#pogue!reader

summary: in which Rafe suffers an accident and loses his memory, causing him to do things his true self would never do.

warning: amnesia, pogue reader, rafe being friends with the pogues somehow, flashbacks, S2/S3 rafe, angst and fluff.

FARMERS MARKET, 18 MONTHS AGO...

You're buying strawberries, counting crumpled bills, apologizing to the vendor for taking too long. Across the market, Rafe Cameron stands frozen behind a display of honey. He's been watching you for ten minutes and you hasn't noticed, you never notices.

He speaks to himself, barely audible. “Just go over there, just say something. Just—”

You look up and your eyes meet for half a second. You give him a small, nervous smile, the kind you give a stranger on a nice day. Then you look away, grabbed your strawberries, and disappeared into the crowd.

Rafe doesn't move for a full minute. His heart is slamming against his ribs, he's never felt anything like this.

“Stupid, you're being so fucking stupid. She's a Pogue, she's nothing.” rafe murmured low, angry at himself.

He doesn't believe it, so he buys the honey anyway. He never eats it, he just keeps it on his nightstand, a reminder of the girl who smiled at him like he was just a person.

***

THE BEACH, 14 MONTHS AGO...

A bonfire. Kooks on one side, Pogues on the other, the usual invisible line draw in the sand. Rafe is totally drunk and kinda high on yayo, he's not wasted, just fuzzy enough to be dangerous. He's surrounded by people who laugh too loud and talk too much.

Then he sees you again.

You are sitting on a log with JJ and Kiara, roasting a marshmallow. You're laughing at something JJ said, your head tilted back, hair catching the firelight. You look happy, soft, untouchable.

Suddenly Topper slaps Rafe's shoulder. “Dude, you're staring.”

Rafe jerks his gaze away. “I'm not staring.”

Kelce spoke, a little tipsy. “You've been staring at that Pogue girl for like... twenty minutes. Which one is she? The quiet one?”

Rafe spoke again, his voice it's like ice. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.”

Topper laughed, oblivious. “Whatever, man. She's cute, but she's a fucking Pogue. She's not worth it.”

Rafe doesn't respond to that, he finishes his drink in one swallow and walks into the ocean fully clothed. When he comes out, soaking wet and shivering, he doesn't look at the bonfire again.

That night, he lies awake in his four-poster bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinks about a girl who doesn't even know his name.

***

THE GAS STATION, 6 MONTHS AGO...

Your car is sputtering, you're at the pump, counting change. You're ten dollars short and you are trying not to cry.

At the next pump, a black SUV. Rafe Cameron is filling his tank. He's wearing a gray t-shirt and sunglasses.

He's staring at you and you feel it, that prickling awareness, but you don't look up. You never look up, you're too scared of what you might see.

The truth is, there's some tension between you and Rafe because of all the altercations he's had with and towards the Pogues. And while the Pogues and Rafe are always fighting, you, on the other hand, you're the calm one in the group, the one who separates JJ when he's arguing with John B and vice versa; you hardly ever go on the treasure hunts with them, but you're always there to heal their wounds.

Rafe have an internal talk to himself. “Offer her the money you bitch, just offer. It's ten dollars. You have hundreds, you have thousands... Just walk over and—”

But he doesn't move, he watched you put back the change, get back in your car, and drive away with your gas light on. He stands at the pump for a long time after his tank is full.

“Coward... I'm a fucking coward to be a drug addict.” he speaks to the empty air.

But the real thing is that he doesn't know you're crying in your car, he doesn't know you've been in love with him for months, since the farmers market, maybe longer. He doesn't know that you look for him in every crowd, that you've memorized the way he walks, that you've written his name on the inside of your notebook and then scribbled it out...

But what she doesn't know either, just like he doesn't, is that he always liked her for years, long before Sarah was a pogue; whenever he wanted to hurt the pogues, he would first verify that she wasn't there with them, she doesn't know that every time he went to Barry's house in The Cut to get some yayo, he would make a detour to see if she had gone to work, when Sarah started hanging out with the Pogues, he discreetly and despite the hatred he felt for them, he subtly asked about her; what she did, what she liked, if she has a family, and so on... Sarah called him a psychopath and unhinged, but he never cared.

They are both cowards, they are both in love with each other, and they are both alone...

***

PRESENT DAY...

Rafe was driving aimlessly through the heavy rain; he had had a nasty fight with Ward before he boarded a plane to Guadalupe hours earlier. Ward had discovered that Rafe had been using the gold money to buy himself drugs and, on top of that, he had hidden some of that money for himself. This enraged Ward, who then beat him multiple times in the face, when Rafe saw that he was alone in Tannyhill, he shot a line and started driving with no apparent destination.

“Fuck him, fuck everything, I'll never be his golden son” he muttered as he drove.

Rafe was so engrossed in his internal monologue that he didn't notice a tree in front of him and had to brake, but it was too late, the tires screeched, and a sickening crunch of metal against an oak tree. Then, silence, except for the hissing of rain on a hot engine.

You are driving home from your late shift at the little cafeteria, your car headlights cut through the downpour and you see the wreck; Rafe's black SUV wrapped around a tree, steam pouring from the hood.

You pulled over, heart hammering. You're terrified of Rafe Cameron, everyone is. But you can't drive past, so you grabbed your first-aid kit, pulled your hood up, and runs to the driver's side door.

“Oh my God, oh my God. Hey! Can you hear me?” you shout over the rain, your voice is trembling.

The driver's side airbag is deflated and Rafe is slumped against the headrest, blood trickling from a gash on his temple. He's unconscious. You reached a shaking hand to his neck, checks for a pulse and it's there, weak, but there.

