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summary: after finding out that your fiancé had cheated on you with his childhood best friend—who just so happened to be Rafe's fiancée— Rafe proposes a reckless plan: follow them across Italy and Greece and ruin the dream honeymoon they stole. but somewhere between petty sabotage, breathtaking views, and far too much time together, the two of you begin to discover there's more waiting for you than revenge.
content warning: strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, one bed, sexual tension, explicit sexual content 18+ MDNI
a/n: okay I was too excited not to share this but here's a little preview of a series I’ve been working on!! coming soon!!
“Rafe, I’m really not in the mood—”
“Just listen to me,” Rafe interrupted, wrapping his hands around your wrist as he pulled you towards the hallway. As soon as you closed the door to your bedroom, Rafe was leaning his hands on your dresser, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Charlotte never changed the passwords to her email. I still have access to everything. They think they’re being slick, but I just saw the confirmation emails. They are taking the exact same honeymoon itinerary that we planned. The one I paid for.”
You stared at him, confused. “What?”
“I overheard it from Topper at the country club, they’re going to Italy and Greece,” Rafe said, a dark, vindictive smirk spreading across his lips. “It was supposed to be my wedding gift to her since her type A ass couldn’t stop perfecting her dream trip.”
“Okay, so what am I supposed to do about that?” You countered, shrugging your blazer off as you approached your closet. He tapped the folder, the noise almost as loud as your heart thumping as Rafe replied, “I want you to come with me. We're going, and we’re going to follow them and make ‘em pay for the shit they pulled on us.”
You blinked, your brain struggling to process the sheer audacity of the words coming out of his mouth. “You want me to WHAT?” you hissed, your voice rising in pitch, not entirely caring if Sage could overhear your conversation with Rafe. “You want to follow our ex-fiancés on their makeshift-honeymoon wannabe trip and sabotage everything they do?”
“Yes,” Rafe’s expression was serious as ever, not a flicker of sarcasm in his voice. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into that persuasive, lethal cadence. “Think about it. We show up at the same places they go to and boot them out, then take every opportunity to ruin their entire trip. C’mon, they wasted all of these years of our lives just to fuck each other behind our backs, you don’t want a little bit of payback?”
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when you miss your ferry back home, you cross paths with rafe, who's in the depths of despair and in need of an escape. what's it going to take for you to cheer up the numb rafe cameron and make your voyage back home with nothing but an optimistic attitude and rafe by your side?
𝐂𝐖: profanity, smoking, misogyny, very brief mention of drinking
𝐖𝐂: 2.1k
𝐀/𝐍: this is very much just to set the story off, but i hope you guys enjoy! also, lmk if you want to be tagged in the next parts!
𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: Jab We Met, made in 2007.
𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•
rafe didn’t know why he had decided to come. ornate flower arrangements hung around the room, too many pastel colours flooding his vision. he searched for her, scanning the rather large crowd. but when their eyes finally met, he wished he had stayed home. at least there he wasn’t being bombarded by the constant reminder that sofia was engaged.
in true masochistic fashion, he thought he’d make an appearance at sofia’s engagement party. it was a ship he refused to set sail, his grip too strong. because maybe there was a chance. a chance that it wasn’t real and she was still his. but when he saw her fiance’s hand around her waist, his loving eyes lingering on her– a sick feeling settled in his stomach, and he knew he needed to let go. her eyes widened, a mix of sorrow and guilt. sorrow and guilt he didn’t want to see. so, instead of congratulating her and the man who had taken his place, he turned to leave. he had no business being here. he needed to leave. he needed to leave the investors pestering him after he gained ownership of cameron development. he needed to leave this godforsaken town. without another word, rafe left the party. the next ferry to wilmington; that’s where he ended up. weaving his way through people, and settling on a seat next to you. that, he would soon come to realise, would be a very annoying mistake.
you glanced over at the man next to you, who was quite overdressed for a ferry ride, with his well-pressed suit and polished shoes. taking in his slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, you thought wow, that’s depressing. you couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy, who seriously looked like he was going through it. so you did what you did best– made conversation.
“the breeze is so nice today, don’t you think? I’m y/n by the way.” you extended your hand toward him, but he remained still. okay, so not a handshake type of guy. noted. “anyways, what brings you here? i’m going home to my family, you know. i’m so excited. it’s like, the difference between talking through a screen and actually seeing them is so much!” you continued, but he didn’t even glance your way. this didn’t stop you, however. nothing usually stopped you from talking, and it was the same in this case.
you didn’t stop when he gave you a glare so evidently conveying the words shut up, or when he rolled his eyes. you still didn’t stop when he shifted slightly away from you. and, worst of all, you still didn’t stop when he said–
“god, you never shut up, do you?”
“no, not really. my family says i’m a chatterbox, that i’ll talk and talk and- anyways, back to what i was saying. i’m so excited to see him, but i don’t know how to break the news to my family. it’s just like–” your voice was drowned out by rafe’s thoughts, and he kept blocking it out until the ferry had reached charleston. when the ferry docked, he left as if he was being timed. he couldn’t get away faster. you rolled your eyes at his rude behaviour, and you caught something in your peripheral. the man’s wallet. you grabbed it, opening it up to find his license. rafe cameron. the name was familiar, but you didn’t have time to figure out where it was from before you made a beeline for him. he was walking along the beach now, far away from you and your annoying rambles. your voice was ringing in his head, like a mosquito buzzing around in his mind. he swear he could actually hear you yelling out–
“hey! you! you left your wallet on your seat! hey!” you wheezed, bracing yourself, with one hand on your knees and one in the air waving around his wallet, from the extremely long fifty metre run from the ferry to the beach.
rafe turned around, albeit reluctantly, to collect his wallet. he knew the cash in there wasn’t worth anything compared to what he had waiting for him in outer banks. he decided that if he took it, however, you would have to stop pestering him. swiftly, he freed your hands of the heavy leather and turned back around. but when he felt a hand pulling his shoulder back, his irritance doubled as he stumbled to face the annoying owner of said hand.
“what do you want now?” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “i was just wondering if you brought anything else with you? i thought you might have forgotten it since you forgot your wallet.” you said, ignoring his exasperated expression.
“no, i don’t have anything else.” he let out, shoving his wallet into his pant pocket. the wind was harsh today, whirling leaves haphazardly through the air. the sound of it was so deafening that you almost missed your ferry’s horn. almost, but not quite. but what you realised you had missed upon hearing the horn, was your ferry.
“no- no- come back!” you ran, despite your backpack- which you thought was definitely full to the brim with bricks- weighing you down as your legs worked faster than they ever had. in horror, you watched as the ferry went further and further, until it was just a small white shape drifting along the blue of the water. a small white shape that was your only way home tonight, that still held your luggage. how could you be so stupid? it was far too late for the next ferry back to charleston, and ferries weren’t running for the next two days. so yes, that was quite literally your only way home.
“shit.” your hands moved to your hips as you watched helplessly at the nearly-disappeared ferry. you turned to face rafe, who had somehow also disappeared. in the midst of realising that you were stranded in wilmington with a dead phone and no suitcase, you didn’t happen to notice him leave. now, you didn’t even have someone you could talk to. after pacing along the creaking wood of the dock for a silent five minutes, you realised that all you needed was to get to a motel, with no money or way to pay whatsoever. it was now that you wished you’d kept rafe’s far too heavy wallet. your feet led themselves on their own accord as you wandered along the beach, hoping for some form of help. but it was getting dark. people were leaving, and figures became blurrier in the moonlit night.
