rafeobx

[rafeobx]

showing up to boxer!rafe’s final match even though you two are already broken up

cw: fluffy angst, exes, past relationship, regrets, comfort

you told yourself you weren’t gonna go.

swore up and down you’d stay home, maybe check the results online later, maybe watch a highlight reel on instagram if you were feeling nostalgic or bored or whatever.

but when the night actually came… your body didn’t listen. your heart definitely didn’t. somehow you found yourself standing in line outside the arena, jacket sleeves pulled over your hands, nervous leg bouncing like you were the one about to step into the ring.

it had been a year. a full year since you and rafe called it quits. or, more accurately, let everything spiral until there was nothing left to hold onto.

the fights were brutal. not physical, god no, but emotional in that deep, aching kind of way. miscommunication turned to distance, distance turned to resentment, and suddenly, you two were more strangers than soulmates.

and yet. you were here. in a crowd of screaming fans, heart thudding harder than it should’ve, because no matter how things ended, a piece of you was still his biggest fan.

when he stepped into the ring, the whole place shook. his name was on every sign, every screen. people were chanting, whistling, yelling. "rafe! rafe! rafe!" they echoed like a war cry, fists in the air and feet stomping against the concrete floor. but all you could do was stare.

you hadn't seen him in a year. not in person, at least. just the occasional headline, the grainy clips of him knocking someone out in the third round, and that stupid post-fight smirk he'd flash before raising his glove. god, it used to drive you insane.

he looked the same. maybe a little leaner, sharper in the eyes. but it was still him. the same walk, the same little jaw twitch he got when he was focused, same black tape around his wrists that you used to help him wrap back when everything was still okay.

when the fight started, and you couldn’t sit still. every punch, every dodge, every hit he took made your chest tighten up. but he was good. so good. he moved like he’d been born for it. too fast, smart, ruthless but not reckless.

and when the final bell rang and the referee raised his hand, declaring rafe the winner, the new national champion, you couldn’t help it. you jumped to your feet and screamed his name like your throat didn’t hurt, like your heart hadn’t cracked a dozen times in the past year.

“let’s go, rafe!” you were clapping, screaming, smiling through the tears you didn't realize had built up. “that’s my boy!”

except… he didn’t know you were there.

of course he didn't. he hadn't heard from you in months. you'd both let it all fall apart. and by the time either of you were ready to fix it, too much damage had been done. pride had spoken louder than love.

he was doing the usual victory stuff, arms in the air, coaches clapping him on the back, cameras flashing in his face. he had that cocky little grin on, the one he used to flash at you when he caught you staring.

but then his eyes started scanning the crowd. you didn’t even realize you’d moved closer until he stopped moving. and then he froze when he had spotted you.

it was like time stopped. like the ring disappeared and the noise faded and there was just you and him, locked in this weird, charged silence across the mess around you two.

the jacket you were wearing was his. the one he gave you after your first trip to the beach, back when he was trying to pretend he wasn’t already falling. it still smelled faintly like him, even after all this time.

you saw his chest rise. fall. rise again, but slower this time. like he was trying to breathe but forgot how. and then came the look.

not the “holy shit, she’s here” kind of look. not even the “i didn’t expect this” kind. it was deeper than that. softer. almost broken. like that old wound inside him tearing open just from seeing you again.

you didn’t wave. didn’t smile. just stood there with your hands shoved into the front pocket of his old carharrt jacket, blinking back the sting in your beaming eyes.

and rafe? he didn’t look away for a second. not when his trainer tried to pull him into a post-fight interview. not when fans were screaming for his attention. not even when the lights got brighter and someone shoved the championship belt into his arms.

because for the first time in forever, your eyes were on him. only on him. and he wasn't about to look away.

he just kept staring. cause maybe, if he stared long enough, you’d come down to the ring and fall into him. or he’d wake up back in your apartment, bruises and all, with your fingers running through his hair and your voice telling him he did good.

but this wasn’t a dream. you were real. and god, it hurt him.

because he realized, in that one aching, breathless moment, that even though he’d won the fight… he might’ve already lost the only thing that ever mattered to him in the first place.

tags: @ribbonbiter @soangelbaby @bradshawed @bambiribbon @rotapathetic @rafessecret @inspiredangel @et6rnalsun @st6ined @acklesangel @nemesyaaa @rafekisser @deansbeer @littlelamy @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lacyydollette

[rafeobx]

DIFFICULT

pair: ex!rafe x maybank!pogue!reader

MASTERLIST

fifth part to I LOVE YOU, IM SORRY!

STARTED AS A ONE SHOT BUT TURNED FIC SO FACE CLAIM AND NAME IS UP TO INTERPRETATION BUT MAIN FC IS REFFERED TO AS Y/N

plot: jj and the pogues continue push you to confide in them. in hopes of getting them off your back, you decide to get your old job at the country club back, however, the growing tension between you and rafe lingers while your secrets eat you alive.

warnings: angst, depression, jealousy kinda?

NOTE: guys i know this has BEEN a sad depressing fic but TRUST it won't be soon promise ;)))

the confrontation with rafe had left a bitter taste in your mouth, one that lingered days later like a ache. you’d managed to avoid him since, a small victory, but the tension between you felt like a live wire humming just beneath the surface of the island. every shared glance, every accidental proximity, was charged with unspoken animosity and a strange, unsettling awareness you couldn’t quite name.

your friends, on the other hand, were a different kind of pressure. you knew the drill. the persistent questioning, the thinly veiled concern, the insistent prying into what really happened that night. you just couldn’t face it. not yet. you weren’t ready to dissect the volatile encounter, to explain the unexpected flicker of something akin to--disappointment? confusion? that had crossed rafe’s face. you didn’t want to talk about how close you’d been, the raw intensity of his presence.

so, you did the only thing you could think of to buy yourself some space: you called the country club. it was a long shot; you’d walked out on them for a reason, running away from your porblems. but now, the familiar structure, the mindless tasks, felt like a lifeline. "hi, mr. davies," you’d said, your voice surprisingly steady. "i was wondering if there’s any chance you’d be willing to take me back. even just for a few shifts."

there was a pause, a beat of uncertainty, before mr. davies grunted. "well, that's a surprise. when can you start?" the answer was immediate: tomorrow.

the next morning, you pulled on the crisp white polo and a tennis skirt, that had once been your uniform, the fabric feeling strangely alien after so long. the drive to figure eight was short, but the anticipation in your stomach was a heavy knot. it wasn't just the thought of the work itself, but the undeniable fact that you were heading straight into rafe's territory.

he was practically a permanent fixture there, lounging by the pool, holding court at the bar, or swaggering across the golf course. it was almost impossible to avoid him. as you pulled into the employee lot, you saw him immediately. rafe, predictably, was already there, leaning against a sleek black car near the main entrance. he was laughing, his arm casually slung around the shoulders of a girl you didn't recognize and one that, for sure, was not sofia – all long blonde hair and designer sunglasses.

a sharp, unwelcome jolt went through you. it wasn't exactly anger, more like a dull ache of jealousy? it stung, a little, to see him so at ease with someone else, after your own raw, charged encounter just days ago. he looked carefree, almost oblivious to the lingering storm between you two.

you quickly pushed the feeling down. it was rafe cameron. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your pulse, and pushed open your car door. just as you were swinging your legs out, topper's voice, amplified by the morning air, cut through the sounds of the country club. "well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in!" he drawled, a smirk plastered across his face. kelce snickered beside him.

rafe, still with his arm around the blonde girl, tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you as you got out of your car. his expression remained flat, no trace of a grin, as topper continued, his voice dripping with condescension. "decided to slum it with the Kooks again, huh? figured out where your bread's buttered? or maybe you just finally cracked. hard to watch your life fall apart, isn't it? especially with luke maybank as a father. some things just run in the family, i guess."

the words hit you like a physical blow, a cold dread washing over you. your breath hitched, and for a second, the world tilted. the casual cruelty of their taunts, aimed right at the rawest part of you, made your eyes sting. you clenched your jaw, forcing back the burning behind your eyelids. you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.

"aren't you two supposed to be on the golf course, or, you know, doing whatever rich boys do to avoid actual work?" you shot back, your voice a shaky whisper you hoped they wouldn't notice. you weren't going to let them, or some fleeting feeling, get to you. you were here to work, to escape, not to dwell on rafe cameron and his latest conquest.

as you walked past, rafe straightened from the car, his hand leaving the blonde girl's back. his expression hardened, and he stepped forward, a subtle shift in his stance that caught topper and kelce off guard. "alright, leave her alone" rafe’s voice cut through the air, sharper than you expected.

topper and kelce turned, surprised by rafe's intervention, their smirks faltering. rafe’s gaze, usually so volatile with you, was now fixed on his friends, a silent warning in his eyes. he didn't need to say anything more. topper and kelce exchanged a glance, their bravado deflating, and muttered something under their breath before grudgingly turning away.

your eyes met rafe's across the parking lot. for a long moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. his stormy blue eyes held yours, a complicated mix of defiance, something unreadable, and a lingering echo of that dangerous awareness that had always existed between you two, even more so now as exes. you felt the familiar pull, the tension that always crackled. you could have held his gaze forever, dissecting the layers in his stare. but then, a stubbornness flared within you, a refusal to acknowledge whatever flicker of concern or protectiveness you might have seen.

you rolled your eyes, a dismissive scoff escaping your lips, and then turned on your heel, heading for the employee entrance. you pushed open the door, stepping back into a world you thought you'd left behind. the muffled sounds of polite laughter and the distant thwack of a golf ball were already a familiar, if unwelcome, soundtrack.

the days at the country club settled into a monotonous rhythm. you spent hours folding towels, polishing silver, and fetching forgotten items for entitled members. it was exactly the kind of mind-numbing work you'd hoped for, leaving little room for introspection or dwelling on the lingering tension with rafe.

yet, he was always there. sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of him by the tennis courts, his laugh carrying across the manicured lawns. other times, you’d be clearing tables in the dining room only to hear his voice, too close for comfort, making eye contact with him and then quickly looking away, hoping he didn't see you staring. you became an expert at looking busy, at disappearing down corridors, at perfecting the art of the quick pivot.

one afternoon, as you were restocking the pro shop, the bell above the door chimed. your blood ran cold as rafe walked in, alone, his usual swagger replaced by a more subdued demeanor. he wasn't laughing or chatting with anyone. he simply moved with a quiet intensity, his gaze sweeping the shop, eventually settling on you. you didn't duck this time. you stood your ground, a golf shirt clutched in your hand, daring him to say something.

he approached slowly, stopping a few feet from you. "hey," he began, his voice surprisingly soft, but the edge of anger was unmistakable. "he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you remembered all too well, but his eyes were hard, fixed on yours. "i know you don't wanna talk to me, especially after what i said, but i can't stop thinking about hat happened at the kegger. why'd you freak out like that?" he searched your face, a mixture of genuine concern and unresolved resentment, tinged with accusation. he was trying to understand, and that in itself was disarming, unsettling.

you scoffed, a dry, bitter sound. "what do you want, rafe? an explanation? because last time i checked, you couldn't give a fuck less about me." your voice was low, trembling with suppressed emotion. the raw fear of your secret being exposed gnawed at you. "you don't have to act like you care."

his jaw tightened, the accusation in your voice hitting a nerve. "don't say that," he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor for a brief moment before snapping back up to yours. "you know that's not true. you know i care. i'm just--i'm mad, okay? you just left. no call, no text, nothing. what was i supposed to think?" his voice was thick with frustration now, the concern still there, but overshadowed by his own hurt. "and then seeing you at that kegger, acting like you were seeing a ghost. something happened, and you're not telling me. something happened after i saw you last, didn't it? something i don't know about."

you crossed your arms over your chest, a desperate attempt to shield yourself. the memory of that night at the kegger, the chaos, the brief, terrifying moment of what you thought liam was trying to do to you, and then the memories of the night you left all those years ago, swirled together in a sickening vortex. "what i do is my business, rafe," you retorted, your voice hardening, trying to match his anger with your own. "my reasons for leaving, for doing anything, have nothing to do with you. you lost the right to know about my life the moment we broke up."