You sigh. “Okay okay, stay with me. I'm calling 911.”

You fumbled for your phone, and dialed and as you're giving the location, Rafe groans. His eyes flutter open and they're unfocused, confused, but not the cold, angry blue she's used to seeing.

He spoke up, his voice's raw, barely a whisper. “…where's the water?” he asked and unconsciously touches his head.

You're talking to the operator, hurried. “Yes, the corner of Sand Dollar and the Marsh Road. Yes, one male, unconscious but breathing. Head injury.” you spoke to Rafe now. “Don't move please, you've been in an accident.”

“Accident?” he tries to lift his head, winces, drops it back down. He squints at you. “Who are you?”

“I'm… I'm y/n. I'm just… I saw the crash.” you murmured.

He just stares at you, not with suspicion, but with a strange, raw innocence. “You're pretty.” he gave you a lopsided smirk.

You blinked, rain drips off her chin. This is not a sentence Rafe Cameron has ever said to you without a sneer attached.

You spoke again flustered, awkwardly. “You hit your head. Just… stay still, the ambulance is coming.”

“I don't…” he stopped and frown, looking past you at the mangled hood of his car, then at his own hands on the steering wheel. “I don't remember the road, I don't remember driving.”

“That's the shock, just hold on.”

Sirens wail in the distance, Rafe's gaze drifts back to your face, studying it like a puzzle he desperately wants to solve.

“Y/n... Do I know you?”

You do a painful and complicated pause. “We… run in different circles.”

“That's not an answer.” he says almost smiling despite the blood.

Paramedics arrive and they pulled you away. As they strap Rafe to a backboard, he keeps his eyes fixed on you, craning his neck against the restraints.

Suddenly he call you out, weak but insistent. “Hey! Y/n!”

You turned back, a little hesitant.

“My head feels like a broken radio, there's a lot of static. But you… you're the first clear thing I've heard.”

They load him into the ambulance, the doors close. You stand in the rain, absolutely soaked, your heart's racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the wreck.

***

DAY 2 – The Hospital

You shouldn't be here, you know you shouldn't. But you couldn't sleep, so you asked around to a friend of yours that works in the hospital cafeteria. And she told you that Rafe Cameron is in room 214.

No family has come, Ward is out of town. You tells yourself that you're just checking, just being a decent human being.

You knocked softly on the doorframe of a private room, Rafe is sitting up in bed: the gash on his head is stitched, he has a black eye. He looks smaller somehow, diminished. When he turns and sees you, his face lights up like a sunrise.

“You came.” he spoke softly.

You linger near the door, clutching a bag of cheap gummy bears from the gift shop. “I… I brought these, I didn't know if you liked them. It's not… it's not much.”

He smiled weakly. “I love gummy bears!” he pats the bed beside him. “Sit, please. The nurses are mean, they keep asking me questions I don't know the answers to.”

You sit on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “What kind of questions?”

Rafe sighed frustrated, rubbing his temple. “Like… who is the President, I said… some guy? And they looked worried, then they asked me my address, I said… a big house? On the water? That's not an address, and they asked me about my sister.”

You stiff. “Your… sister?” you ask him.

“I said I have a sister?” he looks genuinely uncertain. “I think so... The name 'Sarah' feels like a splinter. Not a bad one, just… stuck. But the nurse asked if we were close, and I honestly don't know. My whole life feels like a book with half the pages ripped out.”

You stare at him, this is not the Rafe who screamed at Sarah and John B outside in the street.

“You don't remember… how you feel about people?” you ask him cautiously.

“I remember how you feel.” he says it softly, like a secret.

You're taken aback. “What?”

“In the car, when you were leaning over me. You were scared, but not of the wreck. You were scared of me and you still stayed, you put your hand on my neck to check my pulse. Your hand was shaking, but you didn't run. Why?”

You look down at your hands. You're twisting the hem of your hoodie. “Because no one deserves to die alone in a ditch, even if they've… even if they've been unkind.”

Then a flicker of something dark crosses his face, then vanishes. He doesn't remember the unkindness. “I was unkind to you?”

You shake your head. “Not directly, not ever. You just… you exist in a world that doesn't like people like me, and I exist in a world you were taught to hate.”

Rafe leans forward, wincing slightly. He reaches out and, very gently, takes your hand. You freeze, his fingers are warm.

“I don't hate you, y/n. I don't think I could. Even with the static, even with the missing pages. You're the only thing that makes sense.”

You whisper. “Rafe… you don't remember, you don't know what you're saying.”

“I remember this.” he squeezes your hand. “Sitting in a white room, looking at a girl with rain in her hair who brought me gummy bears. This feels more real than anything the nurses have told me.”

The door opens and a nurse walks in. You pulled your hand back like you've been burned.

“Visiting hours are over in ten minutes.” the nurse spoke softly and you nodded, she leaves.

Rafe turns back to you, his expression shifting, looking softer. “Come back tomorrow, please?”

You bite your lip. “I don't know if that's a good idea Rafe.”

“Because of who I was?” he asked gently.

You sighed. “Because of who you might remember you are.”

Rafe made a long pause, he looks out the window and sighed.

“Then let's not find out tomorrow, let's find out today. Tell me one thing, one bad thing. Something I did.” he says

You are quiet for a long moment. The rain has started again, tapping against the glass.

“You beat Pope up with a golf club when he was delivering food at the country club.” you said.

Rafe blinked and there's no recognition, no pride. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It was terrifying.”

He turned back to you, serious. “I'm tired of being terrifying to most people here.” he pauses. “Will you sit on the bed? Just for a minute... The chair is too far away.”

