did Rafe care? Was he coming tonight? You didn’t like any option—every scenario made you want to get on a plane to the other side of the world. If he was planning to show up despite being cut from the list…Shit, what would you even do? You could feel the headache starting already.
That would be so him, though.
The arrogance. The entitlement, ignoring boundaries because he never thought the rules applied to him.
Ruthie, of course, was still watching you like a hawk. Her eyes darted between you and Topper, and you could practically feel her mind working, trying to piece together whatever she thought she was seeing. She loved this. She lived for other people’s drama, and you knew she’d sniff out anything that didn’t look flawless.
You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.
"Ow, Jesus—what the hell?!" he yelped, stumbling to keep up with you in his shiny loafers as you all but hauled him into the nearest corner of the ballroom, out of sight, but still within earshot of the crowd.
You didn’t care. Let someone see. Let them all see.
You turned to him, barely letting go of his ear, your nails tapping impatiently against your crossed arms. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and maybe you had.
“Spill it.”
He was still rubbing his ear. “What are you talking about?”
“Rafe,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “Is he coming tonight? And don’t you dare lie to me, Top.”
He gulped. Actually gulped. You swore you could see the gears turning in that pretty, empty head of his, trying to figure out if he could weasel his way out of this.
“I— I don’t know, okay?” Topper stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t talked to him today, but I figured… I mean, he always comes to these things, so I assumed—"
That meant Rafe didn’t tell him. That your little stunt hadn’t phased him in the slightest.
“You assumed?” You leaned in closer, eyes burning holes into his skull. “After everything, you thought it was a good idea to just assume he’d show up and not even bother telling me?”
“I can’t put him on a leash!” His voice rose defensively, eyes wide like he was the one under attack. And yeah, maybe he was. Maybe you’d gone full psycho mode. Rafe always turned you into this—this furious, spiraling, out-of-control version of yourself.
Your cousin was just collateral damage.
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe someone should.” You said it slowly like you were explaining something to a child. “Do you even know what it’s like?” you hissed, leaning in closer, your voice dropping , “To sit here, wondering if he’s gonna show up like some ticking time bomb?”
Topper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He didn’t know shit about what you were going through. How could he? He wasn’t the one with a whole life-changing secret burning a hole in his brain, wondering if the father of the child growing inside him was going to ruin everything—again.
“I—I didn’t think it was that serious,” Topper stammered, hands flying up in surrender. “I mean, he’s always been a dick, but—”
You remember the first thing he texted you after weeks of radio silence.
“No,” you interrupted, “He’s more than just a dick. He’s—” You stopped yourself before you said too much. God, you were on the edge, and you needed to rein it in.
Topper, still looking like a kicked puppy, shifted on his feet.
“Look, I’ll text him. I’ll ask if he’s coming or not, okay?” He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. You watched him, arms crossed, tapping your foot against the marble floor like your life depended on it. If you saw his face—his stupid, beautiful, infuriating face—you didn’t know what you’d do.
Punch him? Scream? Run? The thought of him being here, so close, when you hadn’t even processed what was happening to you…
“Okay, he says—” He paused, squinting at his screen, “he’s not coming.”
The relief. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shoulders sagging for just a second before you caught yourself. He’s not coming.
But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this... this thing inside you.
“See?” Topper said, holding up his phone like it was some peace offering. “He’s not coming. Crisis averted.” He gave you this awkward, nervous smile, like he thought you might hit him again.
You forced a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny.
“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” you said through gritted teeth simultaneously smoothing your dress, and pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “Thanks, Top. Really. You’re a real lifesaver.”
He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not, but you didn’t care. The moment was over. You’d survived.
You rolled your eyes as you turned away heading back toward your original group. Of course, Ruthie was still standing there her arms crossed, that smug little smirk on her face. She’d been watching the whole thing, no doubt about it.
You could feel her nosy ass dissecting every single move you made.
“He’s not here yet,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing just enough to piss you off. “Weird, right? Maybe he’s busy with Sofia.”
Of course, she brought up that fucking name.
She was sniffing out blood in the water, as if she wasn’t just another Sarah Cameron knock-off. You could already picture it—the headlines, the whispers spreading through the audience, everyone talking about you. The legacy who ruined her own gala.
Kelce snorted, not even bothering to hide his amusement, because of course he thought this was all a joke. He never got it. None of them did.
You wished, for just a second, that you weren’t born into this pristine, high-society life. You felt so smothered by these expectations. If you were anyone else, if you weren’t some debutante raised on champagne and etiquette, you’d have punched her right there. You’d have knocked her straight to the floor and wiped that pretentious smile off her face with blood in front of every stuck-up rich asshole in the room.
“I didn’t realize we were talking about her,” you said, voice like sugar, even though you knew Ruthie could sense the underlying warning in it,“But thanks, Ruthie, for always keeping me updated on things that don’t concern you.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down yet.
“Just making conversation. I mean, it is weird that he hasn’t shown up yet, right? Considering how close you two used to be. I’m sure it’s nothing, though.”
Kelce, that asshole, leaned in, "Come on, don't act like you’re over it." His eyes glanced down to your hand. "You’re shaking."
You were. You hadn’t even noticed.
But instead of acknowledging it, you shot him a look that could've killed. "Fuck off, Kelce."
They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.
“Uh-huh,” Ruthie said, not buying a word of it. Her eyes flicked between you and Topper, and you knew what she was doing. She was fishing. “You sure about that? You were giving him a look.”
You glanced at your cousin, who was still rubbing his ear like a toddler. “Just sorting out some... logistics for the gala,” you said, voice saccharine, but it felt like chewing on glass. “It’s nothing. Really.”
She arched a brow, her lips curling up in a knowing grin. She knew something was off. She always did. “Right,” she said slowly, drawing the word out like she was savoring it. “Because for a second there, it looked like you were about to explode.”
She was monitoring you so closely, you could feel it crawling up your skin.
“You know,” she sighed, like she cared. “If something’s going on you can tell me. I won’t say a word.”
That was rich. Ruthie, keeping a secret? You’d sooner trust a thief with your jewelry. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said, not keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. “But trust me, there’s nothing to tell.”
Ruthie’s pursed her lips, annoyed that she hadn’t managed to dig anything up, “Are you—”
You were two seconds away from shoving her into the nearest fountain. But instead, you took a deep breath, “You should worry less about me,” you advised her, “and more about that atrocious dress you’re wearing.”
The smile fell off her face so fast, it was glorious.
You didn’t wait for her to recover. You turned on your heel, and grabbed Topper by the arm.
As soon as you were far enough away, he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna deck her.”
You grinned, but there was no warmth in it. “I still might.”
He sighed, “She’s still my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, downgrading seems like a thing for you boys.”
Like a guardian angel sent from above, Lily appeared, stepping between you two with a concerned expression.
“Hey, hey,” she interrupted, glancing between you, “What was that about?”
You could see the caution in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—Lily knew things between you and Rafe had been rocky, and she’d probably been sensing the tension the entire night. But right now, she was doing her best to defuse the earlier situation before it got any worse.
“Nothin’, just Ruthie being herself,” You dismissed, as you grabbed onto her forearm, “Let’s go.”
Lily blinked, startled by your urgency, but she didn’t argue. “Yeah, we should head backstage, the speech is coming up.”
“Bye Top. Stay the fuck away from the chocolate fountain.”
You could hear him whine in the back, “I did that shit once!”
Lily pulled you along through the ballroom, her arm linked with yours, quickening her pace to keep up with you as you nearly bolted toward the back of the venue. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” you bit out, though your voice didn’t even convince you. “I’m fine. I just need to get this speech over with.”
“Uh-huh,” She replied, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it for now. “You got it, don’t worry.”
Finally, you made it to the side entrance that led backstage. The thick drapes and low lighting created a shield, giving you a small moment of privacy before the world demanded your attention again.
Lily stood next to you, gently touching your arm, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can stall, or—”
“I have to,” you stopped her, rubbing a hand over your face, “I can’t—” You didn’t finish your sentence because you didn’t know how to say it. You had no choice.
Lily’s fingers squeezed your arm a little tighter. “Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. “But I’m here if you need me.”
You forced a smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.
You appreciated her being here, really, but she was blissfully unaware of the pregnancy test in the trash can.
Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your posture, straightened your dress, and ran a hand through your hair, reminding yourself that you’d been here before. You’d stood on that stage so many times.
This wasn’t new. You just had to get through it.
One more speech. One more night. You glanced at Lily, gave her a quick nod, and stepped through the final curtain. Back into the spotlight. Back into the role you’d perfected so well—put together, poised, untouchable.
The low murmur of the gathering hummed in your ears, growing louder with every second. You weren’t ready. You were never going to be ready.
You just needed to remember how to breathe.
The speech was printed and sitting in your hands, it felt like dead weight. You hadn’t even read through it since you’d finished it hours ago, and now, the thought of standing in front of all those people, pretending to have it together—it felt impossible.
Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.
Rafe.
He said he wasn’t coming. Topper said he wasn’t coming. But there he was, standing there, watching you just like he always had.
You hadn’t even meant to look. You didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps it was muscle memory, always searching for him. He was standing in the same spot he usually took. Like nothing had changed.
As if he hadn’t ripped you apart.
You tried to focus, but your heart was racing, thundering in your ears.
How dare he? How fucking dare he? Instantly you were back there, that messy, intoxicating space you swore you’d never return to. The one where he controlled the air you breathed. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing a crisp navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly, hair buzzed again.
You should’ve guessed he’d find a way back here, even after everything.
“Are you ready?” Lily whispered beside you, her voice pulling you back from the brink of a breakdown.
“Yeah.”
Your heart raced as you forced yourself to look back at Rafe.
He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending to look interested. He just stood there, his eyes locked on you, unreadable, unfathomable.
He was still watching you. It felt like could see through your polished exterior. He probably did. He knew you better than anyone else. You wondered what he saw—the confident girl who had always pulled off these events with ease or the terrified woman who was about to pass out from the pressure.
Then, he’s lips lifted slightly. That infuriating, devil-may-care almost there smirk that had made your heart stutter long before everything went to hell. It reminded you of nights spent tangled in sheets, whispers pressed against your skin under the cover of darkness, moments that felt like they belonged in a dream.
You wanted to throw the speech away and storm off the stage, leaving this whole night behind.
Instead, you cleared your throat and gripped the edges of the podium, the cool wood bringing you back to the world.
The words were on the paper in front of you, but you didn’t need to look at them. You knew the speech by heart every year. You’d written it yourself, after all—crafted it with care, knowing exactly what people needed to hear to make their checks bigger, to keep your father’s legacy alive.
It was just a matter of saying it without breaking.
A deep breath, and then you began.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight.”
Your voice sounded better than what you felt, and you leaned into that, letting it carry you through the first few lines.
“We gather here every year for the same reason—to celebrate the incredible work this foundation does, and to honor the legacy of those who came before us. This foundation isn’t just a charity; it’s a tribute. A way to remember those we’ve lost and to carry their dreams forward. It’s about giving back to a community that gave so much to us.”
You paused, just for a moment, glancing down at the speech in your hands, feeling the overwhelming crush of what you’re about to say next.
“For me, this has always been personal.” Your voice softened as you continued, “Most of you are aware I lost my family a few years ago. My father started this foundation. His vision was always to make sure that no one was left behind, that we take care of our own. My mother helped build it. And my sister…” You hesitated, remembering how faultless she’d been, “She was always the heart of it.”
The room was utterly still now, everyone listening intently.
“Tonight, as I stand here, I can’t help but think about how proud they would be of what we’ve accomplished. At least, I hope they’d be proud.”
You allowed yourself a small, bittersweet smile.
“My dad would’ve been in his element, making sure everything was spotless. And my mom, well, she’d probably tell me that the curtains were horrid and needed to be replaced immediately.”
The crowd gave a light laugh, the tension in the room dissipating just a little. You smiled, a real one this time, for the first time in weeks, picturing your mother in her no-nonsense way, criticizing every decoration like it was the most important thing in the world.
“I miss them every day,” you added, “And I’m certain I’m not the only one in this room who’s experienced that kind of loss. It changes you. But it also reminds you to live in a way that makes them proud. And that’s what tonight is about, continuing their work, continuing their legacy, and making sure we do right by them.”
Your grip on the podium loosened, and you looked up, making eye contact with the audience.
“So, to everyone here tonight—thank you. Thank you for believing in this cause. Thank you for your generosity, your support, and your kindness. And thank you for helping me keep their memory alive.”
With that, you stepped back from the podium, the applause swelling around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.
It was over. You did it.
Automatically, your eyes flickered up toward the back corner, the spot where Rafe was standing. You never needed to look before; you’d always just known he’d be there. It was his silent promise to you since you were sixteen. Every gala, every speech—no matter what happened between the two of you—he was there.
But he wasn’t there anymore. The space was empty.
This was what you wanted, you didn’t need him anymore. You were going to get through this on your own. It was the first time he wasn’t there to catch you like he’d always been.
You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.
That stupid fucking warmth.
His hand found your elbow as you and every nerve in your body screamed bloody murder. The applause was still buzzing in your ears, cameras flashing—none of it registered.
All you saw was him.
Three seconds. That was how close you were to snapping. Who the fuck let him in?
You yanked your arm away, the touch burning your skin like it was staining you. You didn’t say a word—just turned and headed straight for the back exit.
Behind you, you heard his footsteps.
Of course, he never knew when to stop, when to let you breathe.
“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”
You were already halfway down the hall, pulling off your earrings as you stormed toward your suite.
The fucking sheer audacity of this man. You couldn’t even process it—how he could stand there, with his fake-ass calm tone, chasing after you like you were the one being unreasonable.
You threw open the door to the suite you got ready in, the one that was supposed to be your sanctuary for the night and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind you; you knew he was going to follow you in any way.
He was relentless like that.
You tossed the earrings onto the vanity and glanced up to see he was right behind you now, lingering in the doorway, as if unsure of how much further he could push before you exploded.
He looked at you like he was the victim in all this.
“Can you at least listen to me for a second?” It sounded like he was forcing himself to stay calm.
But that bite was so Rafe.
You spun around, your breath coming out harsh.
“Listen to you? Listen to you? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already pulling off your heels, the sharp tug at the straps doing nothing to calm your frustration.
He stood there, his eyes on you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for more than a second without feeling the betrayal flooding your chest.
Rafe was rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way he did when he was frustrated. “I came here because I didn’t want to leave things like that. I thought we could be civil—”
“Civil?” You nearly laughed, “You seriously think you can walk in here and be civil after everything?”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction. He moved on his feet, stepping further into the room, and you saw it—the way he rolled his shoulders like he was already preparing himself for a fight. “I came to apologize.”
He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.
Your hands stopped mid-motion, your necklace halfway off. You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Apologize for what, exactly?"
“For calling you dramatic.” He exhaled like he was doing something noble by saying it. As if he was doing you a favor. “For that text. I was drunk, didn’t mean it.”
He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her.
You stared at him, completely floored. He was serious, he thought this was some kind of peace offering. The fact that he thought an apology for that would fix anything? Insane.
“You think this is about that?” You cackled, chucking one shoe to the side, not caring where it landed, and the other followed right after. “Oh my god, Rafe, you are so fucking clueless.”
His expression changed then, brows furrowed, “I’m trying to make things right,” he mutters. “I don’t want you out of my life, okay?”
You threw the necklace somewhere on the ground, your patience gone. “You were the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can just fix things because you finally feel bad about it.”
He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”
Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.
“I don’t want to be your friend!” You growled in his face, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his chest, “I’d rather set myself on fire than be your friend, so you can take that chance and shove it up your ass.”
His hand came up to run along his head again, and you saw the way his fingers curled into his scalp like he was trying not to give in to his impulsive thoughts. His breathing was heavier now, too, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he snapped, and there it was—the familiar, accusatory edge in his voice. “After what you said about my dad—”
The reason.
The thing that broke you two this time, the thing he’d been holding over your head. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t let go of.
You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head.
“You’re gonna bring that up right now?” Your voice was so quiet it nearly scared you. “After all the shit you’ve put me through, that’s what you’re mad about?”
“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”
But Sofia did, right?
That was fucking hilarious. She didn’t grow up listening to Ward’s bullshit. Didn’t see the kind of things he’d say or did to his oldest child.
Of course, she would take his side. She didn’t know better.
You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”
For a moment, the air went deadly still between you. You could sense his hurt, the way it sneaked between every bitter word.
Then, he did it—the thing you knew he would, that thing that made your blood boil.
Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”
Your whole body went borderline rigid, like a door, locked in place.
He was standing there, offering you friendship like a pity prize, calling you jealous when you were standing there broken, trying not to fall apart because of him.
“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”
He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."
Ouch. But you could do worse.
"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"
"At least she doesn’t care about any of this," he snapped, gesturing to the glittering gala that surrounded you both. "She’s not obsessed with keeping up appearances.”
A cold laugh escaped your lips. He must’ve forgotten to look in the mirror today.
"God, you’re so delusional. Do you think I wanted any of this?” You shot him a look that could cut through steel. "I’m not the one faking it. You are. You are still so desperate for Daddy’s approval that you can’t even see what a fucking mess you are."
Rafe's hands flexed at his sides, his fingers twitching. His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he was trying to stay calm.”
"I’m not afraid of who I am," His lips barely moved as he spoke, rolling his shoulders back again, standing to his full height. "You spend so much time trying to be perfect, you don’t even know who you are anymore."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, like a predator sizing you up, his eyes locked on yours. You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath as he tried to keep his composure.
You took a step closer, your chest brushing against his, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. His gaze flicked downward, scanning your face.
"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."
He clenched his jaw again, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a sharp breath through his nose, staring you down with a look that was all Rafe—volatile, unreadable, on the edge of breaking.
Right then and there, Lily burst into the room, her wide eyes taking in the scene like a bomb had just gone off.
"Okay! What is going on in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp but layered with concern. “I could hear you two in the hallway. If something happened, this is not the place to deal with it.”
“You wanna know what happened, Lily?” you started, almost laughing with disbelief. “This motherfucker started seeing someone behind my back. Two months—two fucking months—with no real closure, no answers. And he’s off fucking some pogue.”
“It’s not like that,” He scoffed, pointing a finger in your direction as he took a few steps back, "Don't drag Sofia into this.”
His posture screamed defensiveness, and all you could think was how much you hated the way he said her name. It made you want to throw up, it felt like someone was taking a rusty nail and dragging it down your spine.
He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.
"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”
You were the one who had been there through all his bullshit, you were the one who held him together when everything in his life was falling apart. Now, suddenly, she was the one he spoke about softly. Like she mattered.
It was insulting.
“Guys!”
Lily stepped between you both, throwing her hands up as if she were separating two wild animals about to rip each other apart.
“Please, please calm down. Rafe, I think you should leave. Now."
He looked like he wanted to say more, you knew he had a million things screaming at him beneath the surface, but for once, he stayed silent. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was there, or maybe he finally realized you weren’t going to bite into his bullshit excuses and provocations.
Whatever it was, he took a step back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, storming past Lily and out of the room.
You could hear the distant sound of the door slamming as he left.
The moment he was gone, you felt your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your pulse racing.
Lily turned to you; her face full of concern. She reached out and grabbed your shoulders gently.
“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soothing, “Breathe. Just breathe.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, your breath hitching. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his kid, and this was what you got in return.
No peace. No calm.
Your chest tightened, your vision blurring.
“Hey, hey,” She cooed again, her hands on your arms, grounding you. “You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Just breathe, okay?”
You couldn’t believe you’d let it get this far—couldn’t believe you were even in this situation.
There was no way you were having his kid.
Absolutely not.
You didn’t even have to think about it. The decision had been made the second he’d defended her and insulted you like you were sidewalk littering.
Tomorrow, you’d take care of it. You’d book the appointment and that would be that. Clean break, no more ties to Rafe Cameron, no more staying in that fucked up twisted cycle with him.
“I really think you need to sit down and breathe for a second. You’re scaring me sweetheart, and honestly, this isn’t good for you.”
Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.
Your designer dress clung to you in all the wrong ways, as if even the fabric could understand the order going changes in your body.
“Whoever let him in, I want them fired.”
You spat suddenly gaining momentary strength to ruin lives. It wasn’t just a demand; it was an execution order.
The quiet threat of it was more terrifying than your screaming would have been.
Tomorrow, you’d make sure this nightmare ended before it could begin.
Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy
𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart! Reader isn't from the OBX. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She's a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She's hard to read regarding her sexual experience-her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.
𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn't pay their way out of.
Reader’s POV:
You wrap your towel around your wet hair, twisting it in place before gathering your toiletries, stepping toward the door into the night. It’s late as hell, the camp almost completely dark, but you needed to wash the night off you.
You hike through the clearing, following the path from the shower house to the sidewalk, returning to your bunk. All of the lights in Rafe’s cabin are off; a part of you hoping that the light would be on so you could stop by and apologize for leaving things the way you did… He was right. In the morning, he’d gone. Nothing would be resolved. The two of you would go separate ways until you ran into each other in the fall. But maybe that’s for the best.
SNAP.
Your head turns on a swivel, looking into the woods. A squirrel hops out of a tree onto the grass, bounding into the darkness. The little spike in your heart rate falls almost as fast as it rose.
SNAP.
There’s another crack, leaves rustle in the distance. Your heart starts to pick up speed again as you try your best to concentrate on your surroundings, but it’s so dark. You shine your flashlight toward the path of the sound, watching as a shadow shifts in the trees. “Hello?” Your voice comes out small and feeble. It’s Rafe… It’s gotta be. Maybe JJ? Assholes. “Ha. Ha.” You fake a laugh, tone dripping with disgust.
You look toward Rafe’s cabin, now lit. Rafe walks past the window with a beer, passing it to Kelce. Your heart starts to pick up pace again as you become more and more conscious of the sounds around you, each seemingly more threatening than the last. You scream bloody murder as a big figure moves past you fast in the direction of safety, leading you to flee in the opposite direction.
You sprint into the woods, branches whipping against your face and body as you maneuver from whatever terrors are behind you. Your lungs burn as you race faster than ever, stumbling and clinging to trees as you do your best to stay on your feet. “HELP ME!” You shriek as you cut to the left, racing along the woods on the backside of the cabins toward your own bunk. “HELP ME. PLEASE.”
You can hear the pounding of feet against the earth behind you, too terrified to look back, knowing that if you do, you’ll lose ground. Panic courses through your system as the noises around you get louder and louder. Just a little further.
You tumble over the brush onto the land below, hitting the forest floor with a bang. You look back for a second, catching the shadow of a towering figure, making it all that more real. He walks toward you as you claw your way to your feet, struggling through the damp ground, blundering to stand. You feel a hand slam against your back, grabbing your arm as well, jerking you the rest of the way to your feet.
“Rafe!” You gasp.
“We gotta get somewhere safe,” he whispers sharply as he takes his hand in yours, dragging you toward your cabin. You glance over your shoulder, looking back to the woods, watching the shadow of the man unmoved. “C’mon,” he pleads for you to move faster, dragging you through the woods toward your bunk.
“Why are you out here?” You pant.
“I saw you,” he huffs. “I saw you walkin’ back from the showers at night by yourself. Are you fuckin’ crazy?” He scolds. “Then I heard you screamin’. There’s someone in the fuckin’ woods. He grabs the door to your cabin, pulling it open before slamming it shut, throwing the lock closed, shoving a chair under the handle. “Where the hell are Zoey and Laura?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fuckin’ know,” you panic, the two of you fall to the old wooden floor, scurrying against the wall, falling out of sight. Your heart continues to pound in your chest, anxiety and fear, making it impossible to think clearly. Rafe looks down at you, clasping your hand in his.
“It’ll be alright. Okay?”
You pinch your eyes shut, nodding fast. “Do you think it was JJ? It had to be-”
“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he whispers.
“What? I said ‘do you think it was JJ?’”
“Probably… I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he tries again.
“It’s fine,” you answer quickly, knowing he wants more from you.
“It’s not fine-”
“Rafe! We can’t do this right now. Are you fucking kidding me? There’s someone in the woods chasin’ us, and you want to talk about us. Are you serious right now?” Rafe takes a deep breath, running his hand through his bangs, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to comply with your wishes but he just can’t.
“It’s important.”
Your eyes tighten on his; your fear shifting to anger as well. “You’ve had months to talk to me, Rafe, and you chose right now to have another heart-to-heart?”
“I need you to understand how I feel.” His voice wavers.
“You're unbelievable.”
“Ya know what. Fine,” he huffs, through hurt feelings. You look back at him in disbelief, shaking your head. Crawling to your knees, you lift the curtain, staring down the line of cabins—everything’s still. “Y/n…”
“Fuck, Rafe! What?” You snap in annoyance as you reach for your toiletry bag, fishing out your walkie-talkie.
“STOP!” He gasps, resting his hand on it, stopping you.
“Why? I need to make sure everyone else is okay. I need to know if it was JJ or not.” Rafe keeps his hand on top of yours, looking back at you shamefully before hanging his head. No… Your anger builds as you look at him, the man too guilty to even make eye contact. “You didn’t…”
“I’m sorry…” He whispers. ”It was Topper. Okay? I’m sorry.”
“RAFE, LOOK AT ME,” you scream, showing him your body covered in dirt and gashes. “I could have gotten really hurt. If I had a weapon, I would have killed Topper. Why would you do this?”
He takes a deep breath. The weight of your questions all valid; his behavior inexcusable yet again, and he knows it. “You weren’t gonna fuckin’ talk to me. You weren’t gonna let me be alone with you. You were done with me. I just wanted to get you alone. Zoey and Laura are fine. Okay? I paid ‘em a hundred bucks each to hang out at the cabin with the boys.”
”They’re in on it too?” You ask disgustedly.
“No. Fuck, just me and the boys. I told Zoey I wanted a night alone with you and that Topper and Kelce were sad saps with no fuckin’ game. Okay? They think they’re doin’ us a favor. Nothin’ more.”
“A favor,” you laugh ailingly, looking back at him in disbelief.
“I needed to get you alone. I needed you to listen.”
“And you thought terrorizing me first was the best way to do it? I was looking at your cabin. I was walking down from the showers looking for a light in your bunk so I could apologize to you for how I left things… You know. LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”
“I’m sorry,” he blubbers.
“‘I’m sorry. I’m SO sorry. I'm fucking sorry, y/n.’” You mock him, at your wit’s end. “Why can’t you just act normally? Huh? Why couldn’t you just apologize to me before? Why did you have to terrorize me all fuckin’ year? Why couldn’t you have just used your goddamn words for something good? What kind of logic led you to this, Rafe?”
“Stop, please. Just stop yellin’ at me. I’m just fuck— I’m sorry.”
“Stop yelling at you? Fuck you! I have every right to yell at you. You know what a dick you are?” You scream, your voice rising as you stand up, backing away from him, heart pounding. He stands with you, arms up, trying to calm you down, but you're too upset.
