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rafesplaymate · 8 months ago

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Perfect Where Her Rivals Fails.

Dark!Rafe Cameron x Dark!Reader

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Summary: Rafe thought Sofia would be the one to fix him.. that was until he met her best friend and became so much worse…

warnings: smut. p in v. cheating (not on reader). descriptions of immoral thoughts / behaviors. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: rafe & reader are NOT GOOD PEOPLE! this is kinda long ngl.. descriptions of sofia & reader are for plot purpose only.

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Rafe should feel ashamed. He should feel sick to his stomach. Guilt and despair should be bubbling in his gut at what he’s doing. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. Not even at all. This is what was meant to happen, and it feels so fucking good.

“Oh fuck! Rafe.. you feel s’good…” she slurs with a drawn out moan from the back of her throat. Switching to grinding her swollen clit against the trimmed-bush on his lower pelvis. A sticky, translucent mess of their mixed arousal inbetween her legs and leaving his cock drowning. “Mhmm… that’s it baby, ridin’ me so good,” groans Rafe from the back of his throat. Deep and low making her clench around him tightly and causing him to hiss from the tight hole suffocating his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum s’fucking hard if you keep doing that.” He warns. Bringing his hands that were behind his head, sliding them up to wrap around her back to push her down against him. Pretty tits pressed against his firm chest, skin sticking together from the sweat. He tangles his hand in her messy hair and pushes her pout against his thinner one. Immediately barging his tongue into her mouth and tasting remnants of himself from the messy blow-job she gifted him earlier. “So much better than her, you know that princess?”

Rafe should feel guilty about fucking his girlfriend’s best friend. But he doesn’t, because her knew. from the moment they met he was gonna take her and make her his, girlfriend be damned. Relationship be damned.

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Sofia was nice. Sweet actually. She was all soft smiles and modest clothes. Sparkling eyes hiding behind wispy bangs. Voice of reason, the angel on his right shoulder. Mousy beauty, enticing in a plain jane way that is nice to admire and look at. She doesn’t stand out but she had caught his eye and he liked it. Different from snooty Kook girls and prettier than typical Pogue girls. She kept him calm, and pushed him to be better. She could change him; that was until he met her though.

Sofia’s best friend was everything she wasn’t. She was sweet as well, don’t get him wrong. But she had a fire in her eyes, a darkness waiting to be unleashed that he couldn’t help but feel would match perfectly with his. The devil on his left shoulder. She was stunning, the kind of stunning that turns heads and captivates. She was all flirty smiles and batting wispy lashes. Skimpy clothes, excessive jewelry and high heels always accessorizing her perfectly. Makeup always accentuating her enticing features.

Rafe still remembers when they met. He’d thrown a grand party, Kooks on every inch of his property buzzed and high. Some crossed and stumbling. An environment of chaos, fun chaos. He was sitting in his ‘VIP’ section with Barry. Doing lines and rolling a fat blunt to be passed between the two. Waiting for Sofia to arrive, remembering his earlier phone call with her. ‘Can I bring my best friend, she just moved in with me and it’ll be her first time on the island.’ To which Rafe replied mumbled a ‘sure, whatever.” The more the merrier right?

Oh and the more the merrier indeed. Because when Rafe laid his eyes on her for the first time he felt like he was starting the beginning of the rest of his life. Like a missing puzzle piece fit in perfectly that he didn’t even know was missing.

“Y/n this is Rafe,” smiles Sofia, putting a name to the beauty standing before him, “Rafe, this is y/n, my best friend,” boasted Sofia with a bashful smile and proud eyes. A manicured hand reaches out to him, “it’s so nice to meet you. Sofia’s always talking about you.” Pretty lips spread, exposing pearly whites and when he looks into her eyes he can see the same lust swirling around them that is most definitely sitting in his. Rafe extends his hand, immediately engulfing hers as their eyes lock and his lips spread in a small side smile with a “likewise.” Holding onto the moment till a soft voice breaks the tension, “y/n do you want anything to drink?”

They both dropped each other’s hands quickly. The tension building between them snuffing out as they turn to Sofia as she looks at them with an unassuming smile. “Oh…yes! sure! What is there?” replies y/n, turning her attention to her best friend and giving Rafe the opportunity to slyly run his gaze down her figure. Taking in the skimpy clothing accentuating it perfectly and pretty pedicured feet in heels. A stark difference to the dress Sofia was wearing that landed right above her knees, the V on the chest only exposing her collar bones. Feet sat in white sneakers. “I’m not sure…Rafe?” Sofia broke his trance, turning to him as he immediately locked eyes with hers. “What happened?” he replies, having not paid attention to anything they were taking about. Way too entranced by the beauty on display in front of him.

“Y/n asked what do you have to drink” said Sofia with a small smile. And it almost made him feel guilty at having checked out his girlfriend’s best friend right in front of her. Almost. “Uh yeah.. anything really. I’m sure I have it, what’s your poison?” he spoke to y/n, giving her a warm smile as he prepared to make a mental note of what she likes. “Vodka.” she replies back, returning his warm smile with one of her own. Rafe goes to reply when a familiar accent chimes in.

“How about I show you where it’s at doll? Give these two lovebirds a chance to be alone.” drawls Barry. Rafe snaps his head toward him, eyes darkening and lips pursing in an unamused scowl. The drug dealer making eye contact with the beauty in front of them, small smirk on his lips as lust swirls around his eyes. Rafe couldn’t blame him but he sure as hell wanted to pop him right in the face. “M’Barry,” he reaches his hand out to her, Rafe’s eyes following her pretty hand slide into Barry’s calloused grip. “I’m a business associate of Rafe’s” he says slyly, “guess you could say we’re friends too.” He finished with a smile, gold tooth glistening.

“Nice to meet you,” y/n replies offering him a small smile. “Um, yeah sure. That sounds good.” she replied to Barry’s earlier question. Shyly glancing once at Rafe, then at Sofia. Barry getting up and taking the hand in his to guide her along with him. Turning his head back to Rafe with a knowing smirk as Sofia takes her position next to Rafe, nuzzling into his side with a pleased smile. It would normally be welcomed by him, thick arm wrapped around her shoulder. But now he does it reluctantly, tips of his ears burning with heat and chest tightening. Jealousy swirling in his stomach, lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes burn holes into the pair walking away. Watching as y/n follows Barry’s lead, head turning back to look over at the couple. Her eyes landing on Sofia who’s nuzzling his cheek and kissing it with soft pecks. He can see them darken as she moves her eyes to his and catches them already on hers. The pair staring into each other before she turns around and lets Barry lead her away. Rafe’s gaze can’t help but fall to her cute butt popping out enticingly from the mini skirt she was wearing. The clack of her heels furthering with each step.

“I think Barry likes her,” giggles Sofia. The statement making his body burn and the hand not wrapped around her shoulder clench. A small hum coming from his mouth and all he’s thinking is that he’ll be damned if he lets Barry sweep away something he’s already planning on making his.

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After that eventful night. Rafe makes it a point to be around y/n as much as possible. Whether from suggesting he and Sofia ‘stay in’ at her small place with a ‘let’s invite y/n to watch a movie’ or ‘don’t feel like being around Figure 8, mind if I hang here?’ Each and every time, making up one excuse after the other to reside in the habitat where his prey lies in. Waiting for the right moment to pounce and claim his catch.

If he thought style-wise they were different. It’s only confirmed by the undeniable difference in their shared home. Elements placed by both of them in the space contrasting starkly. Sofia’s bedroom was nice. Clean and always well kept. Neutral, earthy tones and the definition of minimalistic. Clothes organized neatly and folded perfectly in her dresser, and hung up in her small closet. A few pairs of shoes lined up neatly under the hanging clothes. Her room smelled like clean laundry and the ocean breeze. Her bed with a basic black duvet and primped white, cotton sheets always fresh. Smelling of her whenever they’re rolling around, tangled together.

Whereas, y/n’s space was the epitome of girly-girl. Clean but an organized clutter of cute trinkets and decorations. Clothes and lingerie on a rack next to her vanity because the small closet couldn’t fit all her clothes. Heels lined up against the wall, white and black leopard print bedding with satin pink sheets, full of fluffy pillows. Her vanity is orgqnized but full of makeup, and products that she rummages through on her day to day. Jewelry sprawled all over her night stand. All things maximalism. Which he was only able to see after sneaking out of Sofia’s bedroom one night while she slept soundly and stalking over to the other beauty’s bedroom to satiate his need to know more about her. Pressing the door open lightly and watching as she sleeps with pouted lips in her array of pillows and satin sheets. The sweet aroma of Vanilla filling his senses. And lulling him to sleep after he gets back into bed with Sofia, dreaming of the girl down the hall.

Even in their shared bathroom, the pink loofah and sparkly decorations contrasting to Sofia’s white loofah and minimal decorating. And sometimes when Rafe is desperate he pops open her expensive Vanilla-scented shampoo and inhales deeply to consume just a piece of her, so different from the fresh-soap smell of Sofia’s. God and don’t get him started on the loungewear.

Sofia preferred comfort and modesty. She had a cute body that hid under baggy sweats, yoga pants, gym shorts and oversized sweaters or shirts. Maybe even some of his shirts here and there. Rafe liked it don’t get him wrong, it’s cute and she feels comfortable. But when he saw y/n’s loungewear, he didn’t know how he could ever accept anything less. Micro sleep shorts in an array of different pinks, black, grey, whites. Low-rise and always risen up, stuck inbetween her cute butt, giving him a good view of those pretty legs and that gorgeous tummy. Tiny tank tops, shirts that exposed her pretty midriff and so tight on the chest he could always see her nipples poking through. Fluffy pink slippers or cute leg-warmers and fluffy socks on her feet. Thought he prefers when she’s barefoot because then he can see her pretty pedicured toes that he imagines pressing kisses onto.

Rafe wasn’t delusional. Well, he was. But not about this, no way. When he’d first started infiltrating their space, making himself a consistent figure he’d made sure he was extra observant and helpful. In guise of being a good boyfriend to Sofia ‘it’s so sweet that you’re being so nice to her, I know she really appreciates it. The move was hard.’ To which Rafe replied with ‘do it all for you baby.’ A bold-faced lie. He does it because he wants to, he wants to know everything about her. Take care of her. He knows that her and Sofia aren’t rolling in dough the way he is. Especially with her struggling to get a job after he made sure to put in a word not to hire her at the country club with Sofia. Coming up with some excuse that she’s got no work ethic; in reality it’s just him not wanting her to work around other men. Or work in general, she’s far too precious for that. He knows she’s a girl who deserves nice things and gestures. A girl he wants to provide for. And he also knows that the more he provides, he can basically Pavlov her. Make her depend on him and keep a smile on that pretty face he wants to press kisses all over.

So it started with simple things. Foods and snacks she likes; asking Sofia what she prefers to nosh on. To which she happily replied giving him a good list, and he made sure to get Sofia something too. Not to raise suspicion. It made his chest warm when they’d have a movie night, another insistent ‘let’s invite y/n.’ Paying more attention to how she happily snacked on the food he provided, giving him thanks and a shy hug. Offering him some every few minutes while he replied with soft, “m’okay, enjoy it. It’s all for you.” Neither her and Sofia realizing how deep that sentiment actually was.

But then it began escalating… they started hanging out more. Sofia giving Rafe a spare key to let himself into their home since he was there so often, and he took full advantage. Letting himself in when he knew Sofia wasn’t there; insisting on inserting himself into y/n’s life and heart. They spent so much time together; getting to know each other. Rafe becoming a consistent figure in her life; making himself her whole world. Slowly but surely infiltrating and separating her away from Sofia as he reeled her closer to him. Even going as far to find solace in her company when he and Sofia fought; not letting her know he began each and every one to slowly but surely push her away. Making sure Sofia was never there as he forced himself into her best friend’s life.

Sofia had picked up more shifts at the Country Club; making her presence more sparse as she noticed distance from her best friend and her boyfriend. Losing herself in work to not think about the dread building in her chest and the suspicions building in her mind. As for Rafe, it was another normal day of pushing himself into y/n’s life and going to her shared home with Sofia. Which has been almost every day of the week when he wasn’t busy doing business with Barry or making time for Sofia as to not raise suspicion. And today he brought breakfast, setting it out on their small kitchen island. One thing on his mind that today was the day. He was in the middle of setting up when he heard soft footsteps padding towards the kitchen from the small hallway.

“Rafe?” questioned a meek voice; gritty with sleep and sounding oh-so precious. He immediately turns around with a warm smile, running his eyes over her scantily clad figure and down to her pretty toes on display. “Good morning,” he said in a slow drawl, taking in the way her thighs clenched together subtly at that. His warm smile slipping into that familiar smirk. “I brought breakfast, thought we could spend some time together and go to the mainland today to show you around.” He continued, keeping his eyes on her as her gaze moved to the food set out on the island. Shuffling over and rubbing the sleep out of her pretty eyes.

“You got all this .. for me?” she spoke softly, gazing up at his towering figure with soft doe-eyes. Lips frowning in a slight pout that he wanted to kiss away. “Mhmm,” he hummed. He raised a strong hand to grip her chin and run the tip of his thumb slightly over the bottom of her lower lip. Moving his gaze from her eyes to her lips, back to her eyes, “just for you,” he whispered lowly. Watching as she kept staring into his eyes and leaning her body into him slowly. He very much liked that, giving her chin a quick pinch before he pulled away. Turning to grab a glass of orange juice and setting it down in front of the plate he set out for her. Watching as she moved to sit in front of it; eyes dashing between the arranged food. “Eat whatever you want, need that tummy full for today.” He spread his hands on the island, holding his body up as he leaned over and watched as she began adding pieces of her desired choice of food all over the plate. A satisfied hum coming from her as her eyes closed at the taste.

“What do you mean we’re going to the mainland? Why? Without Sofia too?” she questioned after she finished chewing; taking a sip of the orange juice he set out for her while keeping eye contact. “Thought I could show you around, I had nothing to do today and thought it would be nice to take you out so you’re not cooped up in here all day while Sofia’s working.” He said with his usual charm; popping a grape into his mouth and biting into it with a harsh crunch. Watching as she nodded her head in understanding. “After you eat, go get ready and put on something pretty. It’ll be hot today so be sure to dress for it. But make sure it’s something nice, taking you out for a nice lunch.” He continued. Praying she put on one of those cute, short sundresses or mini skirts she’s so known for wearing. He continued to munch on small pieces of fruit while she finished her breakfast. Taking her plate when she finished and giving her a dismissive wave; signaling to her to begin getting ready.

He watched as she happily skipped away, his eyes lowering to her cute butt as if jiggled with her movements. He wanted nothing more than to bite into it; too caught up in his dirty thoughts when he heard a, “can I wear heels?” He immediately popped his eyes back to her face, which is turned around to look at him. Back still facing him. “If they’re comfortable enough, absolutely.” He smiled, watching as she nodded with a smile and continued back to her room as Rafe finished cleaning up and sat onto the small couch. Head leaning back onto it and staring onto the ceiling with a devious grin of all the things he planned to do today. Dozing off slightly as he waited for her to get ready.

“Rafe,” a slight nudge to his shoulder. “Raaaaafe,” drawled out the prettiest voice; a soft hand coming to cup his cheek lightly and caress it as that sweet voice whispered another soft “wake up Rafe, m’ready to go.” She said delicately with excitement in her voice. Rafe’s eyes opening up from dreamland to look at the absolute goddess in front of him. Quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she stepped back in front of him. When his vision came back into focus he couldn’t help but run his gaze over her figure. His heart beating in his chest and his pants feeling tighter by the second as her took in the little number on her gorgeous body. Down to the heels on her feet showing off those pretty toes. Her hair done up a a messy up-do with wisp framing her face perfectly. Makeup dewy and fresh, making her look so ethereal and pretty lips slathered in a gloss he wants to kiss away. Silver hoops sitting in her pretty ears.

