warnings: mentions of drugs, mentions of a child drowning, swearing, alcohol
summary: You and Rafe were the couple that no one saw coming. The kook king and the pogue princess falling in love was a shock to the whole island. The pogues questioned your relationship, the kooks despised it, and Ward took extreme measures to tear you two apart every chance he got. It was only a matter of time before the pressure caused the relationship to break. The constant arguing, the yelling, it all became too much. Rafe turned to drugs and you isolated yourself from everyone until there was too much damage to repair. But life has a funny way of bringing two souls back together. In this instance, in the form of a three year old little boy.
part 16
Notes: shorter chapter than normal but we’re building to something… should we have rafe run into luke when he picks theo up? i can’t decide if i should make rafe show up at the same time or delay the inevitable…
Coachella looked even dreamier than you imagined. Glitter floated through the air like confetti, the sun sinking low and warm over a sea of pastel cowboy hats, rhinestones, and daisy chains. You could barely stand still — the music, the lights, the pure vibe of it all had you bouncing on your toes in excitement.
“Rafe, look! They have the pink drinks over there—” you squealed, tugging on his hand as you pointed toward a distant booth, your stack of festival bracelets jingling.
He barely spared it a glance. “Later,” he muttered, tugging you back into his chest before you could wander off like you always tried to do. His big hands wrapped around your waist, firm and grounding. “You’re not running off in the middle of all these people, alright? Stay where I can see you.”
You giggled, craning your neck up to beam at him. “But it’s right there, Rafe! I can be super quick!” Your voice was syrupy sweet, full of promise.
Rafe just stared at you for a second, the muscle in his jaw ticking. God, you really didn’t have a clue sometimes. You were too busy twirling in your tiny little white crochet dress, the hem flipping up every time you moved. And the way you smiled — wide, bright, like you didn’t even know half the guys around you were already staring.
Of course you didn’t. You never noticed stuff like that. Too busy picking flowers and chasing glitter.
“You’re not quick, baby,” he said finally, squeezing your waist until you squeaked. “You’re the kinda girl who gets distracted by every damn shiny thing out here.”
“That’s not true,” you pouted, poking his chest lightly with your manicured finger. “I’m very focused.”
He smirked at that — a real, soft kind of smirk — like you were something so ridiculous he couldn’t even be mad. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you against him like he was afraid you’d float away.
“Focus on me, then,” he said lowly, leaning down so you could hear him over the bass vibrating the ground. “Not the drinks. Not the stage. Me.”
You nodded eagerly, biting your lip to hide the giddy smile that threatened to spill out.
For a little while, you actually behaved — perched on your tiptoes to dance in place, swaying against Rafe’s solid chest as the set started. His hands stayed on you the whole time, fingers tapping lightly against the bare strip of skin between your skirt and your top.
Every now and then, you’d get carried away — jumping, squealing when the beat dropped, accidentally bumping into people around you. And every single time, Rafe would reel you back in with a hand around your waist, a quick, low “Careful, baby,” whispered against your ear.
The third time you nearly tripped over your own platform boots, Rafe huffed out a breath, frustrated but fond. He caught you easily, one arm banding tight around your stomach.
“You’re gonna bust your ass if you don’t slow down,” he muttered, voice rough but warm. “And I’m not carryin’ your drunk ass back to the house in front of all these people.”
You just giggled breathlessly, looping your arms around his neck. “You’d carry me,” you teased, tipping your head back so your glossy lips brushed his jaw. “Cuz you love me.”
Rafe grumbled something under his breath, but he didn’t deny it. He just adjusted your flower crown, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear almost…tenderly.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said finally, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. His gaze dropped to your pink-glossed mouth, lingering for a second too long. “Otherwise I’d leave your ass right here.”
You just laughed and tugged him closer, spinning the two of you clumsily to the music. And Rafe let you — grumbling, rolling his eyes, but never letting go for even a second.
A strange dream pulls you from your sleep with a start, and you glance around, confusion flooding your brain until it clicks that you are in Rafe’s bed. The dream is not a dream after all. The warmth against your side is confirmation that he is still there beside you. You turn your head, allowing you to get a good look at him. A serene look on his face as he sleeps peacefully beside you.