“Stop, sweetheart,” he pleads as he reaches for you.
“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, Rafe? Bitch, whore, slut, priss, prude. Those are just some of the names you’ve called me TODAY and now I'm sweetheart?”
He grabs you and you fight against him, trying to break out of his grasp, shoving and banging on his chest as tears flood your eyes. “Stop, baby. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry. Stop,” he whispers, his voice soft and coarse, an undercurrent of pleading flowing beneath. He's not giving in, unwilling to let go, still letting you get your jabs in.
“Let. Me. Go.”
“No. I'm not gonna let you go.”
“FUCK!”
You stop completely, hiccuping and battling for breath. Your eyes lift open, face to face with Rafe, chests rising and falling together. Your muscles soften, shoulders falling; Rafe wraps his big arms around you, hearts banging against each other. Rafe turns his head, the warmth of words ghosting across your sweat-glassed skin. “Please listen to me. I swear I'll leave you alone,” he whispers, his words tight with sentiment. You tilt back, looking for his face. Rafe lowers himself to his knees in front of you submissively. “M’begging you… Just let me explain myself. Just let me apologize, princess. I don't deserve anymore of your time, but I'm begging you for it.” His eyes sparkle with tears as he continues to plead wordlessly for your forgiveness. His eyes shut, tears tumbling down his flushed cheeks as his chin quivers.
Rafe… Him leaving me alone is the last thing I want.
Leaning down you claim his lips, kissing him soft and sweet, shattering the tension. Rafe’s eyes flutter open, completely caught off guard before they close again. You reach out, wiping your thumbs across his cheeks as you cup his face, catching his tears. For the first time in months, the weight has lifted. Rafe wraps his arms around you, standing up again, his large hands grab your waist, trembling slightly. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, hoping you’ll speak. You exhale slowly as you realize just how much you needed that…
“I’m listening,” you whisper, barely above a breath.
His eyes swell with a storm of emotions—pain, shame, and that bitterness he’s been carrying for months. “Thank you…” He says, his voice trembling with feelings. “ I - I tried to move on. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s like… nothing works anymore. I’ve been depressed—ever since I lost you. Being with other people used to help, distract me… but not anymore. Nothing helps. I got so angry, really fuckin’ angry because I kept telling myself I could get over it. But all I’ve done is watch you from a distance, and it’s driving me crazy. It makes me hate myself because I’m the one who messed it all up. I pushed you away, and now… Now, I’m paying for it.” His frustration and sadness pours out in a confession that’s been held for too long; it breaks something inside you, too, hearing how upset he is. He’s not angry at anyone but himself, consumed by shame and fear; clashing with the reality that it might be too late to fix anything.
He pulls you closer, expecting you to tug away, but you don’t. “I’m bad at this. Alright? I don’t know how to tell people how I feel. I don’t know how to act. I'm selfish, y/n. I'm an awful fuckin’ person. I don’t deserve you. I know that. But I cannot stop thinkin’ about you. It makes me so mad that you are so deep in my head. I was tryin’ my best to leave you alone all year, pushing you away by bein’ a complete ass. Why would you want to be with someone who treats you like shit? I like you… Way too fuckin’ much. N’I haven’t been with anyone since I lost you. I'm not gonna lie to you I tried but it just wasn't working. I'm the worst version on myself, y/n. And, that's really fuckin’ bad.” You look back at him as tears pool in your eyes, completely overwhelmed yourself, still not over the mess in the woods or the truths leaving Rafe’s lips.
“What did you think was gonna happen, Rafe?” You ask shakily. “You were gonna scare me to death, save me, and everything would be okay?”
He bites his cheek, brows pinched together as he hears just how ridiculous that sounds. “I mean… Yeah. That’s exactly what I was hopin’ would happen,” he sighs. “Maybe you’d stop hatin’ me and see how much I care. I don’t fuckin’ know. Didn't think that far ahead. I was fuckin’ desperate, y/n,” he sighs.
“You wanna know what you could have done, Rafe?” You mumble as he looks up at you with puffy, tear-filled eyes, making your heart melt at the pitiful man. “You could have just stayed for the rest of the summer and tried to make it work. Earned my trust. Stopped being such a fuckin’ dick.” He hangs his head and nods, taking in every word.
Rafe breathes deeply, holding in his breath before pressing it out nice and slow. ”I hate it here. You know?” He mutters.
“We all know.”
“I’d do it for you… But fuck, this place sucks,” he sighs tiredly.
“Why did you choose this instead of doing something else? Why here?”
“You remember when we went to breakfast at that shitty diner downtown?”
“Mhmm…”
“Well, I remember you tellin’ me that you came here every summer. And when the dean asked me where I wanted to complete my probation hours, it was an easy choice.” You reach over, caressing his bruised, tear-soaked cheek in your hand. He melts into your touch, his beautiful blue eyes opening on yours. “Every time I spit that bullshit, it was just that—all the mean things I threw at you, it was all a lie. I didn’t mean any of it.” He swallows hard, his thumbs brushing lightly over your fingers as if he still can’t believe you're letting him speak. “I never stopped wanting you,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know,” you whisper.
“I said some awful shit to you.”
“You did.”
“I did…” He mumbles pathetically, his eyes glass over like he’s recalling each one. “You were right; that night, you told me I was a boy, not a man. I’ve been actin’ like that since. I’ll work on it, I swear. I'm just sorry-”
“I forgive you,” you stop him in a gentle tone, whispering those three words he was hoping you’d say. Rafe stares at you in disbelief, letting it sink in.
“I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, hoping you won’t agree again, knowing it’s not what he deserves. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done apologizing.” Rafe leans in this time, pressing another kiss against your lips. “So… Am I stealin’ you from, Heyward?” He asks, already knowing the answer. You shake your head ‘no,’ making him smile.
“Just tryin’ to make you jealous,” you admit.
“It worked,” he answers quickly. “It worked a little too well.”
You sigh, anger fading as you look back at the beautiful man before you. “Are you gonna stay?” You ask. Rafe grabs your hand, kissing your palm, basking in your request.
“‘Course I’ll stay. It might kill me, though,” he laughs weakly.
“You might enjoy it a little more now,” you smile as you step a little closer, feeling your body warm up.
“Why’s that?” Rafe asks coyly as he tilts his head, giving you a look that has you all but falling to your knees.
“Guess we’ll see how the night goes.”
“Yeah?” He asks surprisedly.
“Mhmm…”
“Well, damn…. You don’t really hate me. Do you?”
“I hated how you were acting, but I’ve never hated you, Rafe.”
“Never ever,” He asks, his voice deep, just a little playful, making the two of you smile as you both push closer and closer.
”Never…” You whisper against his lips, feeling him smile against yours.
“What about five minutes ago? You were pretty mad, princess.”
“That was mean, Rafe Cameron.”
“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “You still think I’m a pussy?” Rafe asks as he cocks an eyebrow.
“Depends…”
“Depends, baby? What the hell?” He drawls with a husky laugh as he puts his large hand on your thigh, squeezing tight.
“Are you gonna take what you want-”
Rafe’s lips crash into yours as you give him the green light. The two of you ripping off clothes between deep, heated kisses until all that’s left is your skin against his. Rafe pulls you into his lap, slowing down the pace enough to savor your kiss just like he did the first night you were together, making it that much sweeter.
He wraps his big arms around you tightly, laying you down on the bed. “Oh shit,” he gasps, letting out a lusty laugh as you roll yourself on top, straddling his lap, bearding your weight on your hands, pressed against his firm chest. His heart races underneath as he looks up at you in awe, holding your hips in his large hands, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, following your movements as you grind your wet pussy on his hard dick. “You a virgin?” The question lingers in the air, raw and vulnerable as you hesitate, unsure how to answer. Before you can say a word, his expression changes—something dark flickers across light eyes. His jaw tightens, Rafe shakes his head, pulling back slightly as if the very thought is unbearable “I can’t hear it. I can’t handle it,” he sighs. “I don’t even know why I asked. Just the thought of you with someone else, it—it kills me. I can’t stand it. No one existed before me. Understand?” He huffs, his word fading to a deep moan as you move your hand between your thighs, wrapping your fingers around his thick dick, tilting your body closer.
You breathe against his mouth as you stroke his long length nice and slow. “That goes for you too, Rafe. And after…” His eyes roll back as you feed his possessive side. A deep, gravelly moan thunders in his throat as you kiss along his jawline.
“There’s no one before or after, baby. You're mine.” Rafe’s head falls deeper into the pillow, giving you access to his skin, your lips taking purchase of his neck, kissing lower and lower, his muscles tightening under your soft touches. You tease him with the tip of your tongue, tracing his deep v-line as you work your way between his thighs, finally getting a good look at his rock-hard cock; pussy pulsing, body aching to be stuffed full of him.
You wrap your fingers around his dick, holding him straight, licking along the side of his dick, making him moan needily. Your tongue travels across his hard skin, exploring every inch, taunting him some more. He grips your hair suddenly, making you gasp, goosebumps fanning across his thick thighs. You flick your eyes at him, catching his rapid breathing.
"Y/n... Please," he begs, causing a smirk to stretch across your lips.
“After all that teasing, Rafey, you don’t think you deserve some of that treatment,” you mock.
A little trail of precum rolls down the side of his heavy cock, making your mouth water. You trace the trail of his vein, making him shudder out a breath. “You’re bullying me…” He pouts as he shakes his head and smiles, the man on cloud nine, as you kiss and suck on his head sloppily. “N’you’re tellin’ me I coulda had these pretty lips wrapped around my dick for the last year,” he lauds as you rub his tip against your pillowy lips, his swollen head sheened with spit.
Rafe rests his big hands on the top of your head, scratching his rough fingertips in your hair, causing your eyes to fall shut. You take his cue, wrapping your lips around him, taking him inch by inch. "Yeah, baby. Just like that," he groans. Rafe guides you, stroking his cock with your mouth, pitching his hips, driving his tip to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You suck in your cheeks, keeping your lips tight around his thick cock, feeling a slight ache in your jaw as you bob up and down. “Ugh, shit - Mmphf… You’re so fuckin’ good at suckin’ dick. Fucking hell,” he praises.
You add your hand, working him closer and closer to his peak. Your wrist moves in tandem with your mouth, laboring messily, thoroughly coating his cock with your saliva, slurping and squelching, making his toes curl with each stroke of your fist. Praise falls from his lips as he mutters incoherently, trying to keep his eyes on yours.
Rafe’s grip on your hair tightens as a husky moan releases from his lips. You take him deep in your throat before sucking back to his tip, pulling a pathetic whimper from his mouth as he looks back at you, watching as tears roll down your cheeks. Rafe reaches out, brushing them away with his thumb before sucking it clean as you stroke his cock in your hand. "Fuck you look good, princess, Mmm... Gonna cum-”
"Where do you want it," you whisper warmly against his throbbing dick.
"Mouth… Fuck, I wanna cum in that pretty fuckin’ mouth," he pleads as your lips circle him again, spit seeping down to his balls. The sensation and pleasure of it all sends him over the edge. Rafe’s toned hips jolt upwards, thighs trembling and flexing tightly. “Fuckk, y/n,” he moans as his sticky load paints the back of your throat. His eyes pinch shut, cock throbbing on your tongue as you milk out his last bits of pleasure. You draw your lips off him slowly, Rafe’s big body melting into your bed. "Co’mere, princess," he whispers drunkenly, sighing as you slink higher, working toward his lips. “You’re my girl,” he mumbles between kisses. “My fuckin’ girl.”
"M’Yours, Rafe,” you whisper, kissing deeply.
“No more makin’ me jealous. Aight? Makes me fuckin’ crazy.”
“You don’t say,” you chuckle breathily, rubbing your thumb across his bruised cheek.
“Honestly, it scares me how much I like you, y/n. Thinking about anyone else getting to be with you, getting that… Fuck, baby. It’s too much to think about. That was so much better than I imagined…” You lean down, kissing him nice and slow, tasting a slight tinge of blood from his split lip. He hums against your lips, taking in the sweetness of your chapstick and the taste of himself lingering as well.
“You think about me?”
“All the time. Thought about you suckin’ my dick way too much,” he laughs as he rubs his hands over his eyes. "Are you gonna let me take care of you, princess?" You bite your lip and nod as Rafe rolls you to your back, staring down at you with lust-filled eyes, the damp fringe of his bangs skimming his forehead. He leans down for a kiss, claiming your mouth; his tongue works between your lips, reeling slow.
Rafe leaves your kiss, working toward your jaw, sucking along your neck, making you moan. "You make some pretty sweet sounds, y/n," he sighs as he moves to your chest, kissing and nipping at your skin. “Bet you’re pussy’s even sweeter.” His mouth makes its way over to your nipple, tracing and flicking, blowing lightly, making your back arch off the mattress of the small bunk.
Goosebumps spread across your skin as he works lower, following the curve of your waist with his rough fingers. Rafe lowers himself, landing between your thighs, nearing your cunt with a smile. "Shit, y/n," he pants as his hand grazes your pussy, running his large fingers through your slick folds. You purr at his touch. "So fuckin' wet for me," he rasps. You gasp as he hooks your legs in his big biceps, pulling you close.
“I-” You feel your heart start to race again as Rafe licks a line up your slit, circling softly when he reaches your clit. “I - shit. I haven’t done this before.”
Rafe moans into your pussy at the sound of your admittance. Your thighs draw in, squeezing his broad shoulders. He gropes your legs, pushing you against the mattress, looking up at you with a fire in his eyes. “Never?” He asks curiously. You shake your head ‘no’, staring back at him with doll-like eyes that has him yearning to corrupt you in any way he can.
“No. I just haven’t done this…”
“Saving it for me. Huh?” He toys as he kisses down the inside of your thighs, nibbling at your sensitive skin, making you mewl. The warmth of his breath hits your soaked core, making you whimper at the new sensation. Rafe’s tongue hits you again, brushing from side to side. You wiggle away slightly; your sensitivity at an all-time high but Rafe doesn't let up, curling his arms tighter, pulling you even closer than before.
"Fuck, Rafe," you pant.
"Mmm... Look at you. Takin’ my mouth so well, princess. Feels good. Huh?" He hums as he works a little lower, spitting on your pussy, teasing your entrance with his tongue.
"So good," you weep, bucking your hips. His nose brushes against your clit; tongue slipping in and out. Your thighs start to tremble. "Oh, Rafe... So—So fucking good,” you babble as he licks a stripe up your silk, landing on your clit again. You glance down, meeting his eyes, his half-lidded stare brimming with pleasure, pussy-drunk off your taste. He plunges two thick fingers in your entrance, making you cry out.
"Such a good little slut for me,” he burns, fucking you with his digits.
"Yes. Fuck!"
"Say it."
"I'm a good — oh.”
"Say it, princess. You don’t want me to stop. Do you?” He bullies.
“If you stop— Fuck. If you stop…” He robs you of your words completely as he sucks down on your clit.
“If I stop. What? You threatenin’ me?” He mumbles against your drenched cunt, giving you a sleazy laugh before slapping your pussy.
"Fuck! I'm a little slut for-” Rafe cuts you off yet again with two curled fingers, hitting that special spot. You feel yourself tightening around his hand as you near your bliss.
"For who, now? Loss for words, princess?"
"Shit," you snivel. “S-Stop teasing me, or I'm not gonna let you fuck me. How does that sound?”
"Oh shit. Yeah? Really? Fuck, princess… You - You want to? You want that?" He asks in a barrage of words, his tone needy and charged with desperation. He replaces his tongue with his thumb, fingers thrusting wildly.
"Yes! Yes, Rafe," you squeal as you cum for him, clenching around his big fingers. You soak his hand and the sheet below, back arching as Rafe continues to please you, applying firm pressure, bottoming you out with his hand.
"That’s my girl," he praises as he watches you writhe in pleasure. You relax around him, fighting for a breath. Rafe draws his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean, tasting your essence. "Mmm... Fuck me," he groans as his eyes roll back.
Rafe pulls you into his chest, holding you close as you come down from your high, kissing your neck, your cheeks, your lips, anywhere and everywhere he can reach “How was that, y/n?” He smiles against your kiss. “Think you’d wanna do that again?” He brushes your hair off your dewy skin, kissing your forehead and the tip of your nose before meeting your lips as you come down from your high.
“You can’t leave. Please promise me you’ll stay,” you plead through panting breaths, making him chuckle and smile.
“Goddamn… That good. Huh?”
“So good. Oh my god,” you mumble as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. You look at him, giving him a smile that has him melting.
“Can’t believe I treated you so bad. I’m gonna make it up to you. I promise. How could I treat someone so fuckin’ perfect like I did? Huh?” He mutters as he kisses your neck and chest.
”Not sure,” you whisper, feeling butterflies in your stomach as his eyes flick to yours, hanging on to every word. “But, you can start makin’ it better.”
“Mhmm… I caught that little threat,” he breathes, his smile heard in his low tone. “Were you serious or just fuckin’ with me? That's cruel. But, I’d deserve it,” you pull back, catching his pouted lip.
"You're my weakness, Rafe,” you whisper, watching a smirk tug on the corner of his lips. “I wanna feel you inside me.”
"Shittt… S’that so?" He bites his lip, hearing exactly what he wanted to hear. “How are you so forgiving? Why are you bein’ so nice to me?” He asks as he crawls to your lips; hard cock dragging against your tummy, smudging precum along your warm skin. Rafe lays himself down on top of you, pinning you to the bed. He grabs your cheeks with one hand, kissing your lips roughly.
“‘Cause I like you. You’re showing me how much you care… That’s all I wanted, Rafe. I just want to be all you wanted. I think I am-”
“You are.” He stops you. “You… You are all I want, Y/n. I'm gonna make you feel that.”
“I need it, Rafe.”
"So damn needy, baby doll. I love it," he croons as he leans in, breathing heavily with you as he swirls his fat tip around your drooling hole, pressing in just enough to make your mouth fall in a soft “o,” moaning into his mouth at the stretch. “Mmm, fuck. Sounded better than I dreamed it would," he mutters; thrusting into you roughly, giving you all of him, making you scream his name. "Fuck, sweetheart. Keep goin’. Yeah? Keep saying my name," he lives as he grips your thighs, slinging them over his big shoulders. Your eyes widen as his large cock stretches you out; Rafe presses his full weight into you, making your trembling hands reach for his hips.
“So deep, Rafe,” you blubber.
“Too much?” You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head ‘no’. “So damn tight. Mmpfh - Shit. This fucking pussy, princess.” Rafe starts to move, rolling and snapping his hips into you at the perfect pace. His gold chain sways with each movement, Rafe’s eyes rolling back as you catch it between your teeth. Your eyes flutter shut as you toe the line between pleasure and pain, the knot in your belly threatens to break. "Look at that baby… Holy shit,” he chuckles raspily. His large hand rests on your lower stomach; the tip of his big cock making a slight bulge in your tummy.
Rafe drops your thighs from his shoulders, taking a bruising grip on your hips, fucking into you rough and fast, causing the hardware of the bunkbed clatter. You grab his wrists from your hips, dragging them up your body, curling them to your neck, urging him to squeeze. “Thought you were innocent…” He smiles as he tightens his hold even more, making you choke and sputter. Your rapid pulse raps against his palm, the metal of his rings chilling your dewy skin.
"Tighter," you pant. Rafe laughs wickedly, applying further pressure, making your eyes fall closed, breasts bouncing with each thrust. Rafe lifts his hand, slapping your cheek just enough to sting. Your pussy tightens around his cock, you, holding back your release knowing he won’t let you cum ‘til he says so.
"Don’t cum. Don’t fuckin’ do it," he drawls, saying those words aloud. Blessing your ears with the type of shit you only dreamed about when you were pleasing yourself to the thought of him.
"Rafe... I." You stutter as you feel your pleasure about to burn through you. "I can't..."
"Mmm... Not until I tell you. You understand?"
"Please!" You moan. You can't hold back your bliss even if you tried. Your climax claims your body. "Rafe, fuck!" You sob. He continues to rail you, not letting up. You force your eyes open, meeting his stare; Rafe quickly hides his smile.
"What the fuck did I say, y/n?
"I'm so-” He cuts you off with his big fingers pushing through your kiss-swollen lips, landing on your tongue.
“Suck.” Rafe draws his fingers down to your clit, circling them quickly. You feel yourself right back at the edge of ecstasy; your eyes start to fall shut as exhaustion sets in. “Look at me, or I might just stop.” He slows his strokes, hands toiling slower as he threatens to cease altogether, smiling at you darkly.
"What? N-No. Don't fucking stop," you whimper as you stare into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Fuck. You’re too easy to tease, baby. You look so pretty when you’re worked up… When you’re fuckin’ desperate,” he breathes as he picks up the pace again. “That’s gonna be a hard habit to break.” He lowers himself to your lips, his muscular body clapping against you again and again. “You like it though. Don’t you?”
“Y-Yeah. Fuck. I love it.”
“I knew it. M’not gonna tease you anymore, but I want you to be a good girl and cum f’me. Think you can do that?” His mumbles between kisses. "Can you say my name? It sounds so fucking good, y/n... So fucking good."
"Yeah, Rafe. Fuck," you whine. "Are you-" You start, voice cutting short, as pleasure takes complete control.
"Yeah, baby, I am. Fuck. I'm right there." You pull him in tighter, hooking your ankles around his trim waist, praising his name as he worships you. "Y/n... Ugh, shit," he groans, hips pumping one last time, filling you full. He kisses you deeply, breathing heavily with you as tears of pleasure wet your cheeks. “M’not fuckin’ leaving you.”
Rafe wraps the blanket around your shoulder, pulling you in closer, the warmth of his big body presses against yours. Your head falls against his chest, taking in the silence of the night. Everything changed for the better; apologies were said, plans were made for the fall; the rest of the summer ahead of you both. Rafe rests a cigarette between his lips, thumbing his lighter, the flickering of the flame glowing on his beautiful features in the darkness. He takes a drag, casting smoke up into the dim sky.
It’s silent, as it has been for months between you, other than Rafe’s blistering words, but this stillness is different. There’s no stress between the two of you, just you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, making his rosy lips curve into a smile. He rests the cigarette in his mouth, taking another puff before stamping it out, snuggling close, resting his lips on your bare shoulder as he fiddles with the soft material of your cotton cami.
“Rafe,” you chuckle weakly, hearing him mumbling against your warm skin, preparing yourself for another round of ‘I’m sorry’s’ from him, “It’s alright’s’ from you.
“I know I’ve said it a million fuckin’ times tonight, but I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he mutters, his voice raspy and worn from the smoke. You turn your cheek, kissing him, nuzzling in.
“I forgive you. I promise.”
“Can’t believe that… And after that shit, I pulled earlier. What the hell is wrong with you? Huh?” He knocks as he tickles your sides, making you nestle into him more. “I can’t wait for the fall,” he beams. “College life; frat life, and we get to do all that. I mean with you… And me - like us. Together. You and I. We get to do that together, princess,” he fumbles nervously over his words, making you smile even harder at his excitement.
“Together?”
“Mhmm…” He hums. “I mean, you’re mine, to be clear.” He kisses your neck roughly, giving you a playful bite.
“So, I'm your-”
“Girlfriend,” he answers confidently. “You have been for months. Didn't you know?”
A scream pierces through the night, making Rafe jump; his body tightens around you as you watch Zoey stumble into view. Her battered body glowing in the luster of the moon. You’re frozen in place, watching as the horror she was running from steps out from behind a cabin, like something out of a movie. He walks toward her as she struggles on the ground, clawing at the wet earth, doing her best to stand and flee.
The masked man lifts his axe, striking her with a loud thump as the blade connects with her back. Her sickening scream echoes through the camp, causing the lights in the surrounding cabins to flick on. Counselors step out into the twilight, responding with horrified screams of their own, some running, some hiding as you and Rafe watch on, unable to move as the madman continues to swing his axe again and again.
The killer’s head slowly turns, locking eyes with you. He breathes heavily, the chest of his bloodied plaid shirt heaving. Rafe comes too first, pulling himself together enough to yank you to your feet. Before you have time to react, Rafe’s massive truck comes barreling in reverse, plowing down the way from the pogue’s cabin, blaring on the horn. JJ hangs out the driver’s side, weaving around obstacles, closing the gap between you, dodging the masked man narrowly.
“My fuckin’ truck, Maybank?” Rafe’s voice breaks.
“Keys were in the ignition, slick. Get in the fuckin’ truck,” Maybank barks at the two of you. Rafe quickly pulls you down the steps, helping you into the truck as the killer looks around for his next victim. The tailgate’s already open. Rafe helps you inside before slamming it shut behind you, making your stomach fall.
“Get in the truck,” you pant. He looks at you and shakes his head ‘no’ before grabbing your cheeks, kissing you hard and fast.
”I’ll meet you at the main road. M’gonna find Top and Kelce. You’re gonna be okay. Alright? RIGHT?” Rafe barks at the pogues, who assure him quickly that you’ll be fine. JJ smacks his palm against the side of Rafe’s truck, urging the two of you to hurry up.
Rafe runs ahead, steering away from the killer, spriting close to the cabins as JJ peels out. You watch him in the strobe of the headlights closing in on his cabin as JJ takes off, his speed throwing you against the cold metal bed of the truck. You scooch back, gripping the edge of the vehicle tightly as your body jolts forward again. The killer moves in JJ’s path, causing him to swerve and break to avoid running over Zoey’s dead body on the cold ground.
I can't do it.
Fuck. You leap out of the truck without much thought, feet hitting the dirt, unable to leave without him. JJ slams on the breaks, the group of them screaming at you to come back as you stream toward Rafe’s cabin. “Just go! I’ll meet you at the main road!” Your voice cracks with terror as you watch them go back and forth with what to do. “JUST FUCKING GO!” The tires spin fast, spraying the killer with rocks and dirt as the engine roars, quickly speeding away.
The slasher’s soulless eyes peer through the mask, locking with yours, sending chills down your spine. Just run. You look over your shoulder, scrambling the rest of the way to Rafe’s bunk, hearing the murderer’s feet pounding into the ground behind you. You grab the door, tugging it open before slamming it shut, pushing your back against it as you gasp for a breath.
CRACK.
You look to your left, just mere inches from your head, at the slasher's axe sliced through the old wooden door. Your wide, horrified eyes looks back at you in the reflection of the metal, a mess with blood. Rafe rushes at you in a panic, holding your cheeks, kissing your lips between frantic questions. “Why didn’t you just fuckin’ leave? What - What are you doin’, baby? What were you thinkin’? Huh?” He mutters through trembling lips.
“We gotta go, man,” Kelce pleads, his voice strained with the horrors of the night as he holds Topper up, their friend’s blood soaking through his clothes, pooled on the floor below him. You look at Topper’s body, his right arm almost completely gone, cut off at the elbow. So fresh the boys weren’t even able to offer aid. Topper’s breaths are shallow and labored as he fights for consciousness.
