it's your first halloween since the breakup. this time, you're not in a matching costume with him. no more forcing him into it. the feeling of him acting like he hated it, but he didn't. especially because it made you so happy.
as a greek goddess, you looked ethereal; in a short white dress that flowed with every step and gold jewelry gleamed all over your body, and eyes laced with the shine— every bit the goddess he used to worship.
"i call next on beer pong, c'mon. i'll show you how it's done." the familiar voice beamed over all the noise and every other person around you.
his laughter too. you shouldn’t still know the difference between his real laugh and his 'i can't stand this idiot' laugh.
but you did— and it made you nauseous.
"hey, maybe don't turn around..." kiara grimaced, biting the rim of her red solo cup.
"what? what's wrong?" you spun around, following the sound of him without thinking— like it was coded into you.
spotting him instantly, you really can't believe your eyes. what the fuck?
a greek god.
he was a greek god. you were a greek goddess.
you were fucking matching.
"i tried to warn you," she groaned, looking at you with a frown.
a golden wreath crown, the white toga, and his flip flop sandals. he looked different. his buzz cut was stiffly growing out, but he knew he made it work.
maybe you’re seeing things, but his arms were bigger, more defined than you remembered. he didn't look good— no, he looked… hot.
why does every little detail of him haunt you?
as the party went on, you both kept missing each other's gazes. rafe watched you interact with every guy, every girl, and even your drink. a habit he hadn't dropped since the breakup it seemed.
and you, fighting a proud smile, watched him win beer pong over and over again. his cocky, asshole toothy grin and waving his arms up in the air— motioning for cheers.
drink after drink, you've already lost count. your feet hurt in those ridiculous heels, you felt sticky around the humid house party, and you needed to hide in the bathroom for a breather. asap.
"hey, i'm going to the bathroom. i'll be right back!" you shouted by kie's ear.
she nodded. "need me to come with?" she asked knowingly. even if you didn't tell her how you felt, you were radiating your emotions through the amount of drinks and sighs escaping you subconsciously.
"no, i'm okay. thank you," giving a false smile, you turned and made your way to the stupidly long line for the bathroom. stumbling past tipsy dancers, strangers locked in kisses, and a karaoke corner belting out off-key tunes, you finally made it to the back of the line.
a girl flew out of the closet, clearly furious, and plowed into you. you tripped on your own feet and pitched backward, arms flailing.
someone caught you from behind, arms grasped around your waist.
your heart relaxed with relief, and you stood yourself straight, "jeez, thank you so—" you dusted yourself off, looked up, and paused. "rafe?"
"hello," he chuckled. "are you okay? that chick just zoomed right past you. good thing i was here."
"right..." you fixed yourself without even noticing. "yes, i'm good."
and for some reason, your heart seemed to be struggling figuring out if you're face to face with a lion rather than your ex boyfriend… but both situations were plausible for the most part.
"i like your costume," his eyes moved ever so slowly down your body, like he had forgotten and needed the memory back desperately.
you groaned, cheeks pink with embarrassment, "yeah, thanks. showing up to a halloween party and accidentally matching with my ex wasn't exactly on my bingo card for tonight."
"it isn't so bad," he pointed at you. "you look good, i look good. mostly you look really good, doll."
you nodded awkwardly. but honestly, there were a million butterflies in your stomach.
a weird cloud of silence filled the space between you two.
he held your gaze like it mattered more than anything, even as you darted your eyes everywhere else. the effect he had on you was impossible to shake.
you cackled, hand hovering over your lips. "i'm so sorry."
"what are you laughing at, drunky?"
"no, no. you're right. i'm really drunk. this is just so much funnier drunk for some reason," your words slurred as you went.
"what is?" he tilted his head at the way you talked.
"the accidental matching costumes. running into you. no— literally falling into your arms. it's funny, right?"
rafe let out a low laugh, a smirk tugging at his lips. he was having fun with you, even if the rest of the world would never know— only you, if you dared to ask.
"i hope i won't have to carry you home again." he elbowed your arm teasingly, reminding you of last halloween’s memories.
you rolled your eyes, smiling small. "kie's been getting pretty buff. i think it'll be her this time."
"kie's a mermaid. i'm a greek god. shouldn't it be me?" he snickered, flexing an arm for you. "c'mon, look at that."
"you're something else. how do we always end up crossing paths?" you pushed his arm down (also to feel the progress secretly).
you smiled, tilting your head as he laughed. the tipsy warmth in your chest refused to let you look away, even if you wanted to.
"don’t just look at me like that… i expect more than that from a goddess," he bit his lip, something he did when deep in thought.
you didn't say anything. you were already playing out the rest of the night in your head. maybe that was the issue between you two.
rafe was always in the now with ease, but you? you were always in the future, a hundred steps ahead and overthinking each one. too many clashes.
but from now until the moment you get home, he stayed close, never leaving your side. kie kept glancing at you, making sure you were okay. and as the minutes passed, you and kie got progressively drunker. rafe refused to leave you two alone, insisting on staying involved.
eventually, he dropped kie off at her house, then on the way to yours, his eyes never leaving you during the car ride. he even fed you a granola bar and handed you water from the center console, like he couldn’t help but take care of you.
and when he carried you out from the truck, he kept you close against him, arms keeping his jacket wrapped around you. you couldn't even recall the second he put it on you either…
and by the time you were inside the house, rafe brought you up to your bedroom, tucking you in and taking off your makeup.