He is on his side of the bed and facing you now, arm across your stomach as he sleeps. Willing your breathing to remain steady, you reach out. Fingertips tracing up the length of his forearm, the bands of muscles prominent under your touch. His body still warm against yours. You snuggle back against him, eyes closing as you will yourself to go back to sleep.
The next time you wake, the sun is up, and the sounds of the household waking funnel into the room, muffled by the closed door.
“Morning,” his deep, groggy voice causes you to blush, and you turn your face to see him watching you. His arm still a bar of muscles across your body. “How'd you sleep?”
“'s good," you murmur, stretching out a little before snuggling back into the depths of his bed. "This mattress is heaven. You?”
“Good.”
You glance around his room before you closing your eyes and your forehead falls against his. “What is the plan?”
“What plan?”
You do not open your eyes, but you squeeze his arm instead. “So that your dad and Rose don’t find me in here.”
“I don’t care if they do.”
Your eyes open then, and he has that cocky smirk again. “I do.”
“Why?”
“How quick do you think Rose will be to tell my mother that I, her precious perfect daughter, slept with Rafe Cameron?”
He shrugs. “We did sleep.”
You roll your eyes making him laugh a little. “You know what I mean.”
“If fucking was what either you or I wanted last night, then we would have,” he says casually before rolling away from you and getting out the bed. Your mouth drops open as you stare at him in shock. His comment and shirtless body surprising you. And the internal part of you whines that he has slipped away from you taking his body heat with him. He glances over his shoulder before he pulls a t-shirt on. “I would have told you if that was what I wanted.”
“I would have said no if you had tried anything."
He laughs then, truly laughs, before moving back to you. His body leans over yours so that his lips brush the shell of your ear. Your hand immediately reaches to touch him. His skin smooth under your touch as your nails barely bite into the muscled expanse of his bicep. The desire to let some part of you touch him tugs at you as that naive schoolgirl crush flares back to life.
“Don’t lie to me,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away. Your hand falls to the bed, a heat spreading over your face and neck. “Get dressed and we’ll go to breakfast. You like Finch’s Bakery right?”
“Love it.”
He nods before grabbing his ball cap and going to his bedroom door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to get you. You can borrow my clothes.”
— — — —
Rafe spent the day with you much to your surprise. You expected breakfast and to be dropped off at home shortly after. Sarah and Topper are still nowhere to be found and he remains tight lipped on where they are.
You know Rafe would typically be on the golf course or somewhere with Kelce and Topper by now, but instead, he sits beside you. His leg is pressed against yours while you watch the waves roll in. The sun warms your back and you inhale the salty air, enjoying the moment of peace.
His watchful eyes are on you instead of the waves, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s perfect,” you confess, voice soft and barely audible, the orange and pink sky making your smile widen. “How do you know about this place?”
He shrugs. “Found it one day. It’s out of the way, quiet.”
“You come here often?”
“Every now and then.” He turns his head to look at you then. “Why?”
You look away from him to the stretch of sand in front of you. The sun casts your shadows out in front of you across the ground. Your gaze fixates on the lack of space between shadowed you and him.
“I come here when Mom and I disagree about my life,” you murmur, fingers clasped together in your lap. “So I come often. I’ve never seen you here before.”
He is quiet, so quiet that you look at him again. A look of displeasure on his face, but he is not looking at you anymore. He is also fixated on the shadows.
After a moment, he breaks the silence. “Why is it like that between you?”
You exhale and stretch your legs out before crossing your ankles. “I’m her little girl. I have to be perfect at all times to make her look perfect. I have to make all the right choices so that my future has all the right options. I’m the one that has to find a respectable kook husband to marry one day…” you fade out picking up a seashell by your knee. You examine it trying to ignore the burn of tears. “But I’m sure being an only son is hard too. Topper faces pressure from both our dad and mom. I just have to deal with my mom.”
“Ward is like that,” he confesses, his index finger drawing his initial in the sand. “Sarah is his favorite.”
“I can tell,” you say gently before placing the seashell in the loop of the R. “She can’t, but I can.”
“I don’t know why she is.”