“You like it?” she asked, giving him twirl. The expanse of her pretty back showing. The sheen material giving him a view of the pink thong nestled inbetween the cute butt he’s been dreaming of marking with his teeth. Watching as her front view came into view, his eyes immediately drawn to the low V and the way her pretty tits looked so erotic hidden between a thin layer of sheen material. Her nipples poking through and her cleavage sitting so nicely.

He let out a low, soft whistle; his gaze which was leaving no inch of her body undiscovered looks back up to her beautiful face. Her eyes already on him through wispy lashes that made them looks so flirty and alluring. An amused smile on her face as he stated, “you look like you should be on the cover of a magazine. Beautiful. You look beautiful. You are so beautiful.” With full sincerity, his eyes holding onto hers to convey all the emotions and want he’s been holding back. He rose up slightly, hand holding out for hers as she placed hers into his. His large grip immediately engulfing her pretty hand as he began dragging her to the front door. “We’re gonna have a ball, believe that.” He looked back at her with a smirk; her head tilting back to meet his gaze and a small giggle falling from her lips as she let him lead her away.

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Rafe doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone so badly in his life, not even Sofia. After they left the girls’ small house, taking his truck to which he boldly put his hand on her thigh while she sat in his passenger seat; feeling it tense. Testing the waters and feeling satisfied as she relaxed into his touch; thighs slightly spreading to which he gave a small squeeze in approval. His hand caressing her smooth skin the whole way to there. He his head to the side to look at her through his peripheral vision to see her looking out the window, biting those pretty lips and closing her eyes when he would dare to raise his hand a bit higher. Bringing it back to its original spot in a way to tease her every-time, having expected her to push him away. Tell him he’s crossing a boundary, but she never did. Not even when her helped her off the truck, his hand pulling her into his side with it running down her smooth back to sit right above her butt. Not even when he stood behind her on the ferry; his body pressed into hers and arms spread out onto the railing to cage her in as she watched the water with a lip bite and excitement in her eyes. Leaning her head back a bit to expose her neck to him, his immediate response to ghost his lips up her neck and take in her Vanilla scent that’s been driving him crazy. Wanting to lick her smooth skin but refraining, just hovering his face over where he wants to mark her up.

They spent the whole day wrapped up in each other. Rafe had planned on taking her shopping, wanting to spoil her then quickly realizing he didn’t have his truck to hold the influx of items he’s sure she would love to have. Settling for taking her to a jewelry shop, buying her an 18k white gold-diamond necklace that had her eyes widening and a smile spreading on her pretty face. Words of “no Rafe I couldn’t it’s too much,” to, “what about Sofia, wouldn’t you want to get this for her?” Which he quickly shut down with a firm, “Sofia isn’t the kind of girl you buy such pretty, expensive things for, beautiful. You know this isn’t her thing.” His words having two meanings. Watching as she bit her lip in consideration at them, knowing how non-flashy her best friend was and how intimate this gesture was. Ultimately accepting the expensive gift he paid a pretty penny for and letting him clip it onto her neck with a “only girls like you deserve such nice things.” Admiring how it glistened beautifully against her flawless skin-tone. Hoping by tonight that it’s all she’s got on besides the heels on her pretty feet.

After that he took her to his promised lunch, watching as she admired herself in any reflection they walked past to see the diamonds glistening against her. Giddy with happiness and wondering how she could re-pay his kindness. Envy building in her stomach that someone as non-materialistic and plain as her best friend ended up with such a pretty boyfriend whose pockets were loaded. They both sat and chatted over expensive lobster and glasses of Dom Périgon; him feeding her pieces of her food and watching as her lips wrapped around the fork. Praying that he would get to feel them wrapped around his solid cock. His restraint for her slowly dwindling the more they got drunk off champagne.

And fuck —was he glad he splurged on good drinking. Watching as she became more loose, more touchy. Pretty eyes hazing over from the bubbly running through her. Those wispy lashes batting at him as she bit her lip; eyeing him with pure lust. It’s when he felt her right foot begin to slide up the inner-side of his right leg did he know; he had her. Leaning back in his chair slightly and widening his legs to give her more access. The two staring into each other eye’s, lust and intense want swirling around as she slid her foot higher. Eventually reaching his thigh and then the prominent bulge in his dark grey slacks. Rafe clenching his fist and huffing from his nostrils when she begin pressing her toes into it sensually. Massaging him with them as she bit her lip seductively and kept eye contact. Rafe let her tease him till he couldn’t handle it anymore.

Getting up from his chair abruptly and tossing down a few hundred dollar bills onto the table before grabbing her by her upper arm. Giving her a chance to put her heel back onto her foot before dragging her out of the restaurant and pinning her against the wall of the alley right next to it. Breathing deeply and watching as she stared into his eyes with that doe-eyed expression that makes him want to ruin her. Pressing his body against hers, his hands spread out on both sides of her head and pushing his face till they were mere inches apart. Their breaths mingling as their breathing became harsher, the restraint between both of them breaking as their need for each other began to win.

“You’ve been driving me crazy. From the moment I saw you; I knew I needed you.” Rafe said lowly, his voice thick with desire as he broke the silence. Watching as she pondered his words, then continuing, “I’m gonna take you home, back to Tannyhill.” He whispered lowly, pushing his head closer to her and brushing his lips against hers as he spoke of everything he planned to do. “M’gonna slip this sexy little dress off and leave you in nothing but those sexy heels and that necklace I bought you.” He drawled, feeling her press closer into him. Her hands that were pressed by her side now sliding up his lower back and up to his shoulders as she held onto him; listening to his every word.

“Then m’gonna take what I’ve been waiting too all damn day. Ever since I met you actually. I’m marking my claim on you tonight, and you’re gonna let me because I know you want me as bad as I want you. Know you need me baby, because I need you too.” With that he pressed his lips onto hers. The pair making out harshly with moans and whines falling from her pretty lips into his mouth; harsh groans and breathes falling from his into hers. Their teeth clacking and tongues fighting for dominance as they consumed each other. Any thought of how this might hurt Sofia quickly slipping from their minds. It felt right, right in a way that he didn’t feel with Sofia. Right in a way that she knew any friendship with Sofia wasn’t worth the feelings he gave her.

The pair made out harshly, hands running all over each other as they took each other in. Weeks of tension build up, exploding passionately between them. The sun casting an orange haze over the environment as it slowly went down. Her makeup now ruined and pouty lips swollen. Rafe’s right hand snaking into her pretty up-do and gripping her hair, tugging harshly to expose her neck. Pressing kisses and marking her as she spoke a soft inquiring, “What about Sofia?” Making Rafe’s incessant kissing come to a halt, his head lifting away from her neck as he moved his left hand to cup her cheek; not bothering to remove the hand tangled in her messed up hair. His eyes caught her own, watching as guilt built up in them. Ready to reassure and squash away those feelings because no way was he gonna let Sofia get in between them now. Not anymore than she already has.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said slowly. Watching as she opened her lips to retaliate and immediately shushing her. “Hey -no. Listen..” he continued, rubbing his thumb soothingly on her cheek. “What she means to me is nothing compared to the feelings I’ve developed for you. I need you y/n; it’s driving me insane. I know deep inside me that this feeling I have for you isn’t anything simple.” He spoke seriously, spilling his thoughts to her. Her eyes tearing with emotion as he continued, “and I won’t try to figure it out or stop it. Some things are meant to happen; we’re one of those things. You and me. What we can have together is way too good to give it up for a girl I know I don’t want a future with, but you? We can build a life together. I want to build a life with you. You deserve to be taken care of, provided for. Treated and loved like the goddamn goddess you are. And I wanna give all of that to you baby, wanna give you everything. All of me; I wanna be yours. It’s been weeks of holding myself back to finally make this moment happen and I’m not gonna let anyone ruin it. Especially not her.” he spoke. Soft tears running down her smooth cheeks that he kissed away; cradling her to him.

“It’s me and you baby; no one else. Not even Sofia.” He finished, watching the hesitation and guilt wash away in her eyes as she submitted herself to him. Removing her arms from being wrapped up his back to wrap them around his neck. Pushing her lips onto his and kissing him passionately as Rafe immediately welcomed it. Wrapping his arms around her and pressing her body tightly against his.

“Take me home Rafe,” she whispered when she pulled back. “Take me home and make me yours, wanna be all yours too.” She said against his lips, causing him to groan deeply and recapture her lips with his passionately before pulling her away. Scooping her in his arms and dragging her to the ferry bridal style as she giggled and kicked her legs in excitement. The two knowing this was the beginning of a passionate, twisted love story. Sofia be damned.

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When they made it back to Tannyhill, it’s like a veil lifted over them. Encasing them in their own little world of passion and burning desire. Giggling into each other’s mouths as her heels clacked against the floors of Tannyhill, Rafe consuming her. He took the sheen material sitting over her left shoulder and slipped it off; watching as it fell off her shoulder erotically. The smooth skin of her shoulder, arm and now her left breast being exposed to his eyes without a layer in between. He immediately swiped the right sleeve, the flowy material sliding off with ease. The entire dress dropping as she was left standing in her matching pink thong that came with the dress. Plump tits and gorgeous body on full display for his eyes only. The faux-diamonds on her heels glistening and the real diamonds on her neck shining even brighter. Her flawless skin-tone glowing from the lotion she slathered all over it while getting ready and sparkling from the body glitter she applied to add to her appeal.

Rafe’s gaze ran over the entirety of her body. His eyes full of burning want and need for her. Wanting to ravage and defile her; looking at her with the same hunger a predator looks at its prey. He was gonna make sure she never wanted anyone other than him. He was gonna make sure she belonged to him in her entirety from body to heart and soul. He was gonna make her the queen of his mansion and Kildare. Ruling alongside him in a way Sofia never could. A placeholder and stepping stone for him to find the one he truly wanted. He almost felt bad about Sofia’s role in this situation; feeling like he only met her to be able to meet the love of his life. But his desire for the beauty standing in from of him squashed any feelings that weren’t the ones he had for her.

Rafe immediately grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder as her shocked gasp turned into realizing giggles. Stomping his way upstairs and smacking her butt; turning his head to bite into it making her squeal as he smirked in satisfaction. Finally reaching his room -their room. Shoving the door open and walking to his bed, tossing her on it roughly as she bounced with delirious girly giggles. Immediately spreading her legs and bringing her pretty manicured hands to massage her beautiful tits. Her eyes full of want and need as she watched him hastily pull his clothing off his body. His belt buckle hitting the floor with a thunk as he pulled every last piece of clothing off.

Once Rafe was fully bare, his hard cock up-right and bobbing with his movements as he moved onto the bed on his knees. Slotting himself between her open legs, his big hands on both sides of her head and pressing his body to hers till they were skin to skin. Her tits pressed tightly to his chest; feeling as she began to whine her hips under him after feeling his hard cock rest itself on her covered pussy. Her hands immediately ran up the huge expanse of his back; feeling his smooth skin under her them as he kissed her roughly. Dominating her mouth immediately, strings of spit exchanging between their messy movements. Rafe beginning to grind his hips to match the rhythm of hers. His cock rubbing on her thong-covered pussy as they made out.

“Needed this so bad. Needed you,” he pressed another fervid kiss to her swollen lips covered in their shared spit. Rafe leaned his weight onto his left hand next to her head, pushing his upper body up as his knees bent to stabilize himself. Her thighs draped over his as he spread them wide with his position. Right hand reaching in between them and moving her soaked through thong to the side. Exposing her perfect cunt to him as he groaned deep in his chest at the sight. “So fucking wet for me huh, princess?” He inquired, clearly already knowing the answer. Rubbing his fingers through the silky folds of perfect pussy. Her legs immediately spreading wider as she whispered, “have been since the moment I met you.” Admitting that she’s needed him just as badly he needed her. Her words sexual but the emotion in her eyes sentimental.

Rafe smiled warmly at her, his eyes portraying the same emotion as he leaned down to get her a quick peck. Using his right hand to bring his leaking tip to her entrance dripping with her arousal. Sliding his tip against her hole before he slid it up to her clit, circling the swollen bud a couple times before guiding his tip back to her entrance. He popped it in, an airy gasp falling from her lips as a deep moan fell from his. He pushed slowly, breaking her cunt in around his thick cock, her legs beginning to tremble. Rafe pushed in till he was he was kissing her cervix, pressing soothing kisses all over her face as she whimpered and whine at the stretch. His big body pinning hers to the bed; chest pressed together while his thighs spread hers open. He brought his right hand back next to her head, beginning to grind slowly to get her use to the feeling of him breaking her open. Ruining her for everyone else but him.

“Mhmmm… s’fucking tight baby fuuuuck,” he emphasized the last word with a drawn out groan. Pushing his head into her neck that was exposed to him as she turned her head to the side to whimper about his deep grinding. Pressing kisses all over it and licking up her neck before sinking his teeth in harshly. Grinning into her skin when she cried out, hips beginning to match the rhythm of his as he stretched her to the brim. Rafe marking her neck with love bites as a declaration of his ownership over her. He brought his lips to her left ear, licking her lobe before giving it a light bite and then whispering, “can’t fucking wait anymore, m’taking what I fucking want, alright?” Beginning to snap his hips into her at a brutalizing pace. Her whimpers quickly turning into loud whines and cries, tears building up her in her pretty eyes and ruining her makeup.

“Yeah…that’s it,” Rafe groaned deeply before continuing, “cry for me baby, get use to the rest of your life. M’gonna fuck this sloppy little hole till my dick is imprinted into you.” He finished, grabbing her arms that were now flailing around to grasp onto something from his harsh pounding. Holding her wrist in his large left hand, using it as leverage to pound into her harder. A wicked smile on his face as he took what he wanted. “Never gonna leave you alone, keeping you next to me for the rest of my damn life. Fuck Sofia, this is the shit I’ve been waiting for right here -ah fuck!” He spoke harshly, voice gritty with desire and affected by his efforts at destroying her for any other man besides him. He meant it when he said he was going to fuck his print into her. “It’s me and you baby, remember that.” He reminded her, “just me n’you.”

𑁤. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 𑁤

They’d been going at it for hours; taking each other apart in the most primal way. Rafe fucked her stupid till she passed out. Her heels long gone and thong ripped as he bent her into every position impossible; stretching her open and abusing her sopping hole with his fingers, tongue and cock. Whispering phrases of “that’s my good little cumslut. Doesn’t even care that she’s fucking over her best friend. As long as she gets daddy’s dick breaking her open, huh?” He spoke menacingly, his thick bicep wrapped around her neck as he pounded into her from behind. Face buried in her hair as she dug her manicured nails into his forearm. Her left arm bent back and held against her lower back with rafe’s left hand. Choked gasp of “yes daddy” and “just for you” falling from her swollen pout. Leaving Rafe satisfied as he replied a hushed “that’s right baby, ain’t gotta worry bout a damn thing aside from taking this dick.” Or “Got the sheets fucking soaked, maybe I should fuck Sofia one last time and press her face into the mattress so she can taste what real top-tier pussy tastes like.” His back against the pillows, her back pressed to his firm chest. Large hands hooked under her thighs and spreading her out while he bucked up with non-stop harsh strokes into her already filled and leaking pussy. Their mixed arousal dripping all over his balls as she had her arms laid next to his head; letting him take whatever he wanted. Crying out “no! mine!” when he dared even teased her with the thought of fucking Sofia again after this. Making Rafe chuckle as he spoke out a “that’s right baby, m’all yours. Just yours.”