"i don't know if us crossing paths often is good or bad— but i miss you, sweet girl." he muttered as he tossed the makeup wipes away.
he just watched you for a bit, and you pretended you were asleep.
because the second you fell asleep, you would wake up and realize that you would never get that version of him back.
the one who laughed too loud at parties, who carried you into your house without a second thought, who made even the chaos feel like a dream.
like seeing you in a costume that mirrored his and remembering how close you once were— rafe cameron was only effortless, only captivating, when he wasn't really yours.
— a/n: 1200 words… hahah this is way longer than i wanted it lmao but i told y'all i cannot write a fricking blurb... i really liked this tho 💔💔my heart HURTS FOR MY BABIES UGH
Calling exbf rafe to tell him good night like the TikTok trend, you know he will eat that shit up!! He will be trying to play it off cool but blushing really and taking that as a sign she wants him back,
you’re curled up in sarah’s bed, legs tangled in a thrifted blanket that smells like lavender detergent and your childhood secrets. her room’s glowing with that late summer golden ligh—windows cracked open, cicadas humming, a forgotten candle flickering in the corner. both of you are belly laughing, the kind that makes your stomach sore and eyes watery.
you’re scrolling through tiktok, passing the phone back and forth like a shared lifeline. somewhere between a “get ready with me” and a recipe for baked feta pasta, you see it. it’s a video with two girls, similar to you and sarah, laying down and giggling while one calls their ex to say ‘goodnight’.
you freeze, thumb hovering over the screen. sarah looks up from her bag of pretzels, face already twisting into a mischievous grin. “oh! you have to do that to rafe.” a giggle leaves her lips at the mere thought of torturing her lovesick brother.
you scoff, but you’re already smiling, and chuckling at the possibility. “what? no. that’s evil.”
you and rafe had broken up two months ago, after two years of being tangled up in each other. it hadn’t been ugly, not exactly, just…inevitable in that slow, splintering way. like something sacred wearing thin at the seams. it wrecked him anyway. left him half-alive and mean about it, walking around like he didn’t bleed for you, like he wasn’t still sleeping in the hoodie you left behind. no one really talked about it, but everyone knew—rafe cameron hadn’t been the same since.
“exactly,” she says, beaming. “and besides, he’s so not over you.”
you roll your eyes, but your heart’s beating faster. you grab your phone anyway. “you’re insane,” you mutter, voice breathless with laughter.
“and you love it,” sarah sings, flopping back onto her pillows. “now shhh. put it on speaker.”
your fingers hover for half a second too long over his name before you press call. the phone ringing bounced through the walls of sarah’s bedroom. he picks up on the third ring.
“hello?” his voice catches halfway through the word. it’s low, hesitant, not quite put-together. there’s a pause, and some ruffling in the background. he’s grabbing for a shirt or maybe a recording device to document that this actually was happening.
you swallow a giggle, face already warm. “hi, rafe,” you say like sugar. “just calling to say goodnight.” he’s on the other line flushed, and trying to figure out if you’re serious or if this is a dream.
“uh…” his voice shifts, softens. you can hear the way he bites back a grin.“okay? sweet dreams, baby.”
your eyes widen. sarah clutches your arm like you’ve just won the lottery. “goodnight,” you say, voice a whisper now.
“night,” he murmurs back. then, like he can’t help it, he murmurs, “call me tomorrow?”
you hang up before you can say yes. you toss the phone onto sarah’s floral comforter like it’s radioactive, then bury your face in one of her overpriced anthropology pillows and scream loud enough to rattle the fairy lights above her bed. your face is tomato red, ears hot, skin warm to the touch. you can still hear his voice in your head, syrupy and low.
sarah’s shrieking, “baby?! oh my god, he’s still in love with you.” she barks out laughter until her body can’t hold itself upright. she falls onto the bed beside you, clutching her stomach.
on the other side of the line, rafe leans back in bed like it’s no big deal. as if his pulse isn’t sprinting and his ears aren’t burning. he tosses his phone onto the side table, arms crossed behind his head, smug little smirk tugging at his mouth.
she wants me back so bad, he thinks, biting back a grin.
but his cheeks are pink, and his heart’s thudding out a rhythm he hasn’t felt since you used to sleep in his shirts. he tries to play it off, eyes flicking toward the ceiling like he’s already moved on. but three seconds later he’s picking up the phone again just to check if you texted. just to look at your name one more time.
a/n: just a little blurb bc i haven’t been able to get that scene of him tied up on the boat out of my head 😵💫 spoilers for s4 part 2 below the cut!
rafe cameron m.list
you manoeuvred through the somewhat cluttered boat, hair sticking to your skin due to the sweat from the sun beating down on you.
you slowly opened the door, back to it as you held a tray with a cup of water and some food on it, your eyes falling on rafe, tied up and groaning as he came to.
you bit the inside of your cheek as you closed the door behind yourself, setting the tray down as his eyes settled on you.
“great”, he pauses, looking up at you with that signature smug smirk of his.
“just like i said, no good deed goes unpunished,” he murmurs, tugging on the rope that held his wrists together.
you sighed at his words, looking down at your beat up shoes. you felt horrible, seeing him all tied up like that—hell the man was your first and only love, of course you felt horrible; but you quickly pushed those thoughts aside and cleared your throat, picking your head up to look at him, your eye catching on the slight bruise forming under his eye, as well as the cut in his brow.
before you could even think about it, your legs were carrying you forward, grabbing a piece of paper towel and wetting it with the water you had brought him, crouching down to his level.