“What the fuck was that?” Topper slurs in a haze.
“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, man. We just gotta get outta here-”
CRASH.
The killer’s axe smashes through the glass, sending shards of the front window flying in every direction, glinting all around. You recoil slightly as Rafe shields you, quickly pulling you to run again. Rafe passes you the keys to Topper’s Jeep before looping his arm around Thornton’s waist, helping Kelce ease him out the back.
You look back in horror, watching as the monster steps through the window, crushing the chips of shattered glass under his old leather boots. You slam the back door shut behind you, unable to lock it, terrified knowing you were just seconds away from seeing him again. The boys quickly help Topper inside as you leap into the driver’s seat, turning it over.
CRASH.
The axe crashes through the back window of Topper’s Jeep. Kelce screams out in pain as the weapon grazes his shoulder, blood and glass showering the back seat. You press the pedal to the floor, tires struggling to gain traction in the uneven grass. The Jeep takes off fast. Your fingers bind tight around the wheel, knuckles turning white.
Rafe shifts in his seat, staring out the back window toward the lake, his blue eyes wide with fear. You look out the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the killer’s silhouette in the moonlight. You swerve slightly, overcorrecting, your reactions heightened; body and mind on edge. You breathe a sigh of relief as Rafe’s hand reaches over, gripping your thigh.
The Jeep plows down the road pushing 80, getting the four of you about a mile away from camp. Not far enough. You swerve out onto the main street, tires screeching. Rafe’s truck lights beam ahead. You slam on the brakes, throwing it in the park, reaching for a breath. “Let me, baby,” Rafe soothes, placing his hand on the wheel over the top of yours, gesturing that he can take control if you need it.
Your tears fall heavily, relief setting in as you run around to the front of the Jeep. Rafe pulls you into his strong arms, breathing heavily with you. “You’re okay. We’re alright. We’re okay. Okay?” He stammers, fighting back his own emotion for you. “We gotta get Top to a hospital. We gotta get outta here-” Rafe looks over his shoulder, down the long dark path back to Camp Salem. You grab his cheeks, turning him back to you before pressing your lips against his, kissing him deeply.
“I love you.”
Rafe pauses, his trembling lips hovering over yours. “Say it again, baby,” he pleads.
“I love you, Rafe.”
“I love you too.”
The End.
⭐tags⭐: tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn't working): @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @nemesyaaa @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 dixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvayblr-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart @writtenbyhollywood
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia.
chapter warnings: none (angst)
The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.
It had been a long month.
Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.
But this time was different.
This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.
Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.
You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing
You weren’t stupid.
You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.
You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.
But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.
"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.
You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.
You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.
“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.
What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.
“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.
“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”
You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.
“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.
You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.
And then you heard hers. No fucking way.
You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.
She was there, with him.
You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.
There they were.
She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.
"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"
You froze.
He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.
You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?
Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.
It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.
That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.
After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?
Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.
What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.
But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.
Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. Nome of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.
“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.
Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"
You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”
He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”
You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”
You hated saying her name.
Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.
Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.
“Did everyone fucking know?”
Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”
Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.
You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”
He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”
But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.
With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.
Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”
That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.
You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.
You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.
He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.
The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.
A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.
How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?
Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?
All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."
You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.
But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.
And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.
“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?
But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.
Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.
You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.
Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.
You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.
"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."
The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.
But then…
You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.
Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.
You hadn’t had your period in… so long.
Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.
You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."
How could you not have noticed?
Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"
You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.
You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.
“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.
He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”
But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.
Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.
"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.
You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”
He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.
You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."
The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.
Your hands shook as you fumbledfor your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.
You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.
Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.
You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.
You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.
“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.
You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”
“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”
Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.
You just needed to get out of here.
“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”
His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”
Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.
And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.
Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.
While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.
You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.
The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.
“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.
You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.
“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.
You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.
The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.
You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.
The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.
You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.
The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?
You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.
You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”
She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.
You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.
You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.
Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?
Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?
It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.
You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.
The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.
Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.
“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”
The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.
Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.
You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.
This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.
You were tired.
Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.
Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.
Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.
Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.
summary; you come to your first college party and have the worst panic attack of your life. who knew your knight in shining armour would be the captain of the biggest fraternity and the biggest fuck boy on campus
warnings ; panic attacks, anxiety, drugging, angst but like fluff!!
"Liv, i'm really not sure about this"
You're best friend and roommate looked at you with a blank stare, watching as you pulled the tight white dress down that had ridden up your thighs. She had dragged you out of your dorm only 20 minutes ago, telling you that if you didn't come she was going to wake you up with a bucket of ice water.
"Cmon babe, you made me promise i would drag you to at least one party this year. and i don't break a promise. Which also means that i promise if you don't like the first 30 minutes, then we can go home and eat 30 pounds of ice cream and pass out in our makeup"
You smiled at her, trying to push yourself through whatever anxiety was coursing through you. Liv was really a good friend, even if she was harsh about it at times, you know that she wanted the best for you.
The smell of booze and sweat hit your nose immediately as you walked into the frat house, the music blasting and the rainbow lights blinding against the otherwise dark space.
Liv pulled you to the corner of the living room, smiling brightly at you and giving you an extra tight hug. "Ok! I'm gonna go get us some drinks, stay right there and don't move!"
She had to yell because of how loud the music was, wasting no time before disappearing into the kitchen.
You stood in the party like a fish out of water, biting your lip as you looked down at your feet.
You'd like to say that you weren't that much of an introvert. I mean sure you liked to be curled up with a good book from time to time, and you were studying a bit more than healthy. But you like to go out and shop with friends, talk to new people in your classes and slumber parties on the weekends.
But parties were something you did not do. It had a combination of all the things you disliked most in life. loud music, people yelling, drinking, flashing bright lights and... frat boys.
You'd already been brought out of your shell at college, you were confident enough now to present in classes and partner up with new people on assignments, but this was pushing it.
You were a sweet girl, but naive. You didn't have enough experience with greedy men and even you would admit that you resembled a lost deer more often than you would like.
You lifted your head as you heard someone approach you, looking up quickly as you assumed it was Liv coming back from the kitchen.
But it wasn't Liv.
A brunette looked straight at you as you made eye contact with him, a red solo cup resting in his hand.
"What's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone in the corner" he stated, inching closer to you as you subconsciously stepped back a bit. "I'm Jeremey"
He reached out his hand to you to shake, only to receive a dumbfounded look on your face.
"Normally people reply back with their name, Babe"
"Oh! Sorry!" you replied flustered, repeating back your name as he grinned wide, showing his bright smile.
You didn't want to admit that when Jeremy was talking to you, you continually kept glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, hoping that the next person to walk out was Liv, who was going to hopefully come to save you from this conversation.
"Hey, I was experimenting in the kitchen, wanna try my new concoction." Jeremy dangled the red solo cup in your face, the liquid pink and smelling of strawberries.
"No thank you. I don't drink" you replied sweetly, hoping to be polite and not upset him. "There's barely any in it, promise. Pleaseee, don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?" He replied in annoyance.
A pang of hurt shot through you as you panicked, how could you have been so rude! Jeremy was taking time out of his day to talk to you and you rejected a drink he made you?
"Oh! no, I'm sorry. Thank you so much" you replied, taking the cup out of his hands and looking down at the liquid. He watched closely as you took a sip, your face twisting at the strong flavour of vodka.
"What do you think?" he smirked as he asked, bringing his hand up to your lips and wiping the extra liquid off with his thumb.
"Its- its great, thank you" you replied, your heart beating faster as you started to feel increasingly more uncomfortable. He watched you closely as he hinted to you to drink more, looking down at you like he was a wolf, and you were his prey.
You held back tears as you felt the room start to spin under your feet, your cheeks feeling hot and your hands shaking involuntarily. It hit you quickly that this wasn't alcohol that was making you feel like this, no, it was something else. Something much, much worse.
And you didn't want to stick around to figure out what it was.
"Um, sorry Jeremy, I need to go to the bathroom" you spoke up, using all your courage to push through the crowd quickly as he followed.
Your breath was now speeding up as you fought your way through the waves of people, your steps becoming faster as you felt the room spinning more and more, tears streaming down your face.
You didn't know where the bathrooms in this place were, but you didn't have time to think about that now.
You just needed to find Liv, or someone, anyone.
Your eyes fell on a room at the end of the hall, light spilling out of the crack where the door failed to meet the floor.
You didn't have time to think, just to act. Your balled fist made it up to the door, knocking over and over again as you looked behind you, Jeremy in the crowd but looking all over for what you assumed to be you.
You didn't even want to begin to imagine how stupid you looked, or how impolite you were being as your knocks became harsher and frantic as Jeremy came closer.
"Jesus, learn how to wait your fucking turn" a voice sounded as the door opened. you didn't even look away from Jeremy as you tumbled into the bathroom, accidentally bringing the person in the door with you.
"Yo, what the fuc-" the aggressive voice came to a halt quickly, but you all you could focus on was your breathing, which was out of control.
Your cheeks were wet with tears as you closed your eyes, bringing your hands up to your face and letting yourself sob. "I- I can't breathe" You let out, unknowing if you were talking to yourself or the person in the space with you.
You couldn't even handle your anxiety and emotions when you were in control of your body, let alone now.
That's the main reason you don't drink, because you tend to freak out to the point of no return, and this, this was much worse.
Your face was buried in your hands as the person softly closed the door to the bathroom. You didn't even register him softly moving you to sit on the toilet seat in the bathroom, kneeling down and removing your hands from your face.
You opened your eyes to see a man's face looking back at you, his features painted with worry and his body distanced enough away from you as to not upset you even more.
"Hey- hey. Its ok, what's wrong?" the boy asked, trying not to show how confused he was on how to deal with this situation. "Are you hurt?"
You shook your head quickly at his statement, your tears slowly coming to a halt as your vision became less blurry. You could now see his face more clearly. Fluffy dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, soft pink lips.
"Uh, um. Wait" He spoke, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since you entered the bathroom. He started frantically opening draws and cabinets, stopping when he found a box of tissues under the sink.
"Here" you looked between him and the box he was handing you before taking it in your hands, your fingers brushing past each other momentarily.
"Thank you, i-i promise I'm not this much of a mess all the time." You replied, earning a soft smile from the man. "It's ok, it happens to the best of us. Have you taken anything, or just drunk?" He asked delicately.
Rafe didn't understand what he was feeling at this moment. Because he'd never felt it before.
Sure he could be an asshole sometimes, He was rude and got into fights on occasion, and he had been known to make girls complete the walk of shame out of his room involuntarily after a big night out, but that didn't mean he would ever leave a clearly intoxicated girl alone at a frat party.
But this, this was different. He had to know what was wrong with you, and he had to fix it. Sure you were a mystery to him and only met you seconds ago, but he wasn't leaving until he knew you were safe and sound... and had given him your name.
"I don't drink- or, at least I didn't. This boy gave me something, it tasted weird. Then I got all dizzy and now- now I can't stop crying" You rambled, sighing softly and looking into his eyes.
He gazed back at you, running his tongue around his teeth before seemingly snapping out of the trance he was in. "Did you know the guy?" He huffed, obviously agitated with your reply as he ran his fingers through his hair.
You shook your head softly, a wave of sadness running through you because you couldn't give him the answer he wanted. Tears started running down your face again suddenly as you kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again.
He lifted his thumb up to your cheek, softly brushing the tears away. "Hey it's okay, Don't worry. I'll keep you safe"
He didn't understand the feelings he was feeling, He had never craved to protect someone so much, He had never been this gentle in his whole life.
"What's your name?" he asked, distracting you to hopefully stop the flow of tears streaming down your face. He felt like if you didn't stop crying in the next minute, he was going to lose it.
You answered your name to him, earning a soft smile. "I'm Rafe, it's nice to meet you." He finished the sentence with your name, sending shivers down your spine.
"Liv" You gasped, making his head tilt in confusion before you shot up from your seat. "Wow, ma. Slow down, what do you mean?" Rafe replied, holding your hips to stop you from completely falling over. You sat back down quickly in defeat, your eyes wide with panic.
"Liv, I-I came here with my friend Liv. I'm gonna scare her. I need to find her." You gasped, your voice trembling as you spoke. "It's ok, We'll find her. Don't worry, it's ok." He repeated, desperate for your face to get back to your normal expression, aka, not struck with terror.
It was obvious to Rafe through the glaze cast over your eyes, the shaking from your hands and the drooping of your eyelids that someone had slipped something into your drink.
He had hosted enough parties at his fraternity to know what insecure, probably small dicked boys, not men, can do to women. And it revolted him.
"R-rafe. I'm gonna go to sleep now" You whispered, your body finally giving out before you could stop it, his arms quickly coming up to stabilize you before you toppled over.
He bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to do, pulling your body into his arms as you didn't even stir. He was scared. So scared.
He didn't know what you were given, how much you were given, what would happen after you woke up, if you even woke up at all.
He carried you up the stairs and into his bedroom, unlocking the door and locking it behind him again. His room was the only one with a lock in the whole house, because he was damned if he was going to walk in on random strangers having drunk sex on his bed.
He rested you softly on his bed, making sure your head was comfortably on his pillow and resting a blanket over your body after taking your heels off.
He looked at your sleeping form, your long eyelashes resting on your cheeks, your hair falling softly over your shoulders and your chest rising and falling with your breaths.
He looked at you one last time before leaving his room, ignoring every person greeting him as he made a beeline straight for the living room.
He scanned over the large crowd in the house, numerous people dancing, some making out, his frat brothers doing keg stands, and one very panicked girl going up to every stranger she sees.
Rafe took no time before walking straight to the girl in the middle of the dance floor, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns immediately to face Rafe, her face struck with confusion.
"Are you Liv?" Rafe asks, earning a confused nod from the girl in front of him” I am! Have you seen my best friend anywhere? She's about yay height, really pretty, heart of gold, she kinda looks like that baby deer from that Disney movie, she's wearing this white dress and-"
Rafe stops her ramble with a quick nod causing her eyes to widen. "What? Where is she?"
"In my bed" Rafe replied, remembering he wasn't all that good with small talk. "What? What the fuck do you mean, in your bed? What did you do? I swear to god-"
"Ok, calm down. Someone gave her something. I found her in the bathroom sobbing before she passed out. I put her in my bed then came down here, end of story" He replied, starting to get slightly agitated.
The girl he now knows to be Liv quickly walks off, heading straight for upstairs where the bedrooms are. Rafe rolls his eyes before following swiftly behind her, though he's glad that there's someone out there other than him trying to protect his newfound soft spot.
Liv halts at all the bedrooms, looking expectantly at Rafe before he walks in front of her and opens his door. Liv immediately rushes to you, still passed out on Rafe's bed.
She sits next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Of course, on the first party she goes to, some sick fuck roofies her and she ends up in Rafe Cameron's bed" Liv speaks, not taking her eyes off you.
"How do you know my name?" Rafe asks, not even bothering to look at the person he's talking to as he focuses on your chest rising and falling. "Ha, everyone knows who you are Rafe. And if I find out you had anything to do with her getting hurt, I'm gonna chop your dick off and feed it to you and make sure everyone on campus knows it"
It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't slightly amused by your best friend's words, holding back his smile and keeping his face stern. "I would never do that shit. Especially not to her" Liv's eyebrow quirked in confusion at the last bit of his sentence.
She knows for a fact that you did not know Rafe Cameron before this night, let alone any frat boys. Liv could cry at the sight of your passed-out form, taking full blame and responsibility for the fact that you got hurt when she was meant to protect you.
She pulled her phone out from her purse, about to call an Uber back to the dorms for both of you. "No, I'll drive you" He stated, not leaving room for an argument
Liv nodded slowly before pulling the blanket off you, your body involuntarily starting to shiver from the cold air.
Rafe walked over to his closet, grabbing his warmest hoodie. Liv looked up at him as he raised your body softly, placing the hoodie over your head and softly lifting you up into his arms.
Rafe walked with Liv down to the road outside the fraternity house, receiving hundreds of stares from people in the crowd. But he didn't care, all he cared about was you.
He let Liv open the door to the backseat of his truck, allowing him to place you softly inside before Liv climbed in next to you, placing your head on her lap.
The ride was completely silent, barring Liv's directions to the dormitories, but she didn't miss the way he was constantly looking in the rearview mirror at you.
It didn't take long before Liv was leading the way to your dorm, Rafe trailing slowly behind with you in his arms.
She flicked the light on in your dorm, Rafe quickly knowing which bed was yours from the multiple stuffies and pink blankets. He lifted the covers before placing your head on the pillow once more, knowing Liv was going to get you changed before she slept.
"Thank you, Rafe, for looking out for her when I didn't" Liv said as Rafe walked to your door, nodding curtly in repose to her statement.
He gave you one last look before he walked out of your door, watching as Liv was about to shut the door on him after saying goodbye. Panicked he placed his foot in front of the door before it shut, forcing it open.
Summary: Theo has been taking his role of helping reader get over Mattheo very seriously.
Word Count: 4842
Warnings: Unrequited love & Veronica isn't the kindest. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.
A/N 💌 Thank you for your patience with me on this part; I know it took a while! As always, thank you to @moonpascal for reading and sharing your thoughts/ideas with me! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter!
SERIES MASTERLIST <3
It’s well past midnight when a knock echoes at your door. You sigh, adjusting your shorts as you reluctantly crawl off your bed, leaving your notes sprawled across the covers. As you swing the door open, you find Theo standing there, his gaze lifting from the floor to meet yours. A hesitant smile plays on his lips, as if he’s unsure whether he’s welcome at this late hour.
“Hi.” You greet him with a mix of confusion and warmth, offering a sweet smile. You pull the door open wider, and Theo’s gaze briefly flickers over your tiny sleep shorts and oversized shirt before he meets your eyes again.
“Pansy’s at our dorm.” He says, his voice soft.
You let out a quiet laugh, “I know that.”
He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just thought... maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Oh,” you say, surprised, your lips parting as you glance over your shoulder into your room. Theo’s heart races, a wave of panic surging through him as he mentally scolds himself for not holding back. Offering to stay the night with you felt impulsive, but the moment he saw Pansy enter his dorm, his thoughts had gone straight to you.
“Shit,” Theo shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I just—when I saw Pansy, I couldn’t help but think you might need someone tonight. But if you’d rather be alone, I can go.”
After you asked Theo to help you get over Mattheo, you wondered if it had been too much to ask of him. But to your surprise, you’ve spent nearly every day of the past three weeks with Theo. You knew he had his own worries—between school, Quidditch, and the pressure from his father. But the morning after you asked for his help, he was there.
You never expected him to put so much effort into helping you move on from Mattheo, but you couldn’t be more grateful.
“No,” you quickly respond, a smile spreading across your face as you reach out and grasp his hand, gently tugging him inside. “I’m glad you came.”
Theo visibly relaxes at your touch, allowing you to gently pull him into the room. As the door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the quiet corridor, his initial hesitation melts away. He takes in the familiar surroundings of your room, which, despite being a bit messier than usual, feels even more comforting in the warm, dim light with you.
He swallows his disappointment as you release his hand to clear your bed of scattered notes. Standing there awkwardly, he tries to keep his gaze focused, making an effort not to let his eyes drift down your legs as you lean over to pick up the last piece of parchment.
After you place everything neatly on your desk, you turn to face him, leaning casually against the edge with a soft smile. “Are you okay with sharing my bed again?” you ask, your voice light but sincere. “Or if you’d prefer, I can sleep in Pansy’s bed so you’ll have more room.”
Theo bites his tongue, fighting to keep his voice steady and avoid sounding overeager. He doesn’t want more room; what he wants is to wake up with you pressed close against him, just as he did weeks ago. This time, though, he’s determined to stay and enjoy the feeling of you in his arms.
He clears his throat, “Your bed is fine.”
“I was actually about to head to bed before you knocked, but I can stay up if you wanted to do something.” You offer, your voice gentle and inviting.
Theo shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “Thanks, but I’m pretty wiped out from practice today.” He admits, and you can hear the exhaustion seeping through his words.
“You should’ve gone to bed at your dorm, you would’ve been asleep sooner.” You say with a slight frown as you notice just how tired he looks from the day.
“No,” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you were here alone.”
If your heart could have melted, it would have done so right then.
Theo's eyes hold yours for a moment longer before he glances away, almost as if he's embarrassed by his own admission. You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy smile threatening to break through. The idea that he cared that much for you made your insides flutter, warmth spreading through your chest.
Pushing away from the desk, you walk over to your bed and pull back the covers. Theo watches as you crawl in, adjusting the pillows with practiced ease before looking back at him. The unspoken question hangs in the air—are you going to join me?
He hesitates, slowly dropping his bag at the foot of your bed before moving closer to the edge. He’s slept in a bed with a girl before, but this feels wildly different. You make him nervous, and he has no idea how to hide it when he’s this close to you.
You settle into the covers, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight as you shift, and watch as Theo does the same, kicking off his shoes and slipping under the covers beside you.
Once the lights are off, silence settles between you, thick and unspoken. The only sound in the room is the soft rustling of sheets as Theo shifts beside you. You lie on your side, trying to make out his form in the darkness as your eyes slowly adjust. You can tell he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me the past couple weeks.” You say softly, and Theo turns his head to look at you.
“Yeah?”
You hum, reaching out your fingers to brush against his hand, and he takes it without hesitation, his grip warm and reassuring, “Yeah.”
It’s become a habit in the last couple of weeks—intertwining his fingers with yours. He would grab your hand every time he noticed your discomfort around Mattheo and Veronica. And at some point, you just started reaching for his hand yourself. You liked the warmth of his palm against yours and the way he’d brush his thumb over the back of your hand.
“You know I don’t mind, right? Spending all this time with you has been nice. We never really hung out much, just us two.” He says softly.
You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Yeah, I know. It’s been nice for me too,” you admit, your eyes meeting his in the dark. You both fall into silence, and it doesn’t take long before you drift off to sleep, your hand still clasped in his.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
Panic hits as you suddenly realize the time—you’re running late. By now, you should already be at breakfast.
“Theo,” you whisper urgently, trying to shift out of his hold. The sheets are tangled around your legs, your back pressed firmly against his chest. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you close, and he’s not loosening his grip. His body is warm against yours, and even as you try to move, his grip tightens slightly, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. “Theo.”
“Dolcezza,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and you freeze at the sound of that deeper, morning rasp. “Quit moving.” His grip tightens just enough to keep you still, his breath warm against the back of your neck.
“We have to get up,” you huff, trying to slip out of his arms, but Theo just pulls you back against him, his hold firm. “We’re late.”
“We’ll just skip.” He mutters, his voice still low and groggy. The idea is tempting—staying wrapped in his warmth instead of braving the cold corridors—but you sigh inwardly, knowing better.
You’d grown used to Theo’s small gestures of affection over the past few weeks, and you’d been just as affectionate in return. But waking up tangled in his arms like this felt different—more intimate. You were certain that once Theo fully woke up, he’d be a little sheepish about how closely he was holding you now.
“We really can’t,” you sigh, trying once more. “We need to get going—” Theo grumbles in response, finally loosening his grip and releasing you. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips as you slip out of bed, quickly heading to get ready. You race through brushing your teeth and pull on your uniform, skipping any attempt at fixing your hair in the rush. By the time you step out of the bathroom, Theo is standing by the bed, just finishing the last button on his shirt, looking just as disheveled as you feel.
You hurry Theo out of your room as he finishes brushing his teeth, and he complies, adjusting his tie as you both sprint toward the Great Hall. Just before entering the bustling breakfast scene, you grab Theo by the arm, pausing to smooth down his disheveled hair.
“Is it a mess?” He asks, watching you closely as you stand on your toes to thread your fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it.
“Just a bit,” you smile, stepping back on your heels and giving his hair a final nod of approval. “How’s mine?”
“Pretty,” Theo responds immediately, his gaze lingering. “I’ve never seen your hair like this before.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your smile at his compliment. You had let your hair fall naturally, and his reaction makes you feel unexpectedly warm.
You mumble a shy “thank you” before leading the way into the Great Hall, Theo trailing close behind. His cheeks are still tinged pink from the way your fingers had grazed through his hair, and he’s quietly grateful you haven’t seemed to notice. However, his relief is short-lived when he catches Draco’s eye, who immediately notices the pink tint and raises an eyebrow in amused surprise.
As you make your way to the table, Draco leans back in his seat with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Well, well, if it isn’t the lovebirds gracing us with their presence.”
“Fuck off.” Theo grumbles under his breath as he lets you slide into your new seat before settling in beside you. Ever since your usual spot had been taken, you’d claimed the one next to Theo, and not just in the Great Hall. You found yourself gravitating toward him in class, the common room—anywhere you could. It had become a quiet, unspoken habit, one that neither of you seemed keen on breaking.
“I should’ve figured that’s where you disappeared to last night,” Enzo says with a knowing smirk. “You two have been spending an awful lot of time together lately, haven’t you?”
You really had. Theo had taken to meeting you outside your last class of the day, content to walk around the castle or lake just so you could avoid witnessing Mattheo and Veronica together. You had learned he was the perfect study partner—far more patient than Mattheo, who would get restless after twenty minutes and start pleading for a break. He seemed to remember every little detail you shared, from how you took your tea to the smallest quirks about yourself.
He’d been so attentive to you that you overheard some girls in the year below talking about how Theo Nott was no longer single.
Theo gives him a flat, unimpressed glare, clearly not in the mood for Enzo's comments, “Yet again, fuck off.”
“Well, have you two got anything to tell us?” Blaise presses, a smug grin tugging at his lips. Theo looks up from serving himself breakfast, shooting Blaise a sharp, warning glance. He could handle the teasing from the boys himself, but he didn't want you to be caught in the crossfire, especially if it made you uncomfortable.
“No.” Theo replies flatly, his gaze flicking to you. You return it with an amused, yet sympathetic smile. Unconsciously, a soft, faint smile tugs at his lips, a detail the boys are quick to notice.
“Are you sure? Because—” Blaise starts but is quickly interrupted.
“I think you two would be perfect together,” Veronica cuts in, her voice dripping with an overly sweet tone as she flashes a saccharine smile. “Don’t you think so, Matty?” she adds, glancing over at Mattheo with a raised eyebrow.
Your eyes meet Mattheo’s for a fleeting moment, and he holds your gaze. You barely registered them, so absorbed in the boys' teasing of you and Theo. For just a moment, there's something unreadable in his gaze—something that makes your heart falter—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
“Yeah,” he agrees, his gaze shifting between you and Theo while Veronica cozies up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You two would be.”
A knot tightens in your stomach, and your appetite evaporates. The lightness you’d felt just moments before vanishes, replaced by a heavy weight. Even though you knew Mattheo didn’t have feelings for you, hearing him so openly agree with the idea of you with Theo stings more than you expected.
As long as you’d known him, Mattheo had never been in a serious relationship, let alone had a girlfriend. Now that he was with Veronica, it was painfully clear that you were never truly an option for him. If you had been, he would have made a move. You had dropped hints for years, and his playful flirting had always kept your hopes alive.
