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lovelookspretty · 2 days ago

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waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: Y/N & RAFE DATE 😋 teasing, pretty safe chapter

authors note: btw readers only “weird” around cynthia bc ngl id act like that if i came across her bc shes so annoying on the show omg. but EEE hi guys. if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

you’re not surprised to wake up in rafe’s bed again. at this point, it’s almost routine, though every time still feels surreal.

you’ve gotten used to the soft sheets, the familiar scent of him on the pillows, and the way the morning light filters through the blinds just right, casting a warm glow over his peaceful, sleeping face.

he looks so different like this—calm, almost vulnerable. it’s a version of him that no one else really gets to see. and you? you don’t mind at all.

you take a quiet breath, just watching him for a moment longer. but then, his eyes flutter open, and you freeze, quickly closing your eyes to pretend like you’re still sleeping. maybe if you play it off well enough, he won’t—

a finger pokes at your side, and you can’t help the involuntary squirm and groan that escapes you. “rafe,” you mutter, barely opening one eye to glare at him. but he just grins, clearly pleased with himself for catching you.

“thought you were asleep,” he teases, voice rough from sleep, poking your side again until you half-heartedly swat at his hand.

“you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “get off of me.”

the morning quickly slips into a blur, and before you know it, you're tagging along with rafe for a ride around the island—except not just any ride. he’s got his dirt bike out, the same one you’d seen on the show.

you were kind of surprised when you first saw it in the garage. in the world you knew, rafe got this bike after the first episode started, but here? no rules seem to apply anymore.

you’re wrapped tightly around his torso, his helmet snug on your head as he drives the bike through town, on the beaches, through quiet streets and long stretches of open road. the wind whips past your face, and you can’t help but smile into it, arms locked around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

eventually, he pulls up to some kook-itorium, the bike coming to a slow stop. rafe kicks the stand down and hops off first, turning to help you off like he always does. his hands are warm as they slide into yours, and for a second, he just holds them, staring down at you with a grin.

“so, what do you think?” he asks, pulling you a little closer as you hop off the bike. he’s been practically advertising himself on the way over here. “a date? hrm? just you n’ me. anywhere you want.”

you smile up at him. “yeah,” you say softly. “i’d like that.”

he tugs you toward the entrance of the building, still holding onto your hand. “just don’t pick somewhere like the seaview grill or— god, that lame museum your mom likes.”

when you step inside the building, it takes you a moment to realize where rafe has brought you. the place has that unmistakable country club vibe—polished, pristine, like every corner of it has been touched by money. but it’s smaller, rounder in shape, and more modern than the main country club building next door. servers move swiftly between tables, balancing trays and drinks. rafe, of course, heads straight past all of this, not even glancing at the downstairs dining area.

you follow him upstairs, past the busy floor where people are eating, drinking, and talking in their quiet, refined way. upstairs, though, it’s a whole different world.

the second floor is open and airy, with barely any walls to box anything in. it’s just the floor, held up by tall pillars that support the roof above, letting the fresh air and views of the island spill right in. the only structure that really stands out is the bar in the middle—a sleek, modern setup that takes up a good portion of the space, all glossy wood and glass shelves stocked with high-end bottles.

the place is filled with kooks, most of them middle-aged. they don’t seem to notice you and rafe, or if they do, they don’t care. oh right, rafe should be about 22 now, legal to drink here. does that make the others 18 and 19?

anyway, rafe is clearly familiar here. a few nods are thrown his way as he leads you forward, and he nods back, murmuring casual greetings under his breath as you weave between tables. you’re amused, but there’s a small part of you that’s bothered.

you thought maybe rafe had brought you here for food downstairs, but it’s pretty clear now that this is just one of his regular stops to get a drink—probably whiskey or even scotch, knowing him. but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to spoil the mood.