“can i?” you spoke softly, looking right into those same blue eyes that you loved so dearly.
he looked at you for a bit, his eyes searching yours before offering a slight nod as your go ahead.
you instinctively reached up, softly pressing the paper towel to the cut on his brow, a hiss leaving his parted lips due to the sting.
“sorry,” you muttered out, your other hand moving on its own accord and planting itself on his jaw, holding him steady.
the tension in the cramped space was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.
you could feel his breath against your neck, the slow up and down motion of his chest speeding up slightly due to your close proximity.
rafe cameron didn’t get nervous or shy around anyone, but you? god his heart was in his stomach, repeatedly clenching his jaw as you tended to him, memories from the time you we’re together flooding his mind.
after a while you cleared your throat, standing back up and stepping back, putting some much needed space between the two of you.
“there’s uh—there’s some aspirin in there for you—if you need it,” you spoke, motioning to the tray at his feet.
he scoffs at your words, shaking his head.
“aspirin? oh, what? are you gonna—you gonna throw it up my mouth like a seal?” he spits, his words laced with sarcasm, once again tugging on the rope around his wrists.
you sigh once more, rolling your eyes at his tone.
“no one trusts you rafe,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “and honestly why would they, after everything that’s happened?” you asked, flinching slightly when he kicks at the box he’s tied to.
“yeah that include you too? you don’t trust me mhm? after everything?” he pries, eyes piercing almost right through you as he stared you down.
“i was trying to help!” he yells, causing you to close your eyes, taking a breath.
“we’ll let you off when we get there, but until then, no one trusts you,” you reiterate, looking down to the floor again, biting into your bottom lip as you knew you couldn’t answer him because deep down you still trusted him, you still wanted him, even though you had every reason not to.
he scoffs at your words again, your eyes stinging as tears began to pool in them, causing you to sniffle, furiously wiping at your eyes as you reached for the door handle, rushing out as you heard yell your name as you closed it.
the boat sways beneath your feet as you reach for something to hold on to, your vision slightly blurred due to the salt water combined with the rain, sloshing in due to the rocky waters, the boat on the brink of capsizing due to the storm.
“hold on to something!” you hear kiara shout, your hand coming up to wipe at your eyes as you find purchase by a nearby shelf, gripping on for dear life as the boat viciously rocks.
your eyes scan the room, making sure that everyone was still okay, and that’s when you hear it.
“hey!” rafe shouts, still tied up in the room he’s in, water barreling in from the open window.
“hey! assholes! cut me loose, come on!” he yells, everyone looking to you as his voice gets louder.
“hey! get me out of here!” he yells again, your bottom lip trembling as your eyes go wide, already ready to let go and go help him.
“no! no!” cleo says, grabbing onto your arm.
“do not let him out.” pope tells you, staring directly at you, brows furrowed as you continue to hear him scream.
“hey, assholes! im down here!” he yells again, causing you to whip your head to look at cleo, almost a plea for her to let you go.
“he’s gonna drown!” you retort, worry evident in your eyes, cutting pope off as he tries to talk you out of helping rafe.
“im not—im not leaving him down there,” you mumble, tugging your hand free from cleo as you stumble away from where you’d been standing, legs shaky due the boat rocking back and forth, your eyes scanning the kitchen area you’re all situated in, the glint of a blade catching your attention.
you quickly grab for it, stumbling into a nearby surface as you make your way over to the door, body thrown up against it as you tug it open, your eyes landing on a struggling rafe, his head picking up to look at you, relief washing over his body.
you immediately move towards him, crouching down as you roughly begin to cut at the rope, your hand frantically moving back and forth as you try and free him until the rope eventually gives way, rafe immediately standing up, tugging the loose strands from around his wrists and throwing it to the floor.
he’s right behind you now as you leave, your chest heaving as panic sets in.
rafe immediately notices, his hands reaching out to grasp your waist, steadying you against his chest as you two rejoin everyone else.
“you good?” he asks, your gaze solely fixed on the storm outside, the boat roughly swaying now, bottom lip trembling as you’re on the verge of tears.
“hey hey, we’re gonna be fine alright?” he reassures you, moving his one hand from your waist to cup your cheek, turning your head so you’re looking at him.
you hesitantly nod, eyes glassy as you look up at him and although you’re absolutely fearing for your life, having him tell you everything was going to be okay, having him that close to you again? you almost don’t seem to care about the current predicament you were in.
“yeah? that’s my girl,” he hums, a slight smile encompassing his features as he looks down at you, gripping onto a nearby surface with one hand while also holding you close to him.
and in that moment you knew, that no matter what happened, no matter what he did, your heart would always belong to him, and for some sick and twisted reason, you didn’t have a problem with that.