You hesitate a little. Then, slowly, you moved from the chair to the very edge of the hospital bed. He doesn't try to touch you again, he just looks at you.

“Thank you... For the gummy bears and for being the first clear thing.”

You're just looking at him: the stitches, the bruise, the unguarded eyes. “You're welcome, Rafe.”

You stays until the nurse comes back and gently kicked you out. As you walk down the hospital corridor, you hear him call out:

“Don't let the static win, y/n!”

You paused and pressed your palm to your chest. And you know that you're going to come back tomorrow.

-

DAY 5 – Discharge

Rafe is being discharged from the hospital and although his memory hasn't returned, Sarah, against every instinct, has agreed to let him stay at The Chateau temporarily. "He's not safe at Tannyhill alone.," she told John B. "He's not dangerous right now, he's just sad."

You're there at the hospital entrance. You brought him a hoodie, your hoodie, because he mentioned being cold.

Rafe holds the hoodie like it's made of gold. “This is yours?”

You nodded shyly. “You can keep it, I have others.”

He puts it on immediately. It's too small in the shoulders, but he doesn't care. “I'm not giving this back.”

Sarah watches you two from a few feet away near Twinkie, talking to John B under her breath. “I've never seen him like this.”

“Like what?” John B asked her.

“Like he actually wants to be good.” Sarah said quietly.

***

Rafe is awkward in the small space of The Chateau, he doesn't know where anything is, and he keeps apologizing for taking up room.

The Pogues are tense around him: JJ won't be in the same room alone with him, Pope watches him like a hawk, Kiara tries to be neutral and Cleo just shrugs and says, "Everyone deserves one chance."

But you are there, every single day. You brought him books, you teaches him how to untangle fishing nets (badly).

You fell asleep on the couch next to him while watching a movie, and when you wake up, he's moved to the floor so you could stretch out.

“Why are you on the floor?” you spoke up groggily.

He shrugged. “You looked comfortable, didn't want to move you.”

Your heart swelling by his words. “You're kinda weird.”

Rafe gives you a small smile. “You're just figuring that out?” he asks and you giggle.

Rafe has started coming to the dock with you in the evenings, he doesn't know why he's doing it, but he just knows that he feels calm there next to you.

You two talk for hours about nothing and everything. He tells you about the fragments of memories he does have; like his mother's laugh, the way Sarah used to steal his sweaters, the feeling of sailing before sunrise.

And you tell him about your family; messy, poor, loving. About your dream of opening a little marine rescue center someday, about the stray cat you feed behind the supply store.

You're the best person I've ever met.” he says while watching you talk, completely spellbound.

You blinked and blushed. “You've met like five people since the accident. That's not fair!”

“I meant before the accident too. Even if I don't remember why, I just... know it.”

You don't know that he's describing love, and neither does he. But everyone else can see it.

By the third week of Rafe living at The Chateau, it feels like you and he are dating. And although you're not dating, not officially, you are doing couple things like holding hands under tables, he walks you home every night and you make him coffee in the morning with three sugars, which he now drinks without complaint.

The Pogues have started to thaw. JJ still doesn't trust him fully, but he's stopped flinching every time Rafe moves, Pope actually asked Rafe for help fixing an engine, and Rafe knew exactly what to do. A muscle memory from a life he doesn't remember living.

You and Sarah are having a private conversation on the porch. “He looks at you like you're the sun.”

You look down, a little embarrassed. “He's just... grateful, Sar. For the help!”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nope, that's not gratitude.” she smiles. “I know my brother, y/n and he's in love with you! I think he's been in love with you for a long time... He just couldn't say it before.”

You spoke up quietly, terrified, but hopeful. “What if he gets his memory back and it all goes away?” you asked Sarah.

Sarah put a hand on your shoulder. “Then you deal with it then, but don't punish yourself for something that hasn't happened yet.”

-

6 DAYS AFTER THAT...

It's 3:17 AM at The Chateau, Rafe is on the couch, tangled in a blanket. He gasps awake: drenched in sweat, heart slamming, his lungs are burning.

It all comes back, not in pieces, but in a flood. Every cruel word, every violent act, the gun, the boat, the drugs, the way his father looked at him, the way he looked at himself.

Years of self-hatred, anger and drugs, all of it, crashing over him like a wave he can't breathe through.

He stumbles to the bathroom, grips the sink, and stares at his reflection. For a long time, he doesn't recognize himself.

“You're a monster, you've always been a monster.” he whispered to the mirror.

But then it appeared your face, at the farmers market, at the beach, at the gas station, in the rain. Your smile, your soft face, you two shaking hands, your stupid gummy bears from the hospital.

He remembers loving you quietly, desperately for two years.

And he remembers being too much of a coward to do anything about it...

He puts his face into his hands, his voice's broken and sad. “I'm sorry y/n. I'm so sorry.”

He doesn't sleep the rest of the night. He lies on the couch, staring at the ceiling, holding the hoodie you gave him. And he makes a decision: he won't tell you, not yet, not until he can figure out how to be both versions of himself.

He doesn't want to lose you, and he's terrified that the truth will.

***

For a whole week Rafe pretends perfectly. He laughs at JJ's jokes, he helps Pope with the boat, he sits beside you on the dock like every single evening and listens to you talk about marine biology and stars.

But you noticed. He's quieter, he holds your hand tighter, he looks at you like he's memorizing your face.

“You're different Rafe.” you said.

He spoke up too quickly. “Different how?”

You search his eyes. “I don't know, like deeper, like you're carrying something on your shoulders.”

He pulls you into a hug, and hides his face in your hair. “I'm just tired, 'kay. A bunch of bad dreams.”