he finally lets go of your hand when he reaches the bar, leaning against the counter with crossed arms as he asks for his drink. you linger beside him for a second, glancing around the open space. the view from up here is stunning, with a perfect sightline to the docks and the country club’s main establishment just next door.

you rub your arm awkwardly, feeling a little out of place among all the well-dressed older folks. after a beat, you step closer to rafe, gently touching his arm to get his attention. “i’m gonna go use the restroom,” you say quietly.

he nods, not taking his eyes off the bartender. but before you can turn to leave, he grabs your arm, tugging you back toward him for a quick kiss. it’s his way of saying 'be safe,' you guess, a small gesture that makes you smile despite the surroundings. you give his arm a gentle squeeze in return, then slip away to head downstairs.

just as you’re descending the steps, though, a familiar voice drifts up toward you. and then you see him—topper, making his way up the stairs. your heart sinks in the half-second you have to process it.

great. the last time you talked to him was at the party, when he was stumbling over some half-assed apology. and now here he is, about to cross your path.

fantastic. just what you needed.

the moment his eyes land on you, there’s a flicker of recognition that lights up his face, just for a moment—like spotting an old acquaintance in a crowd.

“y/n!” he says, his hands coming up as if he’s presenting you to the world. he glances at his mom as if to say, ‘look who it is’. you can feel your heart rate pick up as you pause on the steps, furrowing your brows at them.

they were definitely just talking about you right before this.

you force a smile, but it’s small and tight, barely breaking through your unease. “hi, topper,” you mumble, glancing between him and his mom. there’s a brief moment of silence as you weigh your options—whether to continue this conversation or slip away.

ultimately, you choose the latter. you take a step forward, moving past them and continuing down the stairs, leaving them behind. as you go, you can feel topper’s eyes on you.

he glances down at his shoes and shifts awkwardly, but then, just as quickly, he looks up again. “come on, let’s just go upstairs,” he insists to his mom, trying to shake it off as they both start moving again.

it’s not that you wanted to dismiss topper and his mom or anything. really, you just don’t see the point in lingering in the middle of a public staircase, one of the only two that connected the floors of the country club. you don’t want to be rude, but you also don’t want to talk to topper—especially after your last encounter at the party.

topper and his mom step off the stairs, but the moment topper spots rafe, a grin spreads across his face.

“hey, good seein’ you back here again,” topper greets, approaching the bar with a friendly demeanor.

rafe daps him up casually. “you too, man,” rafe replies, genuinely glad to see him.

topper's mom stands just a foot away, carrying her purse and looking utterly uninterested in the interaction, her gaze flicking off to the side as if she’s assessing the other patrons. she’s never been a fan of rafe, just barely tolerating him because he comes from a good family, and it shows in the way she avoids direct eye contact.

pulling away from the handshake, toppers eyes glance back toward the staircase as if expecting you to appear at any moment. “saw you and y/n come in,” he adds, “just wanted to say hi.”

rafe nods with a smile as he leans back against the bar, one elbow resting casually on the counter. he glances at topper’s mom. “hey, cynthia,” he says, flashing her a grin.

her expression shifts from indifference to surprise, and then it hardens, almost offended by the casual familiarity. she’s always been the type to keep her distance from him, and rafe knows it. to her, he’s still just another troublemaker, another bad influence.

topper notices the slight tension and looks back to rafe, his brow furrowing slightly. “so, what’s up with y/n?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with a hint of concern.

rafe squints, his head cocking to the side as he regards topper. “what do you mean, ‘what’s up’?” he replies, his voice subtly defensive and carrying a hint of warning. “is there something wrong with her?”

topper realizes how that might sound and shakes his head quickly. “no, no, man. i just think she’s, like . . . avoiding me or something,” he clarifies, waving a hand dismissively as if trying to brush off any potential drama.

rafe chuckles, raising his glass up to his lips. “are you surprised?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at topper, the teasing tone evident. he shakes his head, a look of amusement on his face. “girls, man.”

cynthia catches the comment, her expression shifting to one of disapproval. she mutters a clipped ‘ten minutes’ to her son before leaving without a word, turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs to leaving topper there with him.

topper watches her go, feeling the weight of the awkwardness settle over him. he glances back at rafe, who is now watching the scene unfold with a smirk, clearly amused by the whole thing.