hi bae, i love your writing, and i hope i’m not too late for this lol. but have you ever written anything with exbf!babydaddy!rafe? i feel like 4, 9 and 12 from the sfw prompt list would go well with a hardworking reader who’s always doing everything she can for her daughter but its always downplaying how much she needs every month because she doesnt like taking too much money from rafe (even though if it was up to him, she wouldnt need to lift a finger anymore) and she hates feeling like shes a gold digger (which is something shes heard before from ward and other people on the island, especially after getting pregnant), so she always ends up overworking herself, until it starts to noticeably take a toll on her, even if she wont admit to it when he approaches her about it because she hates bothering people (the root can be family trauma or something like that) and its not like he isnt present, he really is, way more than she ever though he would be (they didnt exactly break up in good terms), but she just hates asking for help and feeling like a burden. but he basically makes her take time off work and move in with him for the time being, with the excuse of her “taking a break” from being a mom and letting him do all the work, but mostly he’s trying to keep an eye on her, but it takes a lot of convincing and arguing until she reluctantly agrees. and they’re still in love with each other, but she wont admit to it, while he has no problem in saying it and its no secret to anyone that he still loves her, and really, theres nothing he wants more than marrying her and living together with the two people he loves the most in the world, and he cant help but feel like this is the first step (of many) to getting that. lol sorry if i got a bit carried away with the plot and asked for too much 💀
let me handle the rest
ex bf!baby daddy!rafe cameron x reader
content warnings: kids (if that scares you), other clean, good ol' fluff (?) :)
w/c: 3.5K (bc 1K wouldn't do this justice)
a/n: bae YOU should have written this bc this concept was so beautiful and well-thought out. i hope you like it!
in part of my one year celebration!
The glow of your laptop screen was the only light left burning in your house at 2 A.M., a blue glow casting sharp, exhausted shadows across the kitchen table. Between your day job, shifts at a cafe, managing the apartment, and trying to be everything your eighteen-month-old daughter needed, you were running on absolute fumes.
You stared at the budget spreadsheet, your eyes blurring with the numbers that stared back at you. Rent was going up. Diapers, groceries, daycare applications—it was a never-ending cycle that’d felt like an inching nightmare as you desperately tried to see where you could shave off another fifty dollars from your monthly expenses. More like I’m shaving years off my life, you thought.
There was always the option to reach out to Rafe; he’d always been insistent on it ever since he’d found out that you’d given birth. But the mere thought of it made your stomach twist in an anxious knot. It almost felt like you were back where you were when you were still dating Rafe, peering over the corner and into Ward’s den as he raised his voice at Rafe, cold and dismissive.
“She’s just another nobody trying to milk you dry until she gets what she wants.”
The words continued to echo in your mind every time you’d set foot into Tannyhill, though it was no different than what you’d soon hear from your friends at the Cut. Every single remark felt like you’d been losing your character and drive to prove to your aunt that you refused to be a burden on anyone, the way she’d always made it out to be. So once those two pink lines appeared on the stick, you were quick to cut Rafe off with no explanation.
Those nine months truly were a blur of sleepless nights, refusing to let up your pride even when you’d wished for him to be there, simply just holding you. Every doctor’s appointment felt more and more bittersweet as the months went on, and soon enough, holding her in your arms was the closest you’d ever come to understanding what people meant when they said love could hurt. Because the second you looked down at her tiny face, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to protect her from becoming someone who had to beg to be cared for the way you once did.
Which was exactly why Rafe finding out months later had gone as horribly as it did.
You still remembered the sound of his fists slamming against your apartment door at nearly midnight, loud enough to rattle the thin walls, as your newborn cried softly against your chest, and fear grew in you. You’d barely managed to pull the door open before Rafe was standing across from you, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot and wild with something between heartbroken disbelief and fury.
“You were seriously never gonna tell me?” His voice cracked harshly. “I had to hear from fucking Kelce that you disappeared because you were pregnant?”
You remembered tightening your hold on your daughter instantly, maternal instinct overriding everything else as you stared at him in stunned silence. Rafe’s gaze dropped then, finally landing on the baby in your arms. And just like that, he stopped breathing.
The anger drained from his face so quickly it was almost frightening, replaced instead with something so devastatingly soft it made your chest ache.
“She’s mine?” he whispered, the fragility in those two words striking harder than they should have. You hated that you started crying the second he asked it because, despite all the anger and hurt and fear, some horrible, selfish part of you had wanted this. Wanted him to be right here, looking at her like she was something sacred, like he once did with you.
Rafe stepped forward carefully, like one wrong movement might make you disappear again. “Why didn’t you call me?”
The question had shattered something in you immediately, because there was no answer you could give him that didn’t sound pathetic.
How were you supposed to explain that every time you almost picked up the phone, you heard your aunt’s voice in your head, reminding you that needing people always came with consequences.
So instead, you’d looked away and whispered, “I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”
Rafe had looked genuinely sick upon hearing that.
“Trapped?” he repeated incredulously. “You think a baby with you would trap me?”
Nothing you could’ve said would’ve made the situation sound better, and yet somehow, your silence hurt him more than if you’d screamed at him.
The argument about child support came two weeks later. The floor looked like it’d had a path etched into it from Rafe pacing in your tiny kitchen while you stood near the counter, stubbornly clutching your daughter to your chest like she was the only thing grounding you.
“This is fucking insane,” Rafe snapped, dragging both hands through his hair. “Why are you acting like I’m some deadbeat you need to protect yourself from?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“You won’t even let me help you.”
“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”
“Bullshit!” The outburst startled the baby enough for her little face to scrunch before soft cries filled the apartment, immediately causing your own frustration to spike.
“Can you not yell around her?” you hissed. Rafe’s expression crumbled instantly at the sound of her crying, guilt flashing across his face before he lowered his voice again.
“Baby,” he said more softly, “please.”
You hated it when he called you that back then. Hated how weak it made you feel. Hated how one word from him could make your resolve start cracking at the edges.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” you scolded, trying to ignore how good it felt to hear him call you by that pet name again. “I can provide for her myself.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“The point,” Rafe bit out, eyes glassy now, “is that she’s my daughter too.”
The apartment fell quiet except for the baby’s soft sniffles. Rafe stepped closer slowly, then, his voice breaking when he spoke again.