"bullshit!" he exploded, taking another step closer, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "everything always has to be some big mystery with you, doesn't it? we were together! and then you just ghosted! i thought something bad had happened to you. and then i see you, looking like you're about to crack, and you just push me away?" his voice lowered, dangerous now. "is this about your dad? because if it is, you can talk to me, you know. i'm not him."

his words hit you hard. the reference to your father and the implied connection to your current state, was a direct hit to the gut. it was too close to the truth, a truth you couldn't bear for him to know. your eyes burned, but you bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to let the tears fall. "you know nothing," you whispered, the conviction in your voice wavering. "you know absolutely nothing about what i'm going through, so just take your kook sympathy and get out of here, eafe. just fuck off."

the color drained from his face, leaving it pale and drawn. he stared at you, his stormy blue eyes searching yours, a flicker of something akin to genuine despair crossing his features before it was quickly replaced by the former cold, hard anger and resentment he held for you. "you don't get to be mad at me, y/n. you left me. if anyone gets to be mad, it's me." he took a slow, deliberate step back, the tension between you humming like a live wire about to snap.

without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the pro shop, the bell chiming a final, jarring note that echoed in the sudden silence. you stood there, trembling, the golf shirt you'd been holding crumpled in your hands.

you had won, you had driven him away, you had kept your secret safe, you had done what you wanted. so why did it feel like you had just lost everything?

the weight of what you were hiding pressed down on you, heavier than ever, in the quiet aftermath of his departure. the rest of the day blurred into a monotonous haze of polishing brass and folding towels.

every polite smile you offered to a club member felt like a lie, a betrayal of the turmoil churning inside you. the image of rafe’s face, etched with that mix of hurt and anger, kept replaying in your mind. he was right about one thing: something had happened. more than he could ever imagine. and the thought of him knowing, of that look on his face when he understood the depths of your past and the reason for your sudden departure all those years ago, paralyzed you.

it wasn't just the memory of liam at the kegger; it was the suffocating secret of why you'd left the obx in the first place, a secret tied to your father, to the very essence of who you were trying not to be.

you swung your bag over your shoulder and climbed into your car, the old engine sputtering to life with a familiar cough. you pulled out of the country club lot, the manicured lawns and towering palms blurring in your rearview mirror.

your destination was the cut, though it didn't feel like home anymore. you didn't even know what home was anymore. every mile you drove was a mile deeper into an unsettling void, a landscape where nothing felt familiar, and every turn felt like a wrong one.

the drive was short but heavy with unspoken anxieties. each shift of the gears, each stretch of road, felt like a futile attempt to outrun the gnawing emptiness inside you.

the air in the cut was supposed to be a comfort, thick with the scent of salt and marsh grass, but tonight it just felt oppressive, pressing down on your chest. you parked the jeep near jj's battered van, the familiar sight doing little to ease the ache. the image of rafe’s face, contorted with hurt and resentment, still burned behind your eyelids. the words stung, because a part of you knew he was right. you had left. but he didn't know why, and that was the terrifying part.

you pulled up to the chateau, but remained sitting in the jeep, your gaze landing on your friends—jj, pope, kie, cleo, john b, and sarah—sitting, laughing, on the dock of the chateau. as you stared, the tears began to fall, a silent cascade that slowly turned into ragged sobs.

it wasn't the relief of crying; it was the crushing weight of knowing that even though things seemed the same for them, you would never, ever be the same. the ease of their laughter, the comfort in their closeness, felt like a scene from a past life you couldn't access. a chasm had opened inside you, filled with secrets and a suffocating fear, and it separated you from them, from everyone.

the vibrant colors of the sunset mocked the monochrome world you felt trapped in. you wanted to be with them, to melt into their familiar warmth, but the profound shift within you, the hidden burden, made it impossible. you just knew you'd only crack.

with a shuddering breath, you turned the ignition. the chateau, their haven, felt like the last place you wanted to be. you didn't know where you were going, but anywhere, absolutely anywhere, was better than here. you drove without a conscious destination, the familiar roads of the island passing by like blurred memories. your hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white. the quiet hum of the engine was the only sound, a dull counterpoint to the screaming silence in your head.

before you knew it, your jeep was pulling up the long, winding driveway of tannyhill. the imposing gates, usually a symbol of exclusion, now felt like a desperate, illogical magnet. you didn't understand why your body had brought you here, to your ex's sprawling estate, the last place you should be seeking solace. but here you were, the grand, illuminated house casting long shadows against the darkening sky.

you cut the engine, the sudden quiet deafening. for a long moment, you just sat there, staring at the front door. what were you doing? this was insane. just as the thought solidified into a plan to reverse and flee, the front door opened. rafe stood there, silhouetted against the warm glow of the foyer. he wasn't smiling.

his face, even from this distance, looked drawn, an echo of the anger you'd just seen in the pro shop still etched into his features. he saw you, and his posture stiffened. the flicker of surprise was quickly replaced by that familiar, guarded resentment.

he walked down the steps, slowly, deliberately, until he stood beside your jeep, his arms crossed over his chest. his eyes, though still holding that hard edge, searched yours in the dimming light. "what are you doing here, y/n?" he asked, his voice low, a controlled rumble. the question wasn't hostile, not exactly, but it was devoid of any warmth.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "i don't know," you managed to whisper, the honesty of it raw and unsettling. the tears had stopped, leaving a cold trail on your cheeks.

he stared at you for another beat, that unreadable tension still thrumming between you. you expected him to tell you to leave, to curse you out, to reinforce the wall you'd just built between you.

instead, he sighed, a short, sharp expulsion of air. "come in," he said, not looking at you, his gaze fixed on the house. "you're not going to sit out here all night." he was still mad, undeniably so, but there was a flicker, just a faint, almost imperceptible one, of the old rafe, the one who, despite everything, couldn't quite leave you adrift.

you hesitated, then, without another word, you swung your legs out of the jeep. the air felt heavy with unspoken words, with the history that bound you, and the fear that still separated you. you walked past him, a shiver running down your spine, and stepped into the grand, imposing foyer of tannyhill, the last place you ever thought you'd seek refuge.

the foyer was vast and quiet, the expensive furnishings doing little to soften the heavy atmosphere. rafe didn't close the door immediately, lingering there for a moment, as if debating something. you stood awkwardly, your bag still slung over your shoulder, acutely aware of the silence stretching between you. he finally pushed the door shut, the soft click echoing in the stillness.

"so," he said, his voice clipped, "what now?" he didn't look at you, instead turning to toss his keys onto a marble console table. the resentment was still a palpable thing, a wall between you that he'd carefully rebuilt.

you hugged your arms tighter, the chill that had settled deep in your bones refusing to leave. "i just... i just needed to be somewhere," you confessed, the words barely a whisper. you could feel his eyes on you now, a heavy, scrutinizing gaze. you wanted to run, to retract every syllable, but you were too tired, too empty.

he walked over to the sprawling living room, stopping by the large windows that overlooked the darkened golf course. his back was to you. "so you came to the one place you swore you'd never step foot in again?" he asked, his voice laced with a bitter sarcasm. "to my place? after you told me to fuck off barely an hour ago?" the words were sharp, a sting, but beneath them, you could hear the lingering hurt. his grudges were deep, and you had certainly given him reason to hold them.

you swallowed, feeling the familiar burn in your eyes. "i didn't know where else to go," you admitted, the raw vulnerability in your tone surprising even yourself. "the cut... it doesn't feel like home anymore. nothing does."

he slowly turned, and the anger on his face seemed to soften, just a fraction. he saw the genuine despair in your eyes, the tremor in your lips. the resentment was still there, a shadow in his gaze, but it was momentarily eclipsed by something else – a deep, almost instinctual concern. he took a hesitant step towards you, then another.

"y/n," he murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of its previous edge. he stopped directly in front of you, closer than you'd been in what felt like forever. your breath hitched. you could smell his cologne, the familiar scent that always made your stomach flutter, despite everything. his hand, so often a weapon or a symbol of his reckless power, slowly lifted. you tensed, bracing for him to push you away, to underscore the distance between you. instead, his fingers gently brushed against your cheek, tracing the path where tears had just fallen.

the touch was a shock, a sudden, searing warmth that spread through your cold skin. your eyes locked with his. the anger in his gaze had almost completely receded, replaced by a raw, conflicted tenderness. you saw the struggle there, the battle between his lingering resentment and the undeniable pull that still existed between you.

his thumb moved, gently wiping away the dampness on your skin. "what happened to you, y/n? something is wrong, i know it. i know you better than anyone. this isn't you." he whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with an aching plea. "everyone sees it. you've been carrying something heavy, and it's eating at you. it's like you're a ghost, like you're not even here anymore. you need to talk to someone. please, talk to me." it wasn't about the kegger anymore, not really. it was about everything. "just... tell me."

you wanted to. every fiber of your being screamed to confess, to unburden yourself of the terrifying secret that had been crushing you. to trust him, fully, the way you once had. but the fear was still a cold, unyielding hand gripping your heart. the fear of how he'd look at you, how he'd see you, if he knew the full truth. the fear of that flicker of despair in his eyes turning into outright disgust. you were too scared to trust anyone, especially not him, not with this.

you shook your head almost imperceptibly, a single fresh tear escaping and trailing down your cheek, a testament to the battle raging inside you. his gaze darkened, a flicker of that familiar frustration returning. he wanted answers, and you couldn't give them. not yet.

he pulled his hand away, slowly, almost reluctantly, and the warmth left your face, leaving you colder than before. the subtle tension in the air remained, a fragile thread connecting you, stretched taut between lingering affection and ingrained mistrust.

the silence that settled between you was thick, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotion. rafe's eyes, still stormy but now laced with an almost unbearable vulnerability, pleaded with you. he had laid himself bare, offering a level of understanding and concern you hadn't expected, a crack in the formidable wall he'd built. he had asked you to trust him, to lean on him, to finally let someone in.

you stared at him, the conflict raging inside you. the thought of speaking the words, of pulling back the veil on the darkest parts of your past, made your stomach clench with terror. but the exhaustion, the utter weariness of carrying it alone, was an equally powerful force. his hand, which had just wiped your tears, now hung at his side, waiting. his gaze was unwavering, demanding.

would you finally break the silence and reveal the truth that had been consuming you, or would the fear, the ingrained habit of self-preservation, win out, pushing him away once more?

TAGLIST:

@mirellef2001 @kieeslove @wtfisastiles @l4vstrr @cycloneperson

TRUST this will be a happy fic soon! i promise :)))

[rafeobx]

WOULD'VE, COULD'VE, SHOULD'VE

MASTERLIST

fourth part to I LOVE YOU, IM SORRY

pair: ex!rafe x maybank!pogue!reader

plot: rafe comforts you after your meltdown, but he still has his gaurd up. meanwhile, jj figures why you left the obx

warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attacks, angst, name calling, depression, mention of luke maybanks

you turned, stumbling away from the chaos, away from liam, away from rafe, away from everyone. you just needed to breathe. you needed to escape the suffocating weight of it all. your legs moved on their own, carrying you through the startled crowd, past the worried faces of your friends. you heard jj call your name, then sarah, but their voices were distant, drowned out by the roaring in your ears.

you ran blindly, crashing through the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing, the sharp branches scratching at your skin, but you didn't feel it. you just ran, fueled by pure, unadulterated panic. the sounds of the party faded behind you, replaced by the pounding of your own heart and the ragged gasps for air that tore from your throat.

you didn't stop until your lungs burned and your legs gave out, collapsing onto the damp earth beneath a gnarled live oak tree, its branches draped in spanish moss like mournful sentinels. the air was thick and still, buzzing with the cicadas' nightly song, a stark contrast to the frantic storm inside you. you curled into a tight ball, burying your face in your knees, hot tears scalding your skin.

the flashback had been so vivid, so real. the feel of the hand around your neck, the smell of stale liquor, the unhinged rage in those eyes. but liam's touch, the way he'd tried to force a kiss, it had triggered something deep and dark, something you had tried so desperately to bury.

you were shaking, uncontrollably, your whole body wracked with silent sobs. the memories were a suffocating blanket, pressing down on you, stealing your breath. you were back there, in that moment, powerless and terrified.

meanwhile, back at the kegger, jj stood frozen, watching your retreating figure disappear into the darkness. he processed your reaction, the sheer, raw terror on your face, the way you’d recoiled, the high-pitched whimper – it wasn't a normal reaction to a fight. a cold dread began to settle in his stomach--a flash of recognition in his eyes . he knew that look.he remembered the way your body had convulsed, the absolute terror in your eyes. it was unlike anything he’d ever seen from you. a memory, half-formed, flickered in his mind: your words after you’d first left, something about wanting to forget, about a past you couldn’t escape.

“what the hell was that?!” john b's voice was sharp, cutting through the stunned silence. his eyes were narrowed at liam. “what the fuck did you do?”

liam, holding his bleeding jaw, just stared, bewildered. “she-- she freaked out for no reason. i don’t know what happened.”

“no reason?!” kie snapped, her eyes blazing at liam. “that’s what you call no reason, you creep?”

sarah pushed past them, her face etched with concern. “y/n! y/n, wait!” she started to run after you, but kiara grabbed her arm.

“give her a minute, sarah,” she said, his gaze fixed on the spot where you’d vanished. “something’s really wrong.”

liam just shook his head, rubbing his jaw. “nothing! i just… i was just trying to kiss her. she got freaked out for no reason.”

pope stepped forward, his expression grave. “that wasn’t ‘no reason,’ liam. that was pure panic.”

jj, still observing from a distance, felt a chilling certainty about your reaction. he knew you, and that terror was deep, far beyond what what any casual flirtation gone wrong could elicit.

rafe looked at jj, whose face was still a mask of raw fury mixed with overwhelming worry for you.