After so many hours of fucking her stupid, she passed out immediately after the last round. Rafe holding her shaking body to his, her face pressed into his neck. His right arm under her head as his left caressed her hair; keeping her safe in dreamland while they lay on their sides. Kissing her hair every so often the hour she was passed out. He was about ready to get up and go to the restroom; attempting to slowly remove her right arm wrapped around his waist when he heard her whine. Her eyes blinking open, wispy lashes clumped together from the tears of passion he caused. “Don’t leave me,” she pouted, regaining strength to pull him back into her. The action causing a warm feeling to spread through his body like wildfire. He adored that she wanted him just as bad.

“Gotta clean you up m’love.” He whispered against her lips after pressing a soft kiss to them to soothe her. Watching her look at him with sleepy eyes; lust beginning to swirl in them again. “Nuh-uh,” she replied, pressing her right hand to his chest to press him into the mattress flat on his back. Straddling his body immediately, her hands on both sides of his head as she bent down to give him a kiss. Her leaking pussy settled over his cock, pressing down against it. Rafe immediately relaxing into the mattress and shuffling slightly to get into a more comfortable position in middle of the bed. When they pulled back he brought his right hand to cup her left cheek, running his thumb over it soothingly as they held the silence, staring into each other’s eyes. “What do you want, hm?” He questioned, though he already knew the answer.

“If you want something, take it. I know I did.” Smiling as he watched her lift herself up on her knees slightly, hand reaching between them. She gripped his already hard cock in her soft hand, teasing his tip against her clit making them both lightly moan. She didn’t do it for too long, already way too built up after weeks of tension between them. Needing him again even after the hours of sex he put her through already. She brought him to her soaked entrance, popping his tip in as she watched his face. His brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he watched her cute cunt swallow him.

Rafe immediately put his hands on her hips and positions his legs. Ready to immediately begin giving it to her and giving her a couple harsh thrust before her dainty hands smacked onto his chest and pushed him back into the sheets, shaking her head side to side to say no. Rafe’s brows furrowed with confusion his lips opening to say something before she interrupted his questioning with, “wanna take care of you daddy. Wanna be good for you.” Rafe’s body immediately relaxing as a satisfied smirk spread across his face. “Yeah? Well alright,” he smacked her left ass cheek with his right hand; then removing both his hands from her hips and laying them crossed behind his head. Ready to let her do all the work. “Get to it princess; daddy’s got a fat load waiting for you.”

Her hips began grinding back and forth, rubbing her overstimulated clit across the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Hands pressed into his chest and whines falling from her lips as she worked herself into it. Rafe biting his lip while darting his eyes between her body grinding against him and to her pretty face contorting in pleasure. When she finally felt ready she removed her hands from his chest; reaching her hands behind her to stabilize herself on his strong thighs. Wet plops of their arousal and skin smacking as she began bouncing herself up and down. Working herself on his dick as she cried out his name; Rafe entranced by the goddess on top of him. He didn’t know where to look, from his dick breaking in her pussy to her beautiful body moving sensually to that gorgeous face with messy makeup and swollen lips. He clenched his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and feelings running through him; head turning to the left as she leaned down to start kissing and sucking marks into him the way he did her. When he opens his hazy eyes just a bit that’s when he sees it …

A picture of him and Sofia on his nightstand. Her face smiling brightly as she looked so happy. Half his face hidden in her hair as he gave a soft smile to the camera. A moment in time at the beginning of their relationship when Rafe felt like he could actually see himself building something long term; feeling that Sofia could fix him. A feeling that was now long gone. Rafe should feel ashamed; he should feel sick to his stomach. Guilt and despair should be bubbling in his gut at what he’s doing. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. Not even at all. This is what was meant to happen, and it feels so fucking good. He turns back to the one he truly wants and doesn’t regret his actions in the slightest. This was his woman.

He’s got her on top, bouncing wildly as she chases her orgasm, beautiful body looking so erotic as it bends and curves enticingly with each of her movements. plump tits bouncing as whines, moans and airy squeak leave her pouty lips that are even more swollen with the harsh makeout session they had earlier. His back is against his bed as sheets weave around them messily. His head pressing into his pillow as he watched her with pure desire. Sex was never this good with Sofia, she wasn’t wild. Wasn’t adventurous, as plain in bed as she was outside. She never made his body burn ablaze or his nerves go haywire. She never consumed his heart, body and soul the way the girl on top of him does. Even with Sofia he felt something incomplete inside him. He didn’t know what he was missing to be found it. Till he found her …

“Oh fuck! Rafe.. you feel s’good…” she slurs with a drawn out moan from the back of her throat. Switching to grinding her swollen clit against the trimmed-bush on his lower pelvis again. The overwhelming feeling of his tip hitting her cervix becoming too much. A sticky, translucent mess of their mixed arousal inbetween her legs and leaving his cock drowning. He’d hurt Sofia again and again if it meant having this sight in front of him and these feelings running through him all the time.

“Mhmm… that’s it baby, ridin’ me so good,” groans Rafe from the back of his throat. Deep and low making her clench around him tightly and causing him to hiss from the tight hole suffocating his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum s’fucking hard if you keep doing that.” He warns. Bringing his hands that were behind his head, sliding them up to wrap around her back to push her down against him. Pretty tits pressed against his firm chest, skin sticking together from the sweat. He tangles his hand in her messy hair and pushes her pout against his thinner one. Immediately barging his tongue into her mouth and tasting remnants of himself from the messy blow-job she gifted him earlier. “So much better than her, you know that princess?”

Rafe should feel guilty about fucking his girlfriend’s best friend. But he doesn’t, because her knew. From the moment they met he was gonna take her and make her his, girlfriend be damned. Relationship be damned. Sofia would be okay, eventually. But he wouldn’t if couldn’t have his girl, he’d rather crush Sofia’s soul then let anything get inbetween them. Any softness he felt for her fading away quickly at the thought of her becoming an obstacle between them.

“Dadddyyy,” she whined into his mouth when his hips began bucking up. He took over control, his need to reassert dominance overtaking him. He was gonna make sure she would never leave him. She was stuck here with him and he was going to ensure it in anyway possible. Little ‘uh uh uh uh’s’ falling from her as he pounded up into her; his legs tense with stabilizing his movements. His right hand came to the back of her head to keep her lips pressed to his. Hips jackhammering into her as she took everything he gave her. Her arms beginning to flail around again to stabilize herself until he grabbed them in his left hand and pinned them to her back with her wrist in his large hand. He pulled his lips back, a string of spit connecting his to hers as she whined and tried to reconnect them. Rafe shook his head and nudged her nose with his as he spoke against her mouth. “Take it m’love, daddy needs you to take it. Need you to know you’re never gonna leave me. We’re in this together. You n’me.” Watching as her eyes looked into his with full sincerity as she nodded and choked out “you n’me. Don’t wanna leave you daddy. Never.” With that Rafe pressed his hips up on more time, groaning out her name repeatedly. His cock all the way inside her and tip kissing her cervix as ropes of cum dribbled out and filled her up for the what feels like the millionth time that night. His orgasm triggering her own as her legs shook in their straddling position; crying out into his mouth as she squirted around him again.

Rafe fell back into the mattress, her collapsing on top of him as they both were breathing harshly to catch their breathes. Rafe’s right hand came up to rub her back soothingly as she came down from the high he gave her; soft little cries leaving her that turned into almost inaudible whimpers. The two so wrapped in each other and the aftermath of their love-making that they didn’t even hear the harsh steps stomping up the stairs to Rafe’s bedroom.

When they’d gone out on their date, Rafe put his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and ensured she did too. Not wanting any interruptions for their day together. And ever since then it hasn’t come off, the pair never realizing that Sofia was blowing up their phones with incessant text and calls. Questions of where they were, if they were together. Until she couldn’t handle it anymore and drove straight to Rafe’s in the middle of the night; praying the gut feeling she’s had for weeks wasn’t going to be confirmed tonight. Oh how she wishes she was wrong. She’d known for weeks, a gut feeling stabbing in her for so long. She’d been suspicious when Rafe had become so kind, tender to her best friend. Chalking it up to him wanting to make Sofia happy by being so welcoming and be a good boyfriend. When he started coming over everyday she was a little surprised, he usually called her over to Tannyhill. She knew he wasn’t a fan of the cut. When he began insisting on staying in for dates, always asking for y/n to intrude on them. It bothered her but she didn’t say anything, too worried about Rafe’s softness sizzling out and making her best friend feel bad. She was even hesitant to give him a key but did it anyway because she convinced herself she was being paranoid. ‘He’s finally man’ing up,’ she’d told herself. Only not knowing it wasn’t for her but her best friend.

She knew when Rafe became cold, distant. Starting fights over anything and everything; never wanting to talk it out and just leaving her wallowing in her own sadness. She knew when her best friend started acting the same, cold. Her distance deepening by the day. And when she came home one day to find them laughing together and eyes sparkling at each other, not even noticing she walked in. The two chatting away on the couch. It pushed her to pick up more work, needing to numb the nagging feeling and ignore the suspicions growing in her mind. But she knew, a woman always knows. And she most definitely knew when she walked straight into Rafe’s house. The scrape of pink fabric laying at the bottom of the staircase, one she knew belonged to her best friend. Sofia knew yet she needed to see it, needed to finally know that she wasn’t feeling crazy. But nothing could have prepared her for shattering of her heart as she slammed Rafe’s bedroom door open. Two people she loved so much, wrapped around each other as they pressed soft kisses to each other’s lips. In their own world till she screamed out an “I knew it!” and only then did their veil lift.

Y/n and Rafe turned to look at Sofia standing at the entrance of the bedroom, tears running down her cheeks. Rafe was quick to act, turning his body along with y/n’s to shield her. His back turning to Sofia as y/n fell to the other side; her right leg wrapped around his waist as she looked at her best friend over Rafe’s shoulder. A scowl now etched on his face as he looked back at Sofia through a side eye, “yo! what the fuck is your problem?!” He fumed, as if Sofia was a stranger intruding on their intimate moment. As if she was never his girlfriend, as if she was never anything to him. Sofia’s teary eyes darted between Rafe’s scowling face, to her best friend. Oh her best friend, someone she’d know for so many years. Someone who was practically a sister to her, someone she let into her home and around her boyfriend. She trusted her. “How could you?” she spoke to y/n, the pain in her chest almost debilitating. “How-how could you?! I trusted you! I let you into my home! I let you around my boyfriend and this is how you repay me! BY FUCKING MY BOYFRIEND!” She screamed, overwhelming feelings of anger and despair radiating off of her. “You’re a fucking slut! A whore!,” she stepped forward more into the room ignoring the ‘hey!’ from Rafe as she continued, “I should have known. You always begged for attention, just look at the way you dress. You’re a stupid attention seeking whore!” She raged at her best friend whose eyes full of guilt now turned into equal rage.

Rafe went to open his mouth and defend his woman when y/n spoke up first, “save me the fucking pity party Sofia! You’re just a sad case of another girl getting way to ahead of herself because a cute guy finally gave her attention,” she retaliated. Sitting up now, not caring about her state of undress or the cum leaking down her thighs as she pushed herself up to her knees on the bed. Finger pointing at Sofia as Rafe’s eyes darted between the two girls. “You’ve always made me feel bad! Like i’m someone who needs to be fixed and is full of faults. Always telling me where I went wrong or what I’m not doing good enough. You act so high and fucking mighty all the time like you aren’t trying to compensate for your own inadequacies!” She yelled, rage flowing through her and continuing when Sofia went to open her mouth, “I’m sick of the patronization hidden behind care. I’m sick of you making me feel bad for who I am,” y/n stepped over Rafe’s legs to stand on the floor and face her ex-best friend. Stalking toward her, “you’re always trying to fix people to make up for your lack of personality. Like everyone is in the wrong for being themselves just bc you’re too pathetic to know who you are. I’m done letting you do it to me. And I won’t let you do it to him,” she screamed pointing at Rafe who was on his back and holding himself up on his forearms as he watched the two ex-friends at each other’s throat. Turned on and feeling satisfied that the kitty claws he’s been working so hard to expose are finally out. A sick smirk on his face as he stared at Sofia.

“For months, you complained about him to me before I came here. How he was ‘unhinged’ and how you could help him. Make him better. And it wasn’t until I met him that I realized how wrong you were! Maybe he’s not perfect, maybe he’s rough and mean and fucked up! But that’s what makes him, him! And i love it! For the first time in my life I don’t feel like I need to put on an act, like I need to be perfect. He loves me for who I am not what he feels he can make into and I feel the same about him. So maybe we’re fucked up! But at least we’re not a miserable cunt who’s hellbent on fixing people because she can’t fix herself.” Finished y/n, her arms crossed against her bare tits as she stared Sofia down whose tears were running down her cheeks, face red with emotion and chest heaving. To add to insult Rafe let out a low whistle at y/n’s words and a small chuckle with an “ouch.” Watching as Sofia’s eyes left her staring contest with her best friend to him, not making any effort to move from her spot.

“You can leave Sofia, we don’t want you here. Ever.” taunted y/n, turning on her heels to walk back to bed and climbing in it while Rafe shuffled over to the other-side. Right arm widening to encase her with it as his left forearm held him up. Immediately wrapping his arm around y/n as she got near, the two smashing their lips together with a passionate kiss to add salt to the wound. Not letting up until they heard footsteps stomping out of the room and down the hallway. Rafe pulling back with that sick smirk on his face as he yelled out for Sofia to hear “don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Both of them turned to the doorway and listening as they heard her sobs deepening and steps become quicker. The glass door slamming shut and letting them know she’d left.

They turned to face each other with wicked smiles as they smashed their lips together, Rafe using the arm wrapped around her to push her body onto the mattress and press himself flush to her. “That was so fucking sexy, you mean it? You love me? Flaws and all?” he smiled into her lips, chest feeling warm with love as she giggled and nodded. Kissing him again before saying, “as long as you love mine.” Eyes staring into his for confirmation that he quickly gave her, “baby Imma love all of you for as long as you let me. I don’t want some faux-perfect bitch, I want my girl who’s freak matches mine.” Capturing her lips again and ready to go for another round. Grinding against her till she pulled back with worry in her eyes, “wait! what about my stuff she’s gonna wreck it!” y/n whined and kicked her leg into the mattress.

“Don’t worry about it princess, I’ll replace it all and more.” He chucked and went to recapture her lips when she pushed against chest that slipped inbetween them, crying out a, “but Rafey some of that stuff is vintage! Irreplaceable!” Whining and pouting her lips as Rafe rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed both her hands in his large one, pinning them to the bed as he dominated her once more.

“Shuddup and let me love you. Such a brat. You’re lucky I love you so damn much.”

𑁤. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 𑁤

a/n: damn i feel bad for Sofia ngl. the way i described Sofia was just for plot purposes! i just feel like Rafe needs a bougie baddie idk!

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rafesangelita · 7 months ago

Note

hey sweetie, can i request please [🍪] chocolate chip cookie with rafe cameron and based on the song " hard times" by ethel cain. you know how much i like her (both of you are so talented). you're free with the plot, you can make it angst, fluff, smut, whatever you want with a soft or a dark!rafe. as you please. tysm for considerate it and also congrats on your 5k. so proud of you. and take your time !! so excited <3

♡ “i’m tired of you still tied to me, it’s just the way that you are. i’m tired of you, too tired to leave.”— the never ending cycle of rafe causing you pain and making you feel better.

warnings: a lot of angst, barry being the mediator, crying, shouting, description of unprotected sex, emotional abuse (?)

a/n: i won’t lie, i hadn’t really given ethel cain a chance but when i was reading the lyrics to base this fic off of- MY HEART. i related to this song so much, it shocked me how i never gave it a try. thank you for participating and sending in this request :( i love you so much!! @nemesyaaa

you were everything rafe wasn’t. sweet, gentle, nurturing, patient. surely you two couldn’t work, right? instead of your differences driving you two apart, it drew you closer like the pieces of a puzzle. you filled his voids while he filled yours. maybe you were too young, but you couldn’t recognize that love, this love, could be bad. you clung onto the remnants of rafe that was good, to you it overshadowed everything else. the rage, the cruelty, the possessiveness, the pain. it was who he was, and you were okay with that.