“lookin’ for something, sweetheart?” a slurred voice called out, followed by loud laughter. you focused your gaze on the source of the sound, a group of men– no younger than you, by the looks of it– who were currently making their way over. you swallowed, backing away and turning on your heel to walk the opposite way.
“come on, don’t be like that. we’re not gonna hurt you, baby.” the rest of them snickered as their friend jogged up to you, following your stride. you averted your gaze, focusing on the plain concrete ahead, ignoring the beer breath sending degrading remark after degrading mark your way. “shit, y’all. she’s a stubborn one. we’ll fix you up, though, won’t we?” you kept walking, hellbent on not reacting, but that went to shit when his grubby hand yanked your shoulder, resulting in your hand leaving a nasty red mark on his face.
he, of course, acted like you had just murdered his whole family, and was set out on doing god knows what to you as his friends jeered him on. you, being the resourceful woman that you were, however, had your eye set on a particularly sharp piece of broken glass lying about a foot away from where you were standing. between a man and contracting some sort of broken glass-borne disease, you’d favour the latter. you quickly picked it up, brandishing it up in front of you.
“i’ll fucking kill you if you touch me again.” you said, waving the green glass closer to the moron who had worsened your already ruined night. he cowered away slightly towards his minions, who were hurling insults and multiple “you’re a fucking psycho!”’s at you. as they moved closer in, you threw the glass at them and ran even faster than you had when you needed to give rafe his wallet back. however, your impromptu run was disrupted when you suddenly collided into rafe, who was somehow more pissed off than he was on the ferry.
“it’s you! oh my lord, what are the chances? i’m sorry about that, by the way, there were some drunk dicks back there and i just needed to get away.” your words came out in pants, all the running catching up to you. “right.” he nodded briefly, giving you a questionable look. his eyes were still slightly red, glistening in the dim light of the streetlight.
“so, um, where are you staying tonight?” your fingers fiddled with a loose thread on your faded shirt as you attempted to reel rafe out of his boring one worded answers. “i don’t think that’s any of your business.” he pulled out a small box from his pocket, which was soon accompanied by a navy blue lighter. the ashy smell of tobacco wafted through the air as he lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips, inhaling. you watched as he leaned against the stone fence separating the beach from the sidewalk, coughing slightly when the pungent smell tickled your throat.
“well, i don’t agree. i can clearly see that you’re going through some shit and you need some help. um, i mean, reassurance. i could also go for some reassurance right now. i missed my ferry home when i returned your wallet to you, and i don’t have a way to get home–” midway through your not-so-subtle spiel on trying to get rafe’s help, he cut you off.
“you’re saying it’s my fault you missed your ferry? if you can clearly see i’m going through something or whatever, why not leave me alone, hm?” he blew the smoke directly in your face, satisfied when you coughed again.
“ok, so i never said it was your fault, and i’m not going to leave you alone because you’re going through something. you’re like, semi-depressed and i don’t want to leave you alone– what if something happens to you?” you waved your hand in the air, attempting to dissipate the smoke barrier between you and him.
“says the woman who just threw a glass shard at a group of men. you should worry about yourself. you don’t know me, and i don’t know you, so leave me the fuck alone.” he continued blowing the smoke directly in your face, much to your displeasure.
“listen here. i’m not leaving, and that’s final. i need to get home, and i’m pretty sure you need to get away from whatever shit has you acting like a brooding little bitch, so why not just come with me? it’s a perfect idea if you think about it. plus, i know you have enough in that fat ass little wallet of yours, so don’t argue that you don’t have money or anything. come on. you need an escape, i need a way home. we can help each other out.” you exhaled at the end of your pitch, snatching the cigarette from between his fingers. “and stop fucking smoking in my face! i have asthma, you idiot.”
he straightened immediately; you dodged his many attempts at getting his cigarette back. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you’re batshit crazy.” he scowled, eventually giving up on his long-gone cig.
“and you’re in need of some fun.” you replied, keeping your voice calm. he was close enough now that you could smell lingering traces of tobacco in his breath. rafe couldn’t believe you. a perfect stranger, asking him to basically fund and accompany her on her way home. an escape, as you called it. isn’t that what rafe wanted anyways? something that could completely rid him of the stresses he had waiting for him back home? on his aimless wandering through the streets of wilmington, he thought about getting back in touch with barry again. being sober wasn’t getting him anywhere, especially now that sofia– his main reason for quitting– wasn’t his. but this, your offer, was tempting him. in truth, he had gotten so lost in his anger and irritance targeted towards you that he very briefly forgot about the current shitshow that was outer banks. besides, you were easy enough to piss off that he wouldn’t get bored. so, after banishing the words consequences, sofia, and investors, from his mind, he found himself saying–
Cynthia Erivo for Variety. She speaks on how people were psychoanalyzing her friendship with Ariana and the misogynoir she was subjected to during the press tour for Wicked For Good:
“It’s very interesting, watching what people’s perception is versus what the reality actually is. Lots of psychologists seated at home deciding who we were, what we were going through, what we were doing and why. I think that people didn’t really believe that we were actually friends. But that’s also because people don’t know me very well. If I’m a friend, then I’m a friend. If I’m not, then I’m not.”
“I think that we haven’t really come to terms with the insidious nature of how we view Black women. And I’m sure people will read this and think, ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, it’s not about that.’ But it is. Because that’s what was being made fun of. It was my physique; it was my shape; it was the fact that I was bald; it was about what I looked like. And because of that, there was this assumption that I was bigger than my co-star and so I had to be controlling or protecting, and that was my role. I would hazard a guess that it would not have been the same had it been the other way around.”
Now performing a one-woman version of 'Dracula' in London, Cynthia Erivo reflects on the chaos of making 'Wicked.'
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
calling the one singular lesbian couple with a happy ending forced diversity in a show known for featuring disabled people, poc, and queer men is just weird and shady and you know it.
PAIRINGS: ex!frat!rafe cameron x reader
SYNPOSIS: after breaking up with rafe,x reader can't help but notice similarities with his current relationship to your old one and you can't help but wonder if he's truly over you.
A/N: obviously based on deja vu by olivia rodrigo!
it starts with a voicemail. not even a long one. just his voice, rough and tired and quiet in a way rafe cameron never is.
“wrong person. sorry.”
except it isn’t the wrong person because your name is still sitting there at the top of his call log when you stare at your phone at 2:14 a.m., heart thudding so hard it makes you feel sick.
you listen to it three times anyway then you delete it. or at least you try to.
everyone in figure eight talks too much and so you hear things before you see them.
“rafe’s got a new girl.”
“she’s pretty.”