“You really think so little of me that you’d rather drown than let me love the two of you?”
A soft knock at your door shattered the silence that you’d found solace in, despite how uncomfortable it is. You jumped, your heart racing with every knock as you cautiously opened the door. To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the porch. He looked too good for someone who was up at two in the morning, wearing a soft gray hoodie, his hands shoved into his pockets. However, the relaxed look melted away the second he saw your face
"Hey," he said softly, his blue eyes instantly scanning your tired expression, the dark circles, the tense set of your shoulders. Though you were exhausted, Rafe couldn’t help but still marvel over how beautiful you were when he first met you, the same eyes he fell in love with, and the same nose that your daughter shared with you. "I saw the light on from the road. Why are you still up?"
"Just... catching up on some work," you lied, stepping back to let him in. "Why are you still out in the morning? You were supposed to pick her up tomorrow afternoon."
Rafe didn't answer right away. He walked into the kitchen, his eyes landing directly on the laptop screen, the crumpled sticky notes, and the calculator that showed a negative number, much to his dismay. He let out a long, heavy breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Was jus’ in the area. I came by because you forgot her favourite blanket at my place, and I knew she wouldn't sleep tomorrow without it," Rafe explained, setting the soft pink fabric on the counter. Then, he turned to you, his expression hardening with genuine concern. "You look like you're about to collapse, mama."
"I'm fine, Rafe. It’s just… been a long week." You went to close the laptop, but he caught your wrist. His grip wasn't tight, but it was firm with the same warmth that you’d once melt into.
"Stop," he murmured. "Just stop. I look at the bank statements. I know exactly what I transfer to you every month, even though your stubborn ass always sends it back. I’ve told you a thousand times, write down the real number and let me handle it.”
You sighed, except you weren’t sure if it was out of frustration or defeat. You could use the extra money to help provide more for your daughter, however, it’d probably cost you more mentally to deal with Ward’s judgment and inadvertently proving him right.
“If it were up to me, you wouldn't have to lift a finger again."
"I don't want your money, Rafe!" The words slipped out harsher than intended, clearly fueled by pure exhaustion. You pulled your wrist away, crossing your arms defensively. "I'm her mother. I provide for her. I am not going to let your family—or anyone else on this island—look at me and think I'm taking advantage of you."
Rafe winced, a flicker of old pain crossing his features. The terms of your breakup hadn't been clean; there had been so much distrust, so much outside noise that he always battled with, yet never handled well. But over the last year, he had truly shown up; he’d done the work his own father had never done, and perhaps even more. Rafe was a phenomenal father, way more present and dedicated than you had ever dared to hope.
"Fuck what my dad said. Fuck what anyone else thinks," Rafe said fiercely, stepping closer into your space. "This is about us. It's about you being so stubborn that you're running yourself into the ground. You're working yourself to death to prove a point to people who don't matter."
"I don't need help," you whispered, your voice cracking. The pressure behind your eyes was building, a familiar, terrifying wave of panic threatening to break through. You couldn't breathe. Your chest felt tight just thinking about the spreadsheet, bills, and judgment all crashing down at once. "I can do it by myself. I have to."
Something in Rafe’s face changed at that, as he felt the same heartbreak he’d felt for you before begin to settle in again. “You’re the mother of my kid,” he said softly. “Why do you act like taking care of you is some kind of burden?”
You didn’t answer, mostly because you didn’t have one to give back. In the meantime, Rafe scrubbed a hand over his face before looking around the apartment again — at the laundry piled on the chair, the half-finished work on your table, the half-eaten frozen dinner left on the counter that looked like it’d been more than a day since you’d eaten. Rafe could practically feel the exhaustion soaked into the walls.
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“I’m managing.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re barely even surviving as it is.” He didn't push the argument. Instead, he stepped right into your personal space, grabbed your hands, trying to relish in that fact that he could hold you once again.
"Hey, look at me," Rafe commanded softly, tugging your hands until you forced your eyes up to meet his. You let out a long breath, the tension leaving your shoulders as Rafe’s thumb stroked the back of your hand. He always knew how to pull you back from the edge. "Forget the budget. You still work at that insurance claims place?”
“Yeah, why?” Before you could rebuild your walls, Rafe took a step back, taking charge. He closed your laptop with one hand and slid your notebooks into your bag.
"Alright. Pack a bag for the week. You and her are staying at my place."
"What? No, Rafe, absolutely not—"
“Yes, you are," he interrupted, his tone leaving zero room for negotiation. "You are taking a vacation from being the solo parent. For the next two weeks, you’re staying under my roof. I’m doing the morning routines, I’m making the meals, I’m doing the laundry. You are going to actually get some sleep for once, you’re going to read a book like you always did, and you’re going to let yourself breathe."
"I have work-"
"Take some PTO. Call in sick. I don't care," Rafe countered, stepping close again, his voice dropping to a plea. "Please. Just let me do this for you and take care of you guys. Like an actual family. You're the mother of my kid, and you're-" He cut himself off, the unspoken words heavy in the air.
Rafe wished he could complete his thought, tell you how much he still loved you, even after everything you’d both gone through to end up where you were now. He’d tell the whole world if it meant getting you back. You, on the other hand, kept your feelings under lock and key, terrified that letting him back into your heart would mean losing the independence you fought so hard for.
“I’m…?” You stared at him, an eyebrow raised as you looked into his pleading eyes. You could feel the exhaustion take over your ability to try and keep your guard up, just wanting the conversation to come to an end before you agreed to something you knew you’d regret later.