“There isn’t a logical reason why. It’s cruel and I try my hardest to not let it happen often with Topper.”
Rafe lifts his head, his gaze on you and you stare back at him. “You love your brother.”
“I do.” You see a wistfulness in his eyes, but it is gone quickly. “We both know that Wheezie adores you.”
A smile stretches across his lips then. “Wheezie doesn’t know how lucky she is to be the youngest.”
“She’ll deal with it one day, trust me.” You say before reaching over to trace your initial next to his. “She’ll blink and it’ll be her turn to face the music.”
Rafe groans at the thought and you giggle before tracing the outline of a sea turtle off to the left of your initial. He watches you quietly for a moment before looking up again.
“I should take you home. Topper has probably dropped Sarah off by now.”
“Okay,” you whisper. He stands before reaching a hand down to help you up. You let him before you walk back to his dad’s truck. His hand is still firmly wrapped around yours. It feels right to let your fingers slip through the spaces of his and you squeeze once before looking over your shoulder one last time. He catches you, a distant look in his eyes when you turn back to him. But he shakes his head and continues to walk beside you to the truck. He helps you in, the silence stretching out again, before going to the driver’s side.
He starts the drive back to the residential portion of Figure 8 and you watch out the window quietly. It has been a good day, great day even, and you are a little surprised.
“Do you want to get married?” He asks breaking the silence. You turn your head to him. "You mentioned needing a kook husband."
“Maybe, I don’t know. I definitely am not marrying Wyatt.” You joke, but his hand grips the wheel a little tighter at the mention of your ex's name. “But I don’t know. I haven’t met anyone remotely interested in me. I thought Wyatt was, but I think he wanted to impress all his buddies by dating the Thornton girl.”
Rafe frowns. “That asshole did not deserve you. And now he doesn't have you.”
You shrug, the faint feeling of disappointment stirring in your chest. Flashbacks from the night you made the worst decision by giving up a piece of yourself wash over you. "He has a small part of me though."
Rafe's eyebrows rise, waiting for you to elaborate. His hand still gripping the wheel tightly.
“I... umm... w-well I kinda of gave my virginity to him,” you explain, fingers fidgeting with the drawstring of your borrowed sweatpants. "I regretted it the moment I let it happen, but he pressured me and I didn't feel like I could say no..."
Rafe hits the brakes and the truck jerks to a halt. "Did that asshole force himself on you?"
Your eyes widen at the murderous rage masking his face before you shake your head and start to backpedal quickly. “No! No, he didn't. He just made it seem like that it was my responsibility because I was his girlfriend."
"I'll kill him."
"Rafe, don't!" You reach across to touch his forearm again. His hands white-knuckling the wheel. "I’m sorry. I should have explained it better. I regret it because he never made it about me. It was only about him and him getting off. He never actually cared about me. I was naive and believed his bullshit then, but now I know better."
Rafe stares out the windshield, his face still screwed up in anger.
"I'm sorry, Rafe. I know you are best friends with my brother and probably see me as a little sister-”
“No, I don’t,” he says, cutting you off and turning his head to stare at you. His expression unreadable. Your eyes widen a little. His jaw clenches before he turns away and then back to you. “You’ve never been a little sister to me.”
“Oh.”
He starts to drive again, but it is a short drive off to the side of the highway into the grass before he parks the truck and turns off the engine.
“Rafe?”
He is silent for a moment staring out the windshield at the empty road before he turns to you. A fire in those blue depths tells you that you are about to firmly cross a line you had never imagined you would. And you are right as he surges forward. His lips molding against yours. Your heart races at the feel of his soft and warm lips against yours. Goosebumps cover your body as he kisses you like you are his source of life. All thoughts empty from your head and a heat spreads through you. Then you are kissing him back. Your hands find his shoulders to pull him closer to you. The initial shock of Rafe Cameron kissing you melts away.
His hands find your waist and slide to your back, urging you closer to him. A moan slips from you, but he ignores it. Your heart races wildly as your fingers tangle in his hair. You want this, you had dreamed about this even when you had been with Wyatt. Especially when Rafe reminded Wyatt just who you were when he would get out of hand at the Island Club and try to mistreat you in public.