You don't push him, you never push. And that's what kills him.

-

It's nighttime at The Chateau, outdoor fire pit. Four weeks have passed since the accident and one week since Rafe recovered his memories. The fire pit has the whole vibe: marshmallows and chocolate, music and the whole group.

Rafe is quiet all night, quieter than usual. You noticed that, you're tucked into his side on the bench, your head on his shoulder.

You tilted your head up. “Hey... You okay? You haven't made fun of JJ in almost an hour.”

Rafe looks down at you. “I'm just thinking.”

“About?” you ask him.

He gives you a small, careful smile. “About everything, nothing and you.”

You blushed and JJ groans from across the fire.

“You two gonna keep being disgusting, or are we gonna play a game?”

Kiara giggles. “JJ, let them be. They're in the honeymoon phase.”

Then Rafe spoke up without missing a beat. “We're not even officially dating.”

Everything stops and you freeze.

“Wait, you're not?” Sarah ask slowly.

Rafe looks at you, then at Sarah, then at the fire. “I haven't asked her properly. I wanted to... do it right.”

John B spoke. “You've been holding hands and making heart eyes for five weeks. What's "doing it right"? A marching band?”

Rafe speaks with a hint of his old sharpness, but softened. “Something like that.”

“Rafe... we don't need a marching band.” you say shyly.

He turns towards you, eyes full of fear and love. “I know, but you deserve one.”

“I'll bite. What's the hold-up? You clearly like her, she likes you. Just... be together.” Pope says.

Rafe stands up abruptly making everyone to look at him.

“There's something I need to say... To all of you.” he spoke up.

Your blood runs cold.

You're standing too, reaching for his hand. “Rafe, whatever it is—” you try to continue.

Rafe takes your hand, holds it tight, he doesn't look at you. “I got my memories back.”

There's silence while the only sound it's the fire crackling.

“When?” Sarah stands up, her face is pale.

“Six days ago.” he looks at her. “I woke up around three in the morning. And somehow I remembered everything. The boat, the gun, the way Dad looked at me when I wasn't enough, the way I looked at myself.”

John B moved slightly in front of Sarah. “And you didn't think to mention this?”

Rafe sighed tiredly. “I was scared.”

JJ laughed bitterly. “Rafe Cameron scared? Okay, that's new.”

Rafe meets JJ's eyes. “It's not new, I've been scared my whole life. I just used to cover it with anger and pills.” he looks around at all of them. “I remember everything I did to you Pope, I remember punching you with that golf club like you were garbage. JJ, I remember putting a gun to your head and meaning it. John B, I remember hunting you like you were an animal.”

No one speaks, and you hasn't been pulled away.

Rafe continues. “Sarah, I remember pointing a gun at you and drowning you. My own sister... The same girl who used to steal my sweaters, the same girl I taught to drive.” he let out a sob. “I remember choosing anger over you again and again. And I remember hating myself for it, and then choosing it again anyway.” he says with a cracked voice.

Sarah speaks, tears stream down her face. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Rafe sighed. “Because I was hoping I could keep being the version of me you all started to tolerate, the one who didn't remember... The one who was just confused and sad instead of volatile and cruel.” he laughs, bittersweet. “I liked him better, he was easier to be.”

Kiara spoke quietly. “But you're not him, right?”

Rafe shakes his head. “No, I'm both. I'm the guy who punched Pope with a golf club and the guy who taught Sarah how to skip stones. I'm the guy who terrified you guys for years and the guy who fell asleep on y/n shoulder last week.” he finally looks at you, you're crying. “I'm both... And I don't know how to be both.”

You stepped closer to him, you don't let go of his hand.

“Rafe... you should have told me.” you say softly.

His voice breaks. “I know. I was a coward, I've always been a coward. I got my memories back and the first thing I felt was relief because I remembered you. Not the version I met five weeks ago, but the version I watched for years. The one at the farmers market buying strawberries, the one who left a sandwich for a stray cat, the one who smiled at me once, just once, and I almost pulled my car over because my heart stopped.”

Your breath catches on your throat.

He speaks faster now. “I remember being in love with you for two years and doing nothing about it because I thought I didn't deserve you, and I was right, I didn't. I did terrible things, I hurt people you love, I hurt my own family.” he looks at Sarah, then back at you. “But here's the thing I figured out in the last couple of weeks, sitting in this house, eating cereal out of a chipped bowl, watching Pope get excited about a rare bird and JJ pretend he doesn't care about anything while caring about everything.”

Pope looks up sharply while JJ crosses his arms.

Rafe continue. “The old me would have taken those memories and used them as armor. Would have said, "See? This is who I am. This is all I'll ever be." But the new me, the one who forgot for five weeks, he taught me something. You taught me something...” he turns to face you fully, takes both of your hands. “You can be a different person, not because you forget the past, but because you choose, every single day, to be something else.”

“Rafe...” you whispered.

“I'm not asking you to forgive me for who I was, I'm not even asking the Pogues to forgive me, but I'm asking for a chance. A real chance to be the guy who deserves the girl who brings gummy bears to a hospital room, the guy who sits on a dock and watches the sunset and doesn't think about who he used to be.” he swallows hard. “The guy who loves you, because I do. I've loved you since before I forgot, and I loved you through the forgetting, and I love you now with all the terrible memories and all the good ones.”

The fire pops and no one speaks.

“You love me?” you asked him, barely audible.

Rafe nods, a tear slips down his cheek. “I love you, I think I was born loving you. I just... had to break my own brain to figure it out.”