“why are you cryin’? i told you about that shit already!” you jumped when rafe slammed his fist down on the table, his knuckles already split and bruised. “you’re shouting at me, what do you expect?” you cried more, your pink nails glittering under the light of barry’s dingy trailer. barry cleared his throat awkwardly, flashing you an apologetic look as you rushed to wipe your eyes. rafe ignored your sniffles while he sorted out his product. “do you really ‘gotta make her cry bruh?” barry took a seat after you left the kitchen.

rafe was quiet for a moment, eyes trailing up to look at your curled up form on the worn out couch. he saw the shake in your shoulders, the ruffles of your long skirt disheveled from laying on the thin fabric. you didn’t ask to be here. you didn’t ask for any of this. rafe’s jaw clenched as he handed the scale over to barry. “weight this out, i’ll be right back.” he grumbled, walking over to you. rafe was terrible at comforting people, let alone you who just happened to be the most sensitive person in the world. “hey..” his voice was low as he squatted down.

you took a breath, moving your hair away from your face as rafe turned you around. your skin was flushed, your cheeks hot while your lips swelled from biting on them so hard. “you look pretty.” he wiped a stray tear from your cheek before pressing a kiss to your temple. “you scare me sometimes.” you rasped, tracing his jaw as he picked you up, scooping you in his arms as your head rested on his chest. rafe walked you two down the dark hallway, and entered a bedroom where he laid you down.

you knew what was coming, your hand finding rafe’s as he hiked your skirt up around your hips. rafe knew you wanted intimacy, unfortunately this was the only way he knew how to give it to you. with every thrust of his hips bringing you closer and closer to that peak, you watched his expression morph into one of confliction. like he was sorry for doing this, but also on the edge of pure euphoria himself. you came with a cry of his name, your fingers wrapping around his digits while you felt him empty himself inside of you.

in those few minutes of post orgasm bliss, he held onto you and kissed you like you were the only thing that existed. it was pure heaven. and like always, just when you think you can stay like this forever, he gets up and leaves you naked and vulnerable. “me and barry got some stuff to do. we’ll be back later.” he stroked your cheek before shutting the door. there, in the pitch black darkness, you listened as the engines of rafe and his business partner’s dirt bikes roared to life, the sound fading away as he left you again.

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rowdydevs · 7 months ago

Text

Shameless – Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Rafe x Girlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: fingering, unprotected p in v, public sex, drug usage, Rafe and Reader are high (you are responsible for your consumption as a reader), teasing, pet names, exhibitionism

📖 based off an ask: hey can u write smth about rafe and his gf at a party and their both high and shes sitting on his lap on the couch while he rubbing on her thigh and shes just all needy until he just says fuck it and pushes her dress up to fuck her not caring about the snall group in the room

✨ Rafe’s lips press against yours as he slides a digit into your soaked cunt. He swallows your moan, your parted lips letting his tongue slip through, the remnants of drugs on his lips making your mouth feel numb.

“These two serious?” Kelce chuckles. “Want me to record this for you, Rafey?” ✨

800 words

Reader’s POV:

“Princess… Mmm’fuck that’s it,” Rafe praises as you grind your needy self on his clothed cock. His fingers leave a bruising grip on both ass cheeks, tucked under your dress.

“I need your cock so bad, Rafe… It’s all I can think about,” you whine as Rafe’s fingers trail up your thighs making your spread legs draw together from sheer want alone. “Please, daddy.”

“So needy f’me tonight, doll. I fuckin’ love it,” Rafe mumbles against your lips before his fingers make their way between your thighs.

“Yes,” you whine breathily, throwing your heavy head back as your high sets in. “I’m not wearing panties-”

“Yo – Can you two calm the fuck down?” Topper sneers, yanking you out of your cocaine and lust-driven haze. You meet Rafe’s eyes, practically black from the drugs, his beautiful blue hue all but gone. A smirk slides across his lips as he moves a little higher, ignoring Top completely.

“There ain’t enough rooms in this house for you, Country Club? Gotta get it on right here?” Barry mocks before sipping his drink.

“You hear somebody, princess? I sure as shit didn’t,” Rafe smiles. “Hold your tits for me,” he mutters before cutting a line on your cleavage. You giggle as he looks back at you hungrily before cleaning it off with his nose, then his mouth.

Rafe’s lips press against yours as he slides a digit into your soaked cunt. He swallows your moan, your parted lips letting his tongue slip through, the remnants of drugs on his lips making your mouth feel numb.

“These two serious?” Kelce chuckles. “Want me to record this for you, Rafey?”

Rafe draws away from your lips, breathing heavily through a cocky smile. “Please.” He lofts his phone in Kelce’s direction, giving you a little wink before getting back to it. “Now where were we?” He jams his finger back in your soaked pussy, making you moan. Your unbridled sounds of pleasure cause the little group of girls behind you to leave.

“You wanna stop?” Rafe mumbles with no intention to do so.

“No, Daddy. I want more,” you smile against his mouth.

“More, huh? Use your words, baby,” he bullies as he plays with your clit, making you whimper.

”Fuck me. I need it.”

“Right here? Right now?” He chuckles breathily.

You nod, letting your eyes fall shut. “Right here. Right now, Rafe. Fuck. Me-”

“Dude…” Topper snickers as he lifts his beer to his lips. “We gettin’ foreplay and everything? Just fuck and get it over with.”

“Shut up, Top,” Rafe sighs in his raspy tone. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Everyone can see that,” Topper chuckles in disbelief.

“Yeah, Thornton? Who’s here when he coulda left the second we started. Huh? Perv,” Rafe bullies.

“I’ve been sitting all night. I was here first,” Topper mumbles into his drink making the two of you laugh—Rafe quick to echo his words mockingly against your lips.

You tug at the button of Rafe’s chinos, lowering his zipper. Rafe adjusts slightly, pulling you closer, releasing his cock. You moan at the sight of it, his fat cockhead already leaking precum. You swipe your finger across it, drawing it between your lips.

“Give me your pussy, baby. C’mon,” Rafe sighs impatiently as you dip him into your warmth. Just a tease on his tip as you line your body up in the perfect position. Rafe pitches his hips up, penetrating you deeply causing you to gasp.

“Mmm… That felt so fucking good, Daddy,” you praise.

“Yeah, baby. You like that?” He groans as he starts thrusting up into you. You kiss him roughly, your tongues moving in succession, hands in his hair. “Bounce for me. Hmm?” Rafe breathes through a smirk.

You lower your weight on top of him, mouth falling into a soft “o” as his eyes roll back. You lean into his lips, brushing yours against his. “Such a big cock, daddy,” You whisper into your kiss before giving his lip a soft bite and a tug.

You start to bounce on his dick, letting your ass clap against his thighs. Rafe chuckles darkly, listening to your drenched pussy squelch for all to hear.

“Grind on me, princess,” Rafe groans. You start rolling and grinding your hips on top of him. Rafe’s dick hits all the right spot, making you claw at his polo. He pushes you back slightly, shamelessly watching you work, his cock glistening with your essence as you feel yourself nearing your peak.

“M’gonna cum, baby,” you whimper.

“In front of all these people, baby doll… Shittt… I knew you were my girl.”

Rafe overpowers you, setting the pace, watching your face; responding to your pleasure. “Right there, Rafe”, you plead as your orgasm teetering right on the edge of ecstacy. He spanks your ass roughly. “More,” you beg. His hand meets your skin again, rougher than the first, causing you to cry out making the boys snicker amongst themselves.

“My girl sounds good. Huh?” He boasts. “Mmm… Be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.”

“Rafe… I-” You lose all control, throwing your head back as you dissolve in pleasure, bouncing on top of him.

“Fuckkk,” he moans deeply as his eyes pinch shut, surrendering to his climax as well.

Rafe’s eyes flutter open, his lap a wet mess from you. He reaches over, stealing the cig off Topper’s hand, popping it between his lips as he looks back at you. He retrieves the drugs from his pants pocket, dangling in front of your fucked-out gaze. “Ready for more?”

#my library ᝰ.ᐟ #s2!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #boyfriend!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe blurb 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 11 months ago

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A DC X DP IDEA #30

Salvage Tomorrow.

Imagine dis...

Every flash who has ever gone back in time tried to make the future a little bit better. From the main Flash Barry Allen to his future grandchild, Bart Allen. But he came from a desolate future, a future of ruins. He may have the power from the original Flash but it had been watered down, he may be fast but not as fast as the fastest man in the world, so the question is…

How did he come back to the past?

He did not have enough energy or power to travel through the speed force and through time to safely arrive in the past without disintegrating himself… So how?

….

Danny Fenton also known as “Phantom” was thrust into another mission by Clockwork but instead of his usual errands where he needs to retrieve something, this time he needs to ensure a certain event must happen.

When Danny asked which point of time he would be sent Clockwork admitted that he would be sent to the future where Dan came from.

That startled Danny because as far as he is concerned the future is now gone and the main event where Dan is formed has been avoided, also Dan is slowly mellowing out and he is very sure Dan developed a soft spot for him. Clockwork sensing his ward’s question chose to open a portal to that timeline and began to explain. There is another event that must take place just as after Dan goes back in time just to ensure he was made, a speedster was supposed to travel back in time to prevent another major apocalypse and he needed a bit of help.

Clockwork also suggested Dan to come along, Dan is a bit skeptical since he left an impression on the remaining humans. Danny assured him that he could do this alone and he had done it multiple times. Dan just snarked back that Danny might be attacked and it would be a shame if he died from a puny human.

With much more arguing Danny was sent back to the past to help the Flash at the time to go back in the past.

…

When Danny gets to the end of the portal, The scene surrounding him is eerie, with degradation and ruins that represent the once-thriving society that he remembers. Collapsed buildings and overgrown plants litter the streets, showing the remnants of a once-thriving community. Danny can practically taste the ash that clung in the air.

There he was, He couldn't help but wince at the future that his future self did, no wonder the Observants wanted him dead the moment Danny gained his ghostly powers. He can barely sense any living being as for the undead one, immediately cleared out of his way the moment he even breathed in his direction. Using invisibility he flew to the nearest human camp that he had sensed after 3 days of exploring for any signs of life. According to Dan, Danny remembers, that he knew there was a small group of humans who survived the initial killings and tried to hide from him

He saw that the majority of them were civilians living off the scraps they had found in the ruins of their cities. Some were trying to plant some seedlings into the soil, but Dan had poisoned the soil with ectoplasm as a form of a slow execution or some sort. All of them are weary and vigilant as if Dan would come back any moment to finish them off.

Of course, Danny can't just stroll there, from the way they tense they would run off any minute plus he didn't know which one would go to the past.

At first, he started off helping them in terms of small things like if they were a bit cold during the night a few more blankets would appear. They were running out of drinkable water, a trail suddenly appeared towards a small creak that wasn't infected by the ectoplasm.

At first, everyone was able to brush it off as a stroke of luck but then the remaining heroes or those who have a connection to the said former heroes began to doubt the sudden gifts they tried to catch the person giving them gifts but it took a child’s laughter to catch their invisible helper.

…

Danny was just dropping off another small batch of supplies hidden a few feet away from the main group so that when they went exploring they could find the said supplies. The group for exploration left the camp leaving with a few children who had survived along with some young adults to watch over the said kids. One of the kids began crying as if their situation finally sunk in, Danny who was still invisible tried to comfort the child but it was then the group to explore went back and Danny forgot to turn on his invisibility, Let us just say panic ensued.

…

After the entire fiasco of yelling, shouting, fear, and screaming they can talk civilly to each other after a few weeks of Danny proving himself further that he is not Dan despite looking like a smaller carbon copy of the man.

Danny didn't want his relationship with Dan to be known so he let them draw their conclusion, he heard from afar that they were slowly trying to trust him as if he was truly Dan they would have killed them already since Dan broadcasted his fight, do you even call a massacre a fight? To enjoy their screams.

Danny was too elated to hear the good news that he missed their conclusion of him being Dan’s son who is trying to do good despite their father being the cause of such an apocalypse.

A Bat, from the insignia etched to their chest, finally interrogated Danny on why is he there and Danny homestyle told them that he could be a battery. At first, a flash of surprise etched on their face then went back to their neutral form. The said Bat member asked how Danny knew, Danny evaded the question and proceeded to insist that he could help whomever they were sending to the past since not only they are missing the needed parts to their machine but they also needed a battery powerful enough to power up the machine.

…

After a much-needed trade and interrogation, they finally decided to let Danny help. With Danny’s expertise, they were able to finish the pod to let one of them travel back in time. Bart Allen was chosen as not only he is a speedster but when it comes to the delicate balance of time travel the Flash’es are the ones to handle it.

Just as they fire the pod that contains Bart, Dan suddenly appears looking grimly at the group, Danny, and the machine. Bart’s final moments before he was sent to the past were the horrified looks from the group that protected him and Danny’s scared/grimacing face at the face of Dan.

…

The last remaining group of humans slowly disappears as a result of Bart’s change in the timeline. The Bat looks at Danny with a determined look trying to blurt out codes to Danny that if he ever needed help the Bats in the past should recognize the code.

Bart and The Last Bat can’t help but get close to the ghost boy who despite his father tries to do good.

…

As the last human disappeared Danny can’t help but blurt out to Dan that it was hard to gain their trust, and that’s why he was late. Dan just rolled his eyes and told Danny that he was there to fetch him since this timeline was about to vanish. Danny the ever petulant child let Dan drag him by the collar to the portal as he watched the reality he knew for a few weeks gain cracks and destroy itself.

Surely Danny thought, he would never see Bart again. He had been Phantom since he was 14 and it had been 3 years since his accident and there had been no contact from Bart.

…

Meanwhile, Bart has been trying to find a Phantom ever since he went back in time. As if the universe is against him when it comes to trying to find Danny, something is at foot and needs his full attention. During his mission, the theory “Phanton is the son of Dan” solidified when he saw multiple cave paintings and even mentioned Dan. Which made Dan old enough to procreate.

…

It was a mission gone wrong that reunited the two. Bart along with Kon and Tim on a usual mission to bust some villain's butt, but of course when things got too well things went sideways, and able to kidnap them.

Opening his eyes, Bart took a good look around him, he was cuffed with anti-meta cuffs that dampened the powers of metas who committed a crime. He along with his teammates are all tied up in some sort of Occult Ritual for the Lazarus pits. Bart joked to Tim also known as Red Robin that this only happens in Gotham and they were states away from Gotham. Tim who is looking at their predicament with seriousness chose to ignore Bart. Bart looked a bit bored and thought that this must be a good idea to page Danny.

As the cult group tries their botched pronunciation of Esperanto, Bart who is known as a man of science just like the original Flash and Wally, clears his throat and begins chanting alongside the cultists. As the mist suddenly invaded the room, ice began sprouting from the floor trapping the cultist inside of them.

Both Red Robin and Superboy are now on the edge seeing the cultists were able to summon something and Bart is now smiling across his cheeks since he recognizes that ice anywhere.

Bart yelled out to Danny in the mist, both Red Robin and Superboy were now looking at him with surprised looks as someone responded to Bart. A white-haired teen wearing royal regalia from his head to his boots with glowing green eyes reminded Tim of the Lazarus pits.

The mysterious white-haired teen greeted Bart tiredly as seen from the deep eyebags below his eyes. Bart immediately went to chatter Danny’s ears off as Danny tried to free them from their bindings. Just as Bart excitedly introduced Danny to his friends, Danny immediately went alert and told them to hide immediately. Tim and Conner who are still distrusting Danny, suddenly yelped at Bart as he dragged them to hide behind one of the ice pillars.