“looks kinda like—”
you leave before they finish the sentence but later, when you’re standing in line at the country club café, you finally see her. blonde highlights. your favorite sundress color. the same laugh you used to fake just to keep him smiling after a bad night.
and rafe—
god. he looks happy. his hand rests against the small of her back like it belongs there like yours used to.
you look away first. he doesn’t even notice you. the thing about loving rafe cameron was that it never happened slowly. it was drowning. he crashed into your life like a storm surge — reckless smiles, bloody knuckles, expensive cologne and sad eyes that begged to be understood.
you used to think you were special because he softened around you because he’d show up at your window at midnight and whisper, “you’re the only thing that makes me feel normal.”
you believed him. that was the worst part.
the first time you realize it isn’t coincidence, it almost makes you throw up. you’re at The Wreck with kiara, picking apart fries you’re barely eating, when rafe walks in with her beside him.
you tell yourself not to look but you can't help it: you look anyway. the girl is pretty in the effortless kind of way. glossy lips, tanned skin, gold hoops catching the light when she laughs but that’s not what gets you.
it’s the way rafe reaches over and steals a fry from her plate. the exact same way he used to steal yours and then she rolls her eyes and says, “you literally said you weren’t hungry.”
your stomach drops because those were your words. rafe freezes for half a second too long after she says it like he hears it too. then he laughs softly and leans back in his chair, but there’s something wrong with his expression now. distant. almost panicked.
kiara notices your face immediately. “hey,” she says quietly.
you stand up so fast your chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “i need air.” and outside, your hands won’t stop shaking.
“you okay?” sarah asks one afternoon.
you’re sitting on the dock behind the chateau, knees pulled to your chest while the sunset bleeds pink across the water. “fine.”
“you’re a terrible liar.”
you laugh softly. “guess i learned from the camerons.”
sarah goes quiet after that, the waves hitting against the wood beneath your feet. “he talks about you sometimes,” she says carefully.
you hate how fast your heart reacts. “does he?”
“only when he’s drunk.” that hurts more than it should.
you see them again a week later.
this time at the drive-in. she’s wearing one of his hoodies. your hoodie. the gray one with the faded collar and the tiny bleach stain on the sleeve from when you tried to help him clean his bike. you remember him laughing while you complained. “baby, you literally made it worse.”
“shut up,” you’d grinned, shoving him.
he kissed you right after that. hard and smiling and full of something that almost felt like love. now another girl is curled against his side in that same sweatshirt and rafe is looking at her exactly the way he used to look at you like she hung the moon just for him.
you think maybe this is what grief actually is. not death. replacement.
after that, it becomes impossible not to notice.
everywhere you go, there’s another piece of yourself staring back at you through her.
you see them at the marina one afternoon, and she’s wearing rafe’s rings on her fingers, twisting them around absentmindedly while he talks.
you used to do that. he used to hold your hand up afterward and grin. “looks better on you anyway.” now he’s saying it to her. you know because you see her laugh and duck her head shyly exactly the way you once did.
it feels like watching someone perform your life onstage like she studied you somehow. or worse like he taught her. sarah finds you crying in her bathroom later that night. you’re sitting on the closed toilet seat with your face buried in your hands while mascara stains your knees.
“oh, honey.”
you laugh bitterly. “don’t.”
she crouches in front of you carefully. “he’s messed up.”
“he took every little thing about me and gave it to someone else.”
“that’s not what he’s doing.”
you look at her sharply. “then what is he doing?”
sarah hesitates and that hesitation tells you everything.
“sarah.”
she sighs quietly. “he doesn’t know how to let people go.”
your chest aches because somehow that’s worse.
the final straw happens at a party.
of course it does: everything bad with rafe always happened at parties. music pounds through Tannyhill Plantation while rich kids stumble around drunk and laughing under string lights.
you almost leave before you see them near the pool. almost. the girl is sitting on the edge with her feet in the water while rafe stands between her knees, looking down at her with that soft expression he reserved for rare moments. the real moments.
she reaches up and fixes his chain where it sits crooked against his collarbone. your breath catches painfully. you used to do that every single time he got nervous.
before parties. before fights. before family dinners he didn’t want to survive. “quit fidgeting,” you’d whisper, straightening it for him.
and he’d grab your wrist afterward, pressing a kiss against the inside like it meant something sacred. now he’s letting her do it. same chain. same look in his eyes. same small smile.
deja vu crashes over you so hard you physically step backward. and then — “baby,” she says to him softly. “you okay?”
baby. your name for him. not babe. not raf. baby. you feel sick.because that one was yours.
that was born at 3 a.m. after he showed up bruised and exhausted at your window, letting you patch him up while he tried not to fall apart in front of you.
and from then on, it stuck. you stare at him across the party. waiting. waiting for him to correct her. to flinch. to realize. instead, rafe just closes his eyes for a brief second like it hurts him too. then he kisses her forehead and your entire body goes numb.
later, you end up alone in one of the upstairs bathrooms, gripping the sink so hard your knuckles ache.
you hear the door open behind you. you already know it’s him. “you shouldn’t be in here,” you whisper.
“neither should you.”
you laugh shakily at the mirror. “is she downstairs?”
“yeah.”
“does she know i existed?”
rafe goes quiet behind you. that silence again. always silence when the truth gets too ugly. you turn finally. he looks wrecked up close. pupils blown, jaw tight, eyes bloodshot like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.
“you gave her my words,” you say and his face crumples slightly. “you gave her my songs. my nicknames. my favorite places—”
“stop.”
“why? because hearing it out loud makes you feel guilty?”
he runs a hand over his face. “you think i planned this?”
“i think you miss me so much you turned another girl into a replacement.”
his breathing falters. bullseye. for a second, neither of you speaks. music pulses faintly downstairs while the air between you feels suffocating. then rafe says quietly, “i don’t even notice when i’m doing it.”
that hurts the most because he means it. all these little pieces of you stitched into someone else so naturally he doesn’t even realize.
you swallow hard. “does she make you happy?”
he looks at you then and suddenly he seems seventeen again. exhausted. lonely. terrified of himself. “not like you did.”
your eyes burn instantly. “that’s such a horrible thing to say.”
“i know.”
“then why say it?”
his voice breaks. “because every time she laughs, i expect it to sound like you.”
that night, he calls again. you answer this time. silence. then breathing. “rafe?”
another pause. “you shouldn’t pick up,” he murmurs.
your throat tightens instantly. “then stop calling.”
he laughs quietly, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah.”
you wait for him to say something else. he doesn’t. in the background, you can hear music. a girl laughing faintly somewhere near him. her. “is she there?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
he goes still. “you don’t get to ask me that anymore.”
the words slice clean through you because he’s right. you swallow hard. “then why are you calling me?”
for a second, you think he hung up. “because she says things the way you used to.”
your eyes burn instantly. “what?”
he exhales shakily. “she drinks strawberry milkshakes even though she hates strawberries. she sings in the car off-key just to piss me off. she—” his voice cracks slightly. “she reminds me of you.”
you stop breathing and suddenly the song makes sense. the parties. the hoodie. the dress. the laugh. he didn’t move on. he rebuilt you. piece by piece inside somebody else.
“that’s not love, rafe.”
he’s quiet. then, almost too soft to hear “i know.”
you wipe angrily at your face. “does she know?”
“no.”
“you should tell her.”
“i can’t.”