You let out a little laugh, a wet, shaking laugh, and then with the courage held back for two years, you're kissing him. Your hands on his face, his arms around your waist, pulling you close like you're the only solid and stable thing in a world that keeps tilting.

JJ looks away smiling. Sarah sobs into John B's shoulder, Kiara holds Pope's hand, Cleo wipes her eyes.

You break apart and Rafe rests his forehead against yours.

“Is that a yes?” he whispered.

You whisper back, laughing. “It's a yes, it's always been a yes... You just had to catch up.”

Rafe turns to the group, he's still holding your hand.

“I know I don't deserve to stand here, I know I've done things that can't be undone. I'm not asking for your trust, not yet, maybe not ever. But I'm asking for a chance... One day at a time.”

John B makes a long pause and looks at Sarah, she nods. “You hurt her, and I'll put you in the ground. Amnesia or not.”

“I know.” he nods.

Pope stands and extends his hand. “I don't forgive you, not yet, but I see you trying. And I can respect trying.”

Rafe shakes his hand. “I'll take it.”

JJ is the last one, he makes a long pause. Then he walks over, throws an arm around Rafe's shoulders.

“Listen, I still think you're a walking red flag. But Y/N is basically a sister to me, and she's been in love with your psycho ass for years. So if she's stupid enough to choose you, I'm stupid enough to let her.”

Rafe let out a genuine laugh. “That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

JJ grinned. “Don't get used to it.”

Sarah walks over slowly, she's still crying. She stops in front of Rafe.

“I missed you.” her voice breaks. “I missed my brother, not the one who pointed a gun at me. The one who taught me to skip stones, the one who let me steal his sweaters.”

Compassion cracks completely over Rafe and he pulls Sarah into a tight hug.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sarah.”

Sarah spoke, muffled against his chest. “I know, just... stay, please. Stay this version.”

Rafe pulls back from Sarah's hug, he looks at you and then back at Sarah. “I'll try, every day.”

***

Two hours later the fire has died to embers. Everyone else has gone inside while you and Rafe are alone on the bench, you're tucked into his side, his arm around you.

You are playing with his fingers. “You really remembered me... From before.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Everytime, every single time I saw you. The grocery store, the beach... Everytime.” he smiled. “And the version who sings while making coffee.”

You giggled. “I sing terribly!”

Rafe laughs and smiles. “You sing like an angel who's been smoking cigarettes. It's my new favorite sound.”

You laugh and shoved him gently. “You're so annoying.”

He pulls you closer, tilts your chin up. “And you're so beautiful... And I wasted two years being too scared to tell you, I'm not wasting any more time.”

You look up at him, searching his eyes. “Are you okay? Really? Having all those memories back, the bad ones.”

He nods, considering your worries. “It's heavy... Some days it's going to be really heavy, but.” he looks at the Chateau, at the warm light, at the sleeping forms of people who have every reason to hate him. “...I'm not carrying it alone anymore, and that makes all the difference.”

You reached up, touched his face, the faded scar on his temple. “I'm proud of you.”

He closes his eyes. “Don't say that... I haven't done anything yet.”

You shake your head. “You showed up every day, you sat on this dock and let people who hate you throw marshmallows at your head, you let Sarah yell at you for hours without walking away, you helped Pope fix a boat that belonged to a man you once threw in the water.” you shake your head again, smiling. “That's not nothing, Rafe. That's everything.”

Rafe opens his eyes and they are bright, wet, and full of hope.

“I love you.”

You smile, shy and sweet. “I love you too. Even when you're annoying, even when you steal all the marshmallows, even when you pretend not to cry during sad movies.”

Rafe grinned. “I have never cried during a movie.”

You spoke, deadpan. “You sobbed during Finding Nemo.”

He throws his head back and laughs, loud enough that someone inside yells at him to shut up.

“The dad lost his son, Y/N! It was emotional!”

You laughed with him, leaning into his chest. “You're ridiculous.”

He wrapped both arms around you, holds you tight, and looks up at the stars. “Yeah... But I'm your ridiculous.”

Inside The Chateau, through the window, Sarah watches. She sees her brother laugh, really laugh, for the first time in years. She sees you tucked against him like you belong there.

Sarah spoke softly to John B, who's half-asleep beside her. “I think he's going to be okay.”

John B mumbled. “Which one?”

“Both of them.” Sarah smiles.

Outside, the embers glow, the stars turn overhead. And Rafe Cameron, former monster, current mess, future something better, holds the girl he's loved for years and finally, finally lets himself believe he deserves her.

Rafe whispered softly, so only you can hear. “Thank you.”

You spoke drowsy, content. “Mhm? For what?”

“For seeing me... Even when I didn't want to be seen.”

You lift your head, kissed his jaw, then settled back down. “You were always worth seeing, Rafe. You just had to forget everything else to believe it.”

Thank you

sexist!rafe x pogue!reader

No Reason to Leave

he liked the difference before he ever admitted it out loud.

rafe noticed it in the way she held herself—shoulders a little tighter, eyes always scanning like she was used to things being taken, not given. pogue, through and through. worn shoes, chipped polish, the kind of girl who said “i’m fine” even when she wasn’t.

and rafe… rafe saw opportunity in that.

not in a cruel way, not to him. in his head, it made sense. he had everything. money, space, connections. she had none of it. so when he stepped in, when he started paying for things without asking, when he replaced her broken phone like it was nothing, it felt natural. right.

she didn’t argue at first. how could she? no one had ever done that for her before.

he started small. rides everywhere so she didn’t have to walk. food already waiting so she didn’t have to worry about money. clothes left at his place because “it’s easier if you just stay here anyway.” and she believed him, because it was easier.

rafe liked it like that.

he liked the way she’d hesitate before accepting something, like she still wasn’t used to it. liked the quiet “you don’t have to do this” even as she took it. he’d just tilt his head, brush it off, tell her she was his girl, that of course he did.

and then it shifted.

not all at once. never that obvious.

it came in the way he frowned when she mentioned picking up a shift. “why?” he asked, genuinely confused. “you don’t need that.” she tried to explain, something about wanting her own money, her own independence, and he just shook his head like she missed the point entirely.