Tim the ever detective tried to ask what was going on and Bart just hushed them with an attitude that they had never seen from the time-traveling teen. A green glowing portal appeared behind Danny and what emerged made Bart’s face turn paper white.

Tim has questions about what is happening and opts to stay quiet and observe. Bart whom Tim knew as cheerful, chatty, and optimistic about the dire situation suddenly went quiet and began to fear whomever appeared behind “Danny’s” back.

The thing that emerged from behind Danny is a larger, buffer version. Of himself with a few details and traits missing from their savior to the newcomer. Danny tensed and asked why is he there and the new commer smirked grabbed “Danny” by the collar and dragged “Danny” towards the portal while “Danny” was weakly protesting.

The moment the portal disappeared Bart looked in the direction where their savior had been dragged off with a mix of confusion and dread and immediately barked at Kon to break the cuffs that hindered his powers while marching towards the direction to the nearest Zeta tube.

…

Danny just answered a cult’s calling not because he wants to evade his paperwork no sir, he is one responsible halfa and he would never use every excuse he can come up to escape paperwork. The ritual that the cult is using is powerful… oh no….. He deadpaned at Dan as he disappeared from the castle.

When he did appear at the scene he immediately spotted Bart, no wonder he heard a familiar voice in between the botched Esperanto. Danny is just happy to reunite with his friend when he feels Dan is fetching him. Danny told Bart and his friends to hide as Dan might scare them, first impression people!!!

Danny wants to introduce to Bart a redeemed Dan after he asks Bart if he is okay with seeing the person who turned the world into ruins. He may never listen to Jazz when she rants his ears out but some knowledge tends to stay you know.

Dan just smirked as he dragged Danny away knowing that another pile of paperwork added to the mountain of it. Danny just whined to Dan about why is he even doing this when Dan is the regent, it was agreed upon by the Ancients that Dan should be a stand-in as the king of the Infinite Realms while Danny finishes his royal studies to become king and his human life. Dan just said that he just has to look pretty while Danny does the actual things.

Danny just pouted at the notion, as he lay his head on the table that impressively holds the tons of paperwork that reaches to the ceiling of the former king’s castle he can’t help but notice his relationship with Dan. Gone with the anger and malice, replaced with fondness and affection between them, brother, a word Dan accidentally muttered when he thought he was asleep.

Dan is painting himself a target, Danny mused, with the GIW doubling their efforts, despite their continuous idiocy the rare times they managed to capture one is devastating. Any none ghost knew that there was a new king but not who, with Dan’s appearance could easily gain all the enemies of the real king aka HIM. Declaring Dan as the king is keeping him safe and unknown to everyone aside from the closest Ancients who knew the truth.

A ploy to keep him safe.

Danny just sighed and wished Bart could help him out of the paperwork.

…

Meanwhile, the JL is in a panic, Time travelers typically avoid telling directly what’s going to happen to avoid further complications the moment they step their feet, so they try to steer the present just a little bit for a better future. So when Bart, the time traveler from a desolate future bursts into the meeting room full of the founding members with two of his teammates trying to catch up to him, about Danny. Flash immediately jumps into action telling Bart to stop what is doing, Bart reiterates that Danny is not his father and Batman immediately barks out a report.

So Bart explains, explains a ruined future, a future full of poison that seeped into the soil and water rendering everything dead, a future where there were only small groups of humans, a future where it was ruled by a tyrant named Dan, a future where his only son Danny Phantom defied the said future so that Bart could go back and change the future.

Constantine explained that they have to be careful, with Dan being the king of the Infinite Realms, they have to tread carefully, or else it may be seen as a declaration of war. If Trigon only conquers different realities then Dan has the power to destroy the universe and realities as they know it. He can make Trigon and Darkseid out of the business.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I am now confused about which prompt I should post due to my idiotic self mixing up the date so we’ll go back to the former schedule.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny

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rafessecret · 20 days ago

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⋆˚࿔ trailer¡park reader && rafe cameron

SLEEPING RIGHT THROUGH IT.

The trailer door creaks open, the weak lock doing nothing to keep him out. It never does. The air inside is thick—stale smoke, cheap perfume, and the lingering scent of sweat and sex from earlier.

You don’t hear him step in, don’t stir when he shuts the door behind him with a quiet click. You don’t see the way his eyes darken when they land on you, curled up in the tangled sheets, your nightshirt bunched up just enough to reveal the bare skin of your thigh.

Fuck.

You’re spread out, lips parted, breath slow and even. Soft, warm, untouched—except for him. Always him. Rafe swallows hard, fingers flexing at his sides. He shouldn’t. Knows you’re too out of it from whatever Barry gave you earlier. Knows you won’t wake up.

But you’re so fucking pretty. So pliant. Made to be touched. Made to be ruined.

His jeans are already tight by the time he toes off his boots, crawling onto the mattress beside you. He palms your hip, squeezing, just to see if you stir. Nothing. Just a soft little sigh, your body shifting, legs parting instinctively.

It’s an invitation.

The trailer is quiet, save for the distant hum of a forgotten television, its blue glow flickering over the clutter of half-smoked cigarettes and empty bottles. Outside, the wind rattles loose metal, but inside, it’s warm, suffocating, a slow descent into something hazy and sweet.

You stir, barely aware of the weight pressing you into the mattress, the slow, insistent drag of something thick and hard stretching you open. Your lashes flutter, sticky with the remnants of sleep, but your limbs feel like they’re submerged in honey—heavy, slow, unable to resist the deliberate invasion.

❝Shh, baby,❞ Rafe murmurs against your ear, his voice low, syrupy, melting over you like warm amber. One big hand splays against your stomach, pinning you down, while the other presses your thigh open, keeping you pliant. ❝Just me. Go back to sleep.❞

Your lips part in a soundless whimper, but you don’t fight him. You couldn’t even if you wanted to—your body is boneless, spent, still hazy from whatever you let Barry slip onto your tongue hours ago. A pill, maybe two. Just enough to make everything slow, syrup-thick. Just enough to let yourself be used.

Rafe groans, snapping his hips forward, seating himself deep. Your breath stutters, eyes rolling back as the dull ache turns to something warmer, something that makes your stomach clench. ❝Fuck, baby. Always take me so good.❞

His weight is solid over you, body hot like a furnace. He smells like smoke and expensive cologne, something dark and masculine that clings to your skin even when he’s gone. His hands are rough—calloused from gripping the wheel of his truck, from the fights he picks for no reason other than to feel something. Those same hands are gentle now, ghosting over your waist, skimming the curve of your ribs as he moves inside you, slow, deep, possessive.

Your fingers curl into the sheets, barely able to process the stretch, the fullness. He’s so big, always is, always makes you feel small beneath him. Makes you feel like nothing more than something to be filled, to be taken. A pretty little thing to ruin. The bed creaks as he sets a pace, hips grinding against yours, each thrust forcing you deeper into the mattress. The drag of him inside you is agonising, toeing the line between too much and just right. He knows it, too. Knows exactly how to fuck you dumb, how to push you to that edge where pleasure and pain blur together into something sickly sweet.

❝That’s it, baby,❞ he coos, voice thick with something indulgent, something twisted. ❝So fucking’ good for me. Always so good.❞

Your lashes flutter, a shiver rolling through you as his hand drifts lower, fingers slipping between your legs. The first press of his thumb against your clit has your breath hitching, body twitching, but he just shushes you again, his mouth hot against your temple. ❝Go back to sleep, pretty girl. Let me take care of you.❞

But you can’t. Not when he’s playing you like this, not when his cock is pressing against something devastatingly deep, making your thighs tremble, making your head swim. Your body reacts without thought—hips tilting up, chasing more, a quiet moan slipping past your lips. Rafe chuckles, dark and pleased.

❝Knew you’d like that,❞ he murmurs, teeth grazing your ear, his pace quickening just enough to make you gasp. ❝You always act so shy, so innocent, but look at you. Fuckin’ yourself on my cock even in your sleep.❞

A slow burn builds low in your stomach, pleasure creeping up your spine, hot and sticky. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into the pillow, too dazed to do anything but take it. Rafe keeps you there, keeps you locked in place, fucking into you with deep, deliberate thrusts. He wants to savour this, wants to take his time stretching you open, filling you over and over until you’re too dumb to think, too wrecked to remember anything but him.

The heat between you thickens, sweat beading at your temples, your breath coming in ragged, uneven pants. Rafe groans when you tighten around him, his fingers digging into your hip, his control fraying. ❝Fuck, baby. Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy. You want that? Want me to fill you up?❞

Your response is nothing more than a whimper, a barely-there nod. Your mind is slipping, melting under the weight of his touch, his voice, his everything.

Rafe growls, snapping his hips forward, fucking you deep and hard until all you can do is let go. Pleasure crashes over you in slow waves, overwhelming and all-consuming, leaving you trembling beneath him. He follows a moment later, burying himself to the hilt, his breath hot against your neck as he groans through his release.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your shared breaths, the sticky heat of your bodies tangled together. Then, Rafe shifts, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of your shoulder, his voice honey-thick. ❝Good girl. Go back to sleep.❞

And you do, slipping back into the abyss, filled, ruined, and entirely his.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : First piece I’m sharing with them—hope they love it as much as I do because this one has my heart.

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

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bonnie-the-butcher · 1 month ago

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Rip Tide | Chapter XIII

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 11.247 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

My boss is a nepo man-baby who has not a lick of self-awareness in him so I'll apologize in advance if the rich people hate is stronger in this one. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

A part of you never fully understood moral crises as a concept.

Though you were no stranger to self-hatred, it always seemed foreign that something fair could feel wrong enough to unravel a person, to send them spiraling into existential dread so profound that they began to question their entire moral compass —the parameter by which they defined their worth as a human being.

So when you woke up that morning, the sun still far from rising, your head splitting from the remnants of last night’s drinking, and your chest squeezed tight with something you couldn’t yet name, you were confused, to say the least.

You moved, attempting to stand, only to be pulled back by the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

Barry’s arm.

Around your naked waist.

You look down, moving slowly as the mattress beneath you moulds to the shape of your body, and realize that you’re on his bed.

Again.

The weight in your chest solidifies into something heavier, something you recognize all too well —Guilt.

It wasn’t the first time you felt like this.

You’d been sleeping with your brother’s best friend for months before this moment, and every time, you found yourself wondering whether your lapses in judgment were signs of an unraveling mind or just the consequence of grief you hadn’t even begun to process.

But this time, it was different.

This wasn’t just you —avoidant attacher you, your mother’s daughter you— breaking down in self-loathing after having sex, like you did, every time it happened. This time, your conscience hit you like a ton of bricks.

Because this wasn't just some drunken mistake.

You remember last night.

You were conscious.

You remember kissing Barry, already guilty, already knowing you were using him to distract yourself from the things you weren’t ready to face —that whatever fractured thing you once called family was now gone, irreversibly lost to you.

You remember hiding your face in the crook of his neck, swallowing tears as you got on top of him, desperate for something, anything, to make you forget the night before. You remember his hands on you, grounding, steady, something close to safe—but even that memory sours when you let yourself recall why you’re there in the first place.

Because you also remember before that.

You look down to see new bruises forming around your arms, remembering the iron grip JJ had around you, his unchecked anger, his recklessness almost getting you killed. You remember the bike ride, the raw terror, your nails digging into the mattress just as they’d dug into his skin, the aftershocks of a brush with death still rumbling through you.

You remember John—John B— and realizing just how little you matter to him.

And you remember Barry.

The way he drove you to that bar, even after he explicitly told you he was taking you home, so you wouldn’t be breaking your own heart over and over until it killed you, so you wouldn’t self-destruct.

And yet—here you were.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling, at the peeling paint, at the cracks running along the plaster like veins, trying to steady the breath rattling in your chest. The weight of last night settled over you in layers—guilt, exhaustion, something darker beneath it all, something that felt too much like mourning.

Because this was mourning, wasn’t it?

Even if you couldn’t name it, even if you refused to.

You had lost something. A version of your life that—however much an illusion, a lie you told yourself again and again to make that draining existence bearable—was still yours. And now it wasn’t. Now, you were outside of it, looking in, knowing you could never go back.

You press your palms against your eyes, willing yourself to stop thinking, to stop feeling. But your mind betrays you, conjuring up everything you had left behind in that house. Your clothes, your books, your pictures, your past, your whole life. Everything you had fought to hold together, however precariously, was still there, still waiting for you, lingering in the rooms you had once called home.

And here you were. In Barry’s bed. Having to search through the lost-and-found drawer of clothes his past hookups left behind just to find something to wear to work.

The thought makes something twist in your stomach, sharp and bitter.

You shouldn’t be the one going through this.

You did things right.

You worked. You sacrificed. You held everything together when no one else would. When John was too fractured to understand the weight of your father’s absence, you carried it for him, even though you’re the younger sibling, even though he should be the one taking care of you. You bent over backwards, strung yourself thin, barely balanced work and school and the endless responsibility of making sure he was okay, while he disregarded that all, not working, already graduated, uncaring of your grief, as you made sure that he had something stable to hold onto. And now?

Now, you’re the one in exile.

You’re the one sleeping in someone else’s bed, shaking with grief and guilt, scrounging through clothes that don’t belong to you, wondering how the hell you ended up here.

How is that fair?

John has done everything you’ve done and worse. He’s lied, he’s stolen, he’s run off without a second thought, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces. And yet he is still there. He still gets to call that house his home. Like JJ, who has left a trail of destruction wider than the island itself, and still has people who will defend him, who will fight for him, who will let him back in.

While you are the one forced to shrink, to leave, to suffer, while they get to sit in the ruins of the life you built for them, unscathed. While they convince themselves that you are the problem.

Like you were never meant to matter.

And now they’ve taken everything from you.

And they still think they are the ones who have been wronged.

You sigh, sitting up carefully, already fighting tears as you peel the sheets back and move. Barry shifts beside you, exhaling something low and unintelligible, but he doesn't wake. You glance at him briefly, at the mess of his hair, at the bruised knuckles resting against the pillow, at the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest —You want to be thankful, and you are, but there’s something that doesn’t sit quite right about him taking you to a bar and plying you with alcohol at the lowest moment of your life. You know it wasn’t right to let him kiss you, let him reward himself for comforting you, for helping you, by taking you again. And maybe it’s the resentment in you speaking, but you almost feel taken advantage of.

Your eyes shift away from him as if the sight had burned you, and you stand up, feeling the full scope of your bad decisions —the drinking, the fighting, the sleeping with someone who has heavy enough hands as it is— take form in an ache that permeates your entire body, almost sending you back down.

You catch yourself on the nightstand, picking up your jeans, forgotten on the ground beside the marina shirt Barry had been wearing. You search for your underwear, avoiding the pieces of your dignity that are scattered across the ground as you retrieve them.

– A little early for clean-up duty, don’t you think? – The hum startles you, husky, still riddled with sleep, and you clutch your clothes to your chest as he leans his head on his hand, covering himself with the sheets. – Tryna get some brownie points now that I’m your new roommate, sweetheart?

You hate that about him.

That he has it in him to be charming even while half-asleep. That he always smiles like the world is devoid of problems even when everything is falling apart. That he manages to make you not hate him even when you really should.

It's infuriating.

– Are you that unfamiliar with cleaning up that just the sound of it wakes you up? – You sigh, and he chuckles, low and careless, looking at you from the cloud of sleep that still floats over his head.

– Shit, maybe. Gonna have to get a grip on that now that I’m living with a neat-freak, huh?

– Oh yeah, Barry. Your days of peace are over.

He grins, not even registering your tone. – It’s early, though. Even for you. – He looks between you and the empty space beside him, a silent request. – C’mon. The mess can wait.