“You’re not a burden, okay?”
You looked at the closed laptop, then back to Rafe. "Just for a little bit?" you whispered.
Rafe’s face broke into a relieved, breathtaking smile. "Yeah. Just a bit, nothing more."
Staying at Tannyhill was supposed to be temporary, nothing more. At least that was what you were telling yourself, anyway. Yet somehow, within days, Rafe had made space for you everywhere, and even worse, it felt normal.
Your favourite coffee creamer suddenly appeared in the fridge. Your skincare products were lined up beside his sink like they’d meant to be there. Sometimes, you’d find yourselves napping together on the couch as your daughter lay on Rafe’s chest.
That afternoon, you stood quietly in the doorway of the nursery Rafe had painstakingly put together, watching him through a blur of conflicted emotions. He was sitting on the plush rug, entirely devoted to building a tower of blocks just to let your daughter knock it down with a squeal of pure delight. There was a gentle, unhurried patience in the way he spoke to her, a soft smile playing on his lips that you rarely saw back when the two of you were together. He truly was the type of father you’d hope he’d be for her—present, protective, and completely wrapped around her little finger.
The warmth of the scene sent a familiar prickle of panic beneath your skin. It was getting too easy to depend on him, and soon, the ghosts of old comments from Ward and your aunt began to whisper in your ear, warning you that you were getting comfortable, that you were slipping into the exact gold-digging stereotype they’d accused you of.
Stepping back into the guest room, you pulled your duffel bag onto the bed and began blindly stuffing your folded clothes inside. You needed to leave before you forgot how to survive on your own.
"What are you doing?"
Rafe’s voice broke the quiet, making you jump. He was leaning against the doorframe, his eyebrows knit together as his eyes dropped to the open bag. The warmth from moments ago was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp defensiveness.
"I'm just gathering our things," you said, keeping your voice even as you avoided his gaze. "It’s been over a week, Rafe. I’ve had my break, and I don't want to overstay my welcome. We need to go home."
"Home?" Rafe stepped into the room, closing the distance between you until he could gently catch your wrists, stopping your frantic folding. "Your apartment is a pressure cooker, and you're working yourself into the ground just to prove a point to deadbeats who don't care about you. Look around you. You should stay here. You know how normal and right it feels."
"That’s exactly what I don’t want," you countered, pulling your hands back to your chest, your voice trembling. "It’s easy for you, Rafe. But every time I see your money transfer or stay under your roof, I feel like I'm losing my drive. I spent my whole life being told I was a burden, and I won't let people think I used our daughter to get a free ride in Figure Eight."
Rafe winced, a raw flicker of pain crossing his features before his expression hardened with intense conviction. He reached up, cupping your face in his warm palms, forcing you to look at him.
"You can call me. Day or night. I'm there for you," he said fiercely, his thumb sweeping across your cheekbone. "Whether you're ready to admit you still love me or not, I'm not going anywhere. You are not a burden to me, and you never will be. Please, just stay. Let me make this easier for you."
Rafe stepped in front of you, gently taking the blanket from your hands and tossing it onto the chair. He reached out, capping his hands over your shoulders, forcing you to stop moving.
"This is your reality if you want it to be," Rafe said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't care about the island. I don't care about my dad. I care about you. I want you here. Every single day."
"Rafe, don't do this," you begged, tears threatening to spill over. "It's not that easy. I can't just rely on you. What happens if things go wrong again? I can’t work my way back up again that easily."
Rafe's expression softened as he reached up, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Whatever the fuck happens, I’m still going to be here for you. M’kay? It’s always been for you.”
You stared at him, the heavy armor you’d worn for years finally cracking under the weight of his sincerity. You were so incredibly tired of fighting the current.
"Fine," you whispered, letting out a breath you felt like you’d been holding for months. "I’ll stay. But only on one condition."
Rafe’s face flooded with relief, a breathtaking smile breaking through his worry. "Anything. Name it."
"I keep my job, and I pay for my own personal expenses," you stated firmly, looking him dead in the eye. "You don't pressure me to quit, and you don't completely take over. If I'm staying here, I need to know I'm still pulling my own weight."
Rafe let out a soft laugh, pulling you against his chest in a tight, protective embrace. "Deal. No pressure. You can work as much as you want—just promise me you’ll let me handle the rest."
As you buried your face in his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart, it felt strange how something you’d spent years fearing could feel so much like peace. Outside, the late evening sun spilled gold across the windows of Tannyhill, washing the room in soft amber light while distant waves crashed somewhere beyond the cliffs. Your daughter’s laughter echoed faintly from the room, pulling you back to your reality.
Rafe’s hand slid gently up and down your back, slow and absentminded, like he was soothing something inside you that had been aching for years. There was no expectation in his touch. No condition. No looming reminder that you owed him for being loved. Simply the warmth of Rafe’s love.
You pulled back slightly to look at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you with that same unbearable softness he’d carried ever since he found out about her. As if somewhere along the way, despite everything, you had still become the center of his world.
“What?” you murmured, trying to hide the smile creeping on your face.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Nothin’.”
“You’re staring.”
“Can you blame me?”
You rolled your eyes lightly, but the gesture lacked its usual bite. Rafe noticed immediately, his smile growing softer as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your daughter’s laughter rang out again, bright and careless enough to make something warm bloom painfully in your chest. Rafe glanced toward the sound instinctively before looking back at you.
“My girls,” he murmured absentmindedly.
The words settled somewhere deep inside you.