But maybe that’s all your relationship was ever meant to be—a friendship with a hint of flirtation. If that’s the case, you needed to move on. Fixating on a guy who now had a girlfriend was a losing battle. If you weren’t careful, you might risk losing the friendship you valued so much.
You’re so caught up in your thoughts, pushing the food around on your plate, that you don’t even hear the chatter of your friends going on around you. It isn’t until Enzo tosses a grape at you that you glance up, “Are you coming tonight?”
You immediately know he’s referring to the Quidditch match. You’d missed the last game, which had surprised everyone, but given your recent mood, it hadn’t been unexpected.
You nod. “I planned on it.”
“Good,” Pansy interjects matter-of-factly. “I missed having you there.” You offer her a smile, but it falters when you see Veronica nudge Mattheo. He clears his throat and turns to you, his expression unreadable.
“Speaking of the game,” Mattheo starts, his voice slicing through the breakfast chatter. “I need my jersey back.”
Your brows knit together in confusion, and it takes you a moment to find your voice, “I don’t understand—”
“My jersey,” Mattheo repeats, his gaze steady as he watches you. “I need it for tonight.”
“Did something happen to yours?” You ask, caught off guard. You’d always kept one of his jerseys while he kept the other. It had become a sort of tradition between you.
Mattheo hesitates momentarily, a flicker of something like regret crossing his features. “No, it’s just... I need it back now.”
“Oh.” You say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Veronica’s eyes dart between the two of you, her brow knitting in irritation as she takes in the way Mattheo’s gaze lingers on you.
Theo’s eyes watch you with careful intensity. And when he catches the fleeting hurt in your expression, he reaches out and intertwines his fingers with yours beneath the table, his touch reminding you that he’s there if you need him. You squeeze his hand back immediately.
“I’m wearing it,” Veronica interjects, her tone harsh. “I’m his girlfriend. It would be a bit strange if you kept wearing it.”
Your friends exchange glances, their confusion palpable as they watch Mattheo allow Veronica to speak to you with such disdain. They’ve seen him start fights over someone supposedly speaking badly of you, so this new passivity is surprising. Enzo’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he mouths a quick ‘what the hell’ to Draco, whose puzzled expression mirrors his own.
When you remain silent, Veronica sighs impatiently, “Did you hear me—”
“Yeah, I get it,” you snap, your frustration evident. You turn your gaze back to Mattheo. “I’ll give it to you later.”
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
You spent all your classes obsessing over returning Mattheo’s jersey, and no matter how hard you tried, it was getting under your skin. It wasn’t just any jersey—it was the one Mattheo had given you, the one you’d worn countless times. His new relationship with Veronica had stung, but this felt even worse. Maybe it was because taking back the jersey felt like a tangible sign that Mattheo was serious about Veronica, and it drove home the reality of how much things had changed.
Logically, you understood why it was reasonable. Having another girl wear your boyfriend’s jersey would be uncomfortable, and if the roles were reversed, you’d feel the same way. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t stand Veronica, and the thought of giving up something that meant so much to you—both the jersey and Mattheo—was unbearable.
As you walked back to your dorm, you considered skipping the match entirely. However, you and Pansy had made plans to sit together, and you’d also promised Mattheo you’d return his jersey. As much as you wanted to avoid the situation, you knew you had to go.
You were so irritated as you snatched Mattheo’s jersey off the back of your chair that you hadn’t even noticed the red peonies and green jersey sitting on your bed at first. It wasn’t until you tossed your bag aside and went to fix your hair that the unexpected sight caught your eye.
Your eyes landed on the familiar green jersey, the back facing up so you could clearly see ‘Nott’ stitched in bold, unmistakable letters. A smile tugged at your lips, your earlier frustration fading as you reached for the flowers, their soft petals brushing against your fingers. Carefully, you lifted them, already picturing them in a vase on your desk.
There’s a card tucked between the blooms, and you smile at Theo’s handwriting: Dolcezza—wear this for me tonight?
Suddenly, the idea of going to the match didn’t seem so dreadful anymore—if anything, it felt like something you could actually look forward to.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
“Finally!” Veronica calls out the moment she spots you, her voice laced with impatience. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” She stands outside the boys' locker room, arms crossed like she's been waiting for ages.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I told Mattheo I would be here.”
“I know,” She says, her tone short, before sticking out her hand expectantly. “I can take that.”
You hesitate, wanting to wait and give it to Mattheo yourself, but you know she’ll be the one wearing the jersey tonight. It feels pointless to hold onto it any longer. With a reluctant sigh, you hand it over, and Veronica’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as she takes it from you.
“Thanks.” She chirps, instantly brighter now that she’s got what she wanted. You watch as she slips the jersey on, and a slight bitterness creeps into your chest at the sight of it on her. She finishes adjusting the jersey and looks up, sending you a smug smirk that makes your stomach twist.
In the last week or so, you've noticed her once-sweet attitude starting to crack. At first, she was nothing but kind, almost to the point where you questioned if it was genuine. But now, the subtle comments slipping through made it clear—she didn’t like you, and you couldn’t figure out why.
Sure, you were close with Mattheo, but if the jersey was any indication, she had no real reason to worry.
You were nothing but a friend to Mattheo, even though you desperately wished that wasn’t the case.
She eyes the jersey you're wearing, quirking an eyebrow as if she's about to say something snide. You brace yourself, waiting for the comment, but then her face lights up as her attention shifts to something—or someone—behind you.
You turn just as she brushes past you, wrapping her arms around Mattheo’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. The sight makes your stomach twist, and you quickly avert your gaze, unable to bear watching them. Her giggles fill the air, loud and lovesick, a blatant declaration that he’s hers now.
“Whose jersey are you wearing?” Your eyes snap over to Mattheo, who has one arm around Veronica’s waist as he looks at you curiously. Her arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, and she looks frustrated that his attention is on you.
“Mine.” You glance over and see Theo approaching, a flicker of relief washing over you. A genuine smile spreads across your face, and before you think it through, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He looks momentarily surprised but quickly gathers himself, encircling your waist and holding you firmly.
You lean back slightly to meet his gaze, your voice softening. “Thank you for the flowers. Again.”
A warm, gentle smile blooms on his lips, the kind he reserves just for you. “Anytime, dolcezza.”
A moment lingers between you, where your eyes lock and soft smiles play on your lips. But the spell shatters at Veronica's excited squeal of Mattheo's name. You clear your throat, gently pulling away and offering Theo a fleeting smile, even though you sense his disappointment at the loss of your warmth.
Your gaze drifts toward Mattheo, who leans in to press a kiss against Veronica's lips, a pang of longing twisting in your chest. You exhale slowly, then look back at Theo. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really,” he replies with a casual shrug, though you catch a flicker of something beneath his calm exterior. “But if I do get nervous, I’ll just search for the pretty girl wearing my name.”
Your lips part in surprise at Theo’s bold flirting, a playful spark igniting in your chest. You try to mask your smile, but it’s no use—Theo sees right through you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he revels in your reaction.
“Good luck. I’ll wait for you after.” You lean in, nearly whispering as you press a kiss against Theo's cheek, but in your nervousness, your lips brush against the corner of his mouth instead. The contact sends a spark of warmth through you, but before he can react, you pull away, leaving him to watch you walk off, the letters of his last name boldly displayed on your back.
He stands there for a second, staring after you, but as he turns to leave, he catches sight of Mattheo, who is watching you with an intensity that makes his heart sink.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
You’re exhausted. Keeping track of both Mattheo and Theo is proving to be more tiring than you anticipated. You're used to focusing solely on Mattheo during the game, but tonight, your attention keeps shifting to Theo.
“Are you even listening to her?” Pansy scoffs, jabbing you in the ribs.
The unexpected nudge jolts you from your thoughts, and you turn to her, puzzled. “What?”
“Veronica. Are you paying attention?” Pansy glances over, raising an eyebrow.
You shake your head, “No. I didn’t even realize she was sitting nearby.”
“Listen to her. She’s been bragging about Mattheo.” That catches your attention. You follow Pansy’s finger as she points, and your gaze lands on Veronica a few rows ahead. As you focus, her voice cuts through the noise of the crowd, loud and unmistakable, carrying clearly despite the distance.
“Do you even know how long I waited to get him?” Veronica’s voice rises above the noise, smug and self-satisfied. You glance over just in time to see her gather her hair into a high ponytail, making sure the name on her back is fully visible. “Honestly, the effort was exhausting,” she adds with a dramatic sigh, as if she’s endured a great hardship.
The girls around her practically explode with excitement, bombarding her with questions—how did she do it? How long did it take? What’s he like? Their voices blend into a high-pitched buzz, and you roll your eyes, feeling the irritation build as you turn your attention back to the match, hoping to tune them out.
Pansy nudges you again, her voice low and insistent. “Keep listening.”
“No.” You grit out.
Pansy sighs, “Why not?”
You exhale sharply. “Because I really don’t want to hear her go on and on about him anymore.” The bitterness in your voice is hard to hide, but you don’t care. You’re too tired of hearing his name on her lips.
“You’ve barely listened!”
“It was enough for me.”
“There’s something off about the way she talks about him,” Pansy pushes, leaning in to try and catch your eye, but you continue looking forward and watching Theo. “I don’t like it.”
“I mean, I don’t either. But I’m not going to keep listening in.”
“Why?” Pansy cries out incredulously, gaining the attention of some people around you.
“Because I’m supposed to be getting over him, and I don’t think listening in as his girlfriend talks about him will do that.”
“But what if somethings off? What if she’s blackmailing him or something?” Pansy asks, before she gasps and turns to face you fully. “What if he’s dating her to make you jealous?”
“Do you really think Mattheo Riddle would allow someone to blackmail him? And secondly, I don’t think that’s the case.”
“You never know. I always thought he had feelings for you.”
“Pansy. This is what I’m talking about,” You snap, sending a warning look to your best friend. “Mattheo can take care of himself, you and I both know that. There’s no way I’ll ever get over him if I start making up theories about why he’s with his girlfriend. Veronica’s a bitch, we know that, but that doesn’t mean she’s not with him for a genuine reason.”
Pansy exhales in frustration, adjusting in her seat as she finally turns her attention to the match. “Alright, I get it. I'll just share my theories with Blaise from now on.”
A smirk tugs at your lips as you imagine Blaise enduring the same conversation, likely rolling his eyes in exasperation, “Fine by me.”
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
Thanks to Theo's swift catch of the Snitch, Slytherin secured the win, and the stands erupted in cheers. You'd screamed so loudly in celebration that you're certain he heard you, even from across the pitch. The thrill of the moment filled you with energy, and you felt a surge of pride as he glanced your way after the catch.
You were eager to congratulate him, but held back, letting the others swarm him first. Instead, you were leaned against the wall outside the locker room, waiting for a moment alone with him. As you stood there, it wasn’t long before your mind wandered. You found yourself watching him from afar—his chest still heaving from the intensity of the match, hair tousled and damp with sweat. There was something about the way he looked after a game that had your thoughts trailing off in a completely different direction.
Had Theo Nott always been this gorgeous?
When he turns and catches your eye, you fully expect him to give the usual 'wait a minute' gesture, like Mattheo always does. But instead, to your surprise, Theo pushes straight through the crowd. In an instant, he's in front of you, pulling you up into his arms. You let out a shriek of his name through laughter, completely caught off guard by the sudden hug, his embrace warm and tight as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.
“You did so good!” You cry out as he sets you down. When he grins at you, it’s almost enough to make you swoon; the sight of post-match Theo is something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. The blend of adrenaline and joy radiating from him leaves you momentarily breathless.
“It’s because you wore my jersey,” he shrugs, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I didn’t get to say it earlier, but you look really good in it.”
You nearly melt, “Does that mean I get to wear it at the next game?”
“Please do, dolcezza,” he says, his tone suddenly softer, the endearment dripping with warmth like honey. There’s a sincerity in his gaze that sends a flutter through your chest. “You make it look far better than I ever could.”
You don’t get the chance to respond as Enzo suddenly appears by his side, rambling on about something animatedly. With a quick tug, Enzo pulls Theo away, but not before he glances back, shouting over his shoulder about how he’ll see you tonight.
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waking up after a night out drinking in a foreign country only to realise that the bed you're in is not your own. no one is beside you. you try to leave but the doors are all locked. the windows won't open. you're trapped. a pretty bird in a cage.
nothing is in the dressers except large, old shirts. the clothes you were wearing when you woke up disappear after you take a shower. no panties. no bra. food shows up on schedule. you never see who leaves it.
they don't answer when you scream. when you bang your fists against the door until they're bloodied. passing out on the floor when the drugs finally kick in. but the mess you make in the daytime is cleaned up. your hands bandaged. disapproval heavy in the air along with the stale scent of tobacco. smoke.
when you're good, you get things. books. magazines. treats. your favourite food. a laptop arrives when you sob yourself to sleep after screaming yourself hoarse about loneliness, and how this isn't right. this isn't okay. it's restricted, of course. you log into Facebook but the moment you try and ask for help, the internet is turned off. you're being watched. monitored closely.
you learn your lesson slowly, giving nothing away to your family and pretending you're enjoying your holiday. being good. quiet.
instead of treats, gifts, recipe books arrive—some pages dogeared. you start making the food. leaving a plate in the fridge. it's gone the next morning. more recipes appear. you make them, too. an expensive chain comes next. a pretty gold necklace for a pretty bird in a golden cage.
(each meal gets you a strange rash on your cheek, jaw the next morning. beard burn, you think, and try not to shudder.)
lingerie comes after. silk, lace. all of it fits perfectly. you try to avoid it. the idea, the implication, is a knife between your ribs, but the next morning, your laptop is missing. the books are gone. food, too. your clothes disappear until all that remains is the lingerie set and a little black box. one you pointedly ignore. throw out with the trash. chew on gum to make the ache in your belly go away until that vanishes too.
your world is narrowed down to hunger. loneliness. isolation—
(in the corner of the rooms, a red light glints in the dark. lonely, but not alone.)
it persists until you relent. give in. another lesson you learn. you wear the set to bed, and try to think nothing of it—
you wake up to something heavy around you. a warm, thick body pressed against your bare spine. coarse chair tickling the skin between your shoulder blades. a burly arm under your neck, elbow bent to wrap a rough hand around your neck. the other slung over your hip, shoved between your thighs. something hard presses into your ass. a bruising pressure. it aches. you stifle a gasp, but with his long, thick fingers wrapped tight around your throat, he feels it.
everything goes still. quiet. just the faint rustle of sheets. the scratch of coarse hair on silk. a breath. you tremble. fight back another gasp when lips press into your crown with a sharp inhale. scenting you. nuzzling into your scalp. warm breath that smalls of malt and honey. woodsy. tobacco.
your eyes adjust slowly to the dark, and fall on a black box left on top of your end table. velvet, you know. you've felt the softness between your fingers when you threw it in the trash with a sob. no escaping it, after all.
the hand between your thighs twitches. when he speaks, it shudders through your spine, makes your hair stand on end. it's a growling purr. the low roar of an old engine. more grit than comfort in the midnight dark.
"jus' close your eyes, love," he rasps, pushing his thick body tighter against you. coiling around you like a big, hungry bear. "an' go back to sleep for me."
Warning(s): swearing, drugs, mentions of child abuse, assault.
12K Words.
Request can be found here.
Summary: When JJ takes the fall for you, you're determined to break even, even if that includes sacrificing yourself to the kooks. But there's more to it than that. This is the story of a deal, a debt, and more complicated feelings than you can handle.
Notes: Babes this is a behemoth. I think it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written (which is why I’ve been dead for months lmao) but I wanted to tell the story the request was asking for in a proper way and I think I did. Here we are.
In hindsight, you could’ve handled it better.
But if there was anything to know about you, it was that you're reckless and that nobody messes with your friends.
Especially not Pope.
It was just karma, right?
Just karma when Topper’s 2020 Malibu luxury boat sank like a brick to the bottom of the dock.
But no, as JJ would say, this was war.
You didn’t think they’d find out. Didn’t think charges would be pressed. And you definitely didn’t think they’d blame Pope for it.
“Hey, Pope,” Heyward said, coming into the shop where the group of you (minus John B. because where the heck was he anyway?) were packing groceries. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Pope straightened immediately upon seeing Shoupe enter behind his dad.
“Evening officer.”
“I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property,” Shoupe said.
Pope looked back at you and JJ with horror in his eyes.
“Keep your hands on the counter where I can see them.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” you protested.
“Shoupe what’d he do?”
Shoupe pulled Pope’s hands behind his back, “take a look at the warrant, Heyward.”
Your heartbeat sped up as you took in the situation, Kiara, JJ, and Heyward protesting over each other, Pope’s expression more scared by the second as they hauled him out towards the squad car.
And you made a decision.
Hang the consequences; hang your college career and whatever else you had to deal with. This was your fault.
You opened your mouth to admit it, to tell Shoupe the truth of the matter, but before you could get a word out, JJ’s hand covered your mouth, pulling you back and gesturing for you to stay quiet.
You shook your head slightly, searching his face for a reason.
He gave you a sad, tight lipped smile, and turned away.
“It wasn’t him!”
Your heart sank as you realized what JJ was about to do.
“It was me.”
Tears welled up in your eyes. “JJ, please-“
“No, Y/N, it’s okay,” he replied. “They tried to talk me out of it, but I was mad because he’d just been beaten up. And I was so fed up with those assholes from Figure 8 that I just lost my shit.”
It was the whole story. Word for word the truth…except that it was you and not him.
Pope looked at you and then at JJ.
“I can’t let you take the blame for something I did.”
JJ looked back at you and then Pope. “You’ve just got too much to lose.”
“JJ, what are you doing?” Pope asked.
“I’m telling the truth,” he replied. “For once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna tell the truth.”
You looked at Kiara, then at Pope, then at JJ.
Why? Why was he doing this?
“I took his old man’s boat, too.”
“What the hell?” Heyward said.
“JJ, come on-“ you said, taking a step forward.
“Just shut up, Y/N!” JJ said, voice so loud it made you curl away. “Just shut up.”
The tears began to fall.
“He’s a good kid,” JJ said to Shoupe. “You know where I’m from.”
Shoupe eyed him before replying, “yeah.”
“It’s just all me.”
You couldn’t let JJ do this, but if you came forward now everything would unravel and Pope would surely be hauled in regardless.
So, it was over.
You let JJ take the fall for you, watching him be carted away like the criminal that he wasn’t.
“I’m gonna kill him for this,” you said.
You’d know JJ for almost as long as you’d known Pope.
The two of you crossing over with JJ and John B. in fourth grade and the rest was history. You were mirrors in a way; John B. and Pope the more level-headed, less impulsive two, while you and JJ were more reckless, more stupid.
Pope always told you it was going to get you in trouble one day.
Your family thought the same.
You had a foul mouth, delinquent friends, a weed habit that was consistently enabled, and anger issues that probably needed put in check.
Hence the revenge plot.
But then there was JJ. The other side of your coin, your enabler, your partner in crime. It always worked out and he always assured you it would. And you always believed him.
But not this time.
When JJ showed up to Midsummers, where you were helping out Pope and Heyward, you went after him.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“Woah, hey, Y/N. No, ‘thanks for saving my ass, JJ, you’re so hot for that’?”
“Don’t. Not now.”
He chuckled uncomfortably as you took his face in your hands.
A busted lip he’d already had, though the blood was fresh, but the bruises littering his face and upper body were all new.
“Did Luke do this to you?” You hissed. “Did that asshole rough you up for a thing you didn’t do?”
“I’m fine! Look, he was just pissed about the money-“ JJ said, a waver in his voice.
“What money?”
“Restitution. I’ve gotta pay for what I broke. 30k.”
“30k?!” You squeaked.
“Shh!” JJ said, hands on your shoulders. “Look I’m on a mission here and you’re gonna blow my cover.”
“What? JJ, we’ve gotta talk about this. I’ve been worried sick-“
“Sick? You don’t look sick.”
“Stop! JJ, god! I should never have let you do that, I should’ve spoke up-“
“Y/N!” Your face in his hands, JJ scared you silent for the second time that day. “Shut up, okay? Trust me. Trust. Me.”
Pope was there next, hugging JJ and blabbering just as you had been, but JJ shut him down.
“John B. and I got it all sorted out,” he said. “We’re gonna be filthy rich. We’re back in the G-game, baby.”
“What?” You hissed quietly. “We’re still on the gold thing?”
“I thought we lost the G-game,” Pope said.
“Yeah, well, we’re in overtime now.”
Your head was spinning. Between the restitution and the gold and JJ’s bruised face, you wanted to go back in time. Change the outcome and maybe you’d be the one who took the fall for once.
Maybe for once you could’ve protected JJ.
“Be right back,” he said. “I’ll explain later.”
You watched him go, confused and worried.
“What the hell is he talking about?”
Ignoring Pope, you followed JJ, watching him pass off a note to Sarah before getting intercepted by Rafe and Kelce.
"I'm wonderin' if you could get me a mai tai, my friend?"
"Yeah, pogue, how about you make that two?"
"Well, I'm on the clock right now. You guys look spiffy," JJ replied. "You know, uh, I got a couple of orders ahead of you, so why don't you guys go ahead and wait by the bar?"
No. No, no, no, no, no. You wouldn’t let this happen again.
"Until then, help yourself to some hors d’oeuvres."
"Oh yeah?" Rafe said, motioning to a few more kooks. "Hey guys, JJ's gonna serve us some hors d’oeuvres."
JJ began to backpedal, running out of the situation and you hurriedly followed.
It was quite a scene, JJ running through the Island Club, the kook guys chasing him, and you chasing them.
“Hey, man, what’re you doing in the locker room, huh?”
JJ immediately turned around and tried to head the way he came, but he was surrounded.
“Wow, that’s a cute outfit,” JJ said, stumbling into Rafe.
“Shut up,” Rafe replied, shoving him into Kelce.
“Hold him still. What do you think? A four iron, right?” Rafe said, adjusting his hands like he was holding a golf club. “Keep his head still, I’m gonna line this up.”
“Very Rafe of you, Rafe,” JJ spat, struggling to breathe. “Five on one?”
"Now, would you please stop talking?" Rafe replied with a smirk. “It’s very disrespectful when I’m trying to hit a ball. Learn your etiquette my friend.”
"Rafe!"
A surprised pause washed over the locker room as you slid into view.
"Oh, another pogue to the rescue," Rafe said. "You gotta have girls save you now, JJ? Tut, tut."
"Rafe." You repeated sternly. "Let him go."
"Oh, no shot, milkmaid," he replied, leaning down at JJ. "Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”
JJ spit in his face.
Rafe laughed, wiping it away with ease, looking almost impressed. “Oh, shit! See, now I'm even less inclined to let him go."
"Rafe!" you swallowed. "You let him go...and you can have me."
"What?" Rafe asked.
"What?!" JJ protested, struggling harder against Kelce.
Rafe stalked towards you. "Now, why would I want you?"
"Cause you always have," you said. "And" - you leaned closer to him, voice a whisper - "if you don't, I'll tell your dad exactly where all his money has been going."
You'd found Rafe's stash of dope multiple times back when you worked for the Camerons as a maid alongside your mom.
You never ratted, never had a reason to, until now.
"You know he'll believe me."
Rafe's eyes narrowed.
"Now let him go."
A beat, a standoff.
And Rafe snapped his fingers.
Kelce dropped JJ, who coughed and stumbled towards you.
"Okay, Y/N, we're even now, you saved me, let's go."
You smiled at him. "We're not even yet."
Before he could ask what you meant, the lights started flickering and you let out a sigh of relief as security entered the room.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Is there a problem here, guys?”
“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No there’s not an issue, I just-” JJ said before starting over. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue.”
You watched JJ get to work. He could talk himself out of a situation better than anyone you knew.
“Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in, right? Blatant disrespect for private property,” JJ said.
The kooks looked like they wanted to react, but they wouldn’t so they wouldn’t get in trouble with their daddies.
"As you can see, I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir. But these young gentleman...”
JJ straightened Kelce’s collar.
“...uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do, escort me outta here. All right.”
Security, not caring enough to refute JJ’s bullshit of a story, did as requested and led him out of the room.
“Fix that tie, son,” JJ said, one last quip. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun. Y/N, come on.”
But you didn't move. Rafe's hands falling on your arms, his head hovering too close to your face. "I'll take good care of her, JJ, don't you worry. She's pretty hot for a pogue!"
“JJ, don’t!” You said but he’d already ripped himself away and went back to fight.
Thankfully, the security guard was there to separate them all again.
"Y/N!"
You felt your stomach dip as he called for you but you didn't move.
"Let's go guys," Rafe demanded, motioning for all his buddies to exit the room. Then he whispered in your ear. "I knew you'd come crawling to me eventually."
It sent a shiver up your spine.
Truth was, back in the day, you didn't think Rafe was so bad.
Maybe it was because it was always within earshot of his dad, but he'd always been nice to you when you worked for his family. Especially after you ran across his stash.
Course, it wasn't long after that that your family got the boot as apparently the Camerons decided having a maid was too bougie for them.
You always suspected he was the reason, but you don't have any proof of that.
And now, well, how does a poor person get 30k?
Maybe the lottery, maybe life insurance.
Or maybe they steal it.
It was just karma right? For all the years that the kooks had been giving pogues a hard time.
And the Camerons probably wouldn't even notice a little 30k was gone.
Right?
--
JJ was pacing at Rixon's cove.
The group had gone over the plan, where the gold was, the fight about Sarah.
"Just shut up, Kiara!" JJ shouted.
They all looked at him with wide eyes.
"Look, if we can meet with Sarah, maybe she can tell me if- maybe she can tell me where-"
"JJ, you're scaring us, bro, what is it?"
"It's Y/N."
"What?"
"JJ, where's Y/N?" Pope said.
"She gave herself up for me man!" JJ cried. "It was some eye for an eye bullshit, I told her we were even but she wouldn't listen! Now she's probably being Rafe's chew toy or something."
"Okay, gross."
"I'm serious! You didn't see the way he was looking at her, man. Like she was a piece of meat. I gotta go, I gotta save her-"
"Woah, JJ," John B. intercepted his friend. "You're gonna go running back into the lion's den? The only thing this is going to do is get Y/N and you into more trouble. We'll save, Y/N, I promise. And if she's at the Camerons' then Sarah there too and she won't let anything happen to Y/N."
He was distraught. "JB, you don't understand-"
"JJ," John B. said. "She's gonna be okay."
--
"You're better off without her man, trust me, I live with the bitch," Rafe said, arm thrown around you in Topper's car.
"Rafe, don't call your sister a bitch, man, come on," Topper replied.
"Yo, I'll call her whatever I want man. All right?"
You couldn't figure Topper out.
One minute he was nearly drowning John B. and the next he was defending Sarah's honor.