– It's fine, Bee. I have to get ready anyway.

A quiet scoff leaves his lips. – For what? The six AM shift?

– I have to be there at seven today. – He makes a noise of disapproval, expression shifting into something like outrage. – Mr. Cameron has this laundry list of requests for breakfast. And it’s Kareem’s day off, so I have to do the prep.

– Kareem’s the other cook? – You nod, folding his clothes and leaving them on the chair as he stands up, reaching for the wardrobe behind you. – Two whole ass chefs just to make three meals a day. And here I was thinking these people couldn’t get any more ridiculous.

– I'd be out of a job if they weren't. – You mumble, and he hands you a fresh towel. – Kooks are gonna Kook, I guess.

– You betcha. – Barry gets a hold of your arm before you can go to the bathroom, a strange sympathy in his eyes. – You sure you don’t wanna sleep another while? You need the rest, especially since…

You don’t know what’s worse, him trailing off without actually saying it or making it clear just how horrible of a situation you were in. – Since I’ve been disowned?

– Since your birthday is coming up. – He corrects, laughing easily. It takes you a moment to process his words, and the doubt must have been clear on your face, since he nods over to a calendar glued to the back of his door. – Only a week from now, sweetheart. Feel any wiser yet?

You blink at the date, staring at the numbers like they belong to someone else.

Your birthday.

Your eighteenth birthday.

It doesn’t feel like it’s in a week. It doesn’t feel like anything at all.

You never had the chance to expect much from birthdays. Most years, it passed like any other day, save for a half-hearted “oh, yeah” from John if someone else reminded him. But at least it was still yours. Even if it went unnoticed. Even if it meant nothing to anyone else.

Now, it doesn’t even belong to you.

It feels like another thing lost in the wreckage.

You’d convinced yourself that it was supposed to mean something this time around. That since you were finally gonna be an adult, this one should mark the start of something new, something bigger, something better. You’d talked about it with JJ, and Pope, and Kie. Going to Charlotte, having a roadtrip, maybe buying cigarettes with your real ID for the first time around.

The thought feels foreign, muddled. As if it’d belonged to someone else.

Because there won’t be any candles, no off-key singing, no cheap gas station cupcakes hastily picked up at the last second.

Just you. And Barry. And a room that isn’t yours, in a life you didn’t choose, putting on someone else’s clothes to go to a job that also doesn’t belong to you.

You exhale sharply, shaking it off before it can settle.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe now you don’t have to pretend it ever mattered.

Barry watches you carefully, waiting for a reaction, but you don’t give him one. You just reach for the towel in his hand, force a smirk, and roll your eyes. – Oh yeah. I bet I look much wiser too, hungover and all.

Barry laughs, eyes lingering on the calendar as if he’s looking at something special. – We should do something, y’know. I still remember the party you threw for me when I turned eighteen.

The thought of it makes you wince.

You’d saved money for months. One of Barry’s other friends came through with the drugs, you bought a couple of kegs, made him a cake and had everybody he knew write the stupidest things on it with frosting. What you remembered of it was fine, but you don’t remember much of it at all, only that the two of you had slept together that night as well. – If I drink that much ever again liver failure will be the least of my problems. – You chuckle. – It’s fine, Bee. There’s no family to invite, it’s gonna be a day like any other.

– Hey, I’m family. Ain’t that what I’m here for?

– What kind of family is family you fuck?

He grins, pretending to ponder for a second. – The good kind?

– And yet you called JJ “Alabama”. – You laugh. – I’m gonna shower, you go back to sleep, okay?

– You don’t want company? – You can hear the smile on his face as you turn around.

– No thanks, I plan on leaving the bathroom some time within the next three hours. – His laughter accompanies you down the hall, still lingering lowly as you close the door behind you.

You don’t bother looking in the mirror.

It’s not just the hangover, or the exhaustion, or the bruises that make your body ache in ways it shouldn’t. It’s the feeling that if you do—if you really look at yourself—you won’t see you anymore. Just the wreckage. Just the aftermath of another night spent unraveling.

So you don’t.

You step into the shower before the weight of your own reflection can settle. The water is hot, almost scalding, and for once, you’re grateful. The heater at home had been broken for months because John never cared enough to actually follow through with his promise to fix it. You’d gotten used to cold showers, to bracing yourself against the chill, to starting every morning with a shiver.

Now, the heat seeps into your skin, loosens the tension in your shoulders, makes it feel—just for a second—like something is being undone. Like something is melting.

But it doesn’t wash the bruises away.

It doesn’t erase the fingerprints around your wrists, the darkened smudges along your arms, the imprint of hands around your hips. It doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring the feeling of JJ’s grip, Barry’s hands, the weight of it all pressing down, sinking in, refusing to leave.

You press your forehead against the tile, eyes shut, letting the water drown out the noise in your head.

It’s fine. It’s just another day.

When the heat becomes too much, you shut the water off and step out, wrapping yourself in the towel before reaching for the pile of clothes. Your jeans, your underwear, the borrowed top.

The fabric feels unfamiliar—worn-in but not yours, carrying traces of someone else’s perfume, someone else’s presence.

It’s simple, but nice, a little more 2000s-y than what you would usually wear, with a low neckline, that isn’t low enough to be scandalous and a little too camisole-y to actually look like a going out top. The powder blue fabric looks pretty enough against your skin that you don’t even have it in you to be annoyed at the fact it leaves your bra straps showing.

You’re gonna be cooking all day, you shouldn’t be worried about what you’re wearing.

You sigh, pulling the top over your head.

By the time you make it to the kitchen Barry is standing at the counter, attempting to make coffee. The scene is almost comical—him, squinting at the ancient coffee maker like it’s personally offended him, a bag of grounds torn open beside his hand.

You lean against the doorway, crossing your arms.

– Please tell me you didn’t just set the coffee pot on fire.

Barry turns, eyebrows raised, entirely unbothered. – It’s fine.

You glance pointedly at the plume of smoke curling up from the machine. – Bee.

He waves a hand, grinning. – Okay, mostly fine.

You shake your head, stepping forward to rescue whatever’s left of the coffee. – Jesus Christ. – You chuckle, looking through the cupboards. – You have a moka pot in here somewhere, don— Here. I’ll make us some coffee.

– I was trying to be nice, – He sighs, but doesn’t argue. – You like coffee, right? You always make it when I’m hungover.

You pause for half a second, hands hovering over the powder – Yeah. Thanks, Bee. – You say, voice softer than you meant it to be. – But you don’t need to do that, you’re already my landlord, you don’t have to be a brewist too. – Barry just smirks, sitting down and watching you, sleep still clear on his face. – You take yours with milk right? I’ll warm that up—

– No, there uhm, there’s no milk. – He says, almost bashful. – I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.

– It’s fine. Add that to the list too. You can text me what you need, I’ll go grocery shopping this afternoon.

Barry makes a face, shifting in his seat as he leans a hand on your arm. – Don’t— Don’t spend your money on this, okay? It’s fine.

– Yeah it is, cause it’s not my money. It’s Cameron money. They leave us a card for food shopping, we can sneak in some essentials, free of charge. Don’t worry about it.

He laughs, standing to get the cups as you take the pot from the fire. – Thank God for these rich fucks. You milk ‘em as much as you can, sweetheart. – His eyes linger on you for a moment as he sips from his mug. – That’s a nice shirt. – You smile, sipping from your own coffee. – Ain’t that a little too dressy for work though?

– Dressy? It’s just a top.

– I’m just saying. – He takes your arm, looking at the watch. – We should be going already.

– Oh, I’ll take the bus. And don’t argue. Your bike’s still at the bar, and the bus station is much, much closer.

Barry grabs his keys from the counter, tossing them once in his hand – You sure? We’l walk to the River Styx together, it’ll take half the time it takes the bus.

– I’m fine, Bee. You drink your coffee. – You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag from the floor. – Plus, how will I enjoy your services as a chauffeur later if someone crashes against you because you’re driving half-asleep?

He exhales through his nose, unconvinced, but doesn’t argue. Just steps in front of you as you reach for the door, close enough that you catch the familiar scent of his cigarettes, the faint trace of you still on his skin, on his shirt —your shirt.

His hand brushes your shoulder as he reaches past you, fingers ghosting over the strap of your top. The keys in his grip skim lightly against your collarbone as he adjusts the fabric.

He presses the house keys into your hand, mumbling something about making copies later as he takes the empty coffee cup from your other hand, moving through the motions with the same absentminded ease he does everything else.

You mumble a quick thanks before stepping outside, but when you glance back, just to say see you later, his eyes are already on you.

Steady. Lingering.

There’s something on his mind, something you can’t quite get a read on, but it vanishes the second he raises his hand to wave you goodbye, the careless ease of his smile taking over that flicker of something else, but not erasing it.

The door shuts, and whatever it was—if it was anything at all—disappears with it.

You think about it all the way to the Cameron House. You’re still thinking about it as you push the door open to meet the empty, hollow kitchen, still bathed in the half-light of the early morning.

You go through the motions: put away your things, wash your hands, check the list of reminders Kareem left for you. But you feel hollow yourself, a husk of what you once were in the daylight, just like the house you stand in.

The kitchen hums with silence, still untouched by the chaos that will inevitably unfold later in the day. You let the quiet settle over you like a second skin, trying to sink into it, to focus.

You check the list again. Hollandaise. Eggs Benedict. Toast golden, but not crunchy. Bacon, one side only—the fat can’t be too wrinkled.

Your hands move on autopilot, reaching for the ingredients, setting the pan on the stove, measuring out the butter, the egg yolks, the lemon juice. You fall into the rhythm, but your body still feels off, still feels like it’s moving at half-speed, like some part of you is lagging behind, still standing at Barry’s doorway, still thinking about—

You shake it off, glancing at the clock. 7:12.

You whisk the hollandaise, slow and careful, watching the sauce thicken with each pass of the spoon. The water for the poached eggs bubbles, waiting. You butter the toast, flipping it at just the right moment to get that perfect golden shade—light, delicate, nothing too crisp. The bacon sizzles on one side, untouched on the other.

Everything has to be exact. —You can’t afford any mistakes with Mr. Cameron. Not now.

Your mind keeps racing —Your things, back at home. Your bedroom, still a mess. The laundry you were supposed to do today, sitting untouched in the baskets. Your hands itch, lost in the movement, yet still restless— all the things you didn’t do coming back to haunt you.

You exhale sharply, pushing the thoughts aside. Focus. 7:36.

You plate the eggs, layering them neatly over the toast, pouring the hollandaise in a careful stream. The espresso machine hisses to life, filling the air with something warm, something bitter.

The coffee drips slow. You tap your fingers against the counter, eyes flicking back to the watch. 7:41.

You press your lips together, shaking your head. It’s fine. It’s just another part of the routine.

7:59.

The house is still quiet, still asleep. But from behind Ward’s office door, you hear the hum of the fan, the scrape of his chair against the wooden floor, the slow exhale of breath through his nose—measured, thoughtful. You wait there, the tray heavy in your hands, feeling as though you’re knocking on Satan’s door.

A chill creeps up your spine as his voice comes through the wood, low and indifferent. – Come in.

You step inside, unease settling in your bones as you set the tray down on the edge of his desk with careful hands. He almost seems surprised to see you.

– Good morning, Mr. Cameron.

He hums, setting his papers aside, leaning back in his chair. His eyes don’t leave you.

– Good to know you remembered to bring it up, Miss Routledge.

– You asked me to, sir.

A low laugh escapes him, but it's cold and hollow, like that first warning movement a rattlesnake makes when you step on the wrong spot.

– That’s not enough for most people. – Your eyes meet the ice of his as he lifts the coffee from the tray, something dark flickering at the corners of his expression. – It’s not enough for my son, that’s for sure.

His eyes move towards you again, expectant.

Ward’s hand ghosts over the edge of the tray, back and forth, as he watches you plate the food.

– I don’t have any kids of my own, sir, – You say, keeping your voice level. You don’t know why he wants you to say something, but he keeps looking at you, almost inquisitively, measuring every little expression that crosses your face. – But I’ve been babysitting since I was old enough to walk. The cleverest kids are always the ones that seem to do everything they can to disobey you.

Something shifts in his face as he tilts his head. The movement cold and cryptic, like every expression he’s ever worn.

– It’s hard to think of a child disobeying you, Routledge. – His voice is even. Almost idle. But there’s something beneath it, something pointed. You’re not sure you want to know. – Tell me, – He continues, – how did you handle these ‘clever kids’?

You hesitate, but the answer comes quickly, instinctively.

– The bad thing about being clever is that you want everybody around you to think you’re clever, too. That’s why they don’t follow orders—they think it means you see them as stupid, and they can’t handle that.

He chuckles, crossing his arms, considering.

– Interesting take.

– With kids, everything is about validation, – You continue. – If you make them believe they’re the ones choosing to do what you want, and they think you’re only praising them because you’re impressed, they’ll do it. Even when you don’t ask.

– The praise here being the important part?

You nod, unable to hold his gaze for too long—yet still feeling it on you.

– Rafe's right when he says that everybody likes a little flattery. It's just that everyone likes it in a different way.

Ward leans in on his chair and takes a bite of the toast, eyes finally closing—just for a second, the only moment where he isn’t watching you. But you don't have time to feel relief, as his gaze finds you just as soon as his eyes open again.

He’s still chewing when he leans back. – Very well then, Miss Routledge. – You search the weight of his tone, trying to read between the lines. But you can’t, he doesn’t give you the time. – Off you go.

You take the empty tray from the desk, nodding.

– Enjoy your breakfast, sir.

– Oh, I will. – The laugh that follows is quiet. Not like a warning rattle this time, but like the sound a snake makes after it’s struck. – I will.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve been gripping the tray until you step into the hallway, until the door to Ward’s office clicks shut behind you and your fingers finally loosen. The weight of it shifts, pressing against your palms in a way that makes your skin prickle.

His voice still echoes in your mind.

"It’s hard to think of a child disobeying you, Routledge."

You still don’t know what he meant.

Flattery? Mockery? Knowing? Something else entirely?

You exhale through your nose, forcing your shoulders to roll back, to shake off the feeling creeping up your spine.

It’s fine.

It was just breakfast. Just another interaction with a man who enjoys making people squirm, who speaks in riddles because he likes watching you try to solve them.

And yet—

"Oh, I will."

The way he said it. The way his voice dipped just slightly, there was something else beneath the words.

You step into the kitchen, setting the tray down with a little more force than necessary, the sound sharp against the silence. You press your hands against the counter, reaching for the cigarettes in your pocket, for the lighter you took from Barry's place.

– Rough morning?

The lighter clatters to the floor.

The voice startles you.

Sarah is perched on the kitchen counter, legs crossed, picking at the hem of a shirt that definitely does not belong to her.

Your stomach tightens, a flutter of irritation rising from your chest.

– An ambush, huh? Classy. What can I do for you, Sarah?

– You can talk to him. – The scoff leaves your lips before you can think to stop it. And you keep laughing, a bitter taste in your mouth as you turn away, grab the lighter, turn your back. – I don’t know why you think this is so funny, Y/n.

– Oh, I bet you don’t. – Your hands move without thinking. Too caught up in the audacity of it all, you move from the fridge, to the counter to the pantry, grabbing all the things you know Sarah has for breakfast. The things you used to make for her, before she threw it all away. – I just bet that you’re completely unaware of just how hilarious it is that you are the one asking me to talk.

– You’re being ridiculous, okay? – She thunders, hopping off the counter, her sandals whistling against the marble floor as she nears you, all but shouting, an inch away from your face. – Both of you are! You know that you went too far working here, and he knows that he went too far letting JJ kick you out, so why don’t you just say it already and apologize?!

– Apologize?! I should apologize because he kicked me out of my own fucking house?!