And for once, instead of feeling the urge to run from them, you let yourself stay exactly where you were, wrapped in his arms while the sky outside melted into shades of pink and gold, soft ocean air drifting through the open windows as Tannyhill slowly began to feel less like somewhere you were temporarily staying and more like home.
STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR | JJ MAYBANK X READER | IMAGINE |
PAIRING: Mailboy!JJ Maybank x Reader, Ex!Rafe Cameron x Reader
SYNOPSIS: You get stuck in an elevator with JJ Maybank
WORD COUNT → 76
WARNING(S): None really.
AUTHORS NOTE: Wrote this cause I'm nervous with how the first chapter of Run Baby Run came out. and needed a distraction.
JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST | RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST | OUTERBANKS MASTERLIST | TAG LIST |
Y/N had been having a rather ordinary day at the office. As the receptionist for a prestigious law firm in the Outerbanks, she was used to a monotonous routine of answering phones, greeting clients, and sorting through the never-ending stack of mail that came in each day. But today, something out of the ordinary was about to happen, something that would turn her mundane workday upside down.
It was a late afternoon, and Y/N was preparing to leave the office. She had just finished sorting through the last pile of mail when she heard the ding of the elevator arriving on her floor.
Without thinking much of it, she grabbed her purse and made her way toward the open elevator doors.
Just as she stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor, a figure came rushing toward her.
Y/N groaned inwardly when she realized who it was. It was JJ Maybank, the infamous mail boy of the office building. He had a reputation for being a troublemaker and had an annoying habit of flirting with Y/N every time he delivered the mail.
In fact, he often sent packages to the office himself, just so he could see her every day and tease her relentlessly.
"Of course, it had to be you," Y/N muttered under her breath as JJ squeezed into the elevator just before the doors closed. He shot her a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the annoyance he caused her.
The elevator began its descent, but after a few moments, it suddenly came to a jarring halt.
Y/N's heart skipped a beat, and she yelped in surprise. "What happened?" she yelled, frantically pushing the buttons to try to get it moving again.
JJ leaned against the elevator wall, his usual cocky demeanor faltering slightly. "Calm down," he muttered, examining the control panel. "It's just stuck."
Y/N's frustration grew as she continued to push the buttons with no success. "Well? How do we get it unstuck?" she demanded, her irritation seeping into her voice.
JJ took a step toward her, his expression oddly serious. "Why don't we jump at the same time?" he suggested.
Y/N couldn't help but laugh, thinking he was making another one of his jokes. But when she looked at him, she saw that he was dead serious. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response.
She blinked in disbelief. "You're serious?"
JJ nodded. "Yeah. It might work."
Y/N huffed in exasperation. "Fine." She reluctantly took his outstretched hand, not entirely sure if this was a brilliant idea or a recipe for disaster.
Without further hesitation, they both counted to three and jumped simultaneously.
To their surprise, the elevator jolted, and then, with a loud thud, it began to plummet.
Y/N's heart raced as they fell, and she instinctively gripped JJ tightly.
Panic welled up inside her as she realized that their impromptu plan had gone terribly wrong.
But just as quickly as it had started, the fall stopped.
The elevator came to a sudden, perfect halt, leaving them both disoriented and breathless.
Y/N's eyes widened as she stared at the illuminated floor indicator.
It had stopped at the exact floor she had been heading to.
The doors slid open, and to her shock, her ex-boyfriend Rafe Cameron stood there, staring at her in astonishment.
Rafe was a wealthy heir who worked on the floor below hers at his father's company, Cameron Enterprises.
They had broken up on bad terms, and seeing him again, especially in such a bizarre situation, left Y/N feeling utterly mortified.
JJ, cradling Y/N's head against his chest to protect her from the fall, was the first to break the silence. "Well, this is awkward," he quipped, offering an awkward grin.
Rafe's surprise quickly turned to jealousy as he took in the sight of Y/N in JJ's arms. "What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?" he demanded.
Y/N was still trying to catch her breath and make sense of the situation. "I was just… going home," she stammered.
JJ helped her to her feet, keeping a protective arm around her. "We got stuck in the elevator," he added, as if that explained everything.
Rafe's eyes narrowed as he looked between them. "And who's this?" he asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.
Y/N sighed, feeling utterly trapped between her ex-boyfriend and her office's notorious flirt. "This is JJ," she said reluctantly. "He's the mail boy."
JJ extended a hand toward Rafe, trying to appear friendly despite the awkward circumstances. "Nice to meet you, man."
Rafe shook JJ's hand begrudgingly, still clearly fuming. "Right."
As the tension in the elevator grew thicker, Y/N couldn't help but wonder how her ordinary workday had taken such a bizarre turn. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to her colleagues or what would happen next between her, JJ, and Rafe. But one thing was for sure: this elevator ride would be a story she would never forget.
you’re curled in on yourself at the edge of the water, knees hugged to your chest, cheek sticky with mascara stained tears. the tide is low as it hits your bare feet. the moonlight glints off your skin like something reverent.
you didn’t mean to cry here. you didn’t mean to cry at all. but your chest cracked open like a storm-bloated sky. bare feet in cold sand, silence thick around you, the voice mail still playing in your head on loop.
“you’re exhausting, you know that? i can’t keep doing this. no one else would, either.”
it’s funny, almost. or it would be, if it didn’t hurt so much. you hadn’t meant to get so attached to him. it was a friends with benefits relationship that went wrong. you started depending on him, reaching out for him in the night only to be met with cold sheets. he didn’t like that. he wasn’t rafe.