“so, what are you guys up to?” topper asks, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

when you step out of the bathroom, you spot her immediately—cynthia, standing at the bottom of the stairs like she’s waiting for her son. you briefly consider turning around, maybe pretending not to notice, but it’s too late. her sharp gaze finds yours, and there’s no escaping it now.

this is great.

you adjust your posture, trying to look casual as you make your way toward the stairs, your mind racing for an excuse to cut this conversation short. the last thing you want is to get caught up with cynthia—if she’s anything like the way she was on the show, you are not open to a conversation.

but it’s like you’re trapped. her eyes lock on you, and she takes a few steps forward in those polished black heels. “y/n,” she says, and there’s a hint of something icy behind that tone, even though she’s putting on a smile.

you stop, eyebrows raising as you stand in place, trying to gauge the situation. her smile is forced, you can tell immediately, but so is yours as you mirror her expression. “cynthia, it’s so . . . nice to see you again,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth because, well, kooks always know kooks, right? you assume this universe’s y/n has seen her before.

but as soon as the words leave your mouth, cynthia’s expression shifts—her lips purse, and her eyes narrow slightly, pulling her head back like you’ve just said something ridiculous. yep. that was wrong. completely wrong.

“last time i saw you, you were just a kid! every time you come over to my home now, it’s like you’re always sneaking around,” she remarks, her voice dripping with that fake kindness, the kind that’s so transparently bitter it almost stings.

your stomach twists. yeah, this is definitely not the conversation you wanted. “and how are your parents?” cynthia continues, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

you wave your hand, trying to shrug it off like it’s no big deal. “they’re great! in costa rica right now, on vacation,” you respond, trying to keep things light.

but cynthia hums, her expression a little too knowing. “i heard it was a business trip?” she says, tilting her head slightly.

you clear your throat, feeling the tension grow. this woman is the worst. you’re slipping up so bad. “mix of both,” you say, your voice strained as you force another fake smile.

there’s a brief, uncomfortable silence before the two of you lean forward, laughing in that awkward, forced way where neither of you are actually amused. the laugh dies quickly, and as soon as it does, you drop the pretense, turning on your heel as you head back upstairs, feeling weird about the interaction.

you feel like you were just quizzed. and you failed.

once you’re back upstairs, you immediately catch rafe’s eye as you step into the room. he’s leaning casually against one of the tables, a glint in his eye that matches the small smirk tugging at his lips the second he spots you.

his whole demeanor shifts, but topper, who’s mid-sentence, doesn’t seem to notice right away—until he realizes rafe isn’t paying attention. topper twists around to follow his line of sight, spotting you before continuing whatever rant he was on.

rafe briefly glances back at him, half-listening, as you approach the two of them. when you get close enough, you quietly reach for rafe’s glass, bringing it to your nose to smell whatever’s left of his drink. without a word, you tilt your head back and down what’s left, swallowing with a grimace as you place the empty glass back on the table.

both boys stare at you, each reacting differently. topper furrows his brow, eyes flicking to the glass to see if there’s anything left. “what’s up with you?” he asks, confused, clearly sensing something off.

rafe, on the other hand, is looking at you with a blank expression, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth—because he knows. “she was definitely just talking to your mom, top,” rafe says with a knowing smile, his tone carrying just the right amount of humor to suggest that, naturally, a conversation with cynthia would drive someone to drink.

topper’s face falls slightly, but he doesn’t even argue. he just glances between the two of you in silence because he knows rafe’s probably right. with a quick check of his phone, he pushes away from the table, his energy deflating. “alright, i’ve gotta go. see you guys.”