– He didn’t kick you—

– You’re right Sarah, there’s a world of difference: For him to kick me out he’d actually have to grow a pair of balls and be a fucking adult about it. Which he isn’t! Point taken!

– You are so immature! Just talk to him!

– TALK TO HIM ABOUT WHAT?! I’ve said it all! On my knees, in tears, and he still didn’t fucking listen to me! He doesn’t care about me, he never did! And neither do you!

– Oh yeah! Shift the blame to distract from your mistakes. That’s so much easier than actually being accountable for the things you did and saying sorry.

–And exactly what should I be sorry about?! Huh? – She looks at you, completely still, rolling her eyes, knowing she has no argument to counter. – About working to support him? About wanting to hang out with my friends?

– Rafe isn’t your friend.

Yiu laugh before you can stop yourself.– You could’ve fooled me.

Sarah’s face falls. – Excuse me?!

– I said “could’ve fooled me”. Rafe’s been nothing but good to me since we met. He comforted me when I got fired, he got me this job so I wouldn’t starve. He’s helped me out every day since that one, and he keeps doing it. Shit, he treats me much better than any of you!

– You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Y/n.

– And you don’t know anything about me, Sarah. You don’t know anything about John. You don’t know anything about this life you’re pretending to live.

– What did you just say to—

- I mean, interrupting me at work? Trying to strongarm me into talking to a grown ass man who clearly doesn’t wanna hear shit from me? Exactly what do you want me to say?! Should I go up to the guy that’s bullied me my whole life, that used my money to pay for his stupid little parties in the boneyard and the even stupider illegal shit he does all the time, and tell him what?! “Oh, hey! I’m so sorry that I needed to get a different job to pay our bills! My bad! Next time your friend Kie is bored enough with her suburban life that she actually feels the need to get me fired, I’ll be sure to warn you in advance!”

– Oh, woe is you! You know very well you didn’t need to come here to work again! You could've gotten a job literally anywhere else! – She screams at your face, her breath fanning against your skin, close, too close, but your hands don’t falter. You keep working without looking at her, your voice not even wavering anymore.

– Oh! Yeah, right! Because that’s so easy, right Sarah? I could just bound down the street, knock on the first door I saw and get a job on a silver platter! It’s not like getting a job that pays a decent wage and contributes to the career I want is hard! It’s not like it takes time, sometimes months, months in which the bills that are already late would pile on because John never bothers to pay them. It’s not like John, the only adult in this situation, could get in trouble with the law for not paying those bills. Because you know what? Money isn’t real. Money doesn’t matter to me. Money is just this magical little thing that drops on my lap every month free of charge like your daddy’s allowance!

She all but gasps, as if what you said was some outrage. – Are you really gonna bring this back to “pogues and kooks”? Really? You’re so predictable!

– You’re right! I should’ve just been born in a family that actually gives a fuck about me, maybe then I could look down upon them and pretend I’m on some high moral ground because I’m sleeping with the lower class. That’d be unpredictable, huh?

– You did not just—

– You’re right. I'm misinterpreting the situation. How rude of me. You actually don't just look down upon your entire family while you're slumming it at my place, you also waste all the things that I spend my hard-earned money on, and then come back here to tell everyone how much better than them you are. My bad, Sarah.

– I can’t believe you.

– Well, tough fucking luck. You want something to believe in? Attend a church. I don’t have the time to sit here and twist my words until they’re out of touch enough to make sense in your privileged little mind, okay? I can’t lounge in a house I don’t pay for, eating food I didn’t buy and pretending to be something I’m not—

– Unlike me?

– Exactly. – The word leaves your mouth like a bullet. Her lips part, like she might have something to say, but you don’t give her the chance. You step back, just slightly, the food you've been making for her done and plated before you, the hierarchy of this argument more than clear.

But you've let yourself be walked all over way too many times to let this go.

It doesn't matter to you that she's your boss’ daughter. That she's a rich kid, that she thinks she owns you even if she pretends she does not— None of it matters.

Because your eyes meet hers again, and for the first time since you two fell out, you're not letting her off with a slap on the wrist.

– You think you’re standing on solid ground, Sarah, you think you get to tell me what’s right and wrong because you’ve convinced yourself that you’re better than the other kooks just because you hang around a couple pogues? You're not one of us. And this— Your fingers brush over the fabric of her shirt, John's shirt, over the bracelet around her arm you know that John gave her, over all the things she uses as a costume to pretend she isn't exactly the thing she so hypocritically pretends she isn't. – This act? This jungle fever thing? Whatever the fuck it is that you think you’re doing, it doesn’t make you a pogue. It's an insult. To me. To John. To your family. To you.

Sarah’s jaw tightens.

– You wanna sit here and pretend? Get on your high horse and ignore the fact that you're part of the problem? Fine. You can do whatever you want, Sarah. You always did. But don't expect me to give you any brownie points for using the proletariat costume, because you know damn well that you could live just fine without having to work a day in your life.

The words land like a strike.

Not loud. Not shouted. But harsh all the same.

– I’m tired of you and Kie pretending you know anything about this life. You wanna know this life? You wanna have the right to talk shit about rich people? Here’s an idea: get a job. Get a job in which people like you can come into your place of work, interfering with the single thing keeping you from living on the streets, demanding explanations for things that don’t concern them, and then come back to me. But you won’t do that, will you? Because what you like is being able to cosplay poverty and then come back to your million dollar mansion at the end of the day. Your lifestyle is a fraud, Sarah. Don’t make this my problem.

She stares at you the same way she used to do back when you were friends.

When she needed your help with homework, when she needed you to lie to a teacher as to why she wasn’t in class, when she needed you to put her name at the end of a seminar she didn’t write so that she wouldn’t be stuck with an F —The “poor me, I’m so irresponsible” look. Sarah and John were masters at it, but people have been looking at you like that your entire life. Asking you to take responsibilities you shouldn’t have to handle because they were too busy doing things they knew they shouldn’t do.

You’re at your wit’s end.

You have been for a long time now. – Ooh, what’s that? Is it the seventh grade again? You think you can bat your little eyes at me and I’ll be the one apologizing for the shit you’ve put me through, again? – The words filter through your lips like straight venom, sickly sweet and double-edged. A trick you’ve learned from her. – I’m not your lap dog anymore, Sarah. You can’t lead me on and then screw me over, like you used to. You’ve got John B for that. So take your breakfast, go eat it in any of the thousand dining rooms you have in this house, and leave me alone.

You’re holding the plate up to her, waiting for her to do right by you for once in her life. But she doesn’t. Sarah keeps looking at you like you’re the bad guy. Because people like her cannot conceive of the idea of not being in the right.

Her lips part, pursed with the sour taste of whatever it is that's waltzing through her mind.

– I'm your boss, too. – She says, bitterly, childishly. – I can fire you if I want. You can’t talk to me like that, Y/n.

You don’t even get the chance to scoff.

– She can, actually. – The voice comes from the other side of the kitchen. Rafe, of course, is leaning against the doorway, half-dressed, arms crossed, with the smuggest look on his face. – And you’re not gonna fire her, Sarah. Not unless you want me to tell dad about you John B fucking on his boat.

Rafe’s eyes meet yours right then, a boyish smile flashing across his face before he looks back at his sister, thoroughly amused.

Sarah’s face twists, anger flaring in the way her lips part, in the way her breath stutters—caught between disbelief and pure, boiling rage.

– You’re disgusting.

Rafe laughs.

Not a chuckle. Not a scoff. A full-bodied laugh, like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

– Oh, come on, – He drawls, shifting against the doorframe, arms still crossed, that smug grin widening. – You’re just mad cause I beat you to it. You wanted to play the ‘I can ruin your life’ card, and turns out? I’m holding a better hand.

– Fuck you, Rafe.

His laughter is loud, genuine. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him enjoy himself so much. – Clearly you're the only one here who's not fucking, Sarah.

Sarah looks like she might actually lunge at him.

Her fists clench at her sides, her shoulders heaving, her jaw tight enough that it looks like she physically has to stop herself from swinging at him.

– You're fucking disgusting.

– Says the person threatening someone's job just because she told you some truths about yourself. Get off your high horse.

– You don’t even care about her, – She spits, shaking her head. – You’re just doing this to fuck with me. Like you always do.

Rafe exhales a sharp, amused breath, tilting his head. His gaze flickers toward you for half a second—just long enough to see that you’re still not stopping him.

And when he gathers you aren’t, he grins.

– That what you think? – His voice is all mockery, slow-burning cruelty, his eyes flicking back to Sarah with something sharper in them now. – That’s so typical, Sarah. You think the world revolves around you.

Sarah’s glare deepens.

– Oh, fuck off, Rafe.

– Nah, let’s talk about it, – He continues, stepping closer, voice going low, venomous. – Let’s talk about how you’re nothing but a stupid little spoiled girl who throws a tantrum every time someone doesn’t kiss your ass.

Sarah’s hands ball to fists.

But Rafe is thriving. He barely stutters.

– You think you’re different? – He scoffs. – You think you’re better than every other rich bitch in this town? You think slumming it with your little Pogue boyfriend makes you special? – His laugh is sharp, mean, cutting through the tension like a blade. – You’re just like dad, Sarah.

Sarah flinches.

Actually flinches.

But Rafe isn’t done.

– You're always on this high and mighty act, pretending you're better than everyone. But as soon as someone doesn't bend over backwards to do what you want, you jump right back to threatening people's jobs, like the spoiled little girl you are. – He leans in, eyes flashing. – You’re not a pogue, Sarah. Dad might have worked his way up, but you? All you do is leech off of people. Just like John B.

Sarah moves before she thinks.

Her nails dig into his shirt as she lunges, knocking him back a step, swinging at him, snarling, completely losing control—

But you are already there.

You don’t hesitate. You don’t even think.

Your hands clamp onto Sarah’s arms, pulling her back before she can actually land a hit, dragging her away from him, holding her back.

– Stop it! – You snap, grip tightening as she thrashes against you, her breath ragged, furious. But you don’t let go. – Get out already. Here, take your plate and fuck off! You’ve done enough.

Rafe watches it all happen, eyes gleaming, completely and utterly pleased.

Sarah is seething. Shaking.

– Tsk, tsk, – He murmurs, straightening his shirt, brushing off absolutely nothing. His smirk is slow, smug, thrilled. – So violent, Sarah. Are you gonna try to bruise her too? You and John B really are a match made in hell, huh?

Sarah jerks forward, still trying to get to him, but your hold doesn’t budge.

– Get out, Sarah. I'm not playing with you.

– You two deserve each other. – She spits, pushing the plate off your hand. It shatters on the ground, food splattering all over.

Rafe actually giggles at that. – Aww, someone’s getting grumpy! – He shouts as she storms off, slamming the door behind her like a petulant child.

He’s still smiling when he looks back at you.

You lean down, reaching for the shards of a porcelain plate that probably cost you half of your monthly salary, but Rafe moves to stop you, and you have to stop him in turn. – Don’t— Don’t! You’re barefoot, Rafe. You’re gonna cut yourself.

He laughs again, that same boyish look flashing bright and easy through his eyes.

Your hands barely brush his chest, trying to guide him away from the mess of razor-sharp edges and microscopic shards, but he only takes your hand, pulling you closer, smiling so damn bright as he pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your waist like it was meant to be. – You're so worried about me, huh?

– Rafe.

– It's fine, baby. – He kisses your cheek, that toothy grin peeking through as he presses his lips against your skin once, then again, and again. – I like it. I like you. God, I really like you.

– That's really lovely, Rafe, but I—

– Kiss me, c'mon. – He leans in before you can even answer, humming lowly. – C’mon, baby. I know you want it.

You push at his chest, glad for his unusual joy, yet unable to feel it for him. – Let me clean this up first, okay? Sit on the counter. Can you do that for me?

He obeys immediately, chuckling lowly, his fingers brushing the fabric of your top slowly as he watches you pick up the pieces and wipe the floor clean. – That was really hot, y'know?

Your laughter comes out a scoff, and you exhale sharply, shoving what's left of your breakfast prep on the sink, scrubbing at it harder than necessary.

Rafe hums behind you, completely unbothered, naked feet slapping against the now dangerless ground as if you didn’t just pull his sister off of him minutes ago.

He’s leaning against the counter beside you, watching you, grinning like a fool, arms crossed loosely over his chest—his entire body language so easy, so relaxed it’s almost irritating.

– Come on, baby, – He murmurs, stepping closer, fingers ghosting over your spine. – You’re just gonna ignore me after that?

– Rafe.

His hands find your waist, thumbs pressing in slightly, a touch so possessive, so natural it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.

– No, seriously, – He continues, grinning against the side of your head, like he can’t help himself, like just being near you is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. – That was, like, the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me. You wanna do it again? Maybe next time you can hit her for me. Fuck, I'd love it if you could do that.

You sigh, twisting in his grip to look at him, raising a brow. – You’re insufferable.

– Oh yeah.

He’s so close.

Too close.

His fingers trail down, brushing lightly over the curve of your hip, lingering at the hem of your shirt, like he’s considering slipping under.

– Don’t even think about it.

– Shh, – He smiles, brushing his nose against your cheek, so soft, so devastatingly sweet. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing against you in a way that should be overwhelming, but the warmth of his palms comforts you, even as it wanders aimlessly. – Just a minute, – He whispers, pleading, cloying, clingy, burying his face in your neck. – Perfect Sarah was just knocked down a peg by my newbie, okay? Let me enjoy this one.

– ‘Your newbie’, Rafe? You talk about me like I'm a dog.

He laughs, hands heavy around you, around the fabric of your top, the sides of his hands brushing the naked skin beneath. – You were like a pitbull, though. My faithful little pitbull named cupcake.

– That's not funny.

– It is a little. – He hums. – C’mon, I'll let you bite me if you want.

You laugh, and he does too, holding you so close, so close, you can feel his heartbeat on your back.

You should push him away.

But you don’t.

You keep washing dishes as he pulls you even closer, clinging thoughtlessly like it's only natural, like it’s only right. – They do that, huh? – You hum, and it's bitter, but Rafe's hold tightens around you like it's the sweetest thing in the world. – The golden children. You tell them something they don't like one damn time and suddenly it's like the end of the world.

– Fuck them, baby. – He whispers. Lips moving against the crook of your neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering there. – Fuck them. Family disappointments like us are much fucking better.

You don’t answer.

You don’t laugh this time.

Because the words sink into you —You are the trouble child, the family disappointment. But you don’t know that Rafe is. Yeah, he's reckless, he's troubled. He's the black sheep. But disappointment implies that he's been given up on, and though Ward doesn’t understand him, he's certainly still trying.

You set the last dish on the rack, wipe your hands on a towel, and pull away from him.

Rafe makes a small noise of protest, his grip tightening instinctively, like he’s not ready to let you go yet—but you slip free anyway, your hand in his, even as you turn your back on him, reaching for the pack of cigarettes you left on the counter.

– Gonna take a break, – You mumble. – Be right back.

You don’t wait for his response.

You just push open the back door, and step outside. Your fingers stutter slightly as you light the cigarette, the flame flickering in your unsteady hands as you hold the tobacco to it, watching the edge burn.

You take a long drag, tilting your head back, staring at the sky, at the shifting clouds, at nothing in particular—

But the feeling doesn’t go away.

You think about Ward, about how he mentions Rafe at every chance he gets, and you're almost envious of how large a space he takes up in his father's mind.

The weight lingers.

It always does.

Because Rafe can say fuck them, like it’s easy, like being the family disappointment is almost a compliment, even if it's not.

It’s never been.

And no matter how much you tell yourself you’re fine with it, that you’re past it, that you’re not still that kid trying to be enough for a father who never wanted you and a brother who never saw you—

The feeling still settles deep in your chest.

Still claws at the back of your throat.