And then he is no longer there. His back is pressed against the door of the truck and he stares at you. An uncapped wildness in his eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, hair falling in his face, and those blue eyes sear straight into your soul.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, running his hand through his hair to push it back out of his face. You inhale sharply and turn away, an awful coldness replacing the heat. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I wanted you to,” you confess before turning back to him. Embarrassment floods you. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“I did, I still do,” you whisper before reaching for the handle on the door to let yourself out. You could walk home as humiliation paints your face and neck a bright shade of pink.
He moves quickly then, his hand covering yours before you can pull on the handle. His lips brush the nape of your neck. “If we do this-”
You do not let him finish. He wants you as much as you want him. You turn and crash your lips against his. Hands fisting his shirt to keep him close to you. His touch is like molten lava against your arms and you shiver, pressing closer wishing the middle console would disappear.
“I want you,” you breathe, mouth hovering over his. “And you want me too.”
“I do.”
You bite your lip, heart racing so hard you are sure it will jump out of your chest. You kiss him again. It feels necessary now, like breathing, and you forget about the outside world when the tip of his tongue urges your lips to part for him. Time seems to slip away.
It happens quickly and you do not mind him taking control by pulling you across the console into his lap. You straddle him, moaning when his hands make contact with the skin of your waist. A fire spreading through your body from his touches. Lips and hands are frantic. Your hands shake as you unbutton his shirt revealing his bare torso button by button. You want to kiss all of him, every inch, and you intend to do so once the shirt is off.
His hand cups your face, thumb swiping down the length of your neck. “Baby stop,” he rushes as you unbutton the last button. You lean back from him studying him. “You are Topper’s little sister.”
“Not right now I’m not,” you say quickly and he bites his lip. Your eyes darken at the sight. “Forget Topper, forget who I am right now. Because this is our only chance. I know now that you feel what I feel. I know you want me, Rafe, and I've wanted you for so long."
He swallows before nodding, his fingers digging into the swell of your hips.
You kiss him again, hands pushing his shirt from his shoulders. He kisses back, hands trailing down your thighs and then back up to the hem of your pants. His fingers tug at the tied strings. Your hips grind down against him and he moans your name. Your nails drag down his chest and abs while you focus your kisses on his neck intent on sucking a mark into his skin. Your mark.
“Fuck!” He rasps, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt before he guides it up and off of you. He tosses it into the passenger seat before staring at your chest. “Fuck.”
“You said that already,” you muse, watching him take you in. You feel beautiful sitting like this, his hungry eyes taking every inch of you in. “I want you to touch every inch of me.”
"I'm planning on it, Princess."
The promise of his intentions creates a pool of anticipation and desire in your lower belly. He reaches back, unclasping the hooks of your bra before you are pulling the straps down and tossing your bra to the side.
"You are perfect," he mutters before your lips claim his. Your hands guide his to touch you. His hands searing hot against your skin as he squeezes your breasts. The carnal shift in his face has you clenching your thighs around his hips. His mouth drags down the column of your throat and to your chest. Your head tipping back as you let out a moan, fingers tightening around locks of his hair when he pulls a nipple into his mouth.
“Rafe!” You moan, grinding against him again. “God, I need you so much right now.”
“Get in the backseat, Baby, now,” he commands and you go slipping between the spaces of the front seats. And he follows reaching for you to pull your body against his. "I don't have a condom."
"I'm on the pill," you rush, reaching for the button of his shorts.
"No," he says, cutting your attempt to get him out of the rest of his clothes. "Not yet. This is about you."
"About us," you whisper, before pecking his lips. "This is about us."
He grins before jerking his chin. "Lay down, Baby."
You do as he says, hair fanning out across the backseat while he hooks his fingers around the elastic band of your sweatpants.
"Hips up."
You lift your hips and he tugs the pants down, tossing them to the front seat. Cool air washes over your naked body and you bite your lip, watching him take you in.
"Fuck!"
"Rafe," you whine, reaching for him. "Touch me please!"
He inhales, trying to pace himself before he is between your legs. His arms hooking under your thighs and pulling your core down against his mouth. The single swipe of his tongue against you has your thighs clenching around his head. You moan as he devours you. His mouth expertly working you into a mess and your hand hooks around his head, begging for more while the other presses against the leather seat to anchor you.