“i’ve got it,” he told her. “that’s my job.”

she didn’t know how to argue with that, not when he was already paying for everything.

then it was the clothes.

he didn’t like the shorts she wore, said they looked cheap, like she was trying too hard. next time she came over, there were dresses laid out on the bed. soft fabric, expensive, nothing like what she owned. he watched her reaction carefully, waiting.

“just try it,” he said, quieter. “for me.”

and she did.

because it felt nice. because no one had ever looked at her like that before—like she was something delicate, something worth investing in. his approval came easy when she wore what he liked, when she fit into the image in his head.

“see?” he murmured, hands settling at her waist. “that’s how you’re supposed to look.”

she laughed it off at first, didn’t think too hard about it.

but it kept happening.

every time she pushed for something of her own, he’d redirect her. not angry, not mean, just firm. “you don’t need that,” “i’ll take care of it,” “why make things harder on yourself?” and slowly, without realizing it, she stopped asking.

because he made it feel like wanting more was wrong.

like she was rejecting something good.

and the truth was, she was naive. she thought this was love, this constant giving, this steady hand guiding her into a better life. she didn’t see how carefully he built it, how every “gift” tied her a little closer to him.

it showed itself in small moments first.

like the time she reached for her wallet at a diner and he caught her wrist before she could even open it. not hard, just enough to stop her.

“don’t,” he said, already sliding his card across the table.

“rafe, i can pay for my own food.”

his eyes flicked up, something unreadable settling there. “why would you?”

“because it’s mine,” she answered, quieter now, like she wasn’t sure if that was the right response.

his jaw ticked, but he didn’t push it further. just paid, like always. but the mood shifted after that, colder, quieter, like she’d stepped out of line without realizing it.

another time, she showed up in jeans and one of her old tank tops, hair messy from the wind, cheeks flushed. he looked at her for a second too long.

“what?” she asked, self-conscious under the weight of it.

“nothing,” he said, but it wasn’t nothing. he crossed the room, brushing past her to open his closet. “just—i got you something. wear that instead.”

she hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “i’m fine like this.”

rafe paused, turning back slowly. “i know you are,” he said, tone controlled. “but i like you better in the other stuff.”

it wasn’t a demand.

but it wasn’t a suggestion either.

and she gave in, because it felt easier than pushing back.

it always felt easier.

until it didn’t.

the idea of leaving came quietly, building over time until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. it wasn’t even about him at first—it was about her. missing her friends, missing the version of herself that didn’t have to check his reaction before making a choice.

so one night, sitting at the edge of his bed in one of those soft dresses he bought her, she said it.

“i think i’m gonna go back home for a bit.”

rafe didn’t respond right away. he was across the room, pulling off his watch, movements slowing just slightly.

“what do you mean?” he asked, voice even.

“just for a while,” she added quickly. “i wanna see everyone. maybe pick up some shifts again—”

“why?”

the word cut clean through her sentence.

she blinked. “i just told you why.”

“no,” he said, turning to face her fully now. “you didn’t. you said what you wanna do, not why you’d do it.”

her stomach twisted. “rafe…”

“you’re not struggling anymore,” he continued, stepping closer. “you’ve got everything here. so why go back?”

because i miss it. because i miss me.

she didn’t say that out loud.

instead, she shrugged, weaker than she meant it to be. “i don’t wanna depend on you for everything.”

something in his expression shifted then. not explosive, not loud, just… tight.

“you’re not depending on me,” he said, slower now. “you’re with me.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

his head tilted slightly, like he didn’t understand how she wasn’t getting it. “it is to me.”

she stood up, putting a little space between them. “well it’s not to me.”

silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

then, softer, she tried again. “i just want something that’s mine, rafe. my own money, my own—”

“for what?” he cut in, sharper this time. “what do you need that i’m not giving you?”

it wasn’t a question.

it was a challenge.

she faltered, because she didn’t have a clean answer. not one he’d accept, anyway. “it’s not about that.”

“then what is it about?” he pressed, stepping closer again, closing the distance she’d made.

she looked up at him, frustration finally breaking through. “why does it bother you so much?”

“because it doesn’t make sense,” he snapped, the first real crack in his calm. “you’re talking about going back to working shitty jobs, barely getting by, when you don’t have to. when i’ve made it so you don’t have to.”

“i didn’t ask you to do that!”

the words hung in the air between them.

rafe went still.

really still.

“you didn’t stop me either,” he said after a second, voice quieter now—but heavier.

and that was worse.

her chest tightened. “because i appreciated it. i still do. that doesn’t mean i wanna lose myself in it.”

his jaw clenched, hand coming up to drag over his face before settling on the back of his neck. “you’re not losing yourself,” he muttered. “you’re just… not struggling anymore.”

“that’s not the same thing,” she repeated, softer now.

he looked at her then, really looked, like he was trying to figure out where things went wrong.

and maybe, in his mind, they had.

because he’d given her everything. made her life easier, safer, better.

so why wasn’t that enough?

he stepped closer again, slower this time, hand lifting to cup her face. she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into it either.