“what happened to her, maybank?” rafe asked again, his voice low and raspy, devoid of its usual arrogance, directed at jj who still hadn't moved from where he’d confronted liam. “what did she go through?”

jj stared him down, a flicker of something close to pity in his eyes, quickly masked by anger. “i don't know, but that’s none of your damn business, cameron. not anymore.”

but rafe wasn't listening. he looked at sarah, his voice pleading now. “sarah, what is it? what happened to her?”

sarah’s face was pale. she wasn't supposed to say anything--she promised. not even to jj. but after seeing your reaction, a part of her broke. the secret she’d guarded, the pieces of your story you’d shared in hushed whispers on rare, dark nights, felt like a lead weight in her stomach. she felt a fresh wave of guilt for not speaking up sooner, for letting you carry it alone.

the conflict warring on her face was clear to jj and rafe, who watched her intently, but john b, and pope were too focused on the immediate chaos and their concern for you to notice the subtle shift in her demeanor.

"what do you mean, 'she doesn’t talk about it,' sarah?" jj’s voice suddenly cut through the air, colder and sharper than anyone had ever heard it.

he had seen the way sarah had flinched, the slight shift in her eyes, the way she seemed to hold something back. his gaze, still burning from his rage at liam, snapped to darah, filled with an immediate, deep-seated betrayal.

"you knew? you knew something like this was happening to her, and you didn't say anything? not to me? not to john b? not to anyone?!" his hands balled into fists, not at Liam, but at the idea of sarah not even trusting him enough to tell him.

“jj, i'm sorry, but i promised her! she made me promise! it wasn’t my story to tell.”

“her story to tell?!” jj scoffed, a bitter, disbelieving laugh escaping him. “you think keeping her secret was helping her, sarah?!” he took a step towards her, his voice rising, raw with hurt and anger, the intensity of his emotion shocking even john b, kie, and pope. “we could have helped her! i should have helped her!”

john b stepped between them, his hand going to jj's chest. “woah, jj, calm down! she’s trying to tell you she was just trying to respect y/n’s privacy!”

“privacy?!” jj yelled, shrugging john b’s hand off. “she’s my sister, john b! you don’t keep things like this from family!” his furious gaze remained fixed on sarah, a deep, wounded accusation in his eyes.

rafe, still reeling from the scene, a wave of guilt, sharp and suffocating, washed over rafe. he’d pushed you, mocked you, and now… he’d clearly made everything so much worse. he’d been so consumed by his own anger, his own pain, he hadn’t stopped to consider yours. the added shock that sarah knew something resonated deeply with rafe's own desperate need for answers. he didn't understand the depth of it, but he knew now that sarah was hiding a piece of your past that explained everything about why you had left him.

he watched jj’s face, the raw worry etched in his features, and a strange, unfamiliar impulse took hold. he couldn't let them find you first. he didn't know why, but he needed to be the one to find you.

he needed to understand what had happened to you, what had caused that terror, and perhaps, in some twisted way, try to make amends for his own part in your pain.

rafe drove with a reckless abandon, the headlights cutting through the inky blackness of the marsh road. his mind was a chaotic swirl of rage, guilt, and a growing, desperate concern. he knew the marsh like the back of his hand, every winding path, every hidden creek. he tried to retrace your path, imagining where you would run when you were truly terrified. not towards the familiar, not towards the cut. somewhere isolated. somewhere deep.

he killed the engine near a barely visible, overgrown path he remembered from years ago, a secluded spot deep within the preserve that only a few knew about. he cut the lights, the sudden darkness absolute, pressing in around him. he grabbed a flashlight from his glove compartment, the beam slicing through the oppressive gloom, illuminating spiderwebs and dangling spanish moss.

he plunged into the dense undergrowth, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. mosquitoes buzzed around his head, but he barely noticed. his gaze swept the ground, looking for any sign, any disturbed leaf, any broken twig. he called your name, his voice low, almost a whisper, then louder, laced with a desperation he didn't recognize. “y/n! y/n, where are you?!”

he heard the distant, faint shouts of the other pogues echoing through the marsh, getting closer. he quickened his pace, a new urgency propelling him forward. he had to find you before them.

then, he saw it. a faint shimmer, almost swallowed by the shadows. he pushed through a curtain of tangled vines and stopped dead.

you were there, huddled at the base of an enormous live oak, its ancient branches twisting above you like tormented limbs. you were curled into a tight ball, your face buried in your knees, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. your clothes were torn and muddy, your hair plastered to your face. you looked so small, so utterly broken, in a way he had never seen you. the raw, vulnerable sight of you, stripped of all your usual fire and defiance, hit him like a physical blow.

he lowered the flashlight, its beam now casting a soft glow around you. he didn't move, afraid to startle you further. the anger, the jealousy, the self-pity he'd carried all night, all of it dissolved, replaced by a cold, sharp ache in his chest.

“y/n?” his voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and unfamiliar to his own ears. he took a slow, deliberate step closer. “it’s… it’s rafe.”

you flinched violently at the sound of his voice, your head snapping up. your eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, met his, and for a terrifying moment, he saw the same wild, unfocused terror that had been there just minutes ago. you scrambled back further, pressing yourself desperately against the rough bark of the tree, as if trying to merge with it.

“go away” you whimpered, your voice raw and choked, pulling your knees tighter to your chest.

he stopped, his heart clenching. he hated that you didn't wanna see him. his chest tightened, a strange mix of hurt and a potent, unfamiliar helplessness. he had caused you so much pain, had driven you away. and now, seeing you like this, he realized just how deep that pain truly went.

he knew he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t even get too close. the terror in your eyes was a clear warning. he slowly sank to his knees a few feet away, placing the flashlight on the ground between them, illuminating your shaking form in its soft glow. he kept his hands open, palms up, in a gesture of surrender.

“i’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, his voice softer than he’d thought possible. he hated the pathetic sound of it, but he hated the terror in your eyes more.

you swallowed hard, your gaze flickering from his open hands to his face, then back to the ground. the shaking of your shoulders lessened, almost imperceptibly. “i know,” you whispered, the words barely audible, rough with tears.

he saw a flicker in your eyes, a tiny spark of something other than pure terror. understanding? confusion? he didn't know. but you didn't recoil further. you just watched him, your breath still coming in shaky gasps, but you were watching him. and for rafe, in that moment, it was enough.

he continued, his voice still low, careful. “i just… i heard. what happened. at the party.” he hesitated, searching for the right words, for anything that wouldn’t make you recoil further. “i… i saw.” he forced himself to look up, to meet your gaze. “what he did. that guy. liam. that wasn’t right. you didn’t deserve that.” he paused, then forced himself to continue, raw with an unfamiliar shame. “and… what i said to you earlier. that was… that was wrong too. i didn’t know. i’m sorry, y/n.”

the apology, spoken with such rare and raw vulnerability from him, hung in the humid air. your breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t purely from fear. it was something else, something caught between the pain and a faint, almost forgotten tenderness.

rafe watched you, his blue eyes intense, searching your face for any sign. he saw the tear tracks, the muddy streaks, the haunted look, and a wave of something akin to physical pain washed over him. he wanted to close the distance between you, to pull you into his arms, but he forced himself to stay still, remembering the way you’d recoiled from liam. the sight of your trembling form made his own hands clench, a desperate urge to protect you, to somehow undo whatever horrors you'd experienced.

“y/n…” he began again, his voice cracking slightly. he didn’t know what to say, what to do. he was always so sure of himself, so in control, and now he felt utterly lost. he picked up another small piece of bark, fiddling with it. “i… i just want to make sure you’re okay." his voice was hesitant, uncertain, a stark contrast to his usual arrogant tone.

you didn’t answer right away. you just watched him, your eyes still wide, but the abject terror was slowly, almost imperceptibly, giving way to a weary sadness. you saw the unfamiliar vulnerability in his eyes, the genuine concern that softened the hard lines of his face. it was the rafe you used to know, the one who could be unexpectedly tender beneath all the kook bravado. the rafe you had loved. and maybe, despite everything, still did.

the cold dampness of the earth seeped into your skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth that was beginning to eman spread from the soft glow of the flashlight between you. you shivered, a deep, full-body tremor.

rafe saw it. without another word, he slowly, carefully, began to shed his soaked outer shirt, revealing the pale skin and defined muscles beneath. he laid it on the damp ground in front of him, then took off his jacket, placing it beside the shirt. he looked at them, then at you, an unspoken offer.

you hesitated, then slowly, tentatively, you reached out a shaking hand towards the offered fabric. it was a small gesture, but for rafe, it felt monumental. a hairline crack in the wall of your despair.

he watched as you pulled the shirt and jacket towards you, clutching them to your chest. the warmth of his body, still clinging to the fabric, was a strange, comforting presence against your cold, clammy skin. you didn't put them on, but just held them, inhaling the faint, familiar scent of him – salt and faint cologne and something uniquely rafe. it was a small anchor in the storm raging within you.

you finally spoke, your voice still rough but gaining a whisper of strength. "why... why are you here, rafe?" the question hung in the humid air, heavy with all the unspoken history between you.

he met your gaze, his blue eyes intense in the faint glow of the flashlight. "i don't know," he admitted, a rare vulnerability in his tone. "i... i saw what happened. and i remembered what i said earlier. about you bleeding on someone else." he ran a hand through his damp hair, a frustrated sigh escaping him. "it was stupid, y/n. i didn't... i didn't know you were going through something like that. i didn't know it was that deep." he paused, his gaze hardening slightly. "and seeing you with liam, it made my blood boil, okay? that pogue touching you like that, after everything we've been through. it made me jealous, y/n. yeah, i said it."

he shifted, picking up a small, smooth stone from the muddy ground, turning it over and over in his fingers. "when i saw you... when i saw you react like that, it just... it hit me. you never let anyone see you like that. not even me. not in all the time we were together. i realized... i realized i don't know everything about you, do i?" his voice was low, almost a self-recrimination. "i thought i did. i thought i knew all your edges, all your defenses. but... this..." he gestured vaguely, encompassing your raw state, "this is different."

you hugged his discarded clothes tighter to your chest, the warmth a strange comfort. "you didn't want to know," you murmured, your voice tinged with old hurt. "you always wanted the easy version. the fun version. the version that didn't have... complications."

he flinched, the accusation landing true. "maybe," he conceded, his voice barely audible. "maybe i was a coward. maybe i just... i liked the easy version. it was easier than facing... whatever it was that made you run from here in the first place." he paused, his gaze searching yours. "but i care about you, y/n. more than i ever let on. more than i probably should. and if knowing all those parts of you means i can stop you from feeling this way, then so be it. because seeing you like this... it's tearing me up."

a fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes, but these were different. they were for the lost moments, the unspoken truths, the raw, complicated connection that still lingered between you, despite all the chaos and heartache. "it's always been complicated with us, hasn't it?" you whispered, a sad smile touching your lips.

he offered a faint, wry smile back. "yeah. always." he was quiet for a moment, then looked at you again, his expression softening further. "i just... i want you to be okay, y/n. genuinely okay. whatever that takes." he paused, then added, "if you ever want to talk, about any of it... i'm here. i mean it. no judgment. no expectations. just me. and whatever it is you need to get off your chest."

the air around you felt lighter, almost breathable. the storm within you hadn't passed, but the intensity of the downpour had eased. having him simply sit there, offering quiet presence and unexpected sincerity, was more than you'd dared to hope for.

you looked at him, truly looked at rafe cameron, sitting in the mud, shirtless and vulnerable, offering you a piece of his own comfort. and for the first time in a long time, you saw past the kook exterior, past the arrogant masks he wore, past the hurt you caused, to the lost boy beneath.

he took a shaky breath, his blue eyes locking with yours, a raw intensity in their depths. he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper, laden with a confession he'd clearly held back for too long. "y/n, i... i think i'm still in lo—"

just then, a twig snapped violently in the undergrowth nearby. both your heads whipped up, eyes darting to the source of the sound. the beam of a powerful flashlight cut through the darkness, sweeping across the gnarled trees, then landed squarely on the two of you.

“y/n!”

the voice, thick with relief, anger, and a desperate worry, was unmistakably jj’s.

jj burst through the last curtain of vines, his face contorted in a mix of fury and raw concern. he stopped dead, his own flashlight beam fixing on rafe, who was still on his knees, shirtless, a few feet from you. jj’s eyes narrowed, taking in the scene: your huddled, shaking form clutching rafe’s clothes, and rafe looking more vulnerable than jj had ever seen him.