Your eyes flutter shut and your body tightens, your chest heaving. His name falls from your lips over and over. Before you are ready, your orgasm washes through you. Your bones feel like they have turned to liquid and a warmth floods your insides.
"Oh my..."
“I’m not even close to being done with you,” he mumbles against the inside of you thigh, and you lift your head to watch him. He smirks while shoving his shorts down. Your lips part in shock when his cock springs free.
“I heard rumors, but…”
His hand wraps around his length, stroking up and down a few times. You shiver, wanting to touch him, but he does not give you the chance as he drags the tip of his cock against your folds. You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him pressing against you.
“Watch me, Baby.”
Your eyes snap open and he grins before he begins to ease himself into you. Your nails scratch against his lower abs and he sinks into you inch by inch until he is completely buried. You whine, legs squeezing his hips as he falls into you. He claims your mouth in another kiss.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathes against your lips. "Tell me to stop if you need me to."
“You won’t,” you whisper before brushing the tip of your nose against his. “I trust you. I want this. I want you."
He smiles and the butterflies in your stomach explode at the endearing look on his face. “I’ve seen what Wyatt was working with Babe. This is a different experience.”
You bite your lip against a laugh that bubbles up, but you fail and your laughter fills the cabin of the truck. “There is a decent size difference,” you confess before kissing him. “But I’m okay.”
His gaze drops to be between your legs as he slowly pulls out almost to the tip before pushing back in. He does it over and over, easing you open for him. It feels amazing and your body still tingles from your first orgasm. Moans and praises echo from you and him both, your fingers clasp against his and your legs wrap around him, encouraging him deeper. You stretch around him, adjusting and he watches, memorizing every stroke and every noise that comes from your pretty mouth.
“More,” you eventually beg and he complies. Your head falls to his shoulder, lips pressing to the curve of his neck. He gives you everything you could ask of him.
----
After cleaning up and getting dressed, Rafe and you are back in your seats. His hand is on your thigh as he drives back to Figure 8. The drive is in comfortable silence. You can still feel the press of him against you. The way your body ached to be his and now is. You never want this night to end, but it has to as you get closer and closer to your home.
"No one can know about this,” you say softly and he looks over at you. “No one. Not Topper, not Sarah.”
You turn to look at him. Worry filling you that this night will backfire and cost you both your brother and your best friend. He studies you before giving a curt nod and you see the change him in almost immediately. You reach over, hand on his shoulder and then the back of his neck.
“Rafe, I don’t regret this. I wanted it. I still do. I want you,” you breathe and his fingers press deeper into the soft inside of your thigh. “But our siblings would be furious. You said it earlier.”
“I did.”
“Please,” you whisper, nails lightly scratching at the back of his head. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad,” he says, shaking his head once before parking the truck outside of your house. He turns his face to look at you before sighing. “I-I would have..." He swallows before shaking his head once. "You're mine now. And I would have made another excuse and kept you a little longer if I was smart.”
“I have a curfew,” you remind him. He frowns then before looking back at the house. “Walk with me to the door?” You ask.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Topper isn’t here and my parents are asleep.”
“Okay.”
You both get out and walk hand in hand to the door. He presses you against the corner of the door frame lips claiming yours for a moment. You wrap your arms around his shoulder pulling him closer. The kiss ends much too quickly and he steps back.
“See you tomorrow?”
His eyebrows raise in confusion.
“Kelce’s house party.”
“You’re coming?”
“Yep.”
He nods and you can tell his thinking of a plan before his chin lifts and his eyes meet yours again. “Okay.”
You laugh, leaning towards him. Your hands are on his chest. “That’s all I get?”
“Wear something pretty,” he murmurs into your ear before pressing his lips to your forehead. His hand cradles the back of your head. “I’ll find you when I can.”