“why?”
his answer comes broken. “because if she leaves too, i’ll have nobody.”
too. the word lodges itself inside your chest. you almost tell him you stayed longer than you should have that you loved him even when he became cruel. even when loving him felt like holding broken glass in your bare hands.
instead, you whisper, “you already lost me.”
another silence. breathing and static and things neither of you can fix. then finally— “i still look for you everywhere.”
your eyes close because that’s the tragedy of it all. you still look for him too.
a month later, you see them parked near the beach. she’s laughing while he watches her and for a terrifying second, he glances up and meets your eyes through the windshield.
everything stops.
he looks wrecked. not dramatic and not angry. just… empty like loving people always leaves him standing in the ruins afterward. the girl turns toward him, saying something you can’t hear.
and rafe smiles at her automatically. practiced. you realize then that he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to recreate what the two of you had without ever understanding why it disappeared in the first place.
and you’ll spend yours wondering if he ever truly loved you or if you were just the first person who made him feel less alone. he breaks eye contact first. you walk away before he can follow.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when you miss your ferry back home, you cross paths with rafe, who's in the depths of despair and in need of an escape. what's it going to take for you to cheer up the numb rafe cameron and make your voyage back home with nothing but an optimistic attitude and rafe by your side?
𝐂𝐖: profanity, smoking, misogyny, very brief mention of drinking
𝐖𝐂: 2.1k
𝐀/𝐍: this is very much just to set the story off, but i hope you guys enjoy! also, lmk if you want to be tagged in the next parts!
𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: Jab We Met, made in 2007.
𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•
rafe didn’t know why he had decided to come. ornate flower arrangements hung around the room, too many pastel colours flooding his vision. he searched for her, scanning the rather large crowd. but when their eyes finally met, he wished he had stayed home. at least there he wasn’t being bombarded by the constant reminder that sofia was engaged.
in true masochistic fashion, he thought he’d make an appearance at sofia’s engagement party. it was a ship he refused to set sail, his grip too strong. because maybe there was a chance. a chance that it wasn’t real and she was still his. but when he saw her fiance’s hand around her waist, his loving eyes lingering on her– a sick feeling settled in his stomach, and he knew he needed to let go. her eyes widened, a mix of sorrow and guilt. sorrow and guilt he didn’t want to see. so, instead of congratulating her and the man who had taken his place, he turned to leave. he had no business being here. he needed to leave. he needed to leave the investors pestering him after he gained ownership of cameron development. he needed to leave this godforsaken town. without another word, rafe left the party. the next ferry to wilmington; that’s where he ended up. weaving his way through people, and settling on a seat next to you. that, he would soon come to realise, would be a very annoying mistake.
you glanced over at the man next to you, who was quite overdressed for a ferry ride, with his well-pressed suit and polished shoes. taking in his slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, you thought wow, that’s depressing. you couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy, who seriously looked like he was going through it. so you did what you did best– made conversation.
“the breeze is so nice today, don’t you think? I’m y/n by the way.” you extended your hand toward him, but he remained still. okay, so not a handshake type of guy. noted. “anyways, what brings you here? i’m going home to my family, you know. i’m so excited. it’s like, the difference between talking through a screen and actually seeing them is so much!” you continued, but he didn’t even glance your way. this didn’t stop you, however. nothing usually stopped you from talking, and it was the same in this case.
you didn’t stop when he gave you a glare so evidently conveying the words shut up, or when he rolled his eyes. you still didn’t stop when he shifted slightly away from you. and, worst of all, you still didn’t stop when he said–
“god, you never shut up, do you?”
“no, not really. my family says i’m a chatterbox, that i’ll talk and talk and- anyways, back to what i was saying. i’m so excited to see him, but i don’t know how to break the news to my family. it’s just like–” your voice was drowned out by rafe’s thoughts, and he kept blocking it out until the ferry had reached charleston. when the ferry docked, he left as if he was being timed. he couldn’t get away faster. you rolled your eyes at his rude behaviour, and you caught something in your peripheral. the man’s wallet. you grabbed it, opening it up to find his license. rafe cameron. the name was familiar, but you didn’t have time to figure out where it was from before you made a beeline for him. he was walking along the beach now, far away from you and your annoying rambles. your voice was ringing in his head, like a mosquito buzzing around in his mind. he swear he could actually hear you yelling out–
“hey! you! you left your wallet on your seat! hey!” you wheezed, bracing yourself, with one hand on your knees and one in the air waving around his wallet, from the extremely long fifty metre run from the ferry to the beach.
rafe turned around, albeit reluctantly, to collect his wallet. he knew the cash in there wasn’t worth anything compared to what he had waiting for him in outer banks. he decided that if he took it, however, you would have to stop pestering him. swiftly, he freed your hands of the heavy leather and turned back around. but when he felt a hand pulling his shoulder back, his irritance doubled as he stumbled to face the annoying owner of said hand.
“what do you want now?” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “i was just wondering if you brought anything else with you? i thought you might have forgotten it since you forgot your wallet.” you said, ignoring his exasperated expression.
“no, i don’t have anything else.” he let out, shoving his wallet into his pant pocket. the wind was harsh today, whirling leaves haphazardly through the air. the sound of it was so deafening that you almost missed your ferry’s horn. almost, but not quite. but what you realised you had missed upon hearing the horn, was your ferry.
“no- no- come back!” you ran, despite your backpack- which you thought was definitely full to the brim with bricks- weighing you down as your legs worked faster than they ever had. in horror, you watched as the ferry went further and further, until it was just a small white shape drifting along the blue of the water. a small white shape that was your only way home tonight, that still held your luggage. how could you be so stupid? it was far too late for the next ferry back to charleston, and ferries weren’t running for the next two days. so yes, that was quite literally your only way home.
“shit.” your hands moved to your hips as you watched helplessly at the nearly-disappeared ferry. you turned to face rafe, who had somehow also disappeared. in the midst of realising that you were stranded in wilmington with a dead phone and no suitcase, you didn’t happen to notice him leave. now, you didn’t even have someone you could talk to. after pacing along the creaking wood of the dock for a silent five minutes, you realised that all you needed was to get to a motel, with no money or way to pay whatsoever. it was now that you wished you’d kept rafe’s far too heavy wallet. your feet led themselves on their own accord as you wandered along the beach, hoping for some form of help. but it was getting dark. people were leaving, and figures became blurrier in the moonlit night.
“lookin’ for something, sweetheart?” a slurred voice called out, followed by loud laughter. you focused your gaze on the source of the sound, a group of men– no younger than you, by the looks of it– who were currently making their way over. you swallowed, backing away and turning on your heel to walk the opposite way.
“come on, don’t be like that. we’re not gonna hurt you, baby.” the rest of them snickered as their friend jogged up to you, following your stride. you averted your gaze, focusing on the plain concrete ahead, ignoring the beer breath sending degrading remark after degrading mark your way. “shit, y’all. she’s a stubborn one. we’ll fix you up, though, won’t we?” you kept walking, hellbent on not reacting, but that went to shit when his grubby hand yanked your shoulder, resulting in your hand leaving a nasty red mark on his face.
he, of course, acted like you had just murdered his whole family, and was set out on doing god knows what to you as his friends jeered him on. you, being the resourceful woman that you were, however, had your eye set on a particularly sharp piece of broken glass lying about a foot away from where you were standing. between a man and contracting some sort of broken glass-borne disease, you’d favour the latter. you quickly picked it up, brandishing it up in front of you.