“bye, top,” you murmur, watching as he walks off, leaving just you and rafe standing together. once topper’s out of sight, you tilt your head all the way up, meeting rafe’s gaze with a lazy, playful smile.

“you decide on where we’re going?” rafe asks, sliding an arm around you, pulling you close as he starts guiding you toward the stairs.

you hum for a long moment, trying to think, before making something up on the spot. “let’s go jet skiing,” you say, half-joking but testing the waters to see what he’d say.

rafe raises his eyebrows, a slight chuckle escaping him. “you wanna go to monty’s?” he repeats, and you assume it could be some jet ski rental place you must go to. he’s amused but surprisingly open to it. “we can go to monty’s, darlin’.”

rafe drives the two of you out to some place a mile or two away, the sign out front reading ‘montgomery’s jet ski rentals’ in bold blue letters. it’s tucked away along a small marina.

you step out of the car. it’s here that you notice the way rafe moves—a kind of quiet confidence that’s hard to ignore. he strides toward the dock with his head held high, like he’s done this a hundred times. you can’t tell if it’s because you two have apparently been here so often that he just knows his way around or if he’s just naturally this confident.

while rafe chats easily with the staff, laughing and slapping one guy on the back like they’re old friends, you find yourself preparing for the ride. you slip into a life vest, adjusting the straps so it fits snugly.

then you’re stepping onto the dock, the jet ski bobbing gently in the water. rafe climbs on first, settling into the front seat, and turns back to offer you his hand. you take it, letting him guide you into place behind him, and then you wrap your arms around his waist. it feels natural, like you’re meant to be there, holding onto him like this.

and, god, the thought hits you—this is probably a dream for hundreds, maybe thousands of people. to be on a jet ski with drew starkey, any version of him, arms wrapped around his waist, close enough to feel the warmth of his back.

it’s a little surreal, and you can’t help but feel grateful for this weird fucking alternate universe you’re in. being a kook, being rafe cameron’s girlfriend, living out days like this—you could get used to it. you could live like this forever.

rafe glances forward, that cocky smirk barely visible at the corner of his lips. without looking back at you, he mutters, “hold on.” and before you have a chance to reply, he twists the throttle, and the jet ski leaps forward, tearing across the water. your arms instinctively tighten around his waist as the engine roars, and you feel the force of the speed pushing you back slightly.

your eyes widen as you’re propelled across the open water. the jet ski skims over waves. you can barely keep from laughing as the wind whips through your hair. it’s fast—so much faster than you expected—and your heart is beating more than ever.

rafe steers you two in wide, looping turns and tight figure-eights, shouting the loudest, most carefree ‘woo!’ that you think you’ve ever heard. his voice carries over the hum of the engine and the slap of the waves, his laughter echoing as you cling on, a laughing mess yourself.

as the jet ski finally begins to slow, you let your chin rest on his back, just near his shoulder so you can look out ahead. you’re both breathing heavily from the ride, and he’s still grinning, clearly thrilled by his own reckless route. he isn’t heading anywhere specific, just weaving around, but that’s what makes it even better. there’s no destination—just you, him, and the freedom of open water.

“wanna take over?” rafe calls out, and you laugh, thinking he’s kidding. but when he glances back over his shoulder, you catch his expression and feel your own smile falter, realizing he’s dead serious.

next thing you know, you’re seated in front, fingers gripping the throttle while rafe sits behind you, holding on with that unshakeable grin of his. the jet ski jolts forward as you try to get the hang of the controls, and you immediately feel the panic rise, the machine moving faster than you expected.

“rafe, i don’t know what i’m doing!” you shout over your shoulder, but rafe’s only response is laughter.

“just go easy on the throttle,” he says, half-shouting and half-laughing as you attempt to steer. but the jet ski wobbles, veering off a bit too quickly, and your grip slips.