And then he is off the front steps and heading towards the truck. You blow out a breath, skin tingling with excitement for the future and for what has happened tonight. You go inside with only one glance back to see him pulling away. Promises of your shared beginning lingering in the air.
summary: You and Rafe were the couple that no one saw coming. The kook king and the pogue princess falling in love was a shock to the whole island. The pogues questioned your relationship, the kooks despised it, and Ward took extreme measures to tear you two apart every chance he got. It was only a matter of time before the pressure caused the relationship to break. The constant arguing, the yelling, it all became too much. Rafe turned to drugs and you isolated yourself from everyone until there was too much damage to repair. But life has a funny way of bringing two souls back together. In this instance, in the form of a three year old little boy.
part 21
Notes: so at this point they haven’t told anyone besides her mom obviously! but it’s coming! very soon! these next couple of chapters will be flashbacks 🫶🏻
Tags: NSFW, overstimulation, soft dom/rough dom mix, emotional clinginess, crybaby!reader, begging, praise/degradation mix, unprotected, pet names, possessive Rafe, aftercare mention.
You were already a fucking mess before he touched you.
Tear-stained cheeks, voice trembling from some earlier argument you barely remembered — something about Rafe being distant, you being dramatic. You’d cried so hard your lip gloss was long gone and your thighs were stuck to the silk sheets under you. Every breath came out in a hiccup, chest rising and falling like a frightened bunny.
And Rafe?
He was calm.
Dangerously calm.
“Don’t even remember what you were crying about, do you?” he murmured, brushing his fingers down your thigh, “Just needed attention that bad, huh?”
You whimpered, nodding, your hands gripping the sheets like they were the only thing tethering you to earth.
“Rafe, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh.” His palm came down hard on your inner thigh, not a full slap — just enough to make you freeze.
“I know, baby. I know you didn’t mean anything. You never do.” He leaned over you, his breath warm against your jaw. “Just feel too much, cry too fast, say dumb little things ‘cause your head’s all soft.”
His fingers slid down between your legs, finding you already wet — soaked, actually — from crying, from being touched, from the way he looked at you when you were falling apart.
“God, look at you,” he growled, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re dripping. You like this. You like being ruined, don’t you?”
You nodded, tearfully, biting down on your fist. “I c-can’t help it, Rafe, I swear—”
He cut you off by sliding two fingers into you without warning, burying them deep.
You choked on your breath, head falling back with a sharp whine.
“R-Rafe—”
“I’m gonna make you feel everything, baby,” he promised, curling his fingers just right, “You wanted attention so bad? Gonna give you all of it. Not stopping ‘til you can’t cry anymore.”
And he didn’t.
He kissed you while he fingered you through your first orgasm — soft tongue, rough hands, calling you sweet girl, needy thing, my little mess. And when you were still shaking, still begging him to slow down, he didn’t.
He pulled your legs over his shoulders, pressed his chest to yours, and sank into you like he’d earned it.
You gasped — voice breaking, nails clawing at his back — and he moaned, low and deep and possessive.
“So fucking tight,” he breathed. “Like your body knows it’s mine.”
You were crying again — real tears now, your voice high and desperate as he rutted into you, deeper and rougher with every thrust.
“Too much— Rafe, I— I can’t, I c-can’t take it, please—”
He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head.
“You can. You will.” His eyes were dark, sharp, but soft around the edges. “You’re gonna take all of it ‘cause you love being my crybaby, don’t you?”
You nodded, sobbing, body arching up into him helplessly.
“Y-Yes— yes, I love it, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
And when you came again, this time on his cock, your whole body went still — like your brain shut off completely — lips parted, eyes rolled back, legs twitching as he kept fucking you through it.
“There she is,” he whispered against your neck. “Pretty when you’re wrecked. Quiet when you’re full.”
And only when you were completely limp beneath him — tears still drying on your cheeks, lips swollen from crying and kissing — did he slow down. One last thrust. A groan in your ear. Then warmth spilling into you as he kissed your shoulder.
You were too far gone to even speak. Just tiny whimpers. A broken “Rafe…” barely audible.
He pulled out slowly, carefully, one hand stroking your hip.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “You did so good for me, baby. So, so good.”
And when you curled into his chest, still trembling — still needy — he wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “You’re mine. Always. Even when you’re crying.”
The water shimmered, gold and endless, as the boat rocked lazily near the dock. Not out in the open water, not in motion anymore—they’d dropped anchor early to hang out close to shore, tie it off near the sound. You could’ve walked off the boat if you wanted.