“i’ll fucking kill you if you touch me again.” you said, waving the green glass closer to the moron who had worsened your already ruined night. he cowered away slightly towards his minions, who were hurling insults and multiple “you’re a fucking psycho!”’s at you. as they moved closer in, you threw the glass at them and ran even faster than you had when you needed to give rafe his wallet back. however, your impromptu run was disrupted when you suddenly collided into rafe, who was somehow more pissed off than he was on the ferry.
“it’s you! oh my lord, what are the chances? i’m sorry about that, by the way, there were some drunk dicks back there and i just needed to get away.” your words came out in pants, all the running catching up to you. “right.” he nodded briefly, giving you a questionable look. his eyes were still slightly red, glistening in the dim light of the streetlight.
“so, um, where are you staying tonight?” your fingers fiddled with a loose thread on your faded shirt as you attempted to reel rafe out of his boring one worded answers. “i don’t think that’s any of your business.” he pulled out a small box from his pocket, which was soon accompanied by a navy blue lighter. the ashy smell of tobacco wafted through the air as he lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips, inhaling. you watched as he leaned against the stone fence separating the beach from the sidewalk, coughing slightly when the pungent smell tickled your throat.
“well, i don’t agree. i can clearly see that you’re going through some shit and you need some help. um, i mean, reassurance. i could also go for some reassurance right now. i missed my ferry home when i returned your wallet to you, and i don’t have a way to get home–” midway through your not-so-subtle spiel on trying to get rafe’s help, he cut you off.
“you’re saying it’s my fault you missed your ferry? if you can clearly see i’m going through something or whatever, why not leave me alone, hm?” he blew the smoke directly in your face, satisfied when you coughed again.
“ok, so i never said it was your fault, and i’m not going to leave you alone because you’re going through something. you’re like, semi-depressed and i don’t want to leave you alone– what if something happens to you?” you waved your hand in the air, attempting to dissipate the smoke barrier between you and him.
“says the woman who just threw a glass shard at a group of men. you should worry about yourself. you don’t know me, and i don’t know you, so leave me the fuck alone.” he continued blowing the smoke directly in your face, much to your displeasure.
“listen here. i’m not leaving, and that’s final. i need to get home, and i’m pretty sure you need to get away from whatever shit has you acting like a brooding little bitch, so why not just come with me? it’s a perfect idea if you think about it. plus, i know you have enough in that fat ass little wallet of yours, so don’t argue that you don’t have money or anything. come on. you need an escape, i need a way home. we can help each other out.” you exhaled at the end of your pitch, snatching the cigarette from between his fingers. “and stop fucking smoking in my face! i have asthma, you idiot.”
he straightened immediately; you dodged his many attempts at getting his cigarette back. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you’re batshit crazy.” he scowled, eventually giving up on his long-gone cig.
“and you’re in need of some fun.” you replied, keeping your voice calm. he was close enough now that you could smell lingering traces of tobacco in his breath. rafe couldn’t believe you. a perfect stranger, asking him to basically fund and accompany her on her way home. an escape, as you called it. isn’t that what rafe wanted anyways? something that could completely rid him of the stresses he had waiting for him back home? on his aimless wandering through the streets of wilmington, he thought about getting back in touch with barry again. being sober wasn’t getting him anywhere, especially now that sofia– his main reason for quitting– wasn’t his. but this, your offer, was tempting him. in truth, he had gotten so lost in his anger and irritance targeted towards you that he very briefly forgot about the current shitshow that was outer banks. besides, you were easy enough to piss off that he wouldn’t get bored. so, after banishing the words consequences, sofia, and investors, from his mind, he found himself saying–
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hot take: i really like the BOT casting so far and you guys really just wanna complain to complain. oh no, joey isn’t blonde, the world is going to explode!
you probably think i’m being dramatic when im talking about the boys of tommen being one of the worst fandoms in the world, let me tell you why.
before r10 was even released, somebody leaked the first 90 pages of it. so disrespectful to chloe walsh.
when r10 was released, you were horrible to chloe walsh because of how graphic lizzie’s storyline was. that was the point, i fear. i found it difficult to read, yes, but it was needed. csa is a thing that needs to be spoken about. but you were so horrible that chloe walsh then had to post a 7 minute video explaining her TRAUMA to you?
+ the lizzie young hate & all the girls hate in this family is horrid, a lot of you are PURE misogynists.
when the tv show was announced a lot of us weren’t pleased, i wasn’t either. i’m an author and one of my biggest dreams is possibly for one of my books to become a show or movie. you proceed to create a petition to cancel on an authors dream? weirdddd and fucked upppp.
then the cast is announced and you are horrible because they aren’t the picture perfect people you have in your head, newsflash they weren’t going to be anyway! these actors are human beings and you saying ‘they fumbled’ ‘they’re chipped’ is weird. i’ve also seen someone say that the joey lynch actor would be better of as MARK ALLEN? a pedophile. an adult who abused lizzie from ages 4+.
you guys also hated on a teenage girl on tiktok (who is lovely and we’ve followed each other for a while now) for doing a makeup look and saying she thought it gave aoife vibes, and you slandered this girl. for a makeup look? she got death threats and hate. a 17 year old!!
also, of course there’s larry & marianna on tiktok (proudly blocked by both). marianna reposted a johnny kavanagh edit in school uniform saying, ‘give me 2 mins and hair tie’ and we all knows what that means…bare in mind she’s an adult and johnny was 17 turning 18. larry then proceeded to defend her by saying that there’s no harm in what her friend said and she can picture johnny and be attracted to him however she would like; even at his age in the books. i said that was a weird and strange thing to say, considering the release of r10 and she said, ‘yes but you’re calling me a predator which i’m not’ nah, babe, i didn’t say you were one, you said it yourself!
some people ship mark x lizzie as well. gibs x mark too. that’s fucking weird and messed up?
also you know those podcasters who dedicate their podcast to bot? yeah, so a black woman disagreed with them and those two women proceeded to find her address and child’s name, dox them and then send death threats!
when i say i hate this fandom, i truly mean it. i hate this fandom. for books that discuss and spread awareness on such heavy topics, you seem to love bullying.
content warning: minor suggestiveness, toxic relationship undertones, wc <400, not proofread so sorry in advance for any typos
author's note: inspired by pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine! this was something i've been wanting to write, but it's lowk (very) rushed. hope u enjoy <3
⊰══════════⊱
his face was illuminated by the little moonlight that shone through your window. you watched as he smiled softly, his eyes lidded with sleep. in return, you managed a weak smile. you knew it should have felt better, that you should’ve enjoyed it as much as he had. you knew that you should’ve leaned into him when he pulled you in closer, murmuring something about how you should be sleeping. but deep down, sleep was the last possible thing on your mind.
sleep, accompanied by a dream, would only lead you to him. he, who you had willed away from your mind so adamantly but somehow still found a way to seep through the cracks and infect you from within. it shouldn’t have been like this. those eyes of his, a shade so vivid in your mind which you foolishly tried to fabricate into something you hadn’t memorised. of course, it didn’t work. nothing would, not even the man whose arms you currently laid in– one of the more obvious reasons why you shouldn’t be thinking about rafe.