Seriously, what was his deal? Friend or fo?
"Come on, bro. Drink up, all right?" Kelce encouraged from the passenger.
"You really think you should be drinking and driving?" You asked, trying to grab the beer from Topper's hold but Rafe pulled you back.
"Ah, ah, ah, little pogie," he said. "Only speak when spoken to."
You glared at him.
"I gotta see her, man," Topper said. "We're not...we're not good right now."
"Just stick with the bevo, all right?" Kelce said.
You felt like a guppy surrounded by sharks.
"If you go there now, there is a high likelihood you go fetal," Rafe continued.
"Exactly."
"I'm not- I'm not going fetal," Topper argued.
"All right. It's your funeral." Rafe said. "It's your funeral."
Topper pulled up to the Camerons’ and got out, heading for the house.
"While we have the time," Rafe said. "How about we hammer out the details of our little deal here?"
"What deal?" You snapped.
"The deal where I lay off JJ and you stay here, with me."
"Oh-kay, I'm getting out," Kelce said, popping open the passenger door and bailing from the car.
"There is no deal, Rafe," you said. "You let JJ go and I'm here. That's all there is to it."
"No, no, no," Rafe replied, tightening his hold on you. "You said I could have you. That means you're mine now."
You sucked in a breath. "You're drunk. And probably high."
"I wouldn't blow at a party full of socialites all right? I'm not crazy."
Debatable.
"You on the other hand, I would love to see blow," he said, tugging on your chin.
Your face contorted with disgust as you pushed his hand off you.
He chuckled. "All right, we'll lead up to that. I'm sure you'll want it eventually."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, you're here right now, aren't you?" he said. "If you detested me as much as you act like you do, you wouldn't have gotten in this car."
Okay. True.
But he didn't know what you were really there for. In fact, he couldn't know. If he knew, you'd probably be arrested or worse.
And you needed to get that money.
"Fine. I'm yours," you said. "For now."
He smiled. "I could get used to hearing that. Come on, I'm not waiting on Topper."
He popped open the door and the two of you jumped out. He slung his arm back around your shoulders. "Bye, Kelce."
"Don't have too much fun, you two," he said back.
Rafe flipped him off as you guys entered the house.
"Rafe!" Ward came around the corner. His eyebrows going up at the sight of you. "And Ms. Y/N. I haven't seen you in a while, how are you? How's your mom?"
"We're both doing good, thanks," you replied, giving him an awkward smile.
He glanced between you. "So. Are you two-"
"Night, dad." Rafe said, pulling you along behind him and up the stairs.
"Hey, Rafe, no funny business! I'm serious, young man!" Ward called after you.
You couldn't help but laugh a little, despite the situation.
Rafe looked back at you and smirked.
He opened the door to his room.
It looked exactly as you remembered it, albeit messier.
"Sorry, didn't have time to clean up," he said, milling about the room as you took it in. "I'm sure you're dying for a hit."
You looked over to find him offering you a joint.
"Don't worry, it's just weed, I promise."
Though you weren't exactly inclined to believe him, you weren't in much of a situation to argue, so you took it.
Pulling a lighter out of your pocket, you lit the joint and took a drag.
It was almost muscle memory, having done the exact motion with JJ a number of times before.
Your stomach lurched.
JJ. What was he thinking right now? Was he okay?
You looked up and choked on the blunt smoke.
Rafe had taken off his shirt and was digging through his dresser for something.
You coughed into your hand, waving away the smoke and avoiding looking at him again. Shit. Had he always been attractive? Was that wrong to think?
"You, uh, want some clothes to change into, or?"
You looked at him again; he'd put a shirt on and at some point had changed into plaid pants.
"Uh, no, thanks I'm- I'm good," you replied, passing him the joint back.
He took a drag of it before stabbing it out in an ashtray near by, blowing the smoke through his nose.
He sat down on the bed next to you, sighing. He swayed a little, the alcohol and weed making its way through his system and relaxing him.
"If I tell you something," he started. "You promise you won't tell anyone else?"
JJ always said you had this way about you. A way that made people trust you, to believe you'd keep their secrets. Still, Rafe's sudden need to confide in you took you by surprise.
"I never told your dad about the drugs..."
"You can't use this against me," he said, looking you in the eyes. "You have to promise."
He was scaring you a little but, the intesity in his eyes a kind of seriousness you'd never seen before.
Cockiness, confidence, anger, even fear, but this was something new.
"I promise."
There was silence for a few moments as he hesitated, eyebrows knit together like he was thinking hard about what to say.
You were about to say something, ask him what it was, when-
"I'm scared."
You blinked. Of all the things he could have said, you were probably expecting that the least.
"Of what?" you asked.
"Of- Of-" he laughed breathily. "Of everything. That I've disappointed my dad. That I've ruined my life. That I'm spiraling out of control."
He put his head between his knees, running his fingers through his hair.
You weren't sure what to say. You didn't know him enough to reassure him none of it was true. To try to ease his fears. And, truth be told, you didn't like him enough to lie to him about it.
"I'm just...I don't know what to do."
A swell of pity trembled through you. Pity for the boy who's had a silver spoon in his mouth his whole life.
Who beat Pope with a golf club just because he was a pogue.
The pity morphed into anger.
You wanted to scream at him, tell him just what you thought about him and his fears.
But, then again, you were a pogue. If he beat up Pope for just walking by, what would he do to you if you did?
Swallowing the anger, you reached out and rubbed his back, soothingly.
If you could just pretend for a night that he was your friend, that he wasn't a total asshole, then you could get what you came here for. And, hopefully, never have to be alone with him again.
Rafe reached up, taking one of your hands in his. "Thank you," he said, squeezing it.
He sniffed, shifting his body so that he was facing you.
"I'm sorry. For dumping all that on you, you don't need that. You probably hate my guts anyway," he said.
You didn't reply.
"Then again," he said. "You're not running away screaming. Why is that?"
You licked your lips nervously, silent.
"Just this morning you would've spat in my face but you were willing to come here with me just to save your friend. And your still here. Why?"
"I'm a woman of my word," you said. "I said you could have me, remember?"
Rafe hummed. "And now?" his hand came up to brush along your cheek. "Can I have you now?"
The action fizzled out the anger from before and you felt your cheeks heat up.
What could you say?
Well, "no" probably would've been sufficient. Still, there was a lingering curiosity that ate at you as he leaned closer, eyes trained on your lips.
It was wrong, wasn't it? To wonder what it was like?
"I'm gonna need an answer here," Rafe said before repeating. "Can I have you now?"
The word left your lips before you could think about it. "Yes."
Then his lips were on yours. Softly, more gently than you ever would've imagined it, like he was savoring the moment, like he wasn't thinking at all.
He tasted like weed and beer, as you should've expected, but it strangely wasn't unpleasant.
It reminded you of JJ, who you kissed once before, drunkely at a beach blowout.
Neither of you talked about it afterwardds, but something in your dynamic had shifted after that.
Was thinking about JJ while kissing Rafe weird? Surely a girl shouldn't be thinking about someone else while kissing a guy.
I mean, surely Sarah wasn't thinking about someone else while kissing Topper-
Oh.
Oh.
You pulled away, resting your hands on Rafe's chest.
"I-I'm sorry, I-"
"No, no," Rafe said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"It's okay, I gave you permission-"
"You're just in my room and I-"
You both took a pause and a breath.
You sighed. "I just- uh- I don't know if I'm into you like that."
"Oh."
He seemed disappointed.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine." he said, in a tone that told you it wasn't. "It's late. I can take you home if you want, or you can stay here. We've got a bunch of guest rooms-"
"Can I," you interrupted. "Just sleep on the floor? In here?"
Something about sleeping in one of the Cameron's fancy bedrooms when you were planning on stealing from them seemed extra wrong.
"Uh, sure," Rafe said. "Whatever you want."
There are only three types of relationships in the animal kingdom.
The first is commensalism. Fish finding hiding spots in coral reefs, but life for the coral doesn't change.
It was your family moving to Outer Banks. It was the winding trees at the chateu that you climbed often.
Then, there's mutualism, a relationship where both animals benefit from each other.
It was your friendship with the pogues. It was what JJ's sacrifice was going to be when you got the money.
And third, the parasitic.
"This is your room," Sarah said as John B. walked into it, eyes a little wide.
"Woah," he said, then tossed his hat on the bed and set down his bag full of everything he owned. Which was, admittedly, not much.
"Not too shabby, huh?" Sarah said.
"Yeah. Not too shabby at all."
"John B!" You came flying down the hall and into his new room, practically jumping into his arms.
"Y/N! AH- bruises, wrist, please-" he said.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," you replied, backing away. "You okay?"
"Yeah. No, I'm good. I'm good."
You'd woken up that morning on Rafe's floor to about a thousand texts and calls on your now fully-charged phone telling you what happened at the hawk's nest.
Rafe had been the one to let you know, begrudgingly, that John B. would be staying at Tannyhill.
"Sarah Elizabeth Cameron," Ward said, coming around the corner. "And Ms. Y/N."
You gave him a respectful nod.
"You've already broken the first rule. What is the first rule?" Ward asked. "Stay out of each other's rooms."
You smiled.
"Seriously, this is like a minefield," he said, gesturing to the line at the doorframe. "Y/N, I can count on you to keep them in line?"
You mock saluted. "Yes, sir."
"Good," he said, pausing a moment. "Ladies, can you give me and the new inmate a quick minute here?"
"Oh, sure."
"Please be nice," Sarah asked.
"I'll be nice," Ward replied as the two of you left, walking down the hallway together.
The tension thickened immediately.
"So," Sarah started. "You and my brother, huh? What's that about?"y
Honestly, you weren't even sure yourself, but you gave her your most convicing smile. "I guess I kinda like him."
She didn't seem to be buying it. "I'm just saying, if you're doing this to prove a point or to get back at some pogue who hurt you. Stop."
You scowled. "And what about you and John B., huh? Last I heard you were dating Topper. He get too boring for you? Have you even broken up with him because last night-"
"Why don't you just stay out of my business and I'll stay out of yours? Deal?" she snapped.
You rolled your eyes but nodded and she turned her cold shoulder into her room, leaving you alone in the hall.
You heard Ward leave John B.'s room so you swung back around and into it.
He looked up from the map in his lap and folded it over immedaitely.
"Okay, what the hell," he said. "Seriously, Y/N, you and Rafe?"
"Look, I'm not doing this because I want to, okay?" you said, voice barely above a whisper. "JJ took a fall for me and I need to pay him back."
"By stealing from the Camerons?" John B. asked, tensly. "Do you realize how insane that sounds?"
"Well, unless you have a less crazy way to get 30k in my hands, this is it," you replied.
"The gold, Y/N, we're going to get the gold."
"You and I both know the gold is a longshot!"
"And this isn't?"
"Let me try this, JB, and if you find the gold before I find some money, let me know," You said, turning to leave before pausing in the doorway. "And, please, don't tell JJ what I'm doing. We both know what he'd do."
John B. knew JJ best. And you were right.
"My lips are sealed," he promised, reluctantly.
—
"I'm sorry. You're staying where?" Kiara asked, later at The Wreck.
"Tannyhill," John B. replied, matter-of-factly.
"So you're living with Sarah Cameron."
John B. rolled his eyes. "Okay, look, the only reason I'm living there is because her dad bailed me out, right? And it's way better than foster care, which, by the way, is where I was about to go.”
"Hey, so do you have a membership to the clubs now?" Pope asked, ignoring Kiara's expression.
"I don't know, Pope."
"What about those golf carts they drive around? You get one of them?" JJ asked.
"Does it come with a sweatervest, or do you have to buy one on your own?"
"Look, you promised," Kiara said. "You said you weren't with her."
"Bro, just own it," JJ said. "She got you."
"Look, if you wanna hang out with her, that's fine," Kiara said in a tone that indicated it was, in fact, not fine. "But I'm letting you know now that I'm not doing anything with Sarah."
"Do you guys see her here?" John B. asked.
"Don't see Y/N either," JJ said, pouting. "God, I can't believe she's still with Rafe. It's making my blood boil."
"She's fine, JJ," John B. said. "A little focus would be fantastic."
And while the pogues went on their treasure hunt, you went on yours.
Sarah was downstairs and Rafe had split before you woke up, leaving you a note that said where he'd gone.
It was kinda sweet.
And it made you feel kinda guilty when you snooped around his room.
You found the usual apparel; porn magazines, old drug paraphernalia, socks you didn't even think about touching. But you didn't find any money.
You groaned, falling back onto his bed. Shit. Okay.
You poked your head out the door, looking around to make sure no one was there, then you crept from Rafe's room to a few other rooms.
The ones that weren't locked, you came up empty. But the last door seemed promising.
It was Ward's office, that much was clear, judging by the big desk and bigger painting.
Your eyebrows raised.
Well, where in all the movies did the rich people hide their safes? Behind paintings.
You crept inside casually, in case anyone was in there. You could fake needing to ask Ward or Rose a question if you had to, and you could play off Wheezie easily.
But, the room was empty.
You closed the door quietly behind you, locking it in hopes that if anyone tried to come in, you'd be able to escape or find a hiding spot before they could get in.
You beelined for the painting, wanting this to be as quick and quiet as possible.
Just as you suspected, the painting was on hinges and, when you pulled it open, there was the safe.
Okay. Step one, done. Now step two.
If you were Ward Cameron, what would your safe code be? A kid’s birthday surely, but which kid?
You dug through Ward's desk, trying to find a notebook with passwords, a scrap of paper with it written down, a calendar with birthdays in it, anything, but nada.
So, you had to venture down the stairs and hope there was something down there that would help you.
Peaking over the banister, you didn't see anyone, so you crept silently down. Praying no one would hear you.
It would be uber weird to ask Sarah what her birthday was if you ran into her and it's not like she was your biggest fan anyway.
"Hey."
You froze, hearing Topper's voice from somewhere to your right.
"Hey, how's John B? Is he- is he doin' all right?"
"Like you give a shit."
You let out a breath, realizing he was talking to Sarah.
Making sure to avoid that room, you crept on.
"You realize I did not push him. He lost his balance and fell."
"Don't lie."
You slid open drawers, digging through as quietly as possible for a key, a code, even a little cash.
"He fell against the rail. Not my fault."
"That is messed up."
You peaked in another office, finding Rose's checkbook on the desk. And damn it, a check would not work. They'd know.
And you couldn't forge the signature of somebody who's signature you'd never seen.
"You forget about us, like- midsummers was supposed to be our- our coming-out party. That was supposed to be something special, right?"
"What does it matter, Topper? We're in high school, it's not like we're getting married."
You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the conversation was getting heated. And, since Topper already pushed John B. off a tower, you wanted to be able to step in if you thought he was going to do anything to her.
However cold she felt about you.
So, you hid in an adjacent room and listened.
"I don't care anymore, Topper. I can't be with you, not after last night."
"Oh, after last night? You wanna talk about last night?" Topper said. "Did you forget the part where you cheated on me? Huh? Did you forget about that? You're a slut! You know that? You're a slut!"
"Watch your mouth when you talk about my daughter!" You heard Ward shout, the words nearly shaking the wall between them and you.
"Your daughter's banging a Pogue-"
Your breath caught as Topper's sentence was cut off by choking noises. Was- was Ward choking Topper?
You held your breath as he forced Topper out, the sound of him starting his car and taking off breaking through the silence.
You were shaking, trying your best not to panic as you heard Sarah cry and Ward comfort her.
That wasn't just overprotectiveness. That was a pure kind of rage. Ward was a man who would kill to get what he wanted and do it without blinking an eye.
And Rafe-
Fuck. What had you gotten yourself into.
—
John B. was wondering the same thing after Kiara stormed out.
"It'll be cool, right?" Sarah said icily. "I'm gonna leave."
"Sarah, don't-"
"Let y'all chat."
"Hey, hey, Sarah," JJ said, catching up to her before she split. "Is um- have you seen Y/N? Is she okay, or?"
Sarah scoffed. "I don't know why your pogue friend has been fucking my brother, but feel free to tell her to stop," she bit and JJ backed off.
You- you were fucking Rafe?
—
Well, no, you weren't. Actually you were scrolling through your phone, trying to forget what happened earlier, when Rafe came back.
"Hey, stranger, why didn't you-" you stopped, noticing the look on his face as he leaned against the door. "Are you okay?"
He had a scared look on his face, a burn on his arm. The look in his eyes resembled the way JJ always looked after-
You remembered Ward from before. The image of his hands around Topper's neck.
You got up from the bed, walking over to him and putting your hands on his shoulders, making him look you in the eyes. It was a gesture you'd done with the pogue boys for forever. When something was bothering them, it got them to spill their guts.
Rafe, it seemed, was no different.
He told you everything. The money he owed, the watch he was going pawn, the look on his dad's face when he was caught.
They were going to get Barry the money tonight. And then it would be over.
But the way he looked told you he knew it wouldn't be over. That something was different this time.
You hugged him.
You hugged the classist asshole.
Fuck. Truly, what had you gotten yourself into.
Rafe sent you home long before him and Ward went to settle the debt.
But he made sure to text you afterwards and let you know what had happened. "Don't come home" were the words that rang in his ears.
And made your heart ache.
"I can't let you stay with me, I'm sorry," you said over the phone.
"That's fine, I got friends. I'll figure it out."
"Good to hear," you said, closing the door of your car and heading for the chateau.
An urgent text from John B. got to you this morning that said: WE DID IT. COME TO CHATEAU ASAP.
"Hey, I gotta go, talk to you later, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," he replied and you hung up.
"HEY YOU GUYS!" you shouted, quoting The Electric Company to draw your friends out of the woodwork.
They came out in surprising pairs. Sarah and Kiara jumped out of the Twinkie and Pope and John B. turned away from a machine they were wrenching on.
"Y/N!"
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
"Long time no see, sister."
"Hey guys," you said with a laugh, accepting the hugs given and the pogue handshake from Pope. "Where's-"
"Nice of you to finally join us," JJ called from the porch. "Having too much fun with your new fuck buddy to see your friends?"
"Oh-kay, I think we should leave you two alone," John B. said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders, whistling and jerking his head towards the house to get the girls to follow.
JJ set down what was in his hands and headed towards you.
"Look, JJ-"
"No, you don't get to go first," he said. "I saved your ass. You saved mine. We were supposed to be even, squared out. But you just, what? Decided that Rafe Cameron was more interesting than us? He got a big dick or something, please enlighten me on why you've been gone all this time."
"JJ, I told you at midusmmers that we weren't square, okay? You have a price hanging over you-"
"So, you decided to ditch? We were looking for a way to settle that and you're galavanting at Tannyhill doing whoknowswhat or, well I guess we do know who you're doing-"
You slapped him. Clean across the face and loud.
Had you been within earshot, you would've heard the other pogues (who were spying on you through the front windows) gasp and let out a few "oh shit"s.
"You don't get to slutshame me for shit I didn't even do, all right?" You retorted. "Nothing happened between me and Rafe. Nothing."
"Yeah, well, somehow I don't believe that."
"Well, fuck you, JJ. I was doing this for you. I was going to steal from the Camerons to pay off your debt and if they found out-" you paused, a look flashing in your eyes. "But yeah, fine, I guess you already found the gold. And you're gonna pawn it right? Here in OBX? Like that isn't the stupidest thing you can do."
"What's the alternative? Wait for Rafe to kill his dad for you so you can get the inheritence? Hate to break it to you, Y/N, but your pussy probably isn't that good."
It was stupid. The whole argument was stupid but JJ was hurt and the idea of you with Rafe Cameron made his skin crawl.
"You know what, I don't need this. Have a nice life JJ and good luck with your restitution."
Regret flooded over him. "Y/N, wait-"
"No, JJ, sorry, you don't get to be forgiven that quick," You said, heading back to your car. "And for the record, Rafe Cameron has been nicer to me today than you have. And that's really fucking sad."
You slammed your door closed and started your car, taking off.
JJ watched you go. He knew he deserved it. He deserved every word you could've thrown his way, but watching you leave was worse than anything you could've said.
And what killed him even more was that he knew that he had driven you right into Rafe's arms.
He was at a country club with Topper and Kelce, Topper was licking his wounds and the boys were joking when you pulled up.
"Y/N, nice to see you again," Kelce said as you walked up.
"Yeah, nice to see you, too," you replied as Rafe walked up to you.
"What're you doing here?" he asked.
You pecked him on the lips, catching him off-guard.
"Just- wanted to see you, I guess."
He smiled. "Good enough for me. And now we got even numbers for bags, you know how to play?"
You laughed. "Do I know how to play? I'm a pogue, remember? Pretty sure we invented this game."
Rafe looked like he was about to lean in and kiss you, but something over your shoulder caught his attention instead.
"Rafe Cameron!"
You followed his gaze. "Is that-"
"Stay here." Rafe said, walking over to where Barry was talking with a member of the staff, Topper and Kelce following.
"Like hell," you replied, chasing after them.
"Why's your whole family think I'm some bitch that they can shit on, man?" Barry asked. "First your dad kneecaps me in my house."
"You got your money," Rafe insisted.
"That ain't the point," Barry continued. "I'm asking you, what am I? Am I just some little bitch? Is that what your family looks at me like?"
"No. No." Rafe said.
"No, no," Barry mocked. "Okay, so then why is your little sister and her little surf rat friends running around stealing 25K out of my house Can you tell me that?"
"They did what?" You asked, coming closer to the conversation.
"Y/N, stay back," Rafe said. "My little sister robbed you?"
"Yeah, Sarah robbed me. That's why I'm here."
"She won't pick a dollar up off the street. What are you talking about?" Rafe said.
"Do I look dumb? You think I don't understand what's goin' on here?" Barry said. "'Cause I'm telling you right now, you better sort this out with your sister, or else I am. 'Cause I want my money."
Worry was building in your chest. You leave for one afternoon and suddenly the pogues had gotten themselves into a heap of trouble.
"Listen, I don't know what you're talking about," Rafe said. "Enlighten me."
"Enlighten you?" Barry said. "So, the pogues are all around Outer Banks stealin' shit out of everybody's house and you got no idea what I'm talking about? Your sister's involved in it."
"Sarah Cameron, home invader," Rafe said, disbelief evident in his voice. "You know how stupid-"
Barry threw Rafe off him, yelling angrily in his face. "That's 25K!"
Topper got in the middle, but just because he could take John B. doesn't mean he could take Barry.
"Sort this shit out with your sister," Barry demanded. "Imma get my money."
"Yes, of course," Rafe said.
"If it's not from you, it's from her. Remember that. I'll see you boys around."
Barry left, leaving you and Topper to hash things out with Rafe.
"What are you gonna do?" Topper asked.
"Nothing, it's not my problem," Rafe said.
"Rafe, that's your sister. Those are my friends!" you said.
"What are you gonna do?" Topper asked again.
Rafe spared a glance at you before making a decision. "All right, come on."
They got on their bikes and you got on behind Rafe. He handed you a spare helmet.
"You just keep this on hand?"
"Well, maybe I was hoping a certain someone would come riding with me soon," he replied.
You bit your lip and pulled the helmet on, then held his waist as he sped off in search of the pogues.
Worry and anger ate at you. They just had the gold and now they'd gotten themselves in trouble with a drug dealer? Where had it gone south? What stupid thing had they done?
This had JJ written all over it.
The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth but it was true.
He always did something wreckless after a fight with one of his friends.
After your first fight, he went cliff diving during a thunderstorm and the pogues had to rescue him from nearly drowning.
Nothing with more consequences than his own safety, but the pogues had gotten mixed up in something bigger than themselves this time. And a sinking pit in your stomach told you it might just get somebody killed for real.
John B. and Sarah were just cruising in the twinkie when you found them, Rafe recklessly cutting them off and causing John B. to hit the breaks before they hit him and you on the bike.
"Shit. No, no, no, no. John B.," Sarah said before her boyfriend could get the door open. "Let me handle him."
John B. watched as you took off your helmet, the look on your face more pissed than he'd ever seen you.
"And I'll hand her," he muttered.
You stormed up to the van. "Where's JJ? Is he in there?"
"He's not here, Y/N."
"What did he do? Were you there? Do you know he robbed a drug dealer?"
Another bike sped up towards you and John B. got out of the van to meet him.
"Don't ignore me, John B.!" You shouted.
"Come to try to kill me again, Top?" He asked, ignoring you.
You were fuming. Caught between arguments and not in any them. You wanted to shout, scream, punch, cry, but no one was giving you the opportunity.
"One day, I'm gonna be running the show, Sarah, and you're gonna wish that you were nicer to me then," Rafe said.
"Why don't you give me a save-the-date on that?" Sarah retorted. "You psycho."
Sarah shoulder checked you as she passed. "Nice to see you went crawling back to him, Y/N."
You glared. "Yeah, well, you guys didn't exactly give me much of a choice, huh?"
"Let's go, Y/N," Rafe said, tossing you your helmet and then putting on his own.
You looked back, giving John B. one last angry look before sitting behind Rafe and letting him take off.
"Well, that went well," John B. said, watching you go.
You'd been hanging around Rafe pretty much all after that. Dipping out of the pogues story for a while. Maybe forever. You weren't sure how you felt right now, besides betrayed and hurt.
Right now, Rafe was the only thing holding you together.
That and weed.
"Rafe!" Wheezie called out, causing you to choke on the hit you were taking. "And Y/N. Great."
"Wheeze, you don't need to be around this-"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone," she said, dropping her bag down.
"Uh, you want some or-"
"Rafe!" you protested.
"What?"
"She's thirteen!"
He gestured wildly like 'I don't know!'
"This crib is sweet," Wheezie said. "How'd you get the Gleason's to let you crash here?"
"Uh- I didn't tell them is how," he replied.
"Pogue trick," you joked, flashing her a peace sign.
"Keep a lid on it, please," Rafe asked.
"Only if you let me crash here whenever I want," Wheezie replied.
"They try and kick you out, too?"
"Worse," she replied. "I'm officially the least favorite daughter. Sarah and dad are going to the Bahamas and did they invite me? Nope."
"Bullshit," you said with a shake of your head.
It seemed like regular rich people shit to you, but it seeemed to catch Rafe's attention. "Wait, they're going to the Bahama house? In summer?"
"Yeah."
"You guys don't do that often?" you asked.
"Nah, usually only when it gets cold," Wheezie said. "But according to Rose 'it's business'."
You raised an eyebrow at Rafe's change in behavior.
"I mean, they're all up in some new development, and for some super-secret reason, they're going to the Bahamas," Wheezie said.
Rafe leaned forward. "You know, I- I know about, like… a billion times more about the business than she does. What- what is this?"
He stood up, hands running through his hair.
"We're the black sheep. Get used to it, Rafe," Wheezie said. "Baa."
"Hey, shut up!" Rafe moves forward, grabbing his sister by the wrist. "Wheezie, I told you to shut up, okay?"
You moved then, standing between the two. "Rafe. You're high. Back off."