“rafe,” jj said, his voice flat, a hard edge beneath the apparent calm. he didn't lunge, didn't scream, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. he already knew about your past with rafe, about the lingering, messy feelings. he might not like rafe, but he tolerated him because he knew what you and rafe had once shared. this wasn't about the who, it was about the what. "what are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes sweeping from rafe to your huddled form, the question laced with a deep, protective suspicion.

rafe slowly straightened, rising from his knees, his face hardening as he met jj’s furious gaze. the fragile tenderness that had bloomed in him moments before was quickly overshadowed by his own protective rage. "she doesn't need you right now, maybank," rafe spat, stepping slightly in front of you, a silent shield. "she needs space."

you whimpered, pressing yourself further against the tree, the sudden shift in atmosphere, the familiar tension between them, threatening to unravel what little calm you’d managed to find. the thought of another confrontation, another explosion, made your stomach clench. "jj, no!" you choked out, your voice barely a whisper, but it cut through the charged air.

jj faltered, his eyes darting to your face, seeing the fresh terror there, and his fists unclenched slightly. he was torn, his rage at rafe warring with his concern for you. he looked from your terrified eyes to rafe’s defiant, protective stance, a new, complex understanding dawning on his face. he’d known rafe was there, had heard his truck, but he hadn't expected to find this. the intensity, the raw emotion between you and rafe, was palpable, even to him.

then, jj’s gaze locked onto your face, and he saw it. he saw the ghost of the same terror that had haunted his own eyes for years, the raw, visceral fear of something unspeakable. it wasn't just panic, it was that kind of panic. the kind he knew from his father, from those dark nights when the world shrunk to a fist and a scream. he didn't know the specifics of what had happened to you, but he recognized the aftermath. the sight of your shaking body, reliving a nightmare, broke through his anger at rafe. he didn't care who was with you, only that you were hurting.

he dropped his flashlight, letting it clatter to the damp ground, illuminating a patch of mud. he took another step, then another, ignoring rafe's presence, his eyes fixed on you. his focus narrowed to just you, to the raw, exposed pain radiating from your curled-up form.

“y/n,” he said, his voice now a low, rumbling broken whisper, thick with a deep, aching empathy that came from years of shared trauma. it wasn't the angry, protective brother anymore; it was the boy who understood, who had felt the same fear. he didn’t ask if you were okay. he knew you weren't. he just slowly, cautiously, lowered himself to the ground a few feet from you, mirroring rafe’s earlier position but keeping his gaze entirely on you. he didn't reach for you, respecting the invisible barrier of your fear, but his presence was a heavy, anchoring weight of familiar comfort.

for those who wanted to be tagged!

@mirellef2001 @kieeslove @wtfisastiles @l4vstrr @cycloneperson

[rafeobx]

THE ARCHER

MASTERLIST

third part to I LOVE YOU, IM SORRY

pair: ex!rafe x maybank!pogue!reader

plot: after yeat another argument with rafe, you decide its best to move on. you, jj, and the pogue decide to go to the bonfire at the boneyard. unexpectedly, you run into an old friend who seems thrilled by your return.

warnings: SA, parental abuse, depression, angst, jealousy, mention of luke maybank,

the resounding thud of the door echoed in your ears, a final, brutal end to a conversation that had barely begun. the porch light, which moments ago felt like a harsh interrogation lamp, now seemed to mock you with its indifferent glow.

you stood there, rooted to the spot, the cold knot in your stomach twisting tighter, each beat of your heart a painful throbbing against your ribs.

rafe's words, sharp and laced with venom, sliced through you: "you're a user, y/n. you come back when you're at your lowest, just to dump your misery on someone else. go on, run. go find someone else to bleed on."

they were a confirmation of your deepest fears, a brutal validation of the self-loathing that had been your constant companion. he saw right through you, saw the weakness, the desperation, and he hated it.

the tears that had been a silent stream moments before now burst forth, hot and uncontrollable, blurring the already indistinct world around you.

you stumbled backward, off the porch and onto the manicured lawn of tannyhill, the soft grass doing little to cushion the blow of his rejection. the humid night air, once a heavy blanket, now felt like an icy shroud, chilling you to the bone.

you wanted to scream, to rage, to break something, anything, to release the suffocating pressure building inside you. but no sound escaped your throat, only choked sobs that wracked your entire body. the sight of rafe's face, twisted in disgust, was burned into your mind, a new and excruciating addition to the gallery of horrors you carried.

he was right, wasn't he? you were a user. you had come back, broken and desperate, seeking solace from the very person you had abandoned. you had thought, foolishly, that his love, even buried under layers of anger, would be enough to save you. but he had seen the truth, the ugly, raw truth of your desperation, and he had recoiled.

he had chosen his peace, his new life, over your unraveling.

the silence of the tannyhill neighborhood was deafening, amplifying the sound of your own ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of your heart. you were truly, utterly alone.

the outer banks, once your sanctuary, had become a prison, each familiar landmark a painful reminder of what you had lost, what you had broken, and what could never be mended.

just as rafe's door sealed shut, a low rumble vibrated through the air, quickly followed by the distinct patter of rain. it began as a drizzle, but within seconds, fat, cold drops hammered against the tiled roofs of figure eight, striking the manicured hedges and pooling rapidly on the pristine streets.

you didn't run for cover. you just stood there for a moment, letting the deluge hit you, washing over your face, mixing with the tears that still streamed from your eyes.

the chill of the rain was almost a relief, a physical sensation stark enough to momentarily cut through the emotional agony. then, you simply started walking. not towards the wreck, not towards the chateau, not towards any place that could offer warmth or shelter.

you walked down the wide, deserted streets of figure eight, the rain plastering your clothes to your skin, soaking your hair until it hung in heavy, dripping strands. the opulent houses, usually glowing with the soft light of evening gatherings, were dark and silent, their wealth a stark, mocking contrast to your utter desolation.

each step was heavy, sloshing through the rapidly rising puddles. You had no destination, no purpose. rafe's words had stripped away any lingering hope, confirming what your own fractured mind had been whispering for years: you didn't belong here anymore.

the obx, once your home, where every nook and cranny held a memory, now felt alien, unwelcoming.

you were an intruder, a ghost haunting familiar places that had moved on without you. the rain intensified, hammering down with a ferocity that matched the storm inside you. thunder cracked overhead, a violent punctuation mark to your despair. the wind whipped around you, chilling you to the bone, but you hardly noticed.

all you felt was the hollow ache in your chest, the crushing weight of being utterly lost. there was no place for you in the pogue world, your real family... how could you possibly bring them into the depths of your darkness?

you were a burden, a user, bleeding on everyone you touched. so you walked, one numb foot in front of the other, letting the rain wash over you, hoping it might somehow cleanse the pain, or at least mask the fact that you were slowly, inevitably, dissolving into nothing.

every street light passed, every perfectly trimmed bush, every silent, sprawling mansion, only reinforced the chilling truth. you were entirely alone, with no home, no anchor, and no idea where to go.

the rain eventually subsided, leaving the air thick with humidity and the scent of wet earth. you walked until your feet ached, until the kook mansions finally thinned out, replaced by the familiar charm of the cut. the thought of going back to the chateau, of facing jj’s knowing, worried gaze, felt impossible. you were too raw, too exposed.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you jump. it was a text. from sarah.

sarah: where are you?! are you okay? there's a huge kegger down by the marsh, everyone's here. you should come. get your mind off things.

a kegger? a sudden, defiant spark ignited within you. rafe had told you to run, to bleed on someone else. but maybe there was another way? maybe you didn't have to bleed. maybe you could just--drink and dance. maybe you could find a new beginning in the chaos, a distraction from the gnawing emptiness. you were y/n maybank, after all, and even broken, you still had fight left in you.

y/n: on my way.

you followed the distant thrumming of music, a faint light guiding you through the winding dirt paths until you emerged into a clearing alive with flashing string lights and the roar of a crowd. the air vibrated with energy, the humid night now thick with the smell of cheap beer and damp earth.

your eyes scanned the familiar faces first, landing on jj, kiara, pope, john b, sarah and cleo, huddled around a bonfire, laughing. jj was holding court, gesturing wildly with a half-empty beer can. he looked up, his eyes widening in surprise, then concern as he took in your drenched, disheveled state. he started to move towards you, but you shook your head slightly, a silent plea for no questions, not yet.

you drifted towards the edge of the crowd, feeling like a ghost, a stranger in a place that used to be home. the music was a lifeline, pulling you into its rhythm even as your mind replayed rafe's words. you needed a distraction.

that's when you saw him. liam. he was standing near a makeshift fire pit, silhouetted against the dancing flames, laughing easily with a group of pogues you didn't recognize.

he was taller than most, with broad shoulders and a relaxed confidence that radiated from him. his hair, a darker shade of brown, was pushed back from his forehead, glistening slightly from the humidity. he caught your eye across the flickering light, and a slow, easy smile spread across his face, a genuine warmth that made something in your chest feel a fraction less tight.

he detached himself from his group, weaving through the crowd towards you. "well, well, well," he drawled, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly gentle over the thumping music.

his eyes, a striking blue, swept over you, lingering just a beat too long on your damp clothes before meeting your gaze, a playful challenge in them. "look what the tide dragged in." he extended a hand, his touch warm against your cold skin.

"liam," you managed, your voice a little hoarse, a genuine smile finally touching your lips. "long time no see."

"too long, y/n," he repeated, his smile widening. "way too long." for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the music fading, the crowd a distant hum.

"welcome back to the land of the living. you got that look, though. like you've got a story to tell, but you ain't telling it to just anyone." his eyes crinkled at the corners, a direct, knowing gaze that sent a shiver down your spine – not of fear, but of an unexpected spark. he'd always been perceptive. "care for a proper pogue welcome? Got some of jj's finest." he gestured towards the keg, his arm brushing yours casually, a easy touch that felt oddly confining.

you ignored the feeling, taking a long sip of the warm beer. "anything jj's involved with usually means trouble, but i guess i'm already knee-deep in that."

liam laughed, a rich, full sound that was entirely unburdened. he poured you a plastic cup, foam spilling over the rim, and handed it to you. "so, y/n," he continued, leaning against the keg beside you, his arm casually brushing yours, "what's a pogue like you doing out in the ran? kooks giving you trouble?" his gaze dropped subtly to your lips before flicking back to your eyes, a definite flirtation in his gaze now.

"something like that," you mumbled. "just... needed a change of scenery."

"well, you picked the right place," liam said, his voice dropping slightly, closer to a murmur. "no scenery like this on the whole island. no people like this, either." he paused, his gaze thoughtful, then, with a mischievous glint, he added, "and I'm pretty sure i'm the best of the bunch tonight. stick with me, y/n, i promise, i know how to make you forget all about whatever's got you looking like you just fought a gator." his thumb subtly brushed against your knuckles as he handed you the cup, a small, confident flirtation that made your stomach flip.

he leaned in conspiratorially, his breath warm on your ear. "just between us, i've kinda missed that fire in your eyes, maybank. even when it's dimmed a little."

liam's hand, still on your back, began to slide lower, his fingers tracing a path from your waist to the curve of your hip. his voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes locking with yours with an intense, hungry look. "you know, y/n, i always wondered what would've happened if you hadn't gotten with rafe. we had something, didn't we? always felt it. and now you're back..." he leaned in closer, his head tilting, his intention clear.

his free hand reached up, cupping your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as he started to guide your face towards his, his gaze fixed on your mouth. "let's pick up where we left off, yeah?"

the sudden, intimate pressure of his hand on your jaw, the way he tried to force your face towards his, the hunger in his eyes, the casual way he assumed ownership – it was a flashpoint. the bonfire, the faces of your friends, the sounds of the kegger, all blurred, twisted into a terrifying tableau. your breath hitched, caught in your throat.

flashback:

the familiar weight of a heavy hand wrapped around your neck, digging in, leaving bruises you’d hide for days. the hot, whiskey-laced breath close to your face, your back against the wall. eyes, wide and wild with a rage that wasn’t meant for you, but always landed on you. "you think you can just do what you want, bitch? disappear? i'll show you who runs things around here." the grip tightening, twisting, pulling you closer, your body screaming to pull away. the air thickening, pressing down, suffocating. you could smell the liquor on his breath, the stale sweat, the raw, unhinged fury. your world shrinking to just that terrifying, unpredictable presence. another hit, but this time to your face, leaving a bruise that met your eye.

you cried out, a choked, guttural sound, not even a word. your body reacted before your mind fully caught up. a pure, primal terror seized you. every muscle in your body coiled, ready to strike, to flee, to do anything to escape the familiar, horrifying sensation of being trapped, controlled, violated.

you slapped liam's hand away from your face with a violent, desperate swipe, stumbling back, away from him as if he were fire. your eyes were wide and unfocused, darting around wildly, seeing shadows and ghosts.

you pressed your hands to your head, a high-pitched, almost animalistic whimper escaping your lips. your chest heaved, taking in shallow, ragged breaths that did nothing to calm the frantic hammering of your heart.

the kegger, the bonfire, the faces of your friends – it was all too loud, too bright, too much. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensory assault, but the internal screams were louder.