“i take care of you,” he said, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “that’s what i’m supposed to do.”

she swallowed. “and what am i supposed to do?”

the question lingered longer than he expected.

his answer came instinctively anyway.

“be with me.”

it sounded simple.

too simple.

her eyes dropped for a second, and that hesitation—that tiny, quiet pause—was all he needed to feel the shift.

his grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground her.

“i give you everything,” he continued, softer now, almost coaxing. “you don’t have to worry about anything anymore. why would you wanna go back to that?”

because at least it was mine.

she didn’t say it.

didn’t know how to.

and that was the problem.

because rafe didn’t need to force her to stay—he just needed to remind her what she’d be giving up if she left.

and standing there, caught between comfort and control, she wasn’t sure which one mattered more anymore.

her silence stretched just a second too long.

rafe felt it, the hesitation sitting right there between them, fragile but real, and instead of pushing harder, he shifted—subtle, calculated, like he always did when brute force wouldn’t work.

his thumb softened where it rested against her cheek, tracing slow, absentminded lines like he was soothing something delicate instead of cornering it.

“hey,” he murmured, quieter now. “look at me.”

she did, eventually.

and that was all he needed.

“you think i’m trying to take something from you?” he asked, voice low, almost offended—but not sharp, not enough to make her pull away. just enough to make her feel like she’d misunderstood him.

her brows pulled together slightly. “it just feels like—”

“like what?” he pressed gently.

she faltered again, because every explanation sounded wrong in her head the second she tried to say it out loud. selfish. ungrateful.

rafe watched it happen, watched her doubt herself, and leaned into it.

“you think i don’t want you to have anything of your own?” he continued, softer. “after everything i’ve done for you?”

that hit.

she shook her head quickly. “no, i didn’t mean it like that—”

“then how did you mean it?” he asked, not harsh, just steady. patient in a way that made it harder to argue.

she didn’t have an answer.

not one that didn’t make her sound like she was rejecting him, rejecting all of it.

his hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers warm, grounding. “you’re not losing anything,” he said. “you’re gaining. you’ve got stability now. you’ve got me.”

the way he said it—like it was something solid, something undeniable—made her chest tighten.

“i just…” she trailed off, voice smaller than before. “i don’t wanna feel useless.”

rafe’s expression shifted at that, something almost like disbelief crossing his face.

“useless?” he repeated.

she nodded faintly, eyes dropping for a second. “if i’m not doing anything, if everything’s just… you—”

his grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to stop that thought before it could fully form.

“you think what you are to me is useless?” he asked, quieter now.

that made her look back up immediately. “no, that’s not what i—”

“then stop saying shit like that,” he cut in, not loud, but firm enough to make her flinch just a little.

the room went still again.

he exhaled slowly, like he was reining himself back in, hand easing where it held her. when he spoke again, his voice was softer, controlled.

“you being with me, that’s not nothing,” he said. “that’s everything.”

her throat felt tight.

because part of her wanted to believe that.

wanted it to be that simple.

rafe tilted his head slightly, studying her face, watching the way her resistance kept slipping, piece by piece. “you don’t have to prove anything,” he continued. “not to me. not to anyone.”

she swallowed. “but—”

“no,” he interrupted again, quieter this time, almost gentle. “you’ve spent your whole life trying to get by on your own. i’m telling you you don’t have to do that anymore.”

his thumb brushed her jaw again, slower now, deliberate. “why is that so hard for you to accept?”

because it feels like giving something up.

but the words stayed stuck in her chest.

because he made it sound like accepting him wasn’t losing anything—it was relief. safety. something she’d never really had before.

and the longer she stood there, the harder it got to hold onto the feeling that something was wrong.

rafe saw it happen.

the moment her shoulders softened just a little, the tension easing out of her like she was too tired to keep fighting it.

he stepped closer, closing the last bit of space between them, his voice dropping even lower. “you don’t need to go back there,” he murmured. “there’s nothing for you there that you don’t already have here.”

her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

“i take care of you,” he said again, softer now, like a promise instead of a statement. “that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

supposed to be.

the phrase settled heavy in her chest.

because if this was how things were supposed to be… then maybe she was the one making it complicated.

her gaze dropped, shoulders sinking just a little more.

and that was it.

that was the moment.

rafe’s hand slid back to her cheek, tilting her face up just enough to catch her eyes again. “you’re not going anywhere,” he said quietly, not a question.

she hesitated.

just for a second.

then she shook her head.

small. barely there.

but it was enough.

the tension in him eased immediately, something satisfied settling into his expression as his thumb brushed over her cheek again, softer now, almost affectionate.

“there you go,” he murmured.

his forehead dipped closer to hers, voice low, warm in a way that felt like approval.

“good girl.”

i won’t lie, i realized after i came up with the idea that it sounded kinda sofia x rafe coded BUT IT WONT BE LIKE THAT. it’s gonna be good 😛

also unfortunately as much as i don’t love writing multi-part stories it will in fact be in at least like two parts, MAYBE three or four. sue me!

nowhere's safe (except here)

plot: a late-night escape from home leads you into rafe's path, and for once, he doesn't let you walk alone.