Wheezie moved around you and tossed a pile off cash at him "My life savings."
He dropped down to scoop it up.
You frowned. "Did he ask you for money?"
Wheezie shruggged.
"I'll pay her back," he said. "I know this looks really bad right now and everything, but like, I'm gonna- I'm gonna my shit together, okay?"
You wanted to believe him, but something about just now...
"I'm gonna get it tight, like, you know..." Rafe said, banging his fist on the table a few times. "Like, real tight. You'll see."
"Yeah..." you replied, turning to Wheezie. "Why don't you go look around? The Gleason's have some pretty cool shit."
Wheezie shurgged again, but took your suggestion and went inside.
"Okay, what the hell is going on with you?" you asked.
"She's taking my place!" Rafe shouted. "Perfect princess Sarah. I screw up one time and- and all that I've worked for! That's supposed to be mine!"
He threw everything on the table off of it, glass shattering around you.
"He can't do this! He kicks me out just to- just to give everything to her! She always gets everything!"
He paused, a crazed look in his eye. "But not this time."
He started backing up, heading towards the stairs. "Not this time!"
"Rafe!" You called after him, chasing him down the stairs. "Rafe wait!"
You ran up, grabbing his arm before he could get on his bike and he flung back and hit you.
You tumbled to the ground, hand on your face.
He stopped. "Oh my god, I didn’t mean- Y/N, you know I didn't mean to-"
He reached down to help you but you pushed him off.
"Don't touch me! Don't-" there were tears in your eyes and blood coming from your nose. "I thought you weren't but you're just like your dad, aren't you?"
He didn't respond, just stared at you.
"Aren't you?!" you yelled.
He took a few steps back and grabbed his bike. "Yeah. Yeah I am."
Then he was gone. Speeding off on that damn bike.
Call it anger, call it intuition, but you jumped in your car and followed him. All the way to the airstrip until your car couldn't follow any more. Then you stopped and bailed from your car, running after him at a much slower pace.
When you finally caught up-
Was that John B.? And Peterkin? Why was she on the ground-?
It registered quickly: the gun in Rafe's hand, Sarah's sobbing, the pressure John B. was putting on Peterkin's chest.
"Oh my god," you said before running out there. "John B.!"
He looked up. "Y/N! Call 911!"
Rafe immediately turned the gun towards you, making you freeze.
"Don't!" Ward stepped between the gun and you. "Rafe, I've got the radio, nobody else needs to get hurt, put the gun down."
He looked at you. "I can count on you not to do anything reckless here, right Y/N?"
You shakily put your phone back in your pocket.
"Good girl."
John B. stood up, making eye contact with you before backing towards the twinkie.
"Where do you think you're going, huh?" Rafe shouted as Ward held him back.
And John B. took off in a dead sprint towards the grass, you followed around the other way while the Camerons collided with each other.
Gunshots went off and you screamed, booking it towards John B. as fast as your legs would carry you. Through the trees and brush and dirt until John B. made it to the road-
And got hit by a car.
"Shit!" You shouted, slowing down enough to help him up and, much to the confusion of the driver, kept running.
"Where are we going?" You asked.
"Find the pogues," he replied.
By the time you did, well, you let John B. be the one to step out first.
"Dude! Dude, you good?" JJ said.
"Oh, my God! John B!" Kiara said.
They took him in, not seeing you at first.
"Is this yours?"
"Whose blood is that?"
"Y/N?" JJ said.
Sirens whirled behind you and you all ducked into the shed the pogues had been squatting in.
So. Turns out you missed a lot.
First off, Ward killed John B.'s father. John B. went on a tirade. Sarah didn't believe John B. The Camerons have the gold. Pope split from his interview.
And you were a traitor.
You'd left them because you were pissed and you actually thought Rafe Cameron had a heart.
And now, after Peterkin was dead, you're realizing you should've known all along.
"Hey, is that- do you have a bruise around your eye?" JJ asked later, when John B. had gone into the police station to tell them what had happened.
"Oh," you said, reaching up to feel it and wincing. "Yeah, I guess I do. Can thank good old Rafe Cameron for that one."
"He hit you?" JJ said. "No. Fuck that. I'll find his punk ass-"
"JJ," you said, grabbing his wrist. "Not now. Please."
He relented and sat down.
"I think I owe you guys an aplogy. I was so dumb for thinking Rafe was a good guy and I was just so mad. I missed out on this whole adventure..." you said.
"Don't worry, Y/N," Pope said. "Hasn't been all that great, to be honest."
You laughed lightly. "Thanks, Pope, appreciate that... Kie?"
Kiara sighed from the front seat. "I think I'm done holding grudges. Especially now." She turned in her seat to look at you. "And especially not to you."
You smiled at her.
"Kie, start the car!"
You all snapped to look at John B. running out of the station.
"Start the car!"
Chaos broke loose as Kie flooored it forward, two cops chasing after you, everyone shouting over each other until-
Silence.
The cops dropped off and John B. was breathing heavily.
"They think I did it," he said. "They think I killed Peterkin."
—
There was no going home for anyone and you couldn't exactly go to the chateau, the first place they'd look, or anywhere familiar.
So, you hid.
Laying low in Kie's car with no other options, the radio turned to a news station in a vein hope that they might say something helpful.
Pope was nessled in the front seat, Kie in the drivers, which left you in the back, sandwiched between JJ and John B. Head on JB's shoulder and leg over JJ's leg.
The sound of JJ's lighter flicking open and closed was only interrupted by the occasional police sirens that, thankfully, wizzed right by. As for the radio-
"Still no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from-"
Kiara switched it off.
"Let's game this out," JJ said. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but-" he let out a breath - "who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us?"
It didn't need to be said. You wouldn't be hiding right now if there was any hope the cops were on your side, but JJ, being JJ, felt the need to say what everyone was thinking.
"So, the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person. And the accused...is John B...who is pretty much a homeless 16-year-old boy at the moment..."
You sighed against John B's shoulder and kicked JJ's leg with your foot.
"What? I'm not wrong."
"Thanks," John B. replied, sarcastically.
"Shit." Pope said from the front.
"Look, man, Yucatan, all right?" JJ said, talking to John B. over your head. "I'm saying that's the only option. What other option do you have?"
"Enough with the Mexico bullshit, all right?" John B. retorted. "Sarah's gonna bail me out."
"I mean she did witness the whole thing," Kiara said.
"Thank you," John B. said.
"And she's gonna snitch on her brother?" Pope asked.
As if the mere mention of Rafe, not even by name, set him off, JJ puffed his joint and continued on his tirade. "Not happening, bro, okay? We need to get you off the island."
"The ferry," Pope said. "It's the only way."
"Yeah, exit stage left while you still can, before the entire island is on lockdown."
As if on cue, more sirens approached.
The five of you ducked down again, slinking as far into your seats as you could go.
You half wished yours would just swallow you whole, put you out of your misery.
"Sarah's not a pogue, John B.," Pope said.
"Yeah. You can't stay here, man," JJ said.
John B. seemed less inclined to speak, so you snuggled further into him and he squeezed your arm.
The two of you were closer to other pogues, but after this, you might just start leaning on each other a little more.
Hell, if John B. was leaving the island, you wanted to go with him. JJ would probably tag along, too, lord knows he needs an excuse to get outta dodge.
It would be just the three of you, hitch hiking until you found somewhere to be. A beach in Florida maybe, Puerto Rico, even. Change your names, get jobs, settle down. It wouldn't be so bad.
Just had to get on the ferry.
"Okay, so, ferry's closed."
Or not.
"And there's this," Pope said, handing a piece of paper to Kiara through the window.
A wanted poster.
It was a fucking wanted poster.
You didn't even know they made those anymore.
"Okay, so the whole island's looking for John B. right now," Pope said.
"That's a lot of money," Kiara said.
"Congrats, John B., you're famous," you said, bitterly, as you passed him the poster.
"We got to get to the HMS," Kiara said. "It's small, no running lights-"
"Its at the chateau, Kie," John B. replied.
"And I wonder if the cops got the entire place staked out, let me think," JJ said. "Oh, yeah, no they definitely have that place locked down."
"Yeah, copy that."
"Let me think, just give me a second," Pope said, hands on the steering wheel, eyes closed as he scrambled through his thoughts. "JJ."
"What?"
Pope turned around in his seat. "Does your dad still have that boat? The cigarette boat, The Phantom? The one he used to race."
"Maybe..."
"You could get right up the coast, no problem," Pope said.
And, as is common for the pogues, when a solution presents itself, it all goes to shit.
Chaos broke out, Pope unintentionally getting the attention of everyone around the ferry. And, of course, the car was stalling out.
John B. was hiding his face and the rest of you were yelling frantically at Pope as he turned the ignition. And once it went, he hit a car. And alerted the cops.
Great.
Who let Pope drive, again?
He slammed on the breaks and you nearly went tumbling into the front with him and Kie.
"Shit, Pope,"
"John B., get out."
"He's right," JJ said. "We'll draw the cops, you run."
"Where's he supposed to go?"
"What's the alternative, Y/N?"
You bit your lip. "Okay, go John B., run."
He popped the door and hefted himself out as JJ said, "I'll get the rig and meet you in the dump tomorrow. Three o'clock, okay?"
John B. bailed, slamming the door behind him and Pope floored it, driving the cops away from John B. as quick as was reasonble.
Meanwhile, Rafe was rummaging through John B.'s stuff.
"What're you doing?" Wheezie asked.
"Getting rid of this crap," Rafe replied, too calmly for someone who'd committed murder hardly hours before.
"That's John B.'s," Wheezie said.
"Yeah, well, I don't think he's gonna be by anytime soon to pick it up, so..."
"Why?"
"Did you say why?"
Wheezie nodded, innocently.
The image of you running off with John B. flashed through his head. The horror in your eyes when he pointed the gun at you. Why had he done that?
"They didn't tell you?"
"Nobody tells me anything."
"Um...so John B.," Rafe considered it for a moment. The lie bitter on his tongue...but he said it anyway. "Killed Sheriff Peterkin."
But Wheezie wasn't dumb. The disbelief was evident in her voice when she said, "What?"
"Are you smiling right now?" Rafe asked. "I'm not joking, like this isn't a game. I dont" - he smacked the post of the bed - "I don't know why you're smiling, okay? Look at me."
He leaned down close to Wheezie. "I saw it with my own two eyes, all right?"
Lie.
"He shot her. And then do you know what he did?"
He was spiraling.
"He tried to shoot dad, but I stepped in, and I stopped him, right?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. "I saved his life."
"Why would John B. wanna kill dad?"
Rafe shrugged his shoulders before saying the only honest thing he had this whole conversation. "He thinks dad killed his father."
The cogs turned in Wheezie's head. "He wants vengence."
Rafe shouldered John B.'s bag. "Yeah, he's...he's a maniac. And Sarah's been hanging out with him."
He turned to go when Wheezie said, "But what about Y/N?"
That got him to stop in his tracks. "What?"
"Y/N hangs out with John B. She wouldn't if he was a maniac...right?"
Rafe licked his lips. "Well, uh...sometimes you think you know people. And you don't."
—
"Pope you clocked that car, man, it was so bad!" JJ said, laughing.
You had your feet danging over the back seat, the light outside beginning to turn blue, bathing everything in a twilight haze.
"Pull over!" Kiara demanded.
Pope, smartly, did as he was told, albeit a little more wrecklessly that he would have had he not been high.
"JJ's it's not funny," Kiara said. "He shouldn't be driving."
She slammed the door closed and JJ made eye contact with you.
You grinned. "It's a little funny."
He smiled back, handing you his blunt, and it was almost as if nothing had changed.
"Where're we going?" he asked.
"The last place they're gonna look," Kiara replied.
—
"Last place they're gonna look because of how stupid it is." JJ said as Kie and Pope scaled the Camerons' wall.
"I second that," you said, slinking down in your seat.
"You guys just stay here, okay?" Kie said before dropping out of sight.
Then, it was silent.
The tension between you and JJ grew thick.
"How's your eye?" JJ asked.
"Huh? Oh..." you reached up to feel the bruise. "To be honest, I forgot about it."
Another beat of silence.
"I think I owe you an apology," you said. "I shouldn't have gone back to Rafe. I knew who he was, but I still held on to some naive belief. And now this."
You put your head in your hands, wondering if you could have changed this somehow.
"Hey," JJ said, lifting your head up. "You just see the best in people, all right? You always have. Even in me. I said some pretty awful things to you, and I'm sorry for that. I guess I was just jealous."
You looked at him. "Jealous?"
He wouldn't meet your eye. "Yeah. The idea of you being with Rafe... it bothered me, all right? And not just cause he's him...cause you're you."
You smiled softly. "Well, I was telling you the truth when I said we didn't sleep together...but we did kiss...once."
"Oh."
You chewed on your lip, thinking over your next words. "But I was, uh...I was thinking about you when it happened."
This seemed to get JJ's attention. "You were?"
You chuckled. "Yeah. It felt so weird and I wasn't sure at the time why but," - you looked at him - "I think it's because I really like you JJ. And not in the friend kind of way."
JJ split into a grin that could've lit the highway. "Really?"
"Really."
You both leaned forward, a kiss inevitable, but then the doors opened and you were interupted by Kie and Pope piling back into the car.
"Where's Sarah?" you asked.
Kie just shook her head. "Plan failed."
"Okay, so what's plan B?"
Plan B, it turned out, was sleeping at the wreck.
Kiara curled up on a bench and Pope resting his head against some napkins. You and JJ opted for the floor, staring up at the ceiling and just playing with each others' hands until one of you fell asleep.
Which, must've been you because before you knew it, the sun was up and JJ was flicking his lighter open and closed anxiously.
"He's pinched fore sure," he said.
"No," Pope replied. "They wouldn't still be patrolling if they caught him."
"Let's hope."
"You know, we were in that car, they're porbably looking for us, too," Kie said.
You knicked the lighter from JJ's hand, flicking it open and closed. "Yeah, the Camerons are probably tearing their hair out that they can't keep me locked down like Sarah."
JJ reached for his lighter and you held it out of his reach behind your back, he chased it and you dodged. A silly game in the middle of everything.
"Well, if we're gonna be outlaws, we might as well help John B.," Pope said.
JJ got hold of the lighter finally, pushing you lightly. "So, find him before they do?"
Pope grabbed the keys to the dirtbike.
"Pope?"
"I'm gonna get gas for the boat," he said.
"Hey, you be careful," Kiara said. "Okay?"
"Meet me at the dock at three," Pope said to JJ, ignoring Kie. "Don't be late."
JJ and you exchanged a look as Kiara took off after him.
The tension between you and JJ seemed to have morphed into tension between Pope and Kie.
"You know what that's about?" you asked JJ.
He shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's not helping."
--
When Kiara pulled up to the Maybank residence, it was like all the joy got sucked out of the air.
You'd been there before, a few times, helping out JJ with whatever, usually sneaking in through his window if his dad was around.
You got caught once and...well, let's just say you haven't been back since.
"Home sweet home." JJ said, bitterly.
"Hey," you leaned up from the back seat. "Do you want me to come? You know I will."
"Same here," Kiara said.
JJ shook his head. "No. This'll only take a second."
He jumped out and gave one last look to the two of you before heading inside.
"So..." Kiara started. "You and JJ, now?"
"I guess so," you replied. "Is it weird?"
She shrugged. "I mean...a little, but I think we were all waiting for it to happen."
"Really?"
"Yeah...you should've seen the way he was spiraling out without you. Plus his dad..."
You pulled your knees up to your chest, eyes trained on the house. "I never should've left. I never should've let him take the fall for me."
"Well, you know JJ. If he had to do it again, he wouldn't change a thing."
The screen door threw open and he came through it, distress evident on his face.
Kiara started the car.
"How'd it go?" She asked, tentatively.
JJ held up the keys, tangled in a silver chain around his fingers.
Mission accomplished.
At what cost?
Kiara drove off and you reached out, taking JJ's hand and squeezing it.
He squeezed back, but said nothing.
It was a frantic sort of day. One misstep and the whole plan unwravels and John B. gets hauled in for something he didn't do. Something none of you could save him from if it happened.
"It'll be fine," JJ said, more to himself than to you or Kiara. "It'll be fine with the Phantom. She'll get out of here quick."
A few police cars went rushing by, you and JJ ducked your heads but Kiara kept driving calmly.
"They're still looking," she said. "That's a good sign."
She kept driving, theoretically away from the danger.
Until you caught Rafe's eye through the window.
Shit.
He was with Barry, who was still out for blood, no doubt. And Rafe's head was no where near on tight.
"Shit, shit, shit, Kie!"
The dirtbike engines revved.
"Kie you gotta go faster!"
"What? Why?"
"Because Rafe and Barry are on our asses, all right?"
"What?"
Her and JJ both turned around to look, the red bikes easy to spot.
"Fucking Rafe Cameron man," JJ said, smacking the dashboard as Kiara sped up. "Always showing up at the worst times."
Kiara sped up as fast as she reasonably could and they faded back.
"God, please, don't follow us..." you muttered, wishing on wishing.
JJ reached back, squeezing your forearm. "Just focus on the mission, baby, okay? We got this."
Baby? That was new...but not unwanted.
It distracted you long enough for you to reach the warehouse where the Phantom was.
JJ pushed open the door and salivated immediately. "There she be."
You and Kiara surveyed the boat and exchanged a look. Oh boy.
"A 1983 Formula 402 SR1," JJ said. "The Phantom."
He looked back at you guys and Kiara shrugged.
"The first boay to make the run to Bermuda in under 16 hours, Kie," JJ said, running his hand along the boat. "Forty years old! Forty...and still the fastest thing that Kildaire's ever seen."
"It's kind of a junker," Kiara replied.
JJ looked almost offended. "Really? She's right there, Kie. She can hear you."
"I'm starting to wonder which of us you're really into," you joked.
"Let's just put it this way," JJ said. "You would not be smoking weed right now if she never existed, okay?"
"I just hope it runs," you replied as JJ snaked an arm around your waist.
"Oh, she'll run all right. She's faster than any cutters the boys in blue got."
The screeching of tires got your attention and Kiara jumped over the hitch. "Pope! Finally..."
"Hey, there."
Your stomach sank and your eyes went wide, seperating from JJ immediately.
Rafe's eyes bore holes in your skill. "What's going on, JJ?"
Kiara back tracked as Rafe climbed onto the Phantom. "How byou guys doin'?"
Barry whistled, coming around the other side of JJ, who stepped in front of you protectively.
"Well, well," he said.
Rafe jumped back down and the three of you were truly surrounded as Barry pulled a pistol on JJ.
"See, don't think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road," Barry said. "See, I'm here because I want my motherfucking money!"
Barry rushed him, smacking JJ in the face and you screamed for him, but Rafe's arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you back.
Kiara went to help, but got a pistol smacked against her face for her troubles.
"Kie!" You shouted. "Rafe let me go! Let me fucking go!"
He tossed you down. "I think it's time you and I had another chat."
Kiara pushed herself between you. "Don't even think about touching her again."
Rafe huffed through his nose. "It's not you we want, Kie. Just her. Her and John B. Where is he, Y/N? I saw you run off with him, where is he?"
He tried to move towards you but Kiara slapped him in the face.
"I really wish you didn't do that," Rafe said.
"Stay down, boy," Barry said, kicking at JJ with his foot.
"JJ!" you shouted, trying to go for him but Rafe intercepted you again.
"We know what you did!" Kiara said.
This got him to pause, dropping you. "Oh yeah? What did I do?"
You crawled across the floor to JJ.
"You murdered Peterkin!"
"Nah, nah, stay back, girl," Barry said, pulling you up by your hair.
"Y/N!" JJ said, strangled but he got up and started going towards Barry, who tossed you aside and starting beating on JJ again.
You hit the floor hard.
"You're gonna wish you didn't say that," Rafe said.
You caught sight of them, Kiara's neck in Rafe's hand.
The terrible image of Ward flashed in your mind again and you were frozen, terrified.
"Where's John B.?" Rafe shouted in Kie's face, tightening his hold every time she said she didn't know.
THWACK.
Pope laid into Rafe with a tire iron, smacking him across the back and arm. "Don't touch her!"
It didn't last long. Rafe was fighting back almost immediately, but Pope had gained confidence and anger and punched back without hesitation.
"Rafe!" Barry said, moving off JJ to help Rafe.
JJ took this opportunity to trip him and the pistol went tumbling out of Barry's hand.
"Y/N! Kick it!" JJ said.
You did as instructed, kicking the small gun as far and as hard as you could.
JJ intercepted Barry as you stumbled back towards Kie.
"Are you okay?" you asked her.
She was rubbing her neck but nodded. "Pope!"
Barry was down but Pope was still wailing on Rafe.
"Pope, he's had enough, man!" JJ tried, but something inside Pope had snapped.
"Pope, stop!" you shouted as Pope wrapped a hose around Rafe's neck.
"Pope that's too much!"
"Stop, dude!"
JJ wrapped his arms around Pope's shoulders. "Dude, come on, stop, dude, stop!"
"Pope get off of him!"
There was blood all across Rafe's face, but his eyes stayed trained on you as you stood there helplessly.
You should've hated him. Should've thought this was what he deserved. But the fear that gripped your insides at the thought of him dying, of him being killed by one of your best friends.
It was too much.
"Look at me!" Kiara shouted.
And Pope let go.
Rafe went tumbling to the ground and you instinctively went after him.
Rafe coughed and checked him, asking if he was okay. He didn't reply, trying to catch his breath without choking on blood.
"We gotta go." Kie said. "We gotta go."
She headed towards the car, JJ following reluctantly.
Pope was fuming. "Stay off the cut."
You'd never been scared of Pope before, but in that moment, the rage in his eyes was one of the scariest things you'd ever seen.
You looked back at Rafe as Pope followed the other two.
He was breathing heavily, the blood glittering against his face.
"Y/N, come on!"
You moved to get up but Rafe's hand grabbed your arm, making you look back at him.
"Please-" he choked out.
You shook your head. "Deal's done. You were supposed to lay off."
With that you pulled out of his grip and jogged to the car, shoving yourself in the back seat with JJ.
You curled in on yourself again, knees to your chest.
"Well, I'm glad that's over," JJ said, leaning against the window.
"Is it, though?" you said.
It was just karma, right? It was all...karma.
JJ reached for your hand and you let him take it, but neither of you faced each other.
This night was far from over. There was too much left.
But the deal was off. Pope got his revenge. And you and JJ had each other again.
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader x Keegan P. Russ
Warnings/Infos*: virgin!Simon Riley/Ghost; time skips; angst; hurt/comfort; love triangle; slow burn; heavy smut; fluff; pregnancy; various kinks (they will be tagged in later chapters); jealousy/possessiveness; minor violence; PTSD; domestic bliss; cussing; relationship struggles; mental health issues; insecurities; slightly Mary Sue!Reader (because it's fun)
Summary: Ten months after joining TF-141 as another Scout Sniper, having been recruited by Captain Price, you’ve developed a strange yet wholesome friendship with your direct superior, Lieutenant Riley. Despite the odds, things between you change after a particularly rough mission, and things keep escalating developing from there.
* Some Warnings/Infos apply to future chapters!
Friday | June 9th, 2023
– 21:28 (9:28) p.m.
Three firm knocks on your door and you’re startled from your relaxed state, sprawled out on your couch in sweats and a loose-fitting gym shirt, and having just recently calmed down from the familiar adrenaline rush that comes with returning home from another mission, and home being the military base where the 141 HQ is located.
You have to actively remind yourself not to slip into survival/soldier mode again. It’s probably just Keegan anyway, knowing he wanted to come over tonight, as neither of you like to be alone immediately after coming back to base.
Three more knocks follow, and you eventually manage to get up with a small groan; body battered and bruised from days of combat and being deployed.
Shuffling through your open living space like a granny with arthritis and not a highly skilled Special Forces operator in her late 20s, you make your way down the short hallway towards your front door on soft soles.
Swinging your front door open, you start speaking without looking first.
“I fuckin’ hope you brought snacks, you–“
Then, you do look and you’re not met with Keegan’s pale blue mirthful gaze, but your Lieutenant’s intense deep brown stare.
“Oh.”
Sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth, your stomach simultaneously clenches and flutters at the sight of the tall, bulky man, oozing natural authority and dominance – at first glance, that is.
However, as you take a closer, assessing look, you can see a different kind of tension in his wide shoulders, because beneath his black hoodie, he seems to be… trembling?
“Hi?” You ask tentatively, eyes flickering over his appearance eagerly – as always.
Lieutenant Riley is wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants, a large black hoodie that makes him look even bigger and buffer than he already is, his skull balaclava, and a pair of black trainers. Casual as ever, though it’s not something you see for the first time. You’ve already had the privilege to see him like this in the past months – this leisurely. Even though, he never seems to truly relax, no matter how cosy his clothes look.
It’s the look in his eyes that makes you tut. He looks feral, almost distressed; lacking his usual stoicism, the simmering fury and intensity.
“Can I come in?”
You’re pulled from your thoughts, your assessment of your superior. Your friend.
It’s not really a question, not an order either, and it takes your fuzzy mind a moment to decipher the hidden plea behind his words.
Without thinking further, you step aside wordlessly, giving him permission to enter your apartment – like you’ve done several times before now.
His footsteps are nearly silent on the hardwood floor as he takes cautious steps down the short hallway towards your spacious living room, and it’s as eerie as ever when he does that.
Closing the front door behind you and locking it, you turn back around just in time to see him pull off his balaclava at once, exposing his short, dirty blond and dishevelled hair. You think you can hear him breathing a deep sigh of relief and you can’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
Now, that is a sight you haven’t quite gotten used to yet; the Lieutenant showing his face, showing you a sight of him that he usually keeps concealed at all times. You still remember the moment he first took it off in front of you back then, right where he is standing now, in your apartment, like it was no big deal.
You still thrive off of the fact that he trusted – trusts you enough to do that, sometimes.
“As much as I love to have guests over after a stressful mission,” you start, your voice laced with your familiar sarcasm, “I gotta ask… You alright there, LT?”
“Don’t,” he objects immediately as he takes a seat on your large couch; brown leather creaking beneath his massive frame. “Don’t call me LT nor Ghost, either. Not now… not tonight.”
You continue to approach and survey him, like he’s some dangerous yet wounded animal and you are the zoo keeper, trying to calm it down; bare feet softly patting on the floor until you come to stand a few feet away, the coffee table separating you from the couch.
“Okay… Well, you alright there, Simon?”
At the utterance of his name, the corner of Simon’s lips look like they’re lifting the tiniest bit and it makes your chest fill with that deep sense of pride again at making the enigmatic man’s façade crack a bit.
Silence follows where he doesn’t meet your eyes again as he simply looks around your apartment, taking in his surroundings while you shift on your feet, crossing your arms in front of your chest, before you turn on your heels to walk into your adjacent, open kitchen.