meanwhile, rafe had spent the last few hours stewing in his room at tannyhill, the echoes of his party fading into a cold, empty silence. the bourbon had done little to numb the restless itch, the image of your shattered face refusing to fade. he knew he'd been harsh, maybe too harsh, but you had pushed him, hadn't you? you always did.

he'd tried to convince himself he didn't care. he'd rebuilt his life without you. but the thought of you out there, alone in the rain, or worse, with someone else, ate at him. the distant thumping of the kegger had been a low hum, then a more insistent pulse, a siren call to the chaos he craved. he needed to escape the suffocating quiet of his own thoughts.

slamming his bourbon bottle down, he grabbed his keys and revved his truck, peeling out of the tannyhill driveway with a roar that broke the stillness of the night. he drove like a man possessed, the anger and resentment churning into a toxic brew of unresolved emotion.

he pulled up to the edge of the clearing, tires spitting gravel, the sudden glare of his headlights cutting through the dim string lights. the music didn't even skip a beat, but heads turned, eyes narrowing at the unwelcome kook intrusion. he killed the engine, the sudden silence of his truck amplifying the raucous party. he stalked out, his posture radiating menace, a fresh beer already gripped in his hand.

his gaze swept the crowd, ignoring the immediate tension his presence created. he found his sister, sarah, her eyes wide with apprehension. she tried to catch his eye, but he dismissed her with a sharp flick of his head. he saw john b, pope, kie, and jj, their faces a mix of wary surprise and defiant boredom. good, he thought, let them see what happens when a kook walks into their little paradise.

then he saw you.

you were by the bonfire, the flames casting dancing shadows on your face, a warmth there he hadn't seen in years. and you weren't alone. liam, that pogue from the dock, the one who'd always hung around the periphery of your circle back in the day, was beside you. liam had his head tilted towards you, listening intently as you giggled at something he said. your hand was resting lightly on his arm, a casual, easy gesture that sent a cold wave of shock through rafe, swiftly followed by a scalding surge of jealousy. liam's head dipped closer, whispering something in your ear, and then, brazenly, liam's thumb began to trace lazy circles on your lower back. the sight of that casual intimacy, with him, twisted rafe’s gut into knots. he saw liam lean in further, saw his hand go to your face, saw the predatory look in his eyes as he tried to force a kiss.

rafe's jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. the sight ripped through him, shredding the fragile veneer of indifference he'd constructed. what the hell was this? who was this guy? what right did he have to be touching you, making you laugh like that, trying to force anything on you? the rage he’d clung to, the self-righteous anger at your abandonment, erupted into something else entirely. something hot and possessive, yes, but also deeply, savagely protective.

even though he was furious with you, even though he had told himself he hated you, the sight of another man forcing himself on you, even just for a kiss, ignited a primal need to keep you safe. he wouldn't admit it, not to himself, not to anyone, but beneath all the anger, he was still, impossibly, in love with you.

he dropped his beer bottle, letting it shatter on the ground, the sound swallowed by the music but catching the attention of the pogues nearby. his eyes never left you and liam, a predatory gleam entering them. he started walking, a controlled, menacing stride, cutting a direct path through the crowd, towards the bonfire.

you were in a full-blown panic, swatting liam's hand away, the world around you spinning. liam, startled by your sudden, violent recoil, stumbled back a step, confusion on his face. "y/n? what the hell?" he muttered, looking offended.

before he could process it, a shadow fell over you both. rafe was there, a whirlwind of furious motion.

"hey!" rafe's voice cut through the music, sharp and loaded with menace.

liam's head snapped up. "what the—"

rafe didn't even let him finish. his fist connected squarely with liam's jaw, a sickening crunch that echoed even over the now-silent air as someone, startled, cut the music. liam reeled backward, clutching his face, blood already welling at his lip.

a collective gasp rose from the crowd. jj, john b, pope, and kie all started forward, their expressions a mix of anger and shock. sarah rushed towards the scene, her face pale.

rafe stood over liam, chest heaving, his eyes still burning with an unholy fire. he looked at liam, then at your trembling, traumatized form, and his voice was a low, dangerous growl. "don't you ever touch her like that again, you piece of pogue trash." he turned his blazing gaze back to you, his expression softening for a bare fraction of a second, a silent question in his eyes, before his anger at liam resurfaced. "she's not yours," he spat, ignoring the bloodied pogue. "she's mine."

you were barely registering anything. the fight between rafe and liam, the sudden silence, the worried faces of your friends – it was all a distorted, terrifying echo of the past. you could feel your body shaking uncontrollably, your knees threatening to buckle. your mind was screaming, trapped in the memory of cold hands and hot breath. you couldn't breathe.

"y/n?" sarah's voice was a frantic gasp, utterly bewildered. she, along with jj, john b, kie, and pope, had frozen, watching rafe's sudden, aggressive move, but your reaction was completely unexpected. they saw you trembling, pressing your hands to your head, whimpering, and it made no sense. you were usually so tough, so resilient. this raw, exposed terror was alien to them.

"what the hell is wrong with her?" rafe snarled, still full of adrenaline from the punch, his eyes flicking from liam back to your convulsing form.

a flicker of deep concern, swiftly buried under anger and confusion, crossed his face. he knew that look.

liam, clutching his bleeding jaw, shoved himself up from the ground, looking utterly bewildered, unable to comprehend your extreme reaction. "y/n? what's going on?"

you could only shake your head, tears still streaming down your face, the memories overwhelming, suffocating. you needed to run. you needed to disappear.

for those who wanted me to tag them:

@mirellef2001 @kieeslove

[rafeobx]

archived: us — rafe cameron smau

summary: you and rafe were the internet’s it couple—matching outfits, chaotic couple vlogs, late-night q&a's where he’d hold your hand like you were the only person on earth. but that love turned toxic, and when the breakup hit, it went viral. he soft-blocked you. you archived every photo.

the algorithm moved on, but your heart didn’t.

six months later, you’re both invited to a content house with fellow obx influencers in thailand, the kind with infinity pools and shared bathrooms.

the collab? for clicks. the tension? unavoidable.

you catch him watching your stories. he catches you rereading his old texts. neither of you will admit what you archived: the truth that you're still not over it.

and the internet is still watching.

pairing: influencer!rafe x influencer!femreader

inspo: @zyafics @houseofblve @edwardslvrr

social medias

instagram

twitter

youtube

table of contents

chapter 1 chapter 2

chapter 3 chapter 4

chapter 5 chapter 6

chapter 7 chapter 8

chapter 9 chapter 10

chapter 11 chapter 12

chapter 13 chapter 14

chapter 15 chapter 16

chapter 17 chapter 18

chapter 19 chapter 20

chapter 21 chapter 22

chapter 23 chapter 24

chapter 25 chapter 26

and more to come

dividers made by @purefantasia

a/n: that pic of drew is what inspired me to write this. also just needed a gym bro rafe fic ❤️

© astridwisp. all rights reserved. unauthorized use, copying, or distribution of any of my work is prohibited. please do not repost or translate without explicit permission

[rafeobx]

RUN FOR THE HILLS

MASTERLIST

pair: jj maybank x bitchy!kook!reader????

plot: a dangerous secret simmers beneath the surface of the outer banks, completely unknown to those it could shatter. every stolen glance, every hushed moment is a risk, a thrilling gamble against discovery. only they know the truth that could ignite a firestorm.

warnings: name calling, cheating, forbidden love?, angst, typical kook vs pogue, fluff, mention of abuse, prob grammar mistake

a storm was brewing on the outer banks, not of the hurricane variety, but one born of secrets and forbidden desires. the pogue life was all about stickin' together, battling the kooks, but what if one of their own was playing a dangerous game with the enemy?

jj would never go for a kook—never. but... with his wild hair and even wilder spirit, he found himself caught in a rip current he never saw coming. it started with a glance, a spark across the divide that separated their worlds. y/n, outwardly the picture of kook perfection, topper's girlfriend, with kelce and rafe always lurking nearby, and the snide remarks of olivia, y/n bitchy best friend, never far from her lips. she was everything a pogue should despise, yet something about her drew jj in.

their rendezvous were cloaked in shadow and stolen moments. late-night drives down deserted roads, whispered conversations on moonlit beaches, hurried kisses hidden by the crashing waves. every touch, every shared laugh, was a gamble. for y/n, it was a dangerous escape from the suffocating expectations of her kook life and topper, a thrill she found only with jj. for jj, it was the thrill of the chase, the defiance of every rule, and a connection he hadn't anticipated.

his closest friends, the tight-knit pogue family—kiara, always the moral compass; sarah, torn between two worlds; john b, the leader with a nose for trouble; pope, the cautious brains; and cleo, the newest addition with her sharp wit—were completely oblivious. they’d seen jj with plenty of girls, but never a kook, and certainly not topper’s girlfriend. the idea would be unthinkable, a betrayal of everything they stood for.

even sofia, a pogue by birth but now inextricably linked to the kooks through rafe, suspected nothing. she was too wrapped up in her own complicated loyalty.

the tension was a constant hum beneath the surface. every time the pogues and the kooks clashed, a fresh wave of anxiety washed over jj and y/n.

how long could they keep this fragile, explosive secret? how long before a careless whisper, a stray glimpse, or a jealous accusation brought their forbidden world crashing down around them, exposing their dangerous game to everyone? the outer banks, already a powder keg of class warfare, was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

the outer banks annual bike race was less a competition and more a declaration of war. the air, thick with salt and competitive grit, hummed with the familiar tension between the cut and figure eight. it wasn't just a race; it was a battle for bragging rights, a brutal reminder of the island's divided soul.

the pogues, a blur of sun-faded tees and worn-out sneakers, drove with a fierce, almost desperate energy.

the starting gun cracked, but jj, as always, had other plans, fueled by a potent mix of defiance and longing, carved his own path, a wild card in this high-stakes game.

dust choked the air as they tore through the course, a brutal gauntlet of loose sand and sharp turns. rafe, true to form, veered wildly, forcing john b to swerve, nearly sending him tumbling. topper, with a smug smirk, used his superior bike to block jj at every opportunity, a constant reminder of the divide. the kooks' dirty tactics were as much a part of the race as the pedal strokes themselves.

the chaos built on a sharp, uneven bend. topper, desperate to assert dominance as usual, deliberately swung wide, ramming his shoulder into jj’s back tire. jj felt the sickening lurch, the ground rushing up to meet him in a blur of green and brown.

he tumbled onto the ground, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth as a searing pain flared in his shoulder and knee.

john b shouted his name, a guttural roar of frustration, but the race officials, ever blind to kook transgressions, waved the others on, threatening disqualification. topper and rafe sped away, leaving jj in a crumpled heap, a bitter, familiar taste of injustice on his tongue.

jj limped away, the dull ache in his shoulder a physical manifestation of his frustration.

he found a secluded stretch of the beach, hidden by drooping live oaks, the distant cheers of the race fading into an indistinct hum. he just needed a minute, away from everything, to tend his wounds.

as twilight began to paint the sky in hues of orange and purple, a soft footfall disturbed the quiet. jj tensed, ready for another taunt, another reminder of his fall. but it wasn't rafe, or topper.

it was y/n.

she approached cautiously, her expensive attire looking oddly out of place against the rough terrain. the usual composed mask she wore had slipped, replaced by a delicate tremor of worry. she glanced around, a quick, almost nervous survey, before her eyes landed on him, slumped against the tree.

“jj?” she asked, her voice hushed, a stark contrast to the earlier cacophony.

he grunted, pushing himself upright with a wince. “what do you want, princess? come to kick a pogue while he’s down?”

a faint flush touched her cheeks. “no. i--i saw what happened. are you alright?” she knelt beside him, her perfectly manicured nails pointing to his scrapes with a dismissive air.

"honestly, what were you even thinking? try to keep up, or just stay out of the way next time." despite the cutting words, her gaze lingered on his angry red scrapes, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

"this looks pretty bad. you really should get it cleaned." her touch, as she gently prodded his arm, was surprisingly soft, almost tender, betraying the icy tone.

a strange, fragile silence settled between them. the chasm that separated their worlds, the animosity that defined their lives, seemed to momentarily shrink, replaced by a quiet, shared understanding.

in that moment, under the fading light, the secret they held, the dangerous, exhilarating truth of their connection, felt impossibly real, a flickering flame in the rising darkness. it was a secret that could destroy everything, and yet, right now, it was the only thing keeping them from falling apart.

the air thickened, charged with unspoken words and a dangerous undercurrent of desire. y/n's gaze flickered from his bruised knee to his jawline, a hesitant softness replacing the usual kook steel in her eyes. jj, despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder, found himself drawn to her vulnerability. the insults she’d thrown his way felt like a flimsy shield, easily broken.

a beat of silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the post-race commotion. then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, y/n leaned closer. her fingers, still surprisingly gentle, brushed against his cheek. jj’s breath hitched. he knew this was reckless, insane even. topper could appear any second. his friends… what would they say? but in that moment, none of it mattered. there was only y/n, her nearness a magnetic pull he couldn't resist.

their lips met, tentatively at first, a soft brush of skin against skin. then, with a shared intake of breath, the kiss deepened. it wasn't gentle or sweet; it was urgent, a desperate claiming in the shadows. a tangle of unspoken feelings – longing, defiance, fear – poured into the kiss. y/n's hand moved from his cheek to the back of his neck, her fingers threading through his unruly hair.

jj’s good arm instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, the pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. he kissed her with a possessive fire, a silent declaration that topper could never touch her like this, could never make her feel this wild, this free. he tasted victory, bitter and sweet, on her lips.

the world narrowed to just the two of them, the taste of salt and something uniquely y/n on his lips. it was a stolen moment, illicit and exhilarating, a dangerous dance on the edge of discovery. they broke apart breathlessly, their foreheads touching, a shared vulnerability hanging between them.