And God, you wanted.
The laughter behind you should’ve been warm. Comforting. It was everything summer was supposed to sound like: John B cracking open a beer, Pope talking too fast about some theory none of you cared about, and Kiara laughing—bright, loud, alive.
But JJ’s laugh cut deeper than the rest.
Because it was only ever for her now.
You sat at the edge of the boat, feet dangling just inches above the water. The surface danced beneath you, glittering like it could carry the pain if you poured it into it long enough.
Your fingers curled tighter around your phone, knuckles white.
Behind you, JJ wrapped his arms around Kiara’s waist like it was second nature. His head dropped to her shoulder, lips brushing skin.
Something inside you cracked. Quietly. Deeply.
You used to be his person. The one he’d call when Luke hit him too hard. The one who’d pick him up drunk from gas stations at 3 a.m. The one who held him when he didn’t want to be touched by anyone else.
But you’d never been his girl.
And now he had one.
Kiara.
You’d been there first. Before her. But JJ had never looked at you the way he looked at her now. He touched her like he couldn’t not. Like she made him forget everything.
You wanted to disappear.
You wanted to scream.
You wanted him to see you.
Instead, you opened your phone and stared at the message again.
Rafe:
You coming or what?
Another buzz followed, like a dare.
I’m not gonna ask again.
The air tightened around your throat. You stared at the water, tried to swallow the lump in your chest, but it was lodged there like a fist. You glanced back once—JJ kissed Kiara’s shoulder and didn’t even notice you were gone.
And that was it.
You stood up.
“Yo—Y/N?” John B’s voice drifted lazily. “Where you goin’?”
“I forgot something at the Chateau.”
“You want a ride?”
“I’ll walk.”
“Back’s like thirty minutes from here…”
But you were already stepping off the boat onto the dock, jaw clenched, hands shaking. No one stopped you. JJ didn’t say your name. Kiara didn’t glance up.
No one followed.
𐙚ᣟ݂
By the time you reached the Cameron estate, your throat was dry, and the sun was dipping below the tree line. The house loomed like a monster behind the gates—too quiet, too clean. A place built by people who didn’t believe in love.
You pushed open the front door without knocking.
The music upstairs was low, bass-heavy, pulsing through the walls like a heartbeat. You didn’t call for him. You didn’t need to.
You climbed the stairs slowly, the ache between your thighs already forming—not from desire. From need. From the ugly, empty space you were trying to fill.
You turned the corner into his bedroom.
Rafe stood shirtless near the window, his back to you. Cigarette between his lips. Tattoo across his ribs. Low sweatpants riding dangerously on his hips. He didn’t turn when he heard the door click shut.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to come.”
“You always come.” He turned his head, blue eyes cutting over his shoulder. His gaze dropped. “Take your clothes off.”
He wasn’t gentle. He never was.
You didn’t say anything. Just peeled off your sweatshirt, slow. Then your shorts. Then your top. You weren’t wearing a bra. You hadn’t needed one.
You stood there in your underwear, arms around yourself, heart hammering in your chest.
He tossed the cigarette out the window and turned, jaw flexing. “Why are you here?”
You knew what he was really asking.
What did he do this time?
You walked toward him, every step a silent scream. Your eyes stung, but no tears came. You didn’t let them.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Rafe’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes flared. His tongue swept across his bottom lip.
“You want me to make you forget him again.”
You didn’t answer.
He stepped forward, slow. “You know he doesn’t care about you, right?”
“I said fuck me.”
He grabbed your throat.
Not tight. Just enough. Enough to make you stop thinking. Enough to tilt your head up until your lips brushed his.
“You wanna be used, pretty girl?” His voice dropped, low and dark and sinful. “Or you wanna be broken?”
You didn’t flinch.
You kissed him.
Hard.
Rafe growled, the sound deep in his chest, and shoved you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He pushed you down, climbed over you, eyes never leaving yours.
He kissed like he wanted to punish you. Teeth, tongue, spit, bruising. His hands roamed, possessive and brutal—grabbing your thighs, yanking your underwear down. He didn’t undress himself yet. Just stared.