Taking out the stashed bottle of Kentucky whisky from one of your cupboards, the one for emergencies like this one, you pour a glass before making your way back into the living room, where he is still sitting like a statue, like the unmoving force he is.
“Here,” You say, offering the glass of liquor to him, which he accepts with a curt nod.
When you go on to take a seat in the corner of your couch, since he decided to man-spread right in the middle of it, his ungloved and free hand suddenly shoots out and grasps your wrist that is closest to him, keeping you from sitting down.
“Uh, okay… Interesting,” you remark nonchalantly, brows furrowed, though you shouldn’t be surprised by his strange antics by now. You can see his jaw clench and a muscle ticks in his stubbly cheek before he finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze at last.
“Can you… sit in my lap?” His asks gruffly, almost begrudgingly, chapped lips barely moving as he speaks.
Your eyes widen imperceptibly as your heart nearly jumps in your chest. Sit in his lap?! Your gaze flickers down at his strong legs, his thick thighs, and his grip on your wrists tightens a little. It’s like your brain short-circuits at once, too tired and suddenly too excited to even question his timid request.
“Y-Yeah,” you answer eventually, trying not to sound too eager, as you give a small nod, “Sure, why the hell not.” You snort, trying to downplay this incredibly strange situation, considering you and the Lieutenant have done nothing but nurse and develop this strange friendship for the past ten months.
When you shuffle and move to sit in his lap, your heart flutters even worse when he grabs your upper arms to help you, to guide you, until you’re straddling his thick thighs with a little strain to your sore legs, and it becomes clearer to you how big this man truly is as you finally sit down comfortably.
Simon takes a sip of his whisky then, merely looking at you at this very new, very close proximity, and you do exactly the same.
You can see all the scars up close now; discoloured skin tissue a stark contrast on his pale skin. The one splitting his right eyebrow, the thick and ragged one around his neck, smaller ones along his cheeks and jawline, the one on his crooked nose – a nose that has clearly been broken a lot of times. He has slight crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the bags under his eyes are still visible despite the smudge black combat paint around his eyes.
He must’ve taken a shower before coming to your place; he smells too clean and fresh, with a hint of tobacco beneath the scent of peppermint toothpaste.
Suddenly, his buff chest heaves with a breath that rumbles through it and your attention is back on his whisky-coloured eyes. You know that he hates it when you look too closely, pay too much attention to his ruggedly handsome face.
And now, neither of you seem to know what to do next.
“Hi.”
Simon exhales sharply through his nose; a noise that you can only categorize as a huff of amusement at you awkward attempt to ease the tension.
“You’re silly, lass,” he remarks, taking another sip of his whisky while you watch his throat constrict as he swallows.
“Mhm,” you hum in return, unable to keep your eyes from drinking him in, fingers twitching to reach out and touch while your palms rest flat on your own thighs.
“Do you –“ He stops, clears his throat and swallows again, his own eyes unwavering as he surveys you just as eagerly.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
It’s a simple question and yet – it has your mind racing. Yes, why is he here? Not that it’s entirely unusual to appear unannounced, like the mystery he is.
“Enlighten me, Lieu– Simon,” you retort, smiling sheepishly at your almost slip-up that has him narrowing his eyes at you briefly.
“I’m–“
He takes another sip of liquid courage, downs the whole glass actually, before he bends over in a way that has you shifting and clinging to his broad shoulders as to not fall off while he puts the empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.
You use the momentum to let your hands rest on his shoulders and he doesn’t correct you, doesn’t shrug them off; it makes your palms go clammy and your heart fluttering again.
And then, Simon lets his mammoth hands move to your hips in return, almost hovering over your clothed skin before he closes the last half-inch of space between his hands and your body, and suddenly, you feel the weight of his paws on you, their warmth seeping through your clothing.
“It was a rough mission,” he says then, eyes flickering while you can feel his fingers twitch against you nervously.
You know it was a rough mission for the whole team; you were there, too. They’re always rough, nerve-wrecking. There is more to his statement, way more, but you let him speak his mind at his own pace, you always do.
“I couldn’t – can’t – be alone tonight,” he admits roughly, uncharacteristically quiet and vulnerable, too, “I don’t want to be alone.”
His eyes flick up to meet yours and the intense, raw look in them takes your breath away momentarily. The sheer need and desperation he is showing you right now, is almost too overwhelming for you and you curse yourself for averting your own eyes from him briefly.
“I needed to see you.”
And suddenly, you’re wide awake, sitting up a little straighter on his lap, with no trace of fatigue or soreness left. Everything vanished, along with your many, many thoughts.
“You need… me?” You repeat quietly, feeling your gut twist as the meaning of those words fully settle in. He needs you – you!
“Why?” You ask, your voice breathy and quiet, and then you feel silly for asking for some unknown reason.
“I feel like I’m losing it,” Simon admits bluntly, fingers now digging into your plush hips as if he’s trying to ground himself – and you let him, squeezing his shoulders softly in return.
It’s a heavy confession from a man like Simon Riley, the stoic, mysterious Ghost who is always in control; always keeping his mask in place, shutting everyone out.
“I’m here to feel something… to feel human again, but I don’t know if I’m even capable of that anymore, lass.”
“And you come to me with that?”
Simon huffs through his nose, shifting in his seat slightly, and lips sealed into a tight line before he speaks up again.
“There’s no one else I trust with that,” he answers curtly, “Not even Price.”
Oh, but that sounds even better; it feeds right into your self-diagnosed helper syndrome deliciously. It’s the validation you crave from him, only him for some reason or another. The fact that he sought you out, makes you feel special, like you’re worth something. You desperately try to supress the giddy smile that threatens to spread on your lips.
“And what – what do you want me to do about that now?”
“I’m not sure,” he sighs and it’s a rough sound as he averts his gaze again, focusing it on the floor instead, “All I know is that the lines between Ghost and Simon keep blurring.”
“Mhm,” you hum affirmingly, keeping incredibly still on his lap as you listen and process and analyse. “And you want to be –“
“I want to feel human. I want to…” He stops mid-sentence, closing his eyes briefly, taking a breath through his nose before he opens his eyes; onyx-coloured pupils quickly expanding and narrowing again against the light as he meets your eyes.
“For once, I just want to be Simon… for you… with you.”
For me, you repeat the words to yourself in your head and they fill you with a strange kind of warmth as the feeling keeps blossoming in your chest relentlessly, until that voice in the back of your mind keeps screaming at you that this is still your superior! However, the very selfish part of your brain ignores that voice very quickly again, stuffing an imaginary sock down your logic’s and conscience’ throats.
“I just don’t know where Ghost ends and Simon begins anymore,” he admits hoarsely, nose scrunching up slightly as he spits out the words as if they physically hurt him to admit.
“Well,” you start, blinking a few times as you try to sort out your thoughts and words, but then your eyes land on the thick scar around his neck again and suddenly, you reach out with your right hand to cup his left cheek, thumb lightly brushing over his stubble.
His eyes widen and he sucks in a sharp breath, holding it. You’ve never touched his face before.
“I’d say, Simon starts right here,” you utter softly, fully aware that he could easily break your wrist for touching him like that right now, “Right here, without that bloody mask.”
You can feel his whole body tense up, can feel the sheer power of him as his muscles coil and bristle, but you don’t withdraw your touch, keep yourself from pulling your hand away until he tells you to – but he doesn’t.
“It’s… nice,” he mutters, as if he’s trying to tell himself that, exhaling through his nose, though he looks anything but like he’s enjoying this. It almost makes you giggle out loud if it wasn’t for the utter devastation and pity you were experiencing for him.
“Is it?”
He nods curtly, his large hands easing their grip on your hips a little, thumbs drawing circles on the fabric of your sweats.
“Want me to take my hand away?”
He shakes his head immediately, rubbing his scratchy cheek against your palm as he does so, like a stray realizing that he really does like this touch that he seems to be craving so much – for some reason. Simon almost looks offended that you’re even asking.
You keep cupping his cheek somewhat awkwardly as you remain seated on his lap, caressing his cheekbone for a moment in silence, until your splayed fingertips brush against some cropped short hair at his neck behind his ear. You notice that his ear has been pierced – probably a long, long while ago – and your eyebrow quirks curiously, suddenly imagining a rebellious, teenage Simon with pierced ears and perhaps black nail polish just to piss his bastard father off, but you don’t dare to voice those thoughts. Instead, you opt to ask:
“Do you cut your hair yourself?”
His dark blonde brows furrow at your question, he looks surprised by it; the genuine curiosity in your voice and eyes. But his surprise is soothed at once when your hand snakes around his neck, soft fingers raking through the short hair at the nape of his neck. You watch as his eyes flutter briefly, feel him roll his shoulders and move his neck from side to side as you caress him tenderly.
“Mhmm,” he hums lowly, “Don’t trust anyone with scissors or blades standing behind me,” he tells you and his voice has dropped an octave, making a sudden tingle run down your spine.
“Sometimes Johnny cuts it for me.”
“– ‘course, he does. That Scot and his silly Mohawk,” I retort with a mock eye roll, still playing with his hair absentmindedly, “I hope you won’t ever decide to let him give you one."
That makes him crack a small smile, which makes you also smile in return. It feels like a victory, being the one to make Simon show any type of positive reaction.
“Nah,” he answers with a shrug, “I just need it short and neat or it’ll get itchy under the mask.”
Silence ensues again, though it’s less awkward. I’m more than comfortable straddling his lap now, touching his face and toying with his pretty hair, while he keeps surveying me, relaxing more as the minutes pass.
Then he breaks the silence again, “You’re –“
He stops himself again, clenches his jaw and you tug on his hair playfully, egging him on to continue speaking. Simon huffs, upper lip twitching comically, like a wolf’s chaps snarling.
“You’re the... first lass to ever sit in my lap.” He admits, averting his eyes from yours again, as if he’s embarrassed of that fact. You, on the other hand, are absolutely beaming internally; practically vibrating with a sudden wave of excitement – excitement you have to keep concealed, because you don’t want to overwhelm him or, even worse, scare him off.
It must be hard, being such a paradox; a man who doesn’t want anyone getting close to him yet desperately craving comfort.
“I like that.”
His brows furrow again, “You do?”
“Yes, sir,” you response playfully, giving a firm nod. “I do actually like you as well, y’know?”
His fingers dig into the fabric of your sweats at your admission, rough pads rubbing over your hips more firmly. You decide to take it a notch further.
“Can I hug you? You look very… huggable right now.”
Simon lifts an eyebrow, lips pursing slightly, which makes him look like he’s actually amused by that.
“Aye,” he answers, clearing his throat slightly, though he doesn’t move a muscle as he looks at you with those pretty, whiskey-coloured eyes and then you realize that he’s waiting for you to initiate the hug.
“Alright then…uhm,” you utter under your breath and clear your throat, retrieving your right hand from his neck to drum your fingers on your thighs nervously instead. Suddenly, your initial courage has vanished like smoke in the wind, and you start overthinking, because he clearly hasn’t been touched like that in a while and what if he hates it? What if you give him a bad hug and make him recoil from you? The thought alone is enough to make your stomach drop.
Simon seems to notice your inner turmoil and shifts in his seat, leather creaking softly under your combined weight and the way his thighs feel beneath your body makes your heart flutter again.
“Lass?”
The concerned undertone laced in his uncharacteristically quiet yet gravelly voice is enough to snap you back to reality again. Blinking rapidly, you try to inhale and exhale discreetly, before you finally lean in until your chest is pressed flush to his and you can wrap your arms around his broad shoulders tentatively.
It’s awkward again and you try not to move and squirm too much on his large lap, because God forbid, he gets a boner. You wouldn’t be able to handle that tonight.
Then, Simon’s muscular arms eventually wrap around your midriff in return, hugging you even closer somehow, and – Oh, this is nice. Very nice, you think to yourself, eyes widening slightly as you stare at the white wall mere inches in front of you.
You get a good whiff of his body wash and laundry detergent, and underneath those chemicals, you can smell – him, and suddenly, it’s like a switch is flipped in your head and then you’re nuzzling your nose into his neck shamelessly; scenting your superior, your friend, like some feral maniac. You can feel your cheeks flush; embarrassment and desire mixing in your gut like a deadly combination that triggers both your fight or flight instinct, but then –
Something tickles along your neck and your eyes widen even more, because you realize – he’s doing it, too! Simon is nuzzling your neck, burying his crooked nose into your shoulder and inhaling deeply while his chest rumbles, like a lion purring.
“Feels good.” He says eventually, deep voice muffled by the fabric of your hoodie, while his arms tighten around your body like steel rods.
Summary: You managed to escape Drew, and you have a plan. Who knew walking for an entire day could be so boring?
Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, cursing, brief mentions of rape/unwanted sexual intercourse, anxiety, mentions of death
It was surprising how much stamina Drew had after a day of putting up with you – and you’d been intentionally dense that day.
For the last fuck you were letting him give, in the most literal sense, he’d chosen to take his time with it. You had resigned your dignity to the pine needles and humus when he had shoved your face into the ground. It was a much more forgiving position than having to look him in the eyes as he used your cunt – you managed to tune out the unwelcomed intrusion by pretending your body was rooting into the earth with each thrust, until you could become one with the dirt, irrelevant to both Drew and the infected.
One can only dream.
Still, your hard work had paid off: after a full day of nagging him, playing dumb, and letting him plow his frustration into your body, he was wiped. He had collapsed onto you after he’d spent himself inside your walls, panting and groaning like an animal (a wounded one, to any passing wanderer). Then, promptly after that, he banished you to lie underneath the fir tree, at good three yards away from him. He didn’t like being touched after sex, which was a blessing in your situation.
You couldn’t tell what time it was – which was always. But there was no clue to whether you were closer to yesterday’s sunset or tomorrow’s sunrise. You began to create questions in your mind, ones that pressed like nails into your plan, which seemed more paper-thin as the night continued on. What if he woke up before you could leave? What if you don’t get far enough, and he catches up to you? The possibility of your plan failing was more terrifying than if you would end up becoming infected, or snapping your neck falling down the steep mountainside.
Every fiber of your body was telling you to stay still. What if it’s better to stay with him? What if I die in the first thirty minutes on my own? Instinct told you to remain with Drew, to stay with the pack. That quantity was quality in this situation. But you respected yourself too much. You’d spent a whole week promising yourself that this would be it – there were too many encounters of blood and bruises by Drew’s hand to convince you to stay rooted to him.
If you didn’t go tonight, you might never take the risk again.
Drew hadn’t stirred for the last fifteen minutes – or what felt like it. Your eyes were locked on him out of fear and anticipation. He could wake up soon, or he might not. The unknown was what terrified you. But you knew he was exhausted. You had made sure to tire him out throughout the day, mentally and physically. You’d planned this. It would work. You just had to get moving.
Thankfully, the only foliage beneath you consisted of the pine needles from the fir, and they hardly made any noise. You rose as slowly as you could, your eyes fixed on Drew’s unconscious silhouette across the small clearing. One knee carefully pressed underneath you, then the other, laying your hand against the tree trunk. Pushing your palm against the rough, prickly bark for stability, you leaned your weight into it and rose until you were standing.
You paused there for a moment, your pulse thrumming in your ears. Your breath ran shallow and quiet as you were frozen, eyes locked on his form, your mind already brimming with fear. It felt wrong to be on your feet when Drew wasn’t. Part of you expected him to wake up in an instant, imagining the angry words and beating that would follow soon after. Your skin was too familiar with the feeling of his hand, either open or closed, laying bruises somewhere along your body. Without the possibility of someone seeing the marks, Drew hadn’t been worried about leaving them where they weren’t hidden by your clothing, meaning most of them were visible along your face, arms, and legs. You looked more like the infected than a human, you thought.
Focus.
You managed to peel your gaze away from him, taking a quiet step towards the bags. The night was unsettlingly quiet as you knelt in front of them; you carefully grabbed the handle of his pack, wincing at the sound of the canvas brushing against your skin. The more dire the situation, the louder the nose, it seemed. The zipper was equally and unfortunately as audible as you tugged it open. It was meticulously organized, a pocket for every item within. You tried your best to sift quietly through the items, only taking what you needed, or what you saw Drew using on a daily basis. One of the Lifestraws (he said something about them lasting for ages, so you didn’t take both), two MRE’s, his flint and steel striker, and a small medkit (military grade, he had boasted). You had your own backpack of things that Drew had given to you – it wasn’t designed for you specifically, it was just an extra Armageddon rucksack that had been lying in the back of his car, and you were the extra pack-mule to carry it. A clean change of men’s clothing, the majority of the remaining protein bars, another multitool, extra batteries and some maps. It wasn’t filled to the brim, but you wanted to travel light.
You left the bag unzipped and laid it back down. Of course, he would know that you had fled once he woke up in the morning. You could only hope that it would buy you a few more seconds of time once he would grab his backpack in a hurry, only to find you had stolen from him, too. On the chance that he did wake up within the hour, any extra moment of time could be the difference between life and your corpse lying in the river.
Quietly stuffing the supplies into your backpack, you glanced back at Drew. He was in the same position as when you first got up; facing the decline of the forest, sleeping bag tucked tightly around him. You really must have wiped him out, considering he hadn’t changed positions since his eyes had closed. That same sense of uncertainty clawed its way back up your throat as you watched the rise and fall of his diaphragm: this is a bad idea. If you go through with this, and he finds you, you’re dead. He’ll murder you. You’re being selfish. He’s helping you, and here you are, stealing his shit and running away. If he doesn’t find you and kill you first, the infected will. Or you’ll die of your own stupidity. Just because you wanted to prove a point.
Like water from a tap, you let the thoughts flow from your brain and out of your mind. It was normal, natural to have so much anxiety. But you let it pass.
It was time. You had everything – ironically, only what was necessary – and the cover of night. It felt impossible to turn back now; cowardice would be a worse sentence than death, and your pride was, somehow, still blooming brightly in this dark age. A tendril of stubbornness poked above the surface of your doubt as you glared down at Drew. You leaned down, letting a fat glob of spit land quietly on the ground next to his back.
Good riddance.
The forest was unbearably quiet as you shouldered your backpack, polyester sliding noisily against your cardigan. The click of your flashlight made you cringe, the sound bouncing off the surrounding firs, shooting back into your skull like lances. After a moment of recovery, you cast the light ahead of you and started-
“Mmh… what y’ doin’?”
Fear took hold of your throat like a vice, strangling the breath that was leaving your lungs. Your limbs turned to stone, one foot out in front of you, frozen mid-step. Daring to turn your head, you saw him reach a tensile arm out and above his side, thick fingers flexing towards the sky. He pulled his hand back down and behind him, groaning quietly as he stretched his shoulder muscles.
Fuck fuck fuck-
“Bathroom.” You replied, the rest of your body as still as a statue. Air hadn’t made its way back into your lungs since you first heard him speak, and each second felt like a lifetime.
His arm lowered back down, retreating into the sleeping bag. He didn’t answer you, his silence stretching across the clearing and drowning out the sound of your own heartbeat. Your pulse thrummed in your chest, flowing down your arms and into your fingertips where the flashlight shook in your trembling hands. You waited… waited… but nothing. The rhythmic, deep breaths from before resumed their pace, and you finally exhaled a quiet breath between your lips.
That was your cue to leave. You weren’t going to test your luck any more than you had spent.
With quiet breaths and leftover adrenaline coursing through your veins, you left the clearing, the cliff, and the fir that was your shelter. The cold air reached deep into your lungs, bringing in determination and resolve, exhaling uncertainty into the night. You reassured yourself: you were prepared, you had a plan, and Drew was none the wiser, nor was he awake to find you. You had a head start. You were proud of yourself. Breaking the cycle wasn’t easy, especially when sticking in groups was preferred in such a situation. But, you did it. Even if you ended up succumbing to cruel weather, starvation, or whatever elements decided you didn’t deserve to live, it would be a better fate than sticking around with a monster of its own kind.
Fortunately, you were able to cover decent ground while it was still dark. The sun had only just begun to rise when you had estimated four miles between you and Drew. The woods were a bit daunting when the early morning fog was thick, and the haze surrounding you was a deep azure, providing barely any light. Your flashlight didn’t do much to help you see; it bounced off the mist around you, enveloping you in a blinding wall of white. You’d headed west until you were ablet to make out the rough terrain beneath you, and then decided to retire the flashlight. You only had so many batteries, after all – the entirety of Drew’s stash.
Make it back to the car. That was the plan. You weren’t sure if it would even start after all this time, but Drew had revealed over boiled water and lukewarm MRE’s that there was an extra battery stashed in the trunk. If it came with instructions – bingo. You’d be back on the main road before too long.
You had your deductions: any towns might still have usable supplies and canned goods – at the rate the infection was spreading, there wasn’t enough time for the stores and pharmacies to be drained of everything. You needed the car to get to the closest city, and based on the map you’d been studying over the past few weeks, it would only be an hour’s drive. There should be enough gas left in the tank to get you there, if not a short walk from it. If you took the autobahn, you had a chance of avoiding the infected, since there weren’t many “resources” for them there. If you did have to walk the last portion of the trip, you might be lucky enough to miss them completely.
Finding the car was the most difficult part; reading a map was surprisingly not easy, and the only reason you hadn’t lost yourself in the penciled-in mountains and trees is because you had followed the river. Each bend that you shadowed was an echo on the map’s interpretation, and if you followed it for another mile or so, it would be a straight line south to the area where Drew had abandoned the car. Locating the car would prove to be a challenge, since you would have to break away from the river to find it. But you trusted yourself to recognize the area once you (hopefully) stumbled upon it. You may not have run into an end-of-the-world situation before, but you weren’t helpless.
The early-afternoon glow that cocooned the forest was helpful in calming your nerves. The world seemed pre-apocalyptic here; you stopped for a brief moment to appreciate the birdsong calling through the trees, and the gentle wind blanketing over your anxiety like a balm to your soul. If you forced yourself to pretend, the pine trees and the mist could appear almost aesthetic. Like this was just a hike in the woods. Maybe you were on a journey to self-discovery, choosing to meander through nature just to break from “the real world.” The fantasy was short-lived, however, when the rustling of the contents of your backpack roused you from your maladaptive daydreaming.
Every now and then, the snap of a branch or the shuffle of leaves would have you breaking your neck to check your surroundings. It was unlikely that an infected could have climbed up the mountain this far, let alone quietly enough that you had missed it. But, the world had already proven to be rather unpredictable; you couldn’t afford to take things for what they were. What if they’ve learned to hunt?! What if they eventually make their way up the mountain when they run out of fresh meat? Anxiety had rooted itself into your scattered mind, tearing holes into it like the ground did to your shoes.
What if there was nothing left in the town besides dead, hungry corpses? What if the car doesn’t start? What if you never find the car? What if you’re lost?
You shook your head clear of the mess of questions. Thinking like that would only send you into a spiral of despair, and you didn’t have the energy to waste on supporting whatever secure mentality remained. One foot in front of the other – that’s what you had to force into your mind, squeezing your eyes shut hard enough that purples and yellows kaleidoscoped behind your lids. Deep breath in, and out. You were lucky enough to have made it this far without being caught by Drew.
Drew. The thought of him alone made uncertainty resurface, and you opened your eyes with a dissatisfied sigh. He couldn’t be close… right? He didn’t seem like someone who would bide his time once he had discovered you, frolicking in the forest with his protein bars and his gear. Based on the lack of his shouting, and the absence of someone rushing up the hill to tackle you, it seemed he hadn’t discovered your trail yet. Maybe he hadn’t even realized that you were missing. Considering the energy he had put into fucking you the night before, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was still asleep at this hour.
Whatever hour it was, anyways…
You huffed, kicking a small stone further down your path. A glance at the map confirmed that you were still in the right area, and that you’d be following the river for a while. Progress had seemed so easily obtainable at the beginning of the journey, but now, dare you say it, you were bored. It seemed selfish to experience such a feeling, when you were lucky enough to have been one of the ones to survive the infection. Based on the map, you had walked nearly twelve miles – have you ever walked that much in a week, let alone one day? You deserved the right to be bored.
Hours passed agonizingly slowly, and the golden halo of light gradually turned into a warm orange, then waned off altogether. The haze of mist around you became colorless and thick, seeping into the cracks of your mind and stirring up the fear you had been stomaching all day. You knew it made no difference to the infected – they’d hunt you by the light of the sun or the moon, there was no preference. But it made you wonder… were they the worst things out there? Could there be other abominations lurking in the woods, waiting for you to take one wrong step?
Stop it, you scolded yourself. Another sigh fell from your lips. Get it together. You’re fine. You were never afraid of the dark, but that fear was slowly seeping into your bones with each passing day of this damn virus. They didn’t sleep. They didn’t have to. You did.
Enough was enough, you decided, as a deep blue began to settle between the trees. You didn’t have much longer before it became too dark, and you wouldn’t be able to see. The chill around you only seemed to drop further – shit, should I have been setting up camp by now? You didn’t even think about that. The intention of finding the car had sucked every other rational thought from your mind; you didn’t expect that task to take more than a day.
Good thing I took the flint and steel, you thought. Gathering bits and bobs for the fire was easy; decent chunks of wood and broken branches lay scattered about the forest floor, and you scooped up as much as you could into your arms. You found a boulder not too far ahead of you, not nearly as big as the one from the night before, but it would provide enough shelter to push your back against. The sky was nearly midnight-blue now as you dropped your bag by the rock (boulder seemed too generous of a term, now that you were looking at the thing up close).
With some leaves and twigs, cold fingers, and a great deal of patience, you managed to bring a small flame to life with the flint and steel. You cupped your hands around it and blew, begging whatever cruel being had started this whole mess to let it catch into a bright fire. Each log you carefully placed over the blaze slowly took, and you soon had a warm campfire.
You didn’t care if this wasn’t smart, or if you were making yourself a target for the infected. Exhaustion and the dropping temperature were the only two things on your mind now; Drew was an afterthought, now that you’d had the chance to calm down and take a rest. Considering you were a “dumb bitch” in his eyes, as he’d so politely put it, you trusted that he had assumed you would head south in search of the nearby city. It was safe to believe that you had fooled him, and you were making do just fine on your own.
The ground was cold and wet as you curled up onto it, pushing your back against the rock. You attempted to pretend this was all one, big, dumb camping trip, but that failed when you remembered the lack of a sleeping bag or any sort of cover. You felt just as bored as before, plagued with both prostration and restlessness, and a wandering mind. You were still alone, which was both a relief and a fright. At least with Drew, you had strength in numbers…
You made the right choice to leave. Despite having to remind yourself of this every hour, and despite the gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that maybe this was a mistake, you know it was the right thing to do. Drew may have ended up killing you eventually, if you had given it another weak. He’d only let you use so many of his resources before he would decide that your sex wasn’t worth lugging you around for. Not only that, but you had to prove to yourself that you weren’t utterly helpless. You moved all the way out here on your own, didn’t you? It wasn’t luck that you got stuck in the apocalypse with the worst man in the country – it was unfortunate. You weren’t lucky to have Drew. Maybe his car, his extra backpack, and the map he’d forced you to study for the past several weeks, but Drew wasn’t your savior.