“we shouldn’t…” y/n whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

jj’s thumb traced the curve of her jaw. “i know.”

the sound of approaching voices shattered the fragile intimacy. they both froze, their eyes widening with alarm.

“y/n? you out here?” it was topper’s voice, laced with a casual impatience.

y/n's eyes darted to jj, a look of sheer panic flashing across her face. she scrambled to her feet, smoothing down her dress with hurried, jerky movements.

“yeah, i’m just… checking things out,” she called back, her voice sounding strained and unconvincing.

topper rounded the cluster of trees, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to stunned disbelief in a split second. his eyes locked onto jj, still sitting awkwardly against the tree, his face flushed, and then flicked to y/n, her lips slightly swollen, her hair slightly disheveled.

the unspoken hung heavy in the air, thicker than the humid evening breeze. the pieces clicked into place with brutal clarity.

“y/n?” topper said, his voice dangerously low, his gaze fixed on jj with a mixture of fury and betrayal. the fragile secret, carefully guarded and fiercely desired, had just exploded into the open.

topper’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping violently in his cheek. his face, usually composed, twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. his eyes, narrowed to venomous slits, darted between y/n’s pale, terrified face and jj’s defiant, bruised stance. “what--what the fuck, y/n? i fucking knew it, you’re a disgusting bitch!” his voice, usually smooth and confident, tore through the quiet, raw and laced with disbelief.

y/n flinched, taking a frantic step back from both of them, caught in the blinding headlights of his fury. “topper, it’s not what you think, i—”

“not what i think?” topper shrieked, cutting her off, his voice escalating to a chilling pitch. he gestured wildly between them, his hand shaking. “you’re out here with--him? after the race? after everything? you're a slut! you're a filthy slut!” his gaze landed on jj, blazing with a fury that promised violence. “you piece of pogue trash. you so much as look at her again, i swear to god, i will—”

jj, despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder, pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly, and stepped in front of y/n, shielding her from topper’s hateful glare, reaching his good arm out to yank topper by his collar. “don’t fucking talk to her like that.” his voice was a low growl, a dangerous challenge. “you wanna talk about what i did? let’s talk about how you never even saw this coming, cause you were too busy being a self-important prick to notice what was right in front of you.”

topper’s eyes blazed even hotter, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles went white. “you think this is funny, maybank? you think you can just steal what’s mine?”

jj let out a humorless laugh, a rough, derisive sound. “steal? she was never yours to steal, topper, she doesn’t want you anymore. get that through your thick skull. she’s done with you.” his words, brutal and cutting, hung heavy in the air, a devastating blow.

y/n, her face still pale with fear, but now with a sudden, sharp glint in her eyes, stepped out from behind jj. she faced topper directly, her chin lifting. “he’s right, topper. i am done with you. did you honestly think i’d stay with a self-absorbed bore like you forever? you’re pathetic. always have been.” she threw the words like sharp, glittering shards of glass, her voice surprisingly steady, though her hands still trembled slightly. “i’m not some accessory for your little kook life. maybe if you actually cared about someone other than yourself, you’d have noticed.”

topper’s gaze flickered to her, a flicker of profound, gut-wrenching betrayal in his eyes before it hardened into a mask of cold, vicious contempt. “don’t, don’t even. this is fucking disgusting, you’re a worthless bitch. you’ll regret this, y/n, both of you.” he looked back at jj, his fists clenching. “you’re dead, maybank. you and everything you love.” with that chilling promise, topper spun on his heel and stormed away, his angry strides echoing in the sudden, terrifying silence.

the silence that followed topper’s departure was deafening, more oppressive than any shouted threat. jj and y/n stood there, side by side, the secret that had bound them now a gaping wound exposed to the world. the setting sun cast long, ominous shadows, mirroring the darkness that had just fallen over their lives. y/n finally looked at jj, her eyes wide and unsure, a silent question passing between them: what now? the outer banks, already a powder keg, had just found its spark. their world had officially exploded.

[rafeobx]

[rafeobx]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY, r.c

MASTERLIST

pair: rafe cameron x maybank!pogue!reader

trope: lovers to strangers to lovers?, pogue x kook, slow burn, angst, enemies.

STARTED AS A ONE SHOT BUT TURNED FIC SO FACE CLAIM AND NAME IS UP TO INTERPRETATION BUT MAIN FC IS REFFERED TO AS Y/N

plot: returning to the outer banks after four years, you discover that things have drastically changed. not everyone, especially your ex rafe, is thrilled about your reappearance, and the people you once knew are different. trust has eroded, new relationships have blossomed, and long-held secrets are coming to light.

WARNINGS: will have mentions of drugs, abuse, and SA.

chapter one: the ones i love

chapter two: where do we go now?

chapter three: the archer

chapter four: would've, could've, should've

chapter five: difficult

[rafeobx]

WHERE DO WE GO NOW?

MASTERLIST

pair: rafe x maybank!pogue!reader

NOTE: part two to the i love you, i'm sorry series! go read part one to be up to date xx

plot: you decided it was best to avoid rafe, believing he hadn't forgiven you and likely wouldn't anytime soon. to cheer you up, your friends—sarah, john b, pope, jj, and kiara—took you to this bike race between kooks and pogues, where jj was competing due to a bet from the gold you'd found years ago. however, their hopes of lifting your spirits were quickly crushed when rafe and his kook girlfriend, sofia, show up.

warnings: jealousy, angst, mean!rafe, depression, miscommunication, sorry sofia lovers :(

the morning light, filtering through the familiar, dusty windows of the chateau, felt softer, less harsh. you’d spent a restless night on the old couch, your mind still thinking about your heated conversation with rafe at the kegger.

you pulled a thread from the worn armrest, fraying the already tattered fabric. each pull was a silent wish, a desperate plea for the earth to swallow you whole. the thought of facing him again, or worse, facing anyone after what he’d said, churned in your stomach, a bitter bile rising in your throat. the quiet hum of the house, usually a comfort, now felt like a suffocating silence, amplifying the echo of his cruel words in your mind.

you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, as if you could physically push the memories back, bury them somewhere deep where they couldn’t reach you. but they were sticky, persistent, clinging to the inside of your eyelids.

you could still see rafe’s face, twisted with a sneer, feel the heat of shame creep up your neck. it felt like your chest was caving in, a dull ache settling behind your ribs, making it hard to breathe. the sun, once a gentle comfort, now felt like a spotlight, exposing every raw nerve, every humiliating moment. you just wanted to curl into a ball and vanish.

the obx, no matter how familiar, no matter how much you loved the smell of the beach and the sound of the waves, held a different kind of darkness now.

you didn’t even realize the tears were running down your face, a steady stream you hadn't consciously started, until the wetness on your cheeks pulled you back from the suffocating depths of your thoughts. you pushed yourself off the old couch, wiping them away with the back of your hand, a futile attempt to erase the silent testament to your pain.

you wanted to confide in rafe, to tell him everything that weighed on you. after all this time, after everything, he was still the one person who knew you best, who saw past the masks you wore. but you couldn’t. you were too scared. the fear was a cold knot in your stomach, tightening with every breath. you couldn't risk it. not now, not ever. the truth felt like a dangerous weapon, more likely to shatter what little you had left than to fix anything.

he loved you, you knew he did, but was that enough? if he knew, really knew, what had happened to you, would he still look at you the same way? would that love, the one fragile thing you clung to, break under the weight of your unspoken trauma? you couldn't bear the thought of seeing his face contort in disgust or pity, knowing that you were somehow less in his eyes.

it was better to be silently broken than visibly shattered, especially when the person you loved was the one you feared shattering it most.

you pushed all thoughts to the back of your head, a desperate attempt to shove the darkness back into its confined space. a smile, practiced and brittle, stretched across your lips. it had to be convincing. your friends, jj, they couldn’t see it. they couldn’t know. they wouldn't think twice.

when you emerged from the living room, the smell of burnt toast and strong coffee filled the air – a chaotic, comforting symphony that instantly brought a small, genuine smile to your face.

john b was wrestling with a rogue pop-tart that had gotten stuck in the toaster, a cloud of smoke rising around him. kie, ever the responsible one, was frantically fanning the smoke detector with a dish towel, while pope, calmly oblivious, meticulously buttered another piece of toast. jj, your brother, always the instigator, was laughing hysterically at john b's struggles.

"morning, sleepyhead," kie greeted you, a warm smile spreading across her face as she finally got the smoke detector to quiet down. "thought you were gonna sleep all day."

"nah, the smell of burning breakfast woke me up," you teased, the words feeling surprisingly easy. you walked over to the counter and poured yourself a cup of coffee, the familiar mug feeling right in your hand. john b, having conquered the pop-tart, turned to you, a surprisingly gentle look in his eyes.

"seriously though," he began, his voice softer than it had been last night, "it's good to have you back. really good." he even managed a small, genuine smile. a lump formed in your throat. this was the john b you remembered, the one who was your anchor. "it's good to be back," you admitted, the words catching a little.

jj clapped you on the back, a rough but affectionate gesture. "see? i told you she'd come around! now, who's ready to dominate this bike race?" he pumped his fist in the air, his usual goofy enthusiasm infectious.

you laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that surprised even yourself. it had been years since you’d laughed like that. "slow down, maybank," you said, taking a sip of your coffee. "we still gotta get there."

as the morning unfolded, a comfortable rhythm settled in. they chattered about the race, about local gossip, about the usual pogue antics, and you found yourself seamlessly falling back into the easy banter. it felt like time hadn't passed, like you hadn't been gone for four long years.

the initial awkwardness of your return had melted away, replaced by the familiar warmth of their friendship. eventually, the conversation softened, turning to more personal matters.

"so," kie began, her eyes a knowing kind of gentle, "about rafe."

you tensed, your newfound comfort wavering. you knew this was coming. "what about him?" you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral. "he's been... rough," pope said, his brow furrowed. "even more than usual. he tried to clean up his act after everything with ward and limbrey, but after you left.--he just kind of spiraled again."

sarah, who had been listening quietly, nodded. "he acts like he's fine, like he's moved on, but i see him. he's always looking for something, someone. and i think that someone is you." her voice was soft, laced with a familiar concern for her brother. "he was really hurt when you left, more than he let on."

"he hated you," john b interjected, his honesty blunt as ever, "but it was that kind of hate that's just pure, raw missing, you know? like he couldn't stand that you were gone, but he also couldn't forgive you for leaving." you nodded slowly, the words a confirmation of your own fears. "i know," you whispered, a fresh wave of guilt washing over you. "i caused him a lot of pain. i just--i thought i was doing the right thing. protecting him."

jj, who had been quiet, fiddling with a loose string on his board shorts, finally looked up. his eyes met yours, and the playful glint was gone, replaced by a deep, unwavering gaze. "protecting him from what?" he asked, his voice low, almost a murmur, but laced with an undeniable edge. he shifted, leaning forward slightly, his posture becoming more intense. his voice raising slowly, the hurt evident in the way he spoke "because honestly, you leaving... it didn't exactly help him. he got a lot worse. like, he got really messed up in the head--even more than he already was. started hearing voices in his head, doing horrible things to us... he's different now, but it was bad. he's dangerous, so, seriously, what made you just vanish like that, sis? why didn't you tell us anything? we were here, you know. we were right here, wondering where the hell you went."

the room fell silent, the cheerful atmosphere dissolving instantly as the weight of his questions pressed down on you. you flinched, the questions hitting you like a physical blow. you turn away from jj, locking eyes with sarah, an apologetic look in her eyes. sarah was the only person you had told you were leaving and she was the only person who knew why.

"it's... it was complicated," you mumbled, the familiar excuse feeling thinner and hollower than ever. you could feel their eyes on you, waiting, demanding an answer you weren't ready to give. "i just... i can't talk about it right now." you took a quick, nervous sip of your coffee, desperate to change the subject.