“rafe!” you yell, barely keeping control as he’s practically doubled over behind you, finding the whole thing hysterical. he tries to guide you through it, but it’s impossible to listen when you’re both shouting and laughing, the jet ski zigzagging across the water.

but it slows. he wants to teach you properly.

you feel rafe's hands slip over yours, his fingers resting gently against yours as he takes control of the throttle from behind. his touch is firm but relaxed, guiding your grip as he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “steady now,” he murmurs. “ease it forward like this, yeah?”

you nod. his voice is a steady hum as he talks you through it. “just a little pressure here,” he says, pressing lightly against the throttle. “see? easy.” his fingers guide yours over the controls until you can feel how each movement changes the jet ski’s pace.

after a minute or two, he lets you take over, his hands staying in place to catch you if needed, but he’s not pushing or pulling anymore. you start to feel it, understanding the rhythm of the throttle and how to steer, and rafe just chuckles.

“that’s my girl,” he says, patting his hand on the spot between your thigh and hip, sending a flutter through you as his hand settles back around you.

a grin stretches across your face, and before you know it, you’re letting out a loud scream that echoes across the water as you pick up speed, trusting yourself more with every second. you’re moving faster, the wind whipping past, and for a moment you feel invincible.

when you decide to slow down, you ease off the throttle, leaning back just enough to press into rafe’s chest. you feel his laugh rumble against you. it makes you smile as you let out a breathy laugh of your own. then, you’re off again, speeding forward with rafe’s steadying hands nearby, the two of you gliding over the waves like you were born to do this together.

you’re both sitting across from each other at a little table outside a bayside café. you pick up your sandwich and take a big, satisfying bite, eyes rolling back with a muffled oh my god because it's just that good.

you didn’t realize how hungry you were until now. you lean your head back, savoring the taste, a content sigh escaping as you sit up again, still chewing, and glance at rafe across the table.

he’s got his phone out, scrolling with his eyebrows furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening behind his sunglasses. he’s squinting slightly, or maybe he’s just annoyed by whatever’s on the screen. you pause mid-bite, lowering your sandwich slightly before asking, “you okay?”

rafe clears his throat, not looking at you just yet, and clicks his phone off. he flips it over on the table, his hand rubbing down the front of his shorts like he’s brushing something off. “yeah, all good,” he says, reaching for his own food, voice casual, but there’s a tension you can sense from his reaction.

it doesn’t add up, but you decide not to push it. you’ve learned when to give him space, and right now, you’re way more into this sandwich than trying to open up that conversation.

you take another bite, glancing around at the scene in front of you as you chew. it’s a perfect day, bay glistening in the sunlight, people passing. by with relaxed smiles, stopping in at shops or heading toward the water. montgomery’s rentals is right across the street, jet skis and kayaks lining the dock.

rafe leans back in his chair, “dad’s finally starting to trust me to, like, step into his position at the company.” he pauses for a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “he’s flying out of state next week, and he’s leavin’ me in charge while he’s gone.”

you just stare at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips without even realizing it. you can feel the pride in your expression as you tell him, “rafe, that’s really good. i’m proud of you.”

he grins wider, clearly trying to play it cool, and then takes a massive, messy bite of his sandwich. he chews with the gusto of someone who thinks a bite is a whole experience, sauce smearing slightly at the corner of his mouth.

you reach over instinctively, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and tossing it back down on the table before going back to your sandwich like it’s second nature.

he swallows and continues, “he hasn’t really told me much, but i figure he’s got some new properties lined up, maybe working out deals or, like, finalizing stuff with investors. you know how he is.”

“yeah, that sounds like ward,” you say, taking another bite, your eyes never leaving him.

“so he’s gonna give me this schedule,” he adds, “a ‘run-down’ or whatever, of what i’ll need to cover. probably sit at the office, sign some stuff, and meet with clients or partners who can’t be pushed off until he’s back.”