You were your own savior.
You rolled away from the fire with a groan. The flames warmed the skin on your back, spreading across it like a blazing liquid, but it felt good. You leaned into that, focusing on the heat and the crackling of the fire. The burning pine was acrid, but comforting. You had always dreamed of taking a vacation in the heart of Olympic National Park, didn’t you? This wasn’t much different. Ignoring the circumstances, the only real difference was that you were somewhere in Europe, not the states. But with the way things had been carrying on recently, you doubted that borders between countries really mattered anymore.
With your eyes fluttering shut, you imagined that there was a warm cabin behind you; that you could go inside if you really wanted, that you were choosing to spend the night in your front yard. If the night grew too cold, or if the ground was too stiff, you’d just head back to your cozy room and queen bed. There’d be pancakes waiting for you in the morning, and you’d be happy, and warm, and safe.
CW: Mutual masturbation again, Simon has incredibly perverted thoughts about you, a stranger jumps into your backyard!!! :)
Previous Chapter
The Summer air was sticky, spits of sweat clinging to the back of your neck as intricates of hair moulded to your skin. You felt damp, your clothes acting like an uncomfortable Band-Aid that strained against your flesh causing an itching sensation that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard you rubbed or scratched.
It was upsetting, you dearly loved your garden. You took great pride in how pretty it was, the adornment of tulips and dahlias, entwined between rows of carnations and peonies. There was a stark difference between your house and your neighbour, even between the differing shades of grass, his a deeper juniper and yours a dewy pine.
Steady hands gripped the blue watering can, droplets beading at the top before feeding the parched plants. Gloved hands patted down the wet dirt, your eyes squinting under the boiling sun as you hurried under some shade. Thirsty lips found the straw, the sickly sweetness of pink lemonade sliding down your throat as you let out a dramatic sigh.
Your eyes trailed over the fence, the wood structure was tall, yet not tall enough to fully conceal your neighbour’s house, his kitchen on display as you froze, a staggering figure watching out the window at you. You waved awkwardly, holding up your glass of lemonade as Simon turned around, walking away from the glass pane.
Your belly felt hot. Was he watching you that whole time? You glanced down at your sundress, a bright red puffed out with a drastic shade of yellow flowers splattered around the fabric. Did he think you looked weird? Or pretty? What if he thought you were creepy and staring at him first?
You shook your head, chucking your gardening gloves to the side as you strolled inside. The soft strum of music played, your fans working overtime to cool down your house. You had never made much of an effort to speak to your neighbour, yet realised he never made much of an effort to speak to anyone. You had never seen him converse with anyone in the neighbourhood, and there was only a handful of times when another car was pulled into his driveway.
Maybe he was lonely. You despised the way your brain worked, always conjuring up someone’s life story without even a hint of the person. Nevertheless, you found yourself in the kitchen, sifting flour into a sugary mix, moulding chocolate chips into the dough balls before placing them in the oven.
Your kitchen broiled with the smell of chocolate chip cookies, your fingers padding into the tops of them before letting them sit and harden. You would admit, you partook in several hobbies, baking and gardening being two of them. Though you didn’t need to be doing this, a part of you was aching to understand the man who has been living next door to you for over 2 years now.
Shaky hands guided you out the door as you contemplated knocking, pacing back and forth across the porch several times before you anxiously padded against the wood, straightening out your sundress with a plate of cookies in your other. Simon stayed seated for a moment, creeping towards the door almost silently before beady eyes looked through the peephole. The Lieutenant stilled, taking in your pretty figure and the baking in your other hand, the subtle display of your cleavage almost enticing him as he watched you bounce on your feet nervously, awaiting him.
He opened the door, a neutral expression on his face. “Hello!” You squeaked, “I was baking, and I just wanted to bring you some. We haven’t really met before, and I guess I wanted to be a friendly neighbour seeing as you’ve just gotten home from being away.” You rambled on a bit before shutting yourself up, holding the plate out.
Simon held his breath as you spoke, taking in the way your lashes fluttered every time you looked around in a fiddly manner. “Thanks.” His voice was gruff, his accent piercing through the deepness as he showed no sign of emotion in his expression.
“Well... I guess that’s it, enjoy the cookies,” you sighed, handing off the plate as you turned on your heels. Simon let out a deep breath before calling out to you.
“Do you want to come in and I don’t know, watch something? I was just watching the TV, and you went to the trouble of making these. The polite thing to do.”
You nodded, slowly, but let a big smile crack through your face as you quickly huddled inside his home. His house was a lot darker than yours, with neutral colours staining the furniture with minimalistic pieces of clutter. There was a stark difference between the two of you in general. You appeared full of colour and life whereas he was more reserved and mysterious.
You plonked yourself on his couch, grey leather rubbing against the back of your thighs as you adjusted the skirt of your dress. He placed the cookies on the coffee table in front of you both, the cushions sinking as he sat down, his large thighs spread as he turned on the television, his arm automatically slinging across the top of the sofa.
It was awkward. Neither of you spoke as he fiddled with the channels, landing on some old sitcom you had only seen when nothing else was on. Your nimble fingers reached for a cookie as you held your hand over you to make a makeshift plate. Simon’s dark eyes flickered towards you, watching the way your mouth moved, lips curling over the cookie before you sucked any crumbs up.
As time passed, you grew more comfortable, your legs plush against the seat as you rested against the armrest, laying your face on the palm of your hand as you occasionally laughed. Simon felt like a creep, focusing more on you than the TV show he chose. He noted all the small details in your face, every visible crease and line in your features, the way your cheeks puffed up slightly as you laughed and how your iris’ would dart across the screen when a new person appeared.
Greedy carob orbs sucked in the sight of your supple cleavage, the delicate bounce of your breasts as you adjusted yourself occasionally. His cock chubbed at the display of your skin, the hem of your dress riding up over the plushness of your thighs, as his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips.
He rubbed his hand over his mouth as he looked away from you, eyebrows furrowed at the perverted thoughts racking around his skull. He adjusted his pants subtly, letting out a near-silent groan at the thought of you bent over the couch, wanton holes on display as you wept into the leather, his hands cracking down on the fat of your ass as he left a stain of his large hand.
He imagined you on your knees in front of him, doe-eyes staring up at him with unshed tears as you spluttered around his girthy cock, taking him down your tight throat as you dribbled onto your bare breasts. But oh dear, his length practically aches as he imagined the sight of you bouncing on his lap, tight cunt filled with him as he forced you to focus on the dumb show, narrating what was happening as he kissed your sloppy cervix, staining your gummy walls with hot spurts of his cum.
He was almost sad when the show ended, your knees knocking together as you thanked him for inviting you in. He gave you a small smile, eyes creasing slightly as he nodded.
“Thank you for the cookies. If you need anything, let me know.”
You almost giggled in excitement as you rushed inside your own house. It became a routine now; one you didn’t even know he knew about. Desperate fingers clung to the lace of your panties, peeling them down your legs as you ground your sloppy pussy against your pillow, vibrator nestled into your hardened clit as you moaned out into the palm of your hands.
Your hands found your neglected chest, pulling the straps of your nightgown down as you tweaked at the puffy buds, swirling your digits around them as your eyes rolled back in sheer pleasure. Simon’s hand rutted to the frequency of your moans, slick balls aching for release as he waited for the higher-pitched squeal you let out while you orgasmed, yet it never came.
Instead, he was greeted with the sound of a more frightened squeal and frantic rustling. Your eyes were dead shut as you approached your high, opening to take in your blissful figure before they twitched towards the window, the sight of a man climbing over your fence sending chills through every nerve you had as you squealed, rolling onto the floor as you adjusted your nightgown.
Distress hands reached for your phone, calling emergency services about an intruder before you did the most sensible thing you believed to be possible while you waited.
🪄 warning: SMUT, language, drinking, name calling, choking, pet names, sharing kink, ownership kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, choking, public sex, rough sex, shower sex
📖 After meeting Rafe's (CurtainBangs!) twin brother Cam (BuzzCut!) for the first time, Rafe gives you a proposal you can't help but accept: sharing you.
✨ “Pretty sure you know what I want to hear, princess,“ he grunts. "Just tell me you want him. Tell me you want us to share you. Tell me you want his cock and mine, y/n. Let me hear it.” ✨
3.8K
Reader's POV:
“Touchdown, Bulldogs!”
The stadium erupts with applause as Rafe gets swallowed up in a team hug. The school fight song blares through the open arena as a massive homecoming crowd clamors to storm the field in celebration. You hang back slightly with the other players’ girlfriends, watching as Rafe shuffles over to an equally massive #2; Cameron scrolled across his back as well. The two of you have only been dating for a few weeks, but you could tell, like quintessential twins, those two were close.
Cam was always Rafe’s second call after you, no matter what, good or bad, and it almost seemed like Cam was two steps ahead. He knew how to calm him down; he always seemed to know what to say. But, then there was the rivalry; Cam knew how to push Rafe’s buttons. What to say to trigger a classic Cameron bitch fit.
Rafe wanted nothing more than to win this game. You could see his chest puffed out a little more than usual, his shit-eating grin a little more sly. Rafe tugs off his helmet, skimming his fingers through his sweaty fringe as his brother removes his helmet as well.
You squint your eyes, stomach fluttering as you take in the difference from all the Instagram and Snapchat images you’ve stalked prior: a fresh buzz cut. Jesus Christ. Rafe pulls him in for a big hug, slapping his shoulder pads.
Your nerves creep in fast, a combination of anxieties about meeting Cam for the first time. I want to impress him. I want him to like me. I want him to think I’m good for Rafe. That’s his twin brother, after all. Sure, I met Ward and Rose, Wheezie and Sarah, and that went great, but this is the big leagues. This is his twin; this is make-or-break.
But, on a separate note, should I be this nervous? I mean, in this way? Seeing Cam gave me butterflies… Maybe it’s ‘cause he looks so much like Rafe? I can’t deny that when he took off his helmet, I felt something. Fuck, I’m in trouble.
“There she is," Rafe groans as he pulls you off your feet and into his strong arms. You cup his sweat-glistened cheeks, kissing him deeply.
"Hi, Rafey," you mumble against his sweet lips.
"How’d I do?" He smiles against your pout, nose nuzzling yours playfully.
"So damn good,” you praise as you scratch your nail into his hair, pulling him closer.
“You look so pretty, baby - love seeing you in my jersey.” Rafe sets you down on your feet, kissing you again before pulling you to his side.
“This her?” Cam pipes in, stealing your attention away.
“Sure is. Cam, y/n; y/n, Cam,” Rafe smiles down at you proudly. You turn your attention to Cam, feeling that same flutter from before, a blush creeps in your cheeks as you see the same look in his eyes that Rafe gave you the first night you met.
“Well, shit,” he rasps as he steps a little closer. Cam takes you off Rafe’s hands, drawing you into his embrace, hugging you before pulling back ever-so-slightly. “Fuck, you’re stunning," he praises.
Cam reaches up, fixing the little "R” pendant on your chest, brushing your clothed cleavage as he sets it in place. Your heart races at the contact between you, banging so loudly you swear Cam can hear it. “Thank you,” you breathe. A grin slides across Cam’s lips; Cam’s smile is stunning, just like your boyfriend’s. But there’s a fire behind it that once again gives you the most delicious deja vu. Cam likes what he sees.
“So…” Rafe teases, head cocked slightly, arms raised, holding open your spot at his side.
“Oh shit. Sorry, Rafey,” Cam snickers as he passes you back to his brother. Rafe wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you in, pressing a rough kiss on your hair. Cam’s eyes return to his brother, a smirk spreading on his rosy lips. You look up at Rafe, catching the mirror image.
“Well, this one’s gonna help me with my post-game routine; why don’t you come over in like an hour-” Rafe continues to talk; Cam cocks his eyebrow, seemingly stuck on the first part of the plan for the evening. He smiles sinfully, eyes falling down your body, making you blush as you see his wheels turn. These two talk about everything; your little post-match shower session was most likely a topic of discussion already.
“We drinkin’ tonight?” Cam drawls.
“Literally just said that, dumbass. Maybe if you stop starin’ at my girl’s tits, you could focus. Yeah?” Rafe taunts, shoving his brother away.
“Not gonna apologize,” he bullies as he wets his plump bottom lip.
If Cam was anyone else, he’d gone - erased from this earth for his wandering eye. Rafe, no stranger to roughing up a guy or two on account of you - his brother seemingly the exception. “You’re a fuckin’ dog, buddy.” Cam shrugs and smiles, owning the title as Rafe hooks his finger under your chin. “I don’t blame him. My girl’s perfect,” he whispers before meeting your lips.
“This is my favorite part of Game Day, baby," Rafe hums as he tears his shirt off his athletic body. You pinch the bottom of your top, drawing it over your naval. ”Lemme,“ he smiles, stripping you of his old jersey before tossing it to the side, lifting you off your feet. Rafe pulls away only briefly to turn on the water, walking with you to the countertop. It’s dim, the perfect amount of light thrown from his open bedroom door. Admittedly, it’s your favorite part of Game Day as well: getting this time with Rafe, the two of you unwinding before a night of drinking, the pair of you coming down from his post-game high together.
Rafe sets you down on the cool top, sending chills up your warm body as his hands quickly get to work. One weaves into the nape of your hair while the other grips the plush of your hip. ”You know I love you,“ he whispers as his rough fingers trace over the top of your thigh, disappearing between your legs.
”Of course, Rafe.“
"M'not sayin’ this to start a fight; m'not callin’ you out for anything. Alright?”
“Okay," you giggle nervously. ”Is everything okay?“
"More than okay," he grins. You let out a little gasp as he runs two fingers through your wetness, lifting them to his lips tasting you. "You have a crush on my brother. Don’t you, sweetheart?" He whispers. Your eyes widen in surprise, lashes fluttering as he calls you out.
"I - Umm… Rafe-”
“I said, 'It’s more than okay, honey," he mumbles as his fingers press through your entrance. ”You don’t believe me?“ Your brows knit in confusion as you stare into his beautiful blues. How could Rafe Cameron be okay with this? I mean, he almost got arrested last weekend for a fight after someone bought me a shot. How is he okay with me having a crush on his brother? 'And, it’s more than okay?’ No way.
"No…" You whisper feebly as your gaze falls to his lips.
A smirk stretches wide, Rafe’s breathing increasing with yours. "No, what, princess?”
“I don’t believe you," you reply before returning your eyes to his. Rafe pouts his lip teasingly, pumping and scissoring his long fingers.
"Alright…" He shrugs, continuing to tease you. You grip Rafe’s thick dick in your hand, rubbing his precum into his swollen tip as he quickens the speed of his hand, thrusting his fingers at an insane pace. ”He’s got a crush on you.“ Your pussy tightens around his digits at the sound of his words, making Rafe smile wickedly. "Baby girl…" He mocks as he moves in even closer, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist. Rafe tucks himself into the crook of your neck as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.
”M'gonna cum,“ you whine.
”You sure, y/n,“ he whispers against your warm skin. ”I don’t believe you.“ Rafe repeats your words as he slows his pace, edging you; prompting you to grind against his palm, craving a release.
”Rafe…“
”Hmm?“ He chuckles through a throaty laugh. ”S'alright, baby. We share.“ Rafe baffles you with his admittance as he spears his thick cock into your drenched pussy.
”Rafe!“ You wail, mouth hanging open as he circles his hips nice and slow, buried balls deep, letting you adjust to his size. You cling onto his shoulders, nails digging into his tan skin as he stretches you out. Steam swirls all around the two of you, the room burning with vapor and sex as Rafe walks toward the walk-in show, drawing back the glass door. ”This could be a really good night for you,“ he mutters as the stream of water pours from the spout, washing over your naked bodies.
Rafe’s eyes fall down your bare frame, watching as the little rivers of warm water cascade through your dips and curves, glistening over your already dewy skin. His blonde fringe hangs wet on his forehead, framing his beautiful face. You look down as well, eyeing the place where your bodies connect; Rafe’s thick cock sheathed deep. "You share girls?" You whisper. Rafe moans as he presses you back into the icy shower wall, forcing himself as deep as possible, making you exhale a deep breath.
“'Course we do." He starts to pound you into the wall, making you cry out in pleasure.
"And, you want to share me?" You ask, weakly between rough thrusts.
”That not clear?“ He rasps, drawing out of your cunt, whirling you around before bending you over, pounding back into your aching core.
"Fuck!” You sob, feeling him deep in your guts. You take hold of his wrists, his hands steadying your hips, clawing into the fat of your ass. Rafe spreads your cheeks, coaxing his cock in slower as he feels you tighten around him again.
“Bounce for me. Yeah?" He groans, slapping your ass before letting you take control. You throw your bum on his cock; cheeks clapping against Rafe’s wet skin. Your curves recoil with each slap of his tight body against yours, knees buckling, causing Rafe to chuckle darkly as he watches you go weak on his dick. "Please," you whimper, knowing he won’t let you cum until he hears you say it.
”Pretty sure you know what I want to hear, princess,“ he grunts. "Just tell me you want him. Tell me you want us to share you. Tell me you want his cock and mine, y/n. Let me hear it.”
“Rafe.”
He winds up, slapping your thigh harshly, making you scream, voice bouncing off of the shower walls. “I want him. I - I want you to share me. Fuck. I want your cock and his." You squeal Rafe’s name as you gush around his cock; your entire body shaking as he keeps you standing through your climax.
"I want you to beg,” he huffs, tugging your hair, pulling you close, back pressed against his heaving chest, Rafe not letting you come down from your orgasm before he starts working on your next. One arm wraps around your throat in a chokehold, squeezing tightly while the other arm binds around your waist.
“Please.”
“No. Not enough," he sneers, constricting your airway with his biceps. Rafe starts rocking in and out. You can feel every ridge and curve of his cock as he gives it to you, slow and deep, making your eyes roll back. You feel yourself getting lightheaded at the lack of air, but Rafe doesn’t let up his hold. ”Beg.“
Holy shit.
"Please, Rafe. I fucking need it," you pant wearily. ”I want to please you both… I wanna feel you-“ Your voice trails off as you feel your orgasm building again, vision fuzzy, mind muddled like you could fall to the floor.
"Baby? You got awfully quiet. You a'ight?" He growls; a low tone rumbled against your skin.
”I want you both to ruin me!“ You choke out the words. “I’ll do anything for your dick. Please.”
"Mmm… Atta girl.” Rafe pulls out, taking his time with you as he looks down at you lovingly. He guides your chin, lifting your lips to his. Rafe kisses you soft and slow as you try to catch your breath. You look down at his throbbing dick, the creamy ring of your arousal rinsing off his hardened flesh, ready for more.
“You think your brother wants me, Rafey?" You whisper, biting into your bottom lip as you bat your lashes, playing into his game.
”'Course he does. That bastard always wants what’s mine. Lucky for him, we’re brothers… N'I play nice.“ Rafe loops his bicep under your thigh, plunging his cock back in. He rolls his hips deliciously slow, finding that perfect angle that makes tears leak from your eyes. ”Gonna fuck that tight little ass of yours, baby. Fill you up,“ he groans. ”We haven’t done that yet? You ready, f'me? Think you can handle us both?“
You can’t even form words; all thoughts in your mind run wild at the idea of having them. "You’re squeezing me so tight, baby… Think you could cum for me again?" He whispers against your ear, teeth, tugging at your lobe as he draws out, slamming his cock back into your pussy. You let out a cry of pleasure, your cracked sob reverberating off the walls. "Gonna have you creamin’ on our cocks all night. Just a little whore for Cameron cock, aren'tcha?" Rafe throws his hips again and again as the knot in your stomach starts to twist tighter. You pinch your eyes shut, nodding frantically as you feel your orgasm within reach, completely cock-drunk. "Say. It.”
“M'just - Fuck, daddy-”
“M'just what?" He mocks your fucked-out tone.
"A little whore for your cocks. M'just a hole for you, Rafe.”
“Ugh. Yes! Fuck. That’s my girl. That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Yeah? Cum on my cock.”
“Fuck…”
“Cum." Your walls spasm around his cock; waves of your finish crashing down on you again and again as you call out his name. Rafe yours as he floods you with his seed. You can feel his dick twitching inside you, your body milking every last drop of his cum.
Rafe’s forehead falls to your neck in exhaustion. ”Goddamn. I fuckin’ love you, honey,“ he breathes as he kisses his way up your neck. ”Mmm… We’re gonna take real good care of you tonight, baby,“ Rafe moans. You can hear the excitement in his voice, matching your own, but you can’t help but feel a slight apprehension.
What if this ruins what Rafe and I have?
Your demeanor must have changed because Rafe notices instantly. "Talk to me, princess,” he respires as he holds you tight, lips resting on your shoulder as he rocks the two of you lazily.
“I’m a little worried, Rafe. This doesn’t really feel like something you’d do with a girlfriend… Someone you wanna end up with. This seems like something the two of you would do with some random girl - maybe a fling. I wanna be with you… I don’t see us not being together. I’m crazy about you, Rafe,” your voice cracks with emotion, making him expel a soft pity laugh like you have nothing to worry about.
“I’ve got no doubt in my mind that it’ll be us, Y/n. Rafe and y/n…” He pinches the gold "R” he bought you between his fingers. “I’m crazy about you too, baby. You gotta know that. Yeah? Here.” Rafe tugs off his gold Cameron Family ring, gliding it on your thumb instead. “I want you to have this, Y/n.”
“Really?” You gasp.
“'Course. You’re mine. Alright? Tonight doesn’t mean I think anythin’ less of you, or I’m not serious about our relationship. M'so fuckin’ serious, y/n.” Rafe pulls out of your pussy, making you wince; his large palm quickly soothes the ache. Rafe turns you into his chest, wrapping his towering frame in yours. “How could I not be serious about you, baby?” He mumbles warmly against your lips. You look up at him, matching his gaze. ”S'no question who you belong to, honey. Cam knows you’re mine. I had you first. M'gonna have you when he’s gone. Alright? Just let us take care of you like you take care of me. A'ight?“
"Okay, daddy,” you smile as you rest your hands on Rafe’s muscular chest, trying to contain your excitement as you see his ring adorned on your tiny finger. Rafe glances down as well, chuckling to himself as he sees how happy the gesture made you.
“Looks good on you, baby," he croons. "Let’s have a good night. Yeah?”
“Let’s do it.”
You start moving your hips to the music; the bass bumps in your chest. Your friend quickly grabs you by your hips, turning you away from her; you start grinding on her. Your hands drift up your thighs, working back down as you roll your body nice and slow. “Where’s Rafe?” One of your friends screams over the track. You smile and shrug as you continue to move. “You think you could introduce me to Cam?” She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction. No way.
“Sure," you breathe, brushing her off.
Where are they? Tonight has been fun. Cam is every bit as gentlemanly as Rafe. He asked me about school, my major, and my friends, but it was all very "normal”, almost as if that conversation with Rafe in the shower hadn’t happened.
Was he genuinely interested in me like Rafe said he was? Or did he change his mind? You look out into the packed college bar; a deep sea of students grinding and moving to the beat. Your dance partner gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheeks before getting whisked away by her boyfriend, leaving you solo again.
The void is quickly filled as your body is claimed by Rafe, taking you from behind. He presses his chest against your back, rough hands working up your bare thighs, resting on your hips. “You look good, baby girl,” he groans. “This fuckin’ body." His lips meet your neck, kissing and nipping his way to your ear as you grind to the beat. You can feel his rock-hard cock through his jeans, pressed against your ass. His rough fingers move down, drifting lower and lower, making your pulse below. "Bet this pussy’s so wet,” he groans, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.
Rafe applies a little more pressure, pressing his fingers on top of your clothed pussy; rubbing small circles on top. Oh my god. Your body tingles, warmth coursing through your system as you feel little spurs of pleasure between your thighs. You breathe deeply, taking in his cologne, eyes widening when you take in a subtle differences.
This isn’t Rafe.
You look ahead, watching as Rafe lifts his red SOLO cup to his lips, his smirk half-seen as he stares you down. He gives you a flirty nod before tossing back the rest of his gin and tonic. You look down at the large set of hands on your body, seeing his twins matching gold Cameron ring on his finger. Cam’s body is familiar, the shape of him fitting perfectly with yours, but his hold is heavy, touch not as gentle as Rafe’s. His kisses are rough, sending chills up your spine as you rest your hands on top of his, guiding them closer to your sweet spot as Rafe watches on.
Cam’s fingers trace your inner thigh, toying with the soaked lace of your panties. “Y/n…" He moans against your skin. You lean back against him, tipping your chin up in his. Your heart skips a beat when you see Cam’s face, the sight of him making this all that more real. He looks so good, so fucking good; Rafe’s double in every sense of the word, donning a black v-neck instead of a white. His gold chain lays on his chiseled chest, glinting in the laser lights. The only visible difference is his buzzed hair. Cam wets his lip, blue eyes sparkling down on yours.
He pushes your panties to the side, causing you to gasp; Cam quickly claims your lips, stealing your breath. Rafe’s brother teases your entrance with the tip of his rough finger, making you whimper on his lips. He draws his hand away, bending you over. You rest your hands on your knees as you throw your ass back into him. Cam’s grip tightens on your hips, pulling you closer; the two of you fucking clothed.
Rafe pinches his jeans, adjusting himself clearly, loving what he sees. He calls over to the bartender, yelling for his tab, making your heart pick up pace as you see the plan set in motion.
Cam grabs you by your waist, turning you around; pulling you close to his chest. One hand works around the back of your neck, guiding your focus toward his eyes as his other hand continues to massage your clit. You feel a heat building in your belly, lashes fluttering as you look up at him.
"Rafe said you were a good girl, y/n. That true?" He rasps in a voice just a little deeper than Rafe’s.
"I - I’m a good girl," you whimper.
"Then cum for me." Cam pulls you in a little closer as you feel yourself about to lose control. Fuck. Am I gonna cum in front of all these people? You look around, the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd off in their own worlds. "Eyes on me? Wanna see your face, princess. Wanna see my brother’s pretty little slut cum on my hand in front of all these people," Cam taunts. He leans in, lips brushing against yours. "Our hands.” Ours? You gasp as Rafe grabs you by the waist, plunging two thick fingers between your thighs. He fucks them into your pussy effortlessly, curling and stroking with precision.
“He told you to cum," Rafe warns.
You grit your teeth, gripping onto Rafe’s wrist and Cam’s shirt as your orgasm claims your body. The two boys work you through your release. Cam watches you closely, taking in your beautiful features as you cum for him for the first time. Rafe slips his fingers out of your pussy, sucking the mess clean as he always does. "What do you say, brother? Let’s get our girl outta here. Hmm?”
Dropping part 2 soon 💕
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