"so, about this race... who do you guys think is actually going to win this year?" cleo sighed, a hint of exasperation in her eyes. "you're just going to avoid it, aren't you?" you didn't answer, just kept your gaze fixed on the countertop. the unspoken tension returned, a stark reminder of the chasm that still existed between you and the life you'd abandoned.

pope sensing the shift in mood, put an arm around your shoulders. "hey, you can't live in the past, alright? what's done is done. you're here now. and maybe that's enough to start making things right." he squeezed your shoulder gently. "are you going to talk to him? really talk to him?"

you looked at each of them, at the genuine concern in their eyes, the unwavering support. this was your family, the ones who had stuck by you, even when you pushed them away. and for the first time since you’d returned, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay.

"i don't know, he didn't seem very happy when i showed up to the kegger a few days ago," you admitted, the words barely a whisper. "i'm gonna try and avoid him as much as possible at the race. i just... i don't think it's gonna work right now." you took a deep breath. "but the race is probably a good place to be, right? everyone will be there."

"yeah," kiara assured you, a soft smiler plastered across her face.

the humid outer banks air, thick with the scent of salt and pine, did little to soothe your frayed nerves. the bike race, a local tradition you'd always loved, felt different this year, tainted by your own heavy heart.

you arrived with your friends, standing on the sidelines as jj prepared for his heat. you tried to focus on the cheers and the energy, but your eyes scanned the crowd for a face you both longed for and dreaded to see.

and thats when you saw him for the second time, except this time, he was laughing, a bright, unburdened sound that pierced through the noise of the race.

his arm was casually slung around a girl with sun-kissed hair and a smile that reached her eyes. sofia. you recognized her from the few social media posts you'd dared to glance at during your years away.

she was beautiful, vibrant, and clearly, blissfully unaware of the wreckage of your past. a cold, sharp pain lanced through your chest, stealing your breath.

it was a physical blow, worse than any punch. you had known, logically, that he'd move on. four years was a long time. but seeing it, witnessing his happiness with someone else, was a different kind of torture. he looked good, better than you'd ever seen him, free from the haunted expression you remembered. his eyes, once so often clouded with turmoil, sparkled with genuine joy as he looked at sofia.

you stumbled back, bumping into john b who caught your arm. your focus shattered. the world seemed to tilt on its axis, the vibrant colors of the race fading to a dull, suffocating gray. every beat of your heart echoed with a single, crushing thought: he’s happy without you. you mumbled an excuse to your friends, something about needing air, and turned, pushing through the throng of people.

you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t be there another second. the familiar streets, once a source of comfort, now mocked you with their normalcy. you walked aimlessly, the sun beating down on your head, each step a leaden weight. the ache in your chest deepened, spreading through your limbs, a pervasive numbness that dulled every sensation.

the image of rafe and sofia, their smiles bright and untroubled, was burned behind your eyelids, a cruel, mocking specter. you were drowning, utterly and completely alone. the self-loathing gnawed at you, you were a mess, a ghost of your former self, while he had rebuilt his life. the very thought of facing him, of him seeing you like this, was unbearable. what could you possibly say? that you came back to see if he was okay, only to find him perfectly fine, perfectly happy, without you?

the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, but the darkness in your soul felt deeper than the night sky. you were utterly, irrevocably alone. the return, which you had hoped would bring some semblance of peace or closure, had instead plunged you deeper into a darkness you hadn't known existed. the depression, a constant companion since you left, now gripped you with an intensity that left you breathless.

you were back, but you were more lost than ever. you pressed your forehead against your knees, clutching your arms around yourself, trying to physically contain the unraveling within. a tremor ran through you, a memory of cold fear and the sickening violation that had driven you from this island. that night, a specific terror that no one, not even jj, had ever suspected, had splintered something vital inside you. it was a secret kept under lock and key, buried so deep it felt part of your very bones. the thought of anyone discovering the truth, of him seeing the extent of the damage, made your breath catch.

the idea of going back to the chateau, to face the questioning looks of your friends, felt impossible. how could you explain this hollow ache, this profound despair, when you barely understood it yourself? how could you ever explain the visceral revulsion that now clung to every memory of home, to the very concept of touch, of safety?

a different thought, illogical and raw, pulled at you, pushing aside the desire for solace from anyone else. a desperate whisper, a desperate kind of longing, began to surface for rafe. not to tell him everything, god no. not to explain the unspeakable reason you left, or the horror that still clung to you. but just... to be near him. to confide in him, even if it was only the surface-level agony, the general despair. a fragile hope flickered that maybe, just maybe, his mere presence could anchor you, even for a moment.

your feet, which had been carrying you mindlessly towards tannyhill, continued their path. every step was a battle against your own fear, against the crushing weight of pride and the unbearable knowledge of how far you'd fallen. you were heading directly towards figure eight, towards his world, towards the one person who, despite everything, still felt like a jagged piece of your own shattered past.

he porch light sliced through the darkness, harsh and unforgiving. for a beat, he thought he was seeing a ghost, a trick of the humid outer banks night. but no, it was her. standing there, a phantom in the literal sense, her face a raw, devastating portrait of everything he’d tried to bury. the laughter and music from inside died in his ears, replaced by a sudden, violent thrumming in his own blood.

he hadn't moved. couldn't. the shock was a physical blow, followed by a familiar, searing anger that ignited in his gut. she was here. after all this time. after the silence, the gaping hole she’d ripped in his life when she just vanished. he swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw aching with the effort to keep his face blank. sofia’s jeep in the driveway. kelce’s truck. topper. ruthie. the life he’d painstakingly, brutally rebuilt. and now this.

he’d seen her, a few minutes ago, a shadow at the edge of the property. she'd stopped at the end of the driveway, just past kelce's truck, and he'd watched her. her shoulders were hunched, a small, tight knot, and she was absolutely still, like she was arguing with herself, fighting some invisible pull. the sight had been like a phantom ache in his chest, a flicker of something ancient and dangerous stirring within him. he’d thought maybe she’d just turn and leave, disappear back into the night like she always did. he’d almost hoped for it. but then she'd moved, a slow, deliberate trudge towards the house, and he’d known he was screwed. his past, standing on his goddamn porch.

"what do you want?" the words tore out, rougher than he intended, a guttural demand that barely masked the tremor in his chest. he watched her face, searching for an answer, a reason, anything. but her eyes, wide and pleading, were just... empty. hollowed out. she looked like a wreck, worse than he’d ever seen her. the sight twisted something sharp inside him, a bitter cocktail of concern and resentment. a familiar, heavy burden.

he shifted, glancing over his shoulder, a flicker of paranoia. if sofia or anyone else came out... this was too much. he slammed the door shut with a muffled thud that cut off the distant party sounds, plunging the porch into a heavier silence, save for the hum of the air conditioning. he turned back to her, the faint glow from the living room windows barely reaching the porch, leaving her face in shadow.

"hey," he heard himself say, the word soft, against his will. it was the tone he used when she was on the edge, when her world was crumbling. damn her. damn himself. he could feel the old pull, a suffocating familiarity. he hated it. he hated her for making him feel it. but god, the sight of her, broken and exposed, was a raw wound in his own chest. regardless of the jagged chasm she’d carved through him, he couldn’t deny it. the stupid, brutal truth was, he still loved her. the thought burned, a hot, toxic shame.

a single tear escaped her eye, tracing a path down her cheek, and rafe felt a jolt. anger flared again, sharp and cold. don't you dare cry. not here. not now. not after what she'd done. but then he saw the tremor in her hands, the way she clutched herself, like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. the raw, unadulterated fear in her eyes was like a punch to the gut. it wasn't about him. it was about her.

"what is it?" he pushed, the demand edged with a sudden, frantic urgency he despised. he took a step closer, then another, his hand twitching, wanting to reach out, to shake her, to demand answers. "tell me. what happened?"

she finally spoke, her voice a ghost of itself, thin and reedy. "i... i can't." the words were barely a breath. "i just... i need a minute. i just needed to... see you."

see him. the sheer audacity of it. after all the hell she’d put him through, the wreckage she’d left behind, she just needed to see him? a cold laugh almost broke from his throat, but it died. her eyes, pleading and desperate, were fixed on his, and in their depths, he saw a glimmer of true, unadorned pain. not a performance. not manipulation. just utter despair.

"you didn't know where else to go," he repeated, the words flat, heavy with disbelief and the grinding bitterness of years. he didn't try to hide the contempt. "after all this time? after showing up to the kegger with no warning? and you come here?" his gaze swept over her, taking in the bruised hollows beneath her eyes, the stark vulnerability that made him want to rage and pull her close all at once. "you show up out of nowhere, at a party of all places, after four years, looking like a damn ghost, and you tell me you just 'needed a minute'? you think this is some kind of shelter for you now? what the hell is going on? why did you leave me?" his voice was rough, edged with a dangerous mix of genuine concern and explosive frustration. the question hung in the air, weighted with every unspoken accusation and every fragmented memory of the past.

but before you could respond, there was a shift in his demeanor. as if he had just came to a realization of some sort and his eyes turned cold. he raised his hand. "actually," you furrowed your eyes "i don't wanna know. you know why? because you're a user, y/n. you come back when you're at your lowest, just to dump your misery on someone else. go on, run. go find someone else to bleed on." he seethed and before you could respond, he slammed the door in your face, leaving you all alone, once again.

for those who wanted me to tag them

@mirellef2001

[rafeobx]

DIE FIRST

MASTERLIST

kind of a part two to the ghost between us but with a time jump?

pair: soft!exboyfriend!rafe x maybank!pogue!reader

plot: it’s been months since jj died, and it didn’t take long for you to spiral. your pogue friends have tried everything to pull you back—but the only person who truly knows how to reach you is rafe.

warnings: severe depression, mentions of death, cursing, angst, and probably grammar mistake ngl

it had been three months since jj died.

three months of nothing.

y/n hadn’t eaten a full meal in weeks, barely slept, barely moved. the days bled together in a haze of numb silence, dirty ashtrays, cold coffee, and panic attacks that clawed at her chest until she passed out from exhaustion.

she’d stopped trying to pretend she was okay.

the house felt like a tomb. jj’s shoes were still by the door and his surfboard leaned against the wall. no one had the heart to move them, not even her.

sometimes, late at night, she'd sit in the shower fully clothed, just to feel something. anything. sometimes she’d scream into pillows until her throat went raw. but mostly, she was quiet. terrifyingly quiet.

cleo, pope, kiara, john b, sarah—they all tried. she knew they meant well but none of them could get through. she couldn’t hear them through the grief. couldn’t feel them through the fog.

because there was only one person who ever truly knew how to calm the chaos in her chest.

and he was long gone.

y/n lay, disassociated, in her bed—eyes wide open, staring through the ceiling like she wasn’t even there. like her body was just something left behind.

kiara hovered in the doorway, fists clenched. pope was in the kitchen, pacing. john b sat on the porch steps with his head in his hands.

they were losing her and they knew it.

“you’re not gonna like this,” sarah said finally, voice low, breaking the silence like glass. “but i think we should call rafe.”

john b’s head snapped up. “are you serious right now?”

sarah didn’t flinch. “she doesn’t eat, john b. she doesn’t move. she doesn’t even cry anymore. she’s slipping away. if he’s the only one she’ll respond to, then we call him.”

john b stood, frustrated. “he’s with someone else. and after everything—”

“come on john b, everyone knows rafe isn’t really over y/n,” sarah cut in, sharp. “you think that girl he’s dating means anything? he loved her, probably still does and she needs him right now.”

none of them said anything after that.

because she was right.

his phone buzzed once. then again. and then again.

he ignored it as he laid back on the edge of the bed in a house that never felt like home. his girlfriend—whatever her name was—called out from the bathroom, asking if he wanted to go out tonight. he didn’t answer.

he stared at the ceiling like it might give him something. a reason, a distraction, anything.

the buzzing didn’t stop. he finally looked up, grabbing his phone rather aggressively, his heart dropping. sarah.

sarah: she’s not talking. sarah: hasn’t eaten in days. sarah: she’s not gonna make it if you don’t come.

he sat up slowly, the air punched out of his lungs. his chest tightened like it always did when he thought of y/n and the way things ended—fast, messy, wrong.

she hadn’t spoken to him since the night of the funeral, hadn’t answered a single call. she didn’t even look at him when he showed up at the house that day—eyes empty, body shaking, grief radiating off her like heat.

he didn’t blame her but that didn’t stop him from loving her.

he stood up. grabbed his keys off the nightstand. his girlfriend called after him again—something about dinner or a movie or whatever—and he shut the door behind him without a word.

this wasn’t a choice and it never had been.

if she needed him, he’d be there. no matter what he had to walk away from to get to her because even after everything—she was still his.

the pogues were on the porch when he pulled up, but no one said a word. pope looked away., john b tensed, and kiara stood with her arms crossed, a sharpness in her eyes that didn’t soften when she saw him.

only sarah met his gaze, a single nod toward the front door.

he walked past them without speaking, shoes heavy on the steps. the front door creaked open behind him, and the silence of the house wrapped around him like fog.

it was too quiet. like everything inside had given up. her door was open just a crack.

he didn’t knock.

she was curled on the bed in jj’s hoodie, smaller than he’d ever seen her. the fabric drowned her, her knees were tucked to her chest, her hair was a mess, her face pale, her eyes wide but empty—staring at nothing. it was like the world had faded and she couldn’t remember what color felt like.