CONTENT: mentions of abusive (physical and emotional), bruises, implied domestic violence, crying, fear, mentions of an unsafe home, comfort

have fun my beautiful people <3!

the night felt heavier than usual. the walls of your house always pressed in, but tonight it felt like they were trying to crush you. the yelling had been sharp, and the sting from the slap still burned along your cheek. you hadn’t even tried to stop the tears, what was the point anymore? but when the door slammed and the silence came, you couldn’t stand staying in there another second.

so you slipped out barefoot, the screen door creaking behind you, the humid obx air wrapping around your shoulders. you didn’t have a plan. you never really did. you just knew you couldn’t sit there and wait for round two.

your legs carried you down familiar streets you’d walked a hundred times, though never like this. bruises bloomed along your arms, your ribs ached with each breath, and the salt of your tears stung when they slid into the corner of your mouth.

you didn’t hear him at first.

the sound of gravel crunching pulled you out of your fog. you blinked and looked up, chest tightening when you saw the tall frame coming toward you. rafe cameron.

you froze, every muscle in your body going tight. rafe wasn’t someone you knew well, not really. he was a figure from a distance, a kooks’ world kind of boy with sharp edges and a reputation you weren’t sure you trusted. and right now, trust wasn’t something you had left in you.

⤷ part one (introduction)

summary: love lingers, haunting our thoughts and reshaping our days, even when it hurts. A bonfire party brings old tensions and connections back. Do people change? Does love have the power to alter our perceptions and experiences?

warnings: pogue!reader , Rafe x fem!reader .

Blair’s note: I have a vision pls bear with me . Y’all see what I did there w JB? lmk your thoughts xx

Young people like a drink. Short on money and clarity, they drink. They drink to socialise, they drink to dance, they drink to meet people and to (try to) have sex with them. And when that sought-after connection fails and hearts are broken or bodies are lonely, they drink.

Tonight was no exception.

You felt the breeze and the intense feeling of freedom wash over so clearly, like you’d broken through some kind of barrier within yourself, where you realized you were your own person.

Leaving your house always felt like that. Not being around your parents always felt like that.

You biked through the Carolina streets , realizing those shoes weren’t the brightest idea , but beauty is pain so you shoved that thought down and kept moving your feet , pedestaling your way to the annual bonfire party.

You had to keep stopping every few steps to adjust your shoes because they were literally cutting into the backs of your feet , and you could already feel the blisters coming.

Sarah’s squeals when she spotted you were almost full of childish joy , as if she couldn’t believe you made it to the party .

She lunged to you from the back and bear-hugged you.

“You made it!” She singsonged.

“Woah—“ you stumbled a bit and chuckled turning around.

“Well yeah I’ve been a busy lady—“ you tried to continue but Sarah fondly rolled her eyes and swatted your arm.

“We’re shit talking boyfriends and we need the evil cult leader to do it correctly so thank you for gracing us with your presence miss busy lady”

“This may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. And I may or may not have developed some kind of attachment to this specific nickname you just gave me” You feigned tears of joy clawing her heart.

“You bitch” Sarah barked out a laugh and grabbed you by the shoulders leading you to the group — where Kie and Cleo were already dragging JJ and Pope.

“Drinks” you snapped your fingers and before any of the girls could say anything you were already making your way to the makeshift bar with all the drinks and solo cups.

“Hey.”

Rafe Cameron.

You don’t even lift your gaze to meet his , just roll your eyes and mutter a curse under your breath.

“hey.” He repeats , leaning closer as if making sure you’d hear this time . He’s effortlessly confident. Annoyingly so.

“Is this some alternate agenda or what?” you snap after a good minute of contemplating ignoring him.

“Alternate wha—“

“Clearly you’re here for an alternate agenda why would you wanna be here to provoke me like this?” You gestured with your hands narrowing your eyes at him.

Rafe bit the inside of his cheek , your outburst almost comical to him , but the last thing he wanted was to burst out laughing and piss you off even more.

He lifted his hands in surrender

“No alternate agenda , no ulterior motive on God”

“You’re the least religious person I know ,try again” you huffed taking a long sip of your drink and tapping your feet ,and yeah they are still hurting like bitches.

“Well—“

“Actually no don’t talk to me” you shook your head and scoffed under your breath.

“Your brother needs to get the fuck off my face” you say to Sarah taking another long sip of your drink.

“Did you know he’s clean now?!” Sarah exclaimed.

Eyes widened for a second and you shook your head “He what? Your brother , as in Rafe Cameron , we’re talking about the same person?”

“I know!” Sarah shook her by the arm.

“Seems like now that Ward’s not here he doesn’t have to invalidate himself by constantly seeking validation from him”

You muttered thoughtfully.

“But that’s—I mean that’s good for him.”

he’s supposed to hate you.

pogue girl with dirt under her fingernails and fire in her eyes. he’s the kooks’ golden boy—violent, rich, spiraling.

but something about you gets him.

maybe it’s the way you know how to roll a blunt just right. maybe it’s the way you don’t flinch when he’s mean. maybe it’s how you do lines with him as if consequences don’t exist.

maybe it’s the fact you keep showing up anyway.

you were high the first time he fucked you—backseat of his truck, hands fumbling, mouths desperate, your laugh sticky-sweet as you said,

“don’t fall in love, country club.”

he didn’t laugh. just kissed you harder.

it’s secret. always. he’ll pretend not to know you when his friends are around, and you’ll pretend not to care. but then he’ll crawl into your bed at 2am smelling like weed and whiskey and whatever fight he lost that night.

and you let him in every time.

he presses his face to your stomach like he’s praying. you run your fingers through his hair, light another joint, kiss his bruised mouth.

he says things like “you’re the only one who makes the noise stop.”

and you pretend it doesn’t make your chest ache.

there’s blood on his shirt one night. you ask what happened. he shrugs, mouth on your collarbone.

“don’t ask stupid questions, baby.”

but he kisses you slow. lets you take your time. makes you feel like you’re his favorite sin.

and maybe you are.

because you both get that look sometimes—the one that means you’re not okay. the one that means you need to forget.

and when you do,

you forget together.

an: written for @3m3lia9 <3