as you looked at said reason, you felt that flicker of love– the kind you’d hold for a friend who you’ve stayed friends with simply because you’ve just known them that long. not the kind that made you feel reckless. not the kind that you had– still had– for rafe. your eyes flicked down to your boyfriend’s hands, noting the places where rafe’s would’ve been covered in bruises. your gaze then shifted to his eyes, the soft edges of his irises and the warmth that radiated off of them. they were missing the dark glint and guarded gates of rafe’s, the ones you had to pry apart to understand what was going on behind the blue.
these feelings– they were so sick, so clearly wrong. so why didn't they feel like it? why did it feel so inexplicably right when rafe replaced the man you claimed to love, when you fought the urge to say rafe’s name as you sighed? your boyfriend was safe; he was stable. yet, you craved more. you craved rafe. you found yourself wishing for sleepless nights in tannyhill, the ones where you and rafe could talk and argue and make up within hours.
alas, those nights were wishes. for now, however, you’d just have to keep pushing it down and praying.
not in the dramatic movie way people expect. not screaming, not slamming doors, not picking fights at bars every night, like somebody took all the chaos inside him and locked it behind clenched teeth and military posture.
when he first gets back to the outer banks, everyone notices it. the buzzcut. the tattoos crawling up his arms now. the way he scans every room automatically the second he walks in. the way his voice got lower somehow, rough around the edges like gravel.
even ward looks unsettled by him. especially ward.
you haven’t seen rafe in almost two years when he shows up unannounced at the marina where you work. you’re carrying a crate of supplies down the dock when you hear:
“still terrible at lifting properly, huh?”
your head snaps up so fast you nearly trip. rafe’s leaning against one of the posts, sunglasses on, arms crossed over a fitted black shirt. you just stare at him.
because jesus flipping christ.
he was always handsome in a dangerous way, but now he looks unfair about it. sunburnt skin. broad shoulders. dog tags glinting against his chest. and those eyes. still blue, still mean and still looking at you like he remembers every bad decision you ever made together.
“you gonna say hi,” he drawls, “or keep lookin’ at me like i died?”
you recover enough to glare. “thought about it once or twice.”
his mouth twitches. not quite a smile but close enough.
—
you and rafe have history. messy history. the kind with too much vodka, too many late-night arguments, almost-kisses that turned into actual kisses, and feelings neither of you were emotionally equipped to discuss.
before he enlisted, things ended badly. he said cruel things. you said crueler ones. then he left and that was that. except apparently not. because after that first run-in, he keeps showing up everywhere.
at the dock. outside the gas station. leaning against his truck while you finish shifts. not clingy exactly. more like… orbiting you. watching, and one night you finally snap. “why are you here all the time?”
rafe looks genuinely confused. “wanted to see you.”
“you could text like a normal person.”
“where’s the fun in that?”
you roll your eyes, but your stomach still flips. annoying. yet the thing about military!rafe is that he’s calmer now but somehow more intense. before, his anger burned hot and reckless. now it burns slow. he doesn’t yell much anymore. doesn’t need to. one look from him can shut a room up instantly.
but around you? god, around you he’s trying. you can tell. he catches himself before saying something sharp. forces himself to breathe through irritation. lets you mouth off to him in ways nobody else gets away with.
it’s almost unsettling how patient he is with you.
one evening you’re sitting in the bed of his truck eating fries while the ocean wind blows your hair around. rafe’s got one arm draped over his raised knee, watching you steal half his food.
“you always do that,” he mutters.
“do what?”
“take my shit.”
“and yet you keep giving it to me.”
you glance over and he’s already looking at you, the teasing gone completely. “yeah,” he says softly. “s’cause it’s you.”
your breath catches a little. his eyes drop briefly to your mouth before he leans back again like he didn’t just completely derail your nervous system.
jerk.
people are scared of him now. more than before. you see it everywhere. the way strangers move aside automatically. the way people lower their voices around him. the way fights end before they start when rafe walks in. but with you, there are moments where the old version slips through.
the boy who used to sneak into your window at 2 a.m, the one who used to laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe. the one who once admitted — half asleep beside you — that you made him feel “normal.”
those moments are rare but they’re real and so you realize you’re completely screwed during a bonfire. some drunk tourist grabs your wrist too hard while trying to flirt. before you can even react, rafe is there.
his hand clamps around the guy’s arm hard enough to make him wince. “let go,” rafe says calmly.
the guy does immediately. smart choice. rafe steps between you both, broad and immovable while the tourist stumbles off muttering apologies.
you look up at rafe. “i could’ve handled it.”
“know you could.”
“then why’d you step in?”
his jaw tightens slightly because despite all the discipline, all the training, all the control — rafe still has one fatal weakness.
and that's you.
he looks down at you for a long moment before saying quietly: “because i don’t like people touching what’s mine.”
your heart nearly stops.
“rafe —”
“yeah,” he says tiredly. “i know. caveman behavior. whatever.”
rafe turns obssesed for you when you let him drink your blood.
the first time rafe wanted to drink your blood, there’d been some hesitation. like a flicker of something human in those blue eyes. like he was fighting himself not to, but he needed blood, and he knew you’d be a good friend enough to let him.
but now?
oh, now he’s already grabbing your wrist before you even sit down. “you’re not saying no.” he says impatiently and you haven’t even answered yet. rafe’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, thumb pressed right over your pulse like like he’s memorizing it. his grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm, and almost possessive.
“dude,” you warn, trying to pull back just a little, just enough to prove you can. but you can’t, he doesn’t even let you move an inch. his jaw tightens, eyes flicking up to yours, dark and glowing red. “don’t do that,” he mutters. “don’t, don’t pull away like that.”
“it’s my arm,” you shoot back, breath catching when his grip only tightens. “yeah,” he says immediately. “yeah, i know it is.” he agrees, “doesn’t mean i don’t need it.” your stomach flips at that, at how serious yet needy he sounds, so so desperate. “you’re fucking obssesed,” you annoyingly whisper.
something in the way he looks at you shifts. like he’s subconsciously confirming your statement, before he actually does. “i am,” he says quietly. “you did that. you made me like this.” and before you can respond, he pulls you forward so quickly you’re stumbling into him, landing halfway in his lap. his arm wraps around your waist instantly, locking you there like it’s second nature, like you belong there.
because to him you do, and you don’t even know it. “rafe.” you warn again. “stop talking,” he breathes, but it’s not harshly, it’s shaky, and frayed at the edges. “please just-” he starts with that pleading needy voice again. “just let me” he brings your wrist up again. his eyes don’t leave yours, searching your face like he’s waiting for you to stop him.
you don’t, because you never do, part of it is gratifying for you too. to know how much he needs you. the second you go still, he exhales with relief, like he’s been holding it in for too long, and his lips brush against your skin. your soft and floral scented skin. “say it,” he murmurs against your wrist. your brows knit, “say what?” you ask confused. “that i can tatse it again,” he says, his fingers flexing against your waist. “i need you to say it.”