“y/n.” her head turned slowly, like it took more energy than she had.

“rafe?”

he nodded. “yeah.” her brow furrowed. “what are you doing here?” he walked over, sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. “you don’t have to do this alone.”

“i told you to leave,” she whispered.

“you did,” he said. “but you didn’t mean it.” she looked away. her fingers trembled in her lap.

“you hated him.”

he exhaled. "yeah, i did, but i came for you.”

her voice cracked, her eyes finally meeting his blue ones. “i don’t know how to do this anymore. i can't sleep, i can't eat, i get up and he’s still gone. and i—i don’t know how to be here without him.”

“you don’t have to figure it out right now,” he said gently, reassuring her. “you just have to breathe. i’ll be here when you do.”

she blinked fast, jaw clenched like she was holding something in. maybe panic, maybe tears, or maybe both.

“i feel like i’m losing myself.” she whispered it, like saying it any louder would make it real.

he didn’t hesitate this time, he reached for her, slow but steady, and when she didn’t flinch, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him.

“i’ve got you,” he murmured. “you’re still here, you’re still you. even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

she didn’t answer right away, but her hand gripped his shirt, tight.

she let herself fall into him, her forehead against his chest, her breath hitching and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself cry.

quiet. shaking. but real.

he held her through all of it, not saying much, he just sat there. when her breathing finally slowed and the tears dried on her skin, she looked up at him, voice cracked and raw.

“i love you.”

his response came instantly, no hesitation, no breath between.

“i love you too.”

he said it like it had never stopped being true. like it was the one thing in his world that hadn’t changed.

and this time, when she closed her eyes and leaned into him again—

she didn’t feel like she was falling.

she felt like she was home.

[rafeobx]

a girl can dream

[rafeobx]

speaking my truth guys

[rafeobx]

THE GHOST BETWEEN US

MASTERLIST

ex!rafe x maybank!reader

plot: it’s been months since you ended things with rafe—ever since jj found out about your secret and gave you an ultimatum. everything’s different now: rafe’s with sofia, jj has kiara… and you? you’re alone. but everyone knows the truth — no matter who he’s with, rafe still loves you.

warnings: lots angst, jealousy, KOOK sofia

he’s with sofia now.

everyone knows it. she’s pretty. polished. safe. she wears white dresses and pearl earrings. she knows how to laugh at the right time, say the right thing, never ask too many questions. she’s from his world. the world that smells like old money and champagne on docks and names whispered like legacies.

she doesn’t come with war in her eyes and rebellion in her veins. she doesn’t come with the name maybank tangled in hers. she doesn’t make his father flinch when she walks into a room.

but everyone also knows that rafe still checks the old dock, still drives by the chateau late at night, lights off, heart clenching, still wears the chain you gave him that he keeps tucked under his shirt, hidden like a wound that never healed.

he moved on the way people do when they’re trying not to die—not because he stopped loving you.

and sofia isn’t blind,—she sees the way he stiffens when someone says your name, she sees how he zones out, staring at nothing, lost in a memory only he knows.

she kisses him, and he kisses her back but not like he kissed you.

never like you. he doesn’t say her name like it’s a prayer because she’s not you.

and no matter how many months pass — no matter how many pictures he lets her post, how many family dinners he shows up for, how many times she whispers i love you into the curve of his neck —his heart still belongs to the girl who walked away for blood, the girl who left to protect her brother, the girl who shattered both of them just to keep her world from burning even if it killed her, too.

the first time you saw him again was by accident.

midsummers. you weren’t even supposed to be there. kie had begged you to get out of your slump and jj promised they’d keep it chill and you thought, maybe, just maybe, if enough time had passed, it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

you were wrong.

he walked in with sofia at his side, tan and polished in his pressed white shirt and baby-blue tux, with that cruel kind of beauty that still made your lungs falter and your breath hitch.

he looked like a dream you weren’t allowed to touch anymore and when his eyes found yours across the crowd, he froze. everything around you blurred. you didn’t see sofia. you didn’t see the others staring between you and him. all you saw was him and the sea of distance between you.

you looked away, the ache in your chest spilled out of your ribs and onto the floor, deciding to leave before you could break. but rafe followed.

he always did.

you were standing out on the club stairs when you heard him behind you. neither of you spoke right away.

the ocean stretched out in front of you, but all you could feel was the air between you two—thick, electric, still alive.

“i tried,” you finally whispered, not turning around. “i tried to forget you.” his voice came slower. raw. honest. “so did i.” then you turned and there he was. the boy who tore through your world like a storm. you looked at each other like the pain had never left. because the truth was—it hadn't.

and in his eyes, you saw it all--the nights he stayed up thinking of you, the chain under his shirt, the truth he couldn’t say with sofia in his arms.

he still loved you and that was the cruelest part of all.

[rafeobx]

IM NOT FEELING WELL RN

[rafeobx]

[rafeobx]

MASTERLIST

wattpad: @sturnlvrss (sturniolo focused!)

RAFE CAMERON:

SERIES: burning red

i love you, i'm sorry

ONE SHOTS: the ones i love. . . (turned to series)

the ghost between us | die first (sort of a part 2 ig?)

JJ MAYBANK:

ONE SHOTS: run for the hills

[rafeobx]

THE ONES I LOVE. . .

was thinking about the ones i love by olivia rodrigo and wrote this

ex!boyfriend!rafe x maybank!reader

MASTERLIST

part one of my I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

plot: you return to outer banks after four years and lets just say---not everyone is happy to see you.

warnings: extreme angst, cursing, mention of drugs, slight fluff

it's been years. years since you've returned to the outer banks, years since you've seen him.

dust motes dance in the slivers of moonlight piercing the grimy windows, illuminating the wreckage of what once was. a broken guitar lies propped against a stained couch, its strings snapped like forgotten promises.

every step you take echoes in the stillness, each creak of the floorboards a ghostly whisper of the past. no one is home; the twinkie is nowhere in sight.

you grab your bags, the worn straps digging into your shoulder, and walk to what used to be your bedroom. the door creaks open, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. nothing is as it used to be.

the photos that once draped your walls – memories of laughter, sunsets, and endless summer days – are gone. the room is now empty of any possible reminder of you, stripped bare as if to erase your very existence.

it’s almost as if you were never there.

then, through the oppressive quiet, you hear it: the unmistakable sound of familiar voices, brimming with laughter and happiness nearing the house. itt’s a gut punch, the realization that your friends—your brother—could be so normal without you, so accustomed to your absence. it hurts, a dull, aching throb deep in your chest.

but you know, with a sickening certainty, that this pain is nothing compared to the agony you'd feel once you saw him again. rafe.

you reluctantly turn around, drawn by the pull of those voices. as you step into the doorway, their laughter dies in their throats. one by one, their smiles drop, replaced by stunned silence as their eyes meet yours.

"what the fuck," jj whispers, his voice thick with disbelief. he stares at you, his gaze a mixture of anger and confusion, a silent question hanging in the air: does he even want to see you?

can you blame him if he doesn't, though?

you left four years ago—no note, no call, nothing. and just as fast as you disappeared, you’re back, standing there as if nothing ever happened.

the air crackles with unspoken history, a chasm of absence stretching between you and the life you abandoned. without another word, jj lunges forward, engulfing you in a tight embrace. but you don't hug him back. your arms hang stiffly at your sides, every muscle tense.

tears brim your eyes, hot and heavy, threatening to spill over. he pulls away, his thumbs gently wiping the dampness from your cheeks.

"what're you doing back?" his voice cracks, the initial confusion blurring into raw resentment. "and why the fuck did you leave without saying goodbye?"

you don't respond. your gaze drifts past him, past the others, and lands on sarah. the unspoken question hangs heavy between you two, a desperate plea you're dying to voice.

"he's fine," sarah says, her voice soft but firm, a knowing look in her eyes. "he says he's fine, but i know he isn't. maybe you should see him?"

jj stares at you, unsure, a silent protest forming on his lips. before he can object, kiara interrupts, a smirk playing on her lips. "there's a kegger tonight," she says knowingly, "and knowing rafe, he most definitely will be there."

you let out a lighthearted chuckle, a hollow sound that doesn't quite reach your eyes. the thought of seeing rafe again ties your stomach in knots; you're not sure you can face him, or the wreckage of the past.

suddenly, pope wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you into a rough, familiar squeeze. "you know, as much as i don't like him," pope says, looking at you intently, "he makes you happy, so, why not try, right?"

the question hangs in the air, a challenge and a comfort all at once. what do you do next?

"so, you up for it?" john b shrugged, a sly smile on his face.

the bass thumps against your chest as you move through the throng of bodies, the air thick with sweat, cheap beer, and a faint echo of that familiar scent from the house.

your eyes scan the chaotic scene, searching for a face you both dread and long to see. instead, your gaze locks with topper.

"well, well, well," he drawls, a smug smirk twisting his lips. you roll your eyes, internally cursing your luck for running into the most annoying, most nerve-wracking person in the obx. "rafe know you're back? or are you planning on running away from your problems again?"

"i don't remember asking you, topper," you retort, your voice sharper than you intended. you take a step back, ready to disappear into the crowd before you bump into someone.

"yo, watch where you're goi—"

the voice is rough, slurring slightly, cutting through the blare of the music and the buzz of the crowd. you flinch, freezing mid-step. your heart begins to pound a frantic drumbeat against your ribs, so loud you swear even topper can hear it over the noise.

you don't need to see his face; you already know. the way the words are clipped, the familiar undertone, it’s all him. you brace yourself, drawing in a sharp, unsteady breath as the person turns around.

and there he is. rafe fucking cameron. his eyes, once a color you could drown in, are bloodshot and shadowed. the boyish charm is gone, replaced by a hardened edge, a weariness that digs deep--one that you know you caused.

he stops mid-sentence, his jaw going slack as his gaze lands on you. the beer bottle in his hand lowers slowly, forgotten, crushing in his hands from anger. the noise of the party seems to fade, leaving only the deafening roar of your own pulse.

for a moment, neither of you breathes. then, the stillness shatters.

a flicker of something dangerous ignites in rafe's eyes – recognition morphing into raw, untamed fury. his face darkens, a vein throbbing in his temple. topper, sensing the shift, wisely melts into the crowd.

"you," rafe growls, the single word a venomous hiss that cuts through the thumping music. he takes a step forward, his eyes burning into yours. "you have some goddamn nerve showing up here."

before you can even formulate a response, his hand shoots out, his fingers closing around your arm in a vice-like grip. it’s not gentle; it’s a possessive, angry hold that makes you wince.

"we're leaving," he snaps, his voice low and guttural, pulling you roughly through the throng of bewildered party-goers. you stumble, trying to keep up with his angry stride, the force of his momentum dragging you behind him. the air outside hits you like a cold slap, but it does little to cool the fire radiating from rafe.

he doesn't let go until you're clear of the last stragglers, out on the dark, sandy path leading away from the beach.

he shoves you, not violently, but with enough force that you lose your footing and land hard on the sand. he stands over you, chest heaving, his face contorted with a pain so profound it makes your own heart clench.

"four goddamn years," he spits, his voice ragged with disbelief. "four years, and you just waltz back in like nothing happened? like you didn't rip my life apart even more? you knew about my dad, you knew about all the shit he did and you still chose to abandon me." his words are laced with a bitter accusation, each one a fresh wound. "what the hell do you want from me?"

you push yourself up, brushing sand from your jeans, meeting his furious gaze. "i... i just wanted to see if you were okay," you whisper, the words barely audible over the crashing waves.

his laugh is humorless, a harsh sound that grates on your ears. "okay? you think i'm okay?" he runs a hand through his hair, agitated. "i've been a living hell since you left. every damn day was just an empty space where you used to be." his voice softens, just a fraction, the anger momentarily overshadowed by a raw vulnerability. "i hated you for leaving. god, i still hate you. but i missed you more."

he looks at you then, truly looks at you, the fury in his eyes never dims, but now it's accompanied by a desperate, aching longing. he takes a hesitant step closer, his eyes watery, hovering uncertainly before you.

"why did you come back?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, the fight suddenly draining out of him, leaving only a profound weariness. "are you just here to tear me apart all over again, or?

the question hangs in the humid night air, heavy with unasked possibilities.

E SPEAKS !

so i intended for this to be a one shot, but i had way too much fun writing this so let me know if you guys want this to be a series!