“sounds pretty official,” you say, trying to imagine rafe at a desk, talking clients through real estate deals like he was born for it. “do you know what kind of properties he’s working on?”

he shrugs, a small smirk still lingering as he speaks. “knowing him? probably something big—new development or another investment property he wants to secure. he’s been hinting at something ‘game-changing’, like some waterfront project.”

you hum thoughtfully. “so you’ll be doing the groundwork? like, maybe even closing a deal?”

“yeah, maybe,” he says, sounding a little impressed with himself. “i’ll actually get to see if i can handle it.”

it's nice to see rafe so eager to step up, to take on something this big, probably just to prove himself to his dad. he always acts so casual about the family business, but there’s a spark in his eyes today, and you think . . . he can maybe handle being ward cameron for a week.

you just hope you can stay here long enough to see him prove it.

he’s finishing his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin, and suddenly he’s looking right at you. “oh, yeah—did you ever tell me how that call went with your mom?”

it takes you a second. right, that call with your mom. you remember mentioning it to sarah, but rafe? he still doesn’t even know you hung out with sarah and the others while he was off fishing with ward.

“oh, yeah,” you say, smiling as if the thought just occurred to you. “it was fine. nice to hear from her, i guess. i miss them.” you shrug, playing it casual. but the truth is, you kind of do.

rafe nods, shifting his empty plate and leaning back in his chair, still watching you as he says, “that’s good. i mean, you get so wrapped up in life on the island, it’s easy to go a while without catching up.”

he talks on, making small comments about family and how he totally gets it, but as you sit there, nodding occasionally, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

you almost forgot about that call with your ‘in-this-universe mom.’ it seems so strange—no, it’s stranger that you forgot about it at all. and dad . . . right, your i.t.u. dad was there, too, wasn’t he?

wait . . what?

you feel a slight prickle of discomfort, shifting in your seat as you try to catch every third word rafe’s saying, but really, your mind is circling back to that call.

dad. mom. two words, so familiar. but why are they slipping through your fingers, blurring just a bit?

you force yourself to remember something about them, to pull up a memory, clear as day.

oh! like that one time you and mom spent the whole afternoon baking, sugar and flour coating every surface in the kitchen . . . and dad was there, wasn’t he? but what did he do? your chest tightens, just slightly, and you fidget with your napkin.

okay, try again.

dad. right. he was . . . wait, no, he was definitely there—no, he was doing something.

and then, just like that, the memory clicks into place. right, he’d taken one look at the mess you and mom made, then grabbed the dog and headed out, calling back that he’d be home ‘once the tornado’s over,’ and you and mom laughed.

you exhale, relief washing over you, but there’s still a flicker of something unsettling. why couldn’t you remember that right away?

you try another memory, to reassure yourself. dad did this, mom did that. you’re sifting through so many small, precious fragments, but there’s something strange about each one, something hollow.

the parents you remember—your parents—were so vivid before. but as you replay these memories in your head, they feel softer, blurred at the edges. somehow, they seem more like your parents here—the way they’re talking, laughing, looking at you with the same expressions as your i.t.u. parents.

your stomach twists, realization beginning to dawn, but you can’t even hold onto what that realization is. the longer you stay in this world, the harder it seems to be to grasp what was real and what was . . . this.

are you forgetting your memories?

authors note: okay poor execution LMAO but i know if i was y/n, i wouldve wanted to stay in this universe but we cant have that, so essentially the conflict / the thing that makes her work harder to solve all the relationships in this life for obx!y/n is that shes losing her memories from her real life the longer shes there.

does that make sense?? 😭 like she cant have her cake n eat it too, she can only have one lifetimes memories, her real ones or the ones that belong to the y/n who lives in this universe. makes her work faster to get back to her world so she doesnt feel like she can stay !!

tags: @v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @drewsephrry @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @thereallifebambi @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @thewrittenpodcast @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @benbarneslut @illicit-affcirs @helo1281917 ++

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