“you already are,” you point out, breath uneven. his grip falters for half a second, just enough to show it hit something. “yeah,” he admits. “yeah, but i wanna hear it.” your pulse jumps under his mouth, and he makes this quiet, wrecked sound like he felt it more than you did.
“…you can,” you say finally. that’s all it takes before his control snaps. he pulls you impossibly closer, but he does it anyway, his other hand tightening around your arm as he presses his mouth to your skin, and the second the sharpness of his fangs pierce the skin on your wrist, he loses it completely.
he lets out a sharp inhale, like it shocks him every time, like it’s too much and not enough all at once. his fingers dig in, holding you there, grounding himself in you as his head tilts back slightly. “fuuuck” he groans out broken, barely there. it's like his whole body is convulsing.
his lashes flutter, then his eyes roll back completely, like he can’t hold onto anything, not himself but you. “rafe,” you breathe out, your voice breathy and filled with concern, but he doesn’t answer.
he can’t answer. his grip tightens instead, he leans back dragging you flush against him, like he needs your whole body there or he’s going to come apart. his breathing is uneven, shallow, lips still sucking your skin like he doesn’t know how to stop.
like he won’t. “don’t” he chokes out, barely coherent. “don’t move.” he demands. “i’m not.”
“don’t move,” he repeats, fingers flexing. “please.” please. you go still instantly. that word shouldn’t sound like that coming from him. after a few seconds, he finally pulls back, but not far. his lips are still brushing your skin, damp, lingering, like he’s not ready to lose contact yet.
his chest is rising and falling too fast. his mouth stained red with droplets of your blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. you tilt your head, trying to catch his gaze. “you okay?” he lets out a shaky laugh. “do i look okay to you?”
not at all. he looks so wrecked, and completely gone. his eyes finally meet yours, and there’s nothing steady in them anymore,just hunger, just need, just you. “you’re-” he starts, then stops, jaw tightening like he doesn’t even have the words. “you’re not real.”
“i’m literally right here.”
“i know,” he says quickly, almost frantic. “i know, i just-” his hand slides up your arm again, back to your wrist, like he can’t help it. “nobody should feel like this.”
“like what?”
“like i’d fuckin' lose my mind if you said no,” he answers immediately. “like i already did.” your breath catches. “rafe…”
“save it.” he cuts in, shaking his head, pulling you closer again until your foreheads almost touch. “don’t make it a thing. i don’t- i don’t care.”
“you don’t care that you’re addicted to me?” then he menacingly smiles, it’s unhinged. “addicted?” he repeats softly. “that’s a nice way of putting it.” his thumb presses against your pulse again, slower this time, almost thoughtful.
“i was thinking more like, i don’t function without you.” your heart stutters, your unspokedn feelings only enlarging. you subconciously squeeze your thighs from want and he feels it, fuck, he smells your arousal. forgetting you don't fully know how the bond between a human and a vampire works.
his entire expression darkens instantly, something greedy flashing across his face. “see?” he murmurs, already pulling your wrist back toward his mouth, already slipping again. “you do that and then expect me to just, what? sit here?”
“do, what? rafe, wait.”
“no,” he says sternly, breath hitching as his lips brush your skin again. “you said i could.”
“i said once-”
“doesn’t count,” he cuts in, eyes flicking up to yours, completely gone again. “doesn’t count anymore.”
“that’s not how that works.”
“it is for me.” and the way he looks at you when he says it, like nothing else matters. “tell me to stop,” he challenges suddenly, voice quieter now, almost dangerous in how calm it is. “go on, tell me.”
you open your mouth. nothing comes out. his lips twitch, just slightly, already pulling you closer. “you have no idea how thin the line is between wanting you, and fucking loosing myself in you.” and this time, when he presses his mouth to your skin again, he doesn’t even pretend he’s in control anymore.
and you're left with nothing but his venom, and the burning desire of wanting more of him.
based off this instagram video. something quick bc i've been nonexistent.
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rafe, who's handling pesky investors and shareholders in his recently passed dad's company as well as the engagement of his ex, sofia, to another man, leaves outer banks on a whim and ends up on a ferry to wilmington. he sits next to you, an outgoing chatterbox who talks his ear off, and you notice that this man is not doing well. after missing your ferry back home after getting off in wilmington, the two of you end up crossing paths again. what's it going to take for you to cheer up the numb rafe cameron and make your voyage back home with nothing but an optimistic attitude and rafe by your side?
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when you miss your ferry back home, you cross paths with rafe, who's in the depths of despair and in need of an escape. what's it going to take for you to cheer up the numb rafe cameron and make your voyage back home with nothing but an optimistic attitude and rafe by your side?
𝐂𝐖: profanity, smoking, misogyny, very brief mention of drinking
𝐖𝐂: 2.1k
𝐀/𝐍: this is very much just to set the story off, but i hope you guys enjoy! also, lmk if you want to be tagged in the next parts!
𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: Jab We Met, made in 2007.
𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•𓇼 °｡𓆉ֶָ֢°‧ 𓆝 °•
rafe didn’t know why he had decided to come. ornate flower arrangements hung around the room, too many pastel colours flooding his vision. he searched for her, scanning the rather large crowd. but when their eyes finally met, he wished he had stayed home. at least there he wasn’t being bombarded by the constant reminder that sofia was engaged.
in true masochistic fashion, he thought he’d make an appearance at sofia’s engagement party. it was a ship he refused to set sail, his grip too strong. because maybe there was a chance. a chance that it wasn’t real and she was still his. but when he saw her fiance’s hand around her waist, his loving eyes lingering on her– a sick feeling settled in his stomach, and he knew he needed to let go. her eyes widened, a mix of sorrow and guilt. sorrow and guilt he didn’t want to see. so, instead of congratulating her and the man who had taken his place, he turned to leave. he had no business being here. he needed to leave. he needed to leave the investors pestering him after he gained ownership of cameron development. he needed to leave this godforsaken town. without another word, rafe left the party. the next ferry to wilmington; that’s where he ended up. weaving his way through people, and settling on a seat next to you. that, he would soon come to realise, would be a very annoying mistake.
you glanced over at the man next to you, who was quite overdressed for a ferry ride, with his well-pressed suit and polished shoes. taking in his slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, you thought wow, that’s depressing. you couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy, who seriously looked like he was going through it. so you did what you did best– made conversation.
“the breeze is so nice today, don’t you think? I’m y/n by the way.” you extended your hand toward him, but he remained still. okay, so not a handshake type of guy. noted. “anyways, what brings you here? i’m going home to my family, you know. i’m so excited. it’s like, the difference between talking through a screen and actually seeing them is so much!” you continued, but he didn’t even glance your way. this didn’t stop you, however. nothing usually stopped you from talking, and it was the same in this case.
you didn’t stop when he gave you a glare so evidently conveying the words shut up, or when he rolled his eyes. you still didn’t stop when he shifted slightly away from you. and, worst of all, you still didn’t stop when he said–
“god, you never shut up, do you?”