“you’re kidding me.” rafe’s voice rings through the silence. the sound of sand crunching becomes louder and louder. your breath stutters. you press your face harder into your arms.
he drops down beside you without ceremony, sneakers skidding in the sand, and suddenly the air smells like cologne and rafe cameron—your ex. your mistake, if you ask anyone else. your ache, if you ask yourself.
“who did this to you?” his voice cuts like glass. “why are you crying out here all alone?”
you don’t answer. you don’t trust your voice not to break again. so you sit there, breathing through the sting in your throat, the familiar ache of him being too close. he leans in, sharp and careful at the same time. that unbearable paradox of him. his hand ghosts your back like he wants to pull you in but isn’t sure if he should.
“tell me who it was,” he says again. lower now, quieter, dangerous. his hand wraps around your wrist, thumb stroking your skin. he fights the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours.
you shake your head. “it’s not important.”
“wrong,” he snaps, teeth clenched. “you’re crying. it’s important. whoever made you feel like this,” he takes in a sharp breath, “i swear to god, i’ll end them.”
your lip trembles. “you don’t get to do this anymore, rafe.” you pull your hand from his grasp and bury your face in your knees. he flinches. but doesn’t back off—he never has. he looks at you like you’re some kind of divine puzzle that he forgot how to solve.
“you think i stopped caring just ‘cause you broke up with me?” he says, voice thick. “sweetheart, that’s not how this works.”
the nickname lands like a bruise. it ignites a flame of memories—late night car rides, stolen kisses, sweet nothings in the sand of this very beach. it’s stupid how much you still want to fall apart in his arms.
you drag your eyes up to meet his. he looks wild. hair a mess, jaw tight, eyes burning, worried, like you’re still his to protect.
you say, “he said i’m too much.” rafe stills. his hand grips the sand beneath him. he stops breathing. “said i’m dramatic, selfish. that i make everything harder than it has to be.”
the silence that follows is thick and trembling. he’s frozen, staring at you like he might actually snap in two.
“what else?” his voice is soft. you remember that tone all too well. it’s the same one he’d use when you two used to call it love.
you hesitate, “that i don’t know when to shut up. that my feelings are exhausting.”
he shuts his eyes, breathing hard. he’s trying not to get up and track the guy down right now. “jesus,” he breathes, like a prayer or a curse. “jesus, baby.” rafe’s hand slides over yours, warm and comforting. he brushes his thumb over your knuckles like he’s trying to rub the words off your skin. “you’re not too much,” he says, looking at you like he wants to memorize every trace of sadness on your face just so he can erase it. “you’re exactly enough. always have been.”
you let out a shaky breath, something breaking in your chest. “you used to say that when i cried.”
“i meant it then and i mean it now.” his fingers move slow, tentative, like he’s scared you’ll pull away. “you think it was hard loving you? no, baby. what’s hard is trying not to loving you.” you want to look away, but he doesn’t let you. tilts your chin until your eyes meet his. “c’mon, i’ll bring you home.”
“no,” you stutter and the tears stream down once again. “he’ll be mad at me. if he finds out-”
“then i’ll bury him so deep that the tide won’t find him,” he grins, bumping your shoulder with his playfully.
you almost laugh. almost cry again, too. but then he pulls you into his chest, just long enough that your heart remembers what it feels like to be held by someone who never needed to be convinced you were worth the trouble.
he always made a mess of love, but he never made you feel like one.
can you pleaseee write exbf!rafe whos not over reader?? will come when she calls in the blink of an eye nd stuff ;-;
you call him at 1:42am. no message, no context, no apology. just his name lit up on your screen like a dare. you pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. you bury your face into your skin as the phone rings. he answers before the second ring.
“baby?”
rafe’s already in the truck before you respond. he doesn’t ask where you are because you still haven’t turned off your location since the breakup. he doesn’t ask why you called because he doesn’t need to know, he just needs you to be ok.
every broken sob into the phone is a fragment of his heart shattering. he clenches his jaw and shushes you through the device. he drives 100 in a 35mph zone, cuts off cars like a teenager with a new license, and curses at every red light. his hand is tight on the wheel, teeth sunk into his lip hard enough to draw blood.
he could’ve had his tongue down another girl’s throat and he would’ve dropped everything for you. not just because he’s not over you, but because you’re still his number one priority. and god help the person who tries to mess with you.
you’re sitting on the curb when he pulls up. hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, mascara cracked at the corners. his heart breaks a little. he thinks of every person who could have done this to you and plays out how he’ll kill them.
he kills the engine and steps out of the car. he doesn’t say anything, just scoops you into his big arms and carries you to the passenger’s seat. he buckles your seatbelt for you as tears stream down your face.
when he slides into the driver’s seat and drives. nowhere in particular. just far enough that the silence starts to feel like something warmer than regret. every so often he stares at you. long enough to analyze all your freckles, but short enough to keep the car steady.
“you okay?” he asks after a while. it’s the softest thing he’s said in months. you don’t answer. just lean your head against the window and let the ache breathe for both of you. rafe doesn’t push, doesn’t ask who hurt you this time, or why you didn’t call him sooner. he just keeps driving, hand drifting dangerously close to your thigh, like he’s trying to remember what it felt like to be allowed to touch you without thinking.
and when you finally fall asleep, head tilting toward his shoulder like instinct, he lets you. it’s the closest he’s been to whole in weeks, and he’d rather shatter all over again than miss it.