“Look at you,” he muttered. “So desperate to be touched.”
He ran two fingers between your folds, slow and deep. You gasped.
“Dripping for someone who doesn’t even like you.”
“Shut up.”
He grinned.
“Make me.”
And then he did.
He dropped to his knees and devoured you—tongue slick, relentless, dragging every sound out of you until you were grabbing the sheets, sobbing with your thighs trembling around his head.
When he stood, his mouth was wet with you. He yanked his sweatpants off with one hand, stroking himself, thick and hard and angry.
“You want this cock or just the humiliation that comes with it?”
You reached for him.
He shoved into you hard.
You cried out, back arching. It wasn’t slow. He fucked you like he didn’t care if you broke.
And that was why you came.
Because pain was easier than heartbreak.
He dragged your legs over his shoulders, pounded into you until your vision blurred, until your fingers clawed into his back, until you were begging—but you didn’t even know for what.
He flipped you over, face into the sheets, hand on the back of your neck as he took you from behind, relentless and brutal. Every thrust knocked the breath from your lungs.
“Say my name,” he hissed in your ear.
“R-Rafe—”
“Louder.”
You screamed it.
And he came with a guttural moan, burying himself deep, hips grinding through the aftershock.
You collapsed.
Sweat. Soreness. Shame.
He rolled off of you, chest heaving. Lit another cigarette. Didn’t say a word.
But he watched you.
And for a moment—just one—his hand twitched toward your back. Then stopped.
You turned your face into the pillow. Not because you wanted to sleep.
the boys are separated for the first time since charlotte passed away and rafe doesn’t understand.
from my fractured ties universe. read story here
warnings: grief, mention of a dead parent
notes: rafe is 7 and jj is 5 in this blurb! they are also brothers in this universe for anyone new reading 🫶🏻
rafe didn’t know how he felt. or rather, he did he just didn’t know how to explain it. his little mind couldn’t comprehend such a huge change in his life so suddenly.
charlotte had just passed away and ward didn’t hesitate to pack up rafe’s things out of the room he shared with his little brother, jj.
jj and luke had watched the whole time ward muttered to himself and snapped at rafe to help him gather his belongings.
ward would mutter things like,
“we don’t have all day.”
“the cuts dangerous, son. i should’ve got you out of here a long time ago.”
“strong boys don’t cry.”
and normally, rafe would stick his chest out and agree with his dad. he’s the oldest, he had to be strong. he was strong. his little brother was watching, he couldn’t let jj down.
but this time? he was sad.
his mom was gone.
forever.
at least, that’s the way ward explained it to him and now rafe couldn’t stop thinking about never seeing his mom again. or how he wouldn’t share a room with his baby brother anymore. who was going to save jj from the shadow at night? that was rafe’s job. he couldn’t protect jj from ward’s house. and now jj was all alone too. he didn’t have rafe or their mom. just like rafe didn’t have jj or his mom either.
rafe just wanted to go home. with his mom. with his baby brother. even if jj was super annoying it felt wrong not having him close.
he remembers his mom sitting him down a couple weeks ago and saying, “this island isn’t kind, rafe. one day you’ll understand that. they think jj is… less than you because he has a different dad and that’s not true my sweet boy. you have to remember that. so when the boys in town pick on him, it’s up to you to watch out for him. to remind them that he’s not less than. and neither are you.”
he still didn’t quite understand what she meant because he had always seen jj as his little brother. nothing else ever came to mind but he had heard a few new terms in the last couple of days that was making his mind start to question.
ward and rose kept muttering “pogue” and “kook” and he didn’t know what those words meant but he knew “pogue” couldn’t be anything good with how his dad basically spit the word out of his mouth like it tasted bad.
rafe didn’t know what to do with himself. he felt lost. scared. alone. and the room he was currently in, his new room, felt uncomfortable.
there wasn’t a huge toy box in the corner stuffed to the brim. there wasn’t a fort in the middle of the room him and jj built one night while they were suppose to be sleeping. there wasn’t a bookcase full of his favorite books. he even missed jj’s orange lava lamp that use to be on their shared nightstand.
it all just felt wrong.
but ward told him this was where he would be staying. this was his home now.