“no, not really. my family says i’m a chatterbox, that i’ll talk and talk and- anyways, back to what i was saying. i’m so excited to see him, but i don’t know how to break the news to my family. it’s just like–” your voice was drowned out by rafe’s thoughts, and he kept blocking it out until the ferry had reached charleston. when the ferry docked, he left as if he was being timed. he couldn’t get away faster. you rolled your eyes at his rude behaviour, and you caught something in your peripheral. the man’s wallet. you grabbed it, opening it up to find his license. rafe cameron. the name was familiar, but you didn’t have time to figure out where it was from before you made a beeline for him. he was walking along the beach now, far away from you and your annoying rambles. your voice was ringing in his head, like a mosquito buzzing around in his mind. he swear he could actually hear you yelling out–
“hey! you! you left your wallet on your seat! hey!” you wheezed, bracing yourself, with one hand on your knees and one in the air waving around his wallet, from the extremely long fifty metre run from the ferry to the beach.
rafe turned around, albeit reluctantly, to collect his wallet. he knew the cash in there wasn’t worth anything compared to what he had waiting for him in outer banks. he decided that if he took it, however, you would have to stop pestering him. swiftly, he freed your hands of the heavy leather and turned back around. but when he felt a hand pulling his shoulder back, his irritance doubled as he stumbled to face the annoying owner of said hand.
“what do you want now?” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “i was just wondering if you brought anything else with you? i thought you might have forgotten it since you forgot your wallet.” you said, ignoring his exasperated expression.
“no, i don’t have anything else.” he let out, shoving his wallet into his pant pocket. the wind was harsh today, whirling leaves haphazardly through the air. the sound of it was so deafening that you almost missed your ferry’s horn. almost, but not quite. but what you realised you had missed upon hearing the horn, was your ferry.
“no- no- come back!” you ran, despite your backpack- which you thought was definitely full to the brim with bricks- weighing you down as your legs worked faster than they ever had. in horror, you watched as the ferry went further and further, until it was just a small white shape drifting along the blue of the water. a small white shape that was your only way home tonight, that still held your luggage. how could you be so stupid? it was far too late for the next ferry back to charleston, and ferries weren’t running for the next two days. so yes, that was quite literally your only way home.
“shit.” your hands moved to your hips as you watched helplessly at the nearly-disappeared ferry. you turned to face rafe, who had somehow also disappeared. in the midst of realising that you were stranded in wilmington with a dead phone and no suitcase, you didn’t happen to notice him leave. now, you didn’t even have someone you could talk to. after pacing along the creaking wood of the dock for a silent five minutes, you realised that all you needed was to get to a motel, with no money or way to pay whatsoever. it was now that you wished you’d kept rafe’s far too heavy wallet. your feet led themselves on their own accord as you wandered along the beach, hoping for some form of help. but it was getting dark. people were leaving, and figures became blurrier in the moonlit night.
“lookin’ for something, sweetheart?” a slurred voice called out, followed by loud laughter. you focused your gaze on the source of the sound, a group of men– no younger than you, by the looks of it– who were currently making their way over. you swallowed, backing away and turning on your heel to walk the opposite way.
“come on, don’t be like that. we’re not gonna hurt you, baby.” the rest of them snickered as their friend jogged up to you, following your stride. you averted your gaze, focusing on the plain concrete ahead, ignoring the beer breath sending degrading remark after degrading mark your way. “shit, y’all. she’s a stubborn one. we’ll fix you up, though, won’t we?” you kept walking, hellbent on not reacting, but that went to shit when his grubby hand yanked your shoulder, resulting in your hand leaving a nasty red mark on his face.
he, of course, acted like you had just murdered his whole family, and was set out on doing god knows what to you as his friends jeered him on. you, being the resourceful woman that you were, however, had your eye set on a particularly sharp piece of broken glass lying about a foot away from where you were standing. between a man and contracting some sort of broken glass-borne disease, you’d favour the latter. you quickly picked it up, brandishing it up in front of you.
“i’ll fucking kill you if you touch me again.” you said, waving the green glass closer to the moron who had worsened your already ruined night. he cowered away slightly towards his minions, who were hurling insults and multiple “you’re a fucking psycho!”’s at you. as they moved closer in, you threw the glass at them and ran even faster than you had when you needed to give rafe his wallet back. however, your impromptu run was disrupted when you suddenly collided into rafe, who was somehow more pissed off than he was on the ferry.
“it’s you! oh my lord, what are the chances? i’m sorry about that, by the way, there were some drunk dicks back there and i just needed to get away.” your words came out in pants, all the running catching up to you. “right.” he nodded briefly, giving you a questionable look. his eyes were still slightly red, glistening in the dim light of the streetlight.
“so, um, where are you staying tonight?” your fingers fiddled with a loose thread on your faded shirt as you attempted to reel rafe out of his boring one worded answers. “i don’t think that’s any of your business.” he pulled out a small box from his pocket, which was soon accompanied by a navy blue lighter. the ashy smell of tobacco wafted through the air as he lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips, inhaling. you watched as he leaned against the stone fence separating the beach from the sidewalk, coughing slightly when the pungent smell tickled your throat.
“well, i don’t agree. i can clearly see that you’re going through some shit and you need some help. um, i mean, reassurance. i could also go for some reassurance right now. i missed my ferry home when i returned your wallet to you, and i don’t have a way to get home–” midway through your not-so-subtle spiel on trying to get rafe’s help, he cut you off.
“you’re saying it’s my fault you missed your ferry? if you can clearly see i’m going through something or whatever, why not leave me alone, hm?” he blew the smoke directly in your face, satisfied when you coughed again.
“ok, so i never said it was your fault, and i’m not going to leave you alone because you’re going through something. you’re like, semi-depressed and i don’t want to leave you alone– what if something happens to you?” you waved your hand in the air, attempting to dissipate the smoke barrier between you and him.
“says the woman who just threw a glass shard at a group of men. you should worry about yourself. you don’t know me, and i don’t know you, so leave me the fuck alone.” he continued blowing the smoke directly in your face, much to your displeasure.
“listen here. i’m not leaving, and that’s final. i need to get home, and i’m pretty sure you need to get away from whatever shit has you acting like a brooding little bitch, so why not just come with me? it’s a perfect idea if you think about it. plus, i know you have enough in that fat ass little wallet of yours, so don’t argue that you don’t have money or anything. come on. you need an escape, i need a way home. we can help each other out.” you exhaled at the end of your pitch, snatching the cigarette from between his fingers. “and stop fucking smoking in my face! i have asthma, you idiot.”
he straightened immediately; you dodged his many attempts at getting his cigarette back. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you’re batshit crazy.” he scowled, eventually giving up on his long-gone cig.
“and you’re in need of some fun.” you replied, keeping your voice calm. he was close enough now that you could smell lingering traces of tobacco in his breath. rafe couldn’t believe you. a perfect stranger, asking him to basically fund and accompany her on her way home. an escape, as you called it. isn’t that what rafe wanted anyways? something that could completely rid him of the stresses he had waiting for him back home? on his aimless wandering through the streets of wilmington, he thought about getting back in touch with barry again. being sober wasn’t getting him anywhere, especially now that sofia– his main reason for quitting– wasn’t his. but this, your offer, was tempting him. in truth, he had gotten so lost in his anger and irritance targeted towards you that he very briefly forgot about the current shitshow that was outer banks. besides, you were easy enough to piss off that he wouldn’t get bored. so, after banishing the words consequences, sofia, and investors, from his mind, he found himself saying–