Still hurts in the same place where the nicotine warms you. It still weighs despite the numbness that rises with the smoke.

You take another slow drag, exhaling through your nose, closing your eyes.

And then the door creaks open behind you.

You don’t turn.

You don’t have to.

You already know who it is.

Footsteps. A pause. The shift of fabric as he leans against the doorframe, watching you.

– You’re mad at me.

Rafe’s voice is soft, almost hesitant, like he doesn’t quite know how to navigate this version of you.

You don’t blame him. You don’t know either.

You let out a short breath, shaking your head. – How could I ever be mad at you? – You say, and your voice is lighter. You reach for his hand and he holds it up to you as if you’re offering a lifeline. – You’re a peach, Rafe. Sweet.

A beat of silence.

He steps closer.

– You’re mad at something, – He presses, voice quieter now, watching the way your hands move over his as you do the same.

You don’t answer at first. And his words mix up with the smoke, light and gray, warm and cold at the same time. – C’mere. – You tell him, pulling him closer, brushing the hair away from his face with the same hand he's holding.

He takes another step. You can see the hesitation fluttering away from his face. He leans in, his breath brushing your skin, but you hold him back before he can kiss you. – My lips are bitter right now.

He tilts his head and takes the cigarette from you with a smile, taking a quiet drag, his shoulders easing the slightest bit.

His pupils are larger when he looks at you again. – Mine too.

It's charming.

Enough that you don’t expect it.

Enough that it makes you smile.

You reach for him, fingers brushing along the side of his face, the curve of his jaw, soft, lingering, in a way that makes something flicker in his expression—something warm, something raw, something startled.

You laugh, leaning in before he has the time to do so, smiling into his lips as he melts over you.

The warmth of the cigarette in his hand brushes your leg, and you see it fall to the ground, half-smoked, as he pulls you into him.

Your hands tangle in his hair, around his neck, about his shoulders.

You know you shouldn’t. You know what you’re doing is wrong. That you've done the same thing just some hours before, and that using affection to distract from your problems has gotten no healthier in the span of a night.

But you don’t have it in you to care.

Because you've done what's right and it's gotten you nowhere —You’re always the one fixing things that others break, so what does it matter if it breaks now or later on? You'll be the one who has to do it regardless.

– Baby, – He whispers, dazed, reverent, like it’s the only word he knows anymore. His hands are pulling at you every time you slow down, every time you take a breath. Like you’re abandoning him every time you so much as shift in his hold.

You hum, tilting your head slightly, brushing your nose against his, soft, teasing. Rafe follows the movement like he’s chasing a fix. – What's wrong, Rafe?

– Pay attention to me. – He whines, and it's so clingy, so perfectly pathetic, that you pull him in again, laughing as you follow suit, mind clear of every other thought.

His lips find yours again, searching, impatient, his hands pressing into you, fingers flexing, tightening, like he’s afraid you might change your mind.

And for once—

You don’t.

You let him have it.

Let him pull you flush against him, his warmth seeping into your skin, his touch dragging along the curve of your waist, your ribs, the space between your shoulder blades. And even as he’s lost in you, his hand still covers the tattoo on your collarbone.

So you let him kiss you like he needs it to breathe, like he’s never been kissed quite like this before, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that you’re finally letting him in. Fully, completely, without hang-ups.

And when you sigh softly against his mouth, when your fingers slide into his hair, tugging, grounding him—

He groans.

Low, guttural, like the sound has been sitting in his chest for years, waiting to be pulled out of him.

His hands wander, cling, pull, searching you like he’ll die otherwise. Like he doesn’t know what he’ll do if you let go.

Like he doesn’t think you’ll stay.

But you do.

For now.

For just a little longer.

He has you pressed against the wall, hands traveling up and down your thighs, over your hips, around your ass.

– Fuck, – He mutters, nosing at your jaw, licking over the skin, sucking just slightly before letting up. His fingers tighten on your hips, dragging you closer, pressing you against the wall like he physically can’t handle how much he wants you. – You had to have known, baby, – He whispers, voice gravelly, raw, breaking at the edges.

– Huh?

His hands skim over your ribs, curl under the fabric, press against your stomach like he’s trying to feel every breath you take.

– This top, – He exhales, mouth trailing down, lips grazing the exposed skin of your neck, hand still lingering above your collarbone. – This fucking top, – He repeats, voice dark, feverish, wrecked. – You put this on for me.

It’s not a question.

You laugh, amused at the absurdity of it, at the way he says it like it's a fact.

– Don't pretend. – He laughs too, but it's darker. Still feverish. – You fucking knew blue was my favorite color.

His grin is sharp, smug, so pleased with himself—but his hands tell a different story.

Because they’re almost shaking.

They’re clinging.

They’re tracing your skin like he doesn’t know what he’ll do if you pull away.

– Wanted to drive me fucking insane, didn’t you? – He whispers, hot, breathless, desperate as he noses at your throat again. – Wanted me thinking about you all fucking day—

He laughs, hoarse, breathless, like he’s already lost his grip on himself completely.

– Well, guess what, baby? – His fingers tighten, dig in, press into bare skin like he needs something to hold onto. – You win. I’m already fucking gone for you.

It's almost sweet, but there’s something darker in his voice. Something lower, rougher, like it’s coming from the pit of his stomach.

His hands tighten on your waist.

– You fucking love making me like this, don’t you? – He breathes, pressing you back against the counter, holding you there, eyes dark, unfocused, locked on you like he’s trying to burn the image into his brain. – You’re a tease.

– Rafe, – You sigh, pressing your hands against his chest, trying to push him away the slightest bit—but he doesn’t budge.

If anything, he presses closer.

– What? – He grins against your neck, nosing at the curve of it, his hands sliding up your sides, curling over your ribs, feeling every inch of you under the fabric of that stupid top he’s obsessed with.

– I've got things to do. – You mutter, but he barely lets you get a breath in. The words are almost lost against his lips.

– Yeah, you have me to do. – His voice is serious, completely deadpan, barely smiling even as you laugh. – You're always fucking working. – He whines, voice lower now, rougher, more impatient, like he’s getting frustrated with you, with himself, with how bad he fucking wants this. – I've got shit to do, too, y'know? I'm going out with Topper and Kelce right now.

You scoff. – Sounds really demanding.

– It is. God knows they don't get off my dick about it.

– How rude of them.

The irony flies over his head. – Mm-hmm. You could come.

You chuckle, pushing his hair back, content at how he melts into it. – Leave my job and go?

– You ain't gonna work much longer today. My dad's taking Sarah and Wheezie to the country club right now, and they’re gonna have dinner at the Wreck or something.

– Even so. I can’t really leave.

– C'mon. I'll be good. – He nods against your skin, hands sliding lower, squeezing at your waist, gripping at you like he’s trying to ground himself. – I’ll be so fucking good to you, baby. Just gimme a chance.

You laugh, tilting your head to glare at him, but his expression is so hungry now, so overwhelmed, so fucking consumed that it throws you off completely.

– You are so full of shit, Rafe.

– Yeah? – He grins, but his breathing is heavier now, his grip is tighter, his body is pressing closer.

– You did wear this for me, though, – He murmurs, mouth trailing down your jaw smiling smugly, teeth scraping lightly, breathing against your skin like he’s barely restraining himself. – You look so fucking hot in this, too. Don't you wanna show off a little? – His fingers press into your waist, fisting the fabric of your shirt, pulling slightly, like he wants to tear it off of you. – You wanna act all tough, but I know you, baby.

– Rafe—

– Nah, I know you. – His hands slide up, gripping at your ribs, brushing against the curve of your chest, like he’s memorizing you through the fabric.

– I told you blue was my favorite color, and now you’re walking around looking like this? – His laugh is dark, hoarse, almost wrecked. – You fucking knew what you were doing, didn’t you?

– Oh yeah. – You chuckle. – I live to drive you mad, Rafe.

The irony flies over his head again, his lips meeting yours with the same heat as he lifts you.

His mouth is back on your neck, his fingers curling tighter in your shirt, his entire body pressed up against yours like he needs to feel all of you at once.

– Baby, c’mon. – You mumble, and he sighs against your throat, pressing you closer to him. – I have to go back to work.

– Fuck, call me baby again. – Rafe’s voice is low, strained, muffled against your throat as he presses another open-mouthed kiss there, his breath shaky, uneven, like he needs this more than air itself.

– Rafe—

– No, say it. C'mon, baby please. – His grip tightens, pressing you higher against his waist, pinning you between him and the wall like he’s trying to keep you there forever. – Say it again.

You laugh, shoving at his chest, but he just grins, lazily nipping at your jaw, dragging his mouth along your skin, completely ignoring the fact that you’re trying to put distance between you.

– Rafe, baby. – He all but purrs against your skin. – I need to go back to work.

– And I need to keep touching you.

His hands grip tighter, curl under your thighs, drag up your sides, like he’s mapping you out, trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

– You can be as sweet as you want, Rafe— He raises his brow, pretending to glare at you. – Sorry. You can be as sweet as you want, baby. I still have to go. – You press your palm against his cheek, tilting his face up, forcing him to meet your eyes.

His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, his breathing is all over the place, and he looks at you like you just tore the world apart and handed it back to him in pieces.

And still—

He doesn’t let go.

– Don’t look at me like that. – You murmur, rolling your eyes, but softer now. Rafe smirks, tilting his head, watching your mouth like he’s still hungry for it. – You are impossible.

– And you, – He whispers, grinning, – Are so fucking hot in this top.

You shove at his face, laughing despite yourself, but he doesn’t move far, just grins wider, lips brushing against your jaw again, against your cheek, stealing another kiss before you can stop him. – Rafe—

– Okay, okay, – He laughs, finally setting you down, but his hands still linger on your waist, fingers squeezing slightly, like he still doesn’t want to let go. – But you’re coming with me next time.

– Sure I am.

– And you’re wearing that top.

– Whatever you say. – You turn toward the door, ready to shove him out before he can try anything else, but his hand curls around your wrist.

He pulls you back in, stealing one last kiss, slower this time, softer, deeper, like he’s savoring it. When he pulls away, he’s smirking, but his eyes are dark, hazy, still completely wrecked over you.

– I’m leaving now, – He mutters, but makes no move to actually do so.

– You better. – You warn, nudging him toward the door, shoving him toward it when he still doesn’t move.

And when he finally stumbles back, laughing, barely catching himself before hitting the doorway—

He grins at you, smug, flushed, completely, devastatingly gone.

– See you later, baby.

And God help you, you don’t correct him. You hear his steps echoing across the kitchen. You hear the door knock closed, and there’s still something light, tingly, lingering within your chest as you step in and get back to work.

The pain is gone, you don’t even wonder.

And you think about how distracting yourself might actually be good for you as you plan out a lunch and a dinner, despite what Rafe said.

He knocks on the back window as he leaves, giving you that same sharp smile as he waves goodbye, dressed up in a polo that’s the same blue as your top, car keys in hand.

The warmth is still there, lingering, buzzing under your skin, as you see him step away.

You don’t even question it.

You just exhale, shake your head, and turn back to the counter, back to cleaning up, back to work. Your hands move without thinking, pulling down ingredients, planning out the next meal.

A whole hour passes.

And you think Rafe might be right. Maybe the house will be empty for the rest of the day. Maybe you can actually relax for a while. You pull on the pen and paper at the counter, trying to think of something nice and simple to make for you and Barry when you get home.

– Taking a break, miss Routledge?

Your entire body locks up.

Your stomach drops.

Your hands are still over the counter, fingers tightening slightly around the pen.

You didn’t hear him come in.

You didn’t feel him.

But when you turn—

Ward is already there.

Standing by the entrance of the kitchen.

Watching you.

– Did I startle you? – He laughs, stepping closer. Holding the empty breakfast plates in his hand. – I didn’t mean to.

– I didn’t hear you coming at all. You could’ve rung for me, I’d bring the plates down for you, sir.

His posture is relaxed, casual, unreadable. But there’s something too deliberate, too patient, too careful in the way he’s standing, in the way his eyes flick over your face before settling on your hands. – It’s no bother. I wanted an excuse to see how you keep this kitchen. Much better than Kareem does, apparently. He leaves a mess all over the place, only starts cleaning up before he goes. It’s not a good habit. – His hands drift over the counter, and he stands beside you, looking between your eyes and the piece of paper in your hand. – Writing down a recipe?

– Shopping list. There’s some things missing for the lunch prep. Why, did you want anything specific?

He stops just short of the counter, eyes sharp, watching you with an interest that doesn’t feel casual at all. – No. Actually, you don’t have to make anything for lunch. Or dinner. I’m taking the girls to the Country Club. It’s a beautiful day for golfing.

– It sure is. Would you like me to prepare anything for when you return? A snack, maybe a dessert?

His eyes linger on you for a moment, but you’re really sure what he’s looking at. Whether he’s looking at your arms, at the faint, fading bruises; at the wrinkles Rafe left on your top as he grabbed and pulled at you like a toy; or at something else entirely, is unclear. But he gives you a smile at some point, and it just barely reaches his eyes. – Were you a disobedient child, Miss Routledge?

The question sends a chill down your spine.

– Sorry?

– You’re clever. – He says finally, but it doesn’t really sound like a compliment. – You anticipate my needs. I like that about you.

– Thank you sir, but I’m just doing my job.

– And you do it well. – He hums. – Indeed you do. You can go home if you want, Miss Routledge. I was going to tell you to clean up, but clearly, you’ve anticipated that as well.

– Yes, sir. – Your breath is caught. Your grip on the pen is too tight. You feel like he might jump on you if you say something wrong. – Any requests for tomorrow?

He smiles again, and this time the lines form around his eyes, deeper, more genuine, yet still all too cold. – No. I’m sure I’ll like whatever you have planned. – He gives you one last smile, standing at the door. Something else in his face, in his posture, that you can’t quite catch. – That’s a nice shirt you’re wearing. Blue looks very nice on you, Routledge.

He doesn’t even give you the time to say anything else before he goes, leaving you to your doubts, all alone in this kitchen that suddenly feels colder.

It takes you a moment to fully come back to your senses, and maybe the half-assed smoke break has left your nicotine cravings to haunt you, but you’re almost rushing to the door as you gather your things.

You don’t realize how fast you’re walking until the house has fully disappeared behind you. You don’t realize where you’re going until you look up and see the bus stop.

It’s muscle memory, instinct, a habit formed over years of just going—of putting one foot in front of the other and figuring it out later.

Your hands are cold.

You should’ve called Barry.

But you didn’t even think to.

You inhale sharply, rubbing your arms—

And your phone rings.

The sudden vibration makes you jump.

You fumble for it, barely sparing the screen a glance before swiping to answer.

– Hello?

There's a pause. A beat of silence that stretches just a second too long.

– Miss… Routledge? – The voice is steady. Firm. Familiar in a way that makes your stomach knot. – This is Sheriff Peterkin. We need you to come down to the station.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @myluvingera @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez @sassyvilliantrope @vampiriito @sassybearfire

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queenshelby · 2 months ago

Text

The Peaky Role (Part 21)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Smut

"Fuck," Cillian's expressed. He was concerned and tightened his jaw as he glanced towards the door.

"Go and hide in the bathroom," you whispered, urgency thrumming in your voice as you quickly reached for your clothes and threw them on.

Cillian nodded, eyes darting between you and the door as he too collected his clothes from across the floor just as there was another knock, this time more insistent.

"Are you okay Y/N? Can we talk?" Barry called through the door, his voice tight with concern.

Cillian's eyes pinned you with intensity, and you glared at the door too now, your heart racing.

"Just a minute!" you shot back, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as Cillian slipped into the bathroom, the faint click of the door barely masking the pounding in your chest.

You quickly adjusting your clothes, heart thudding as another knock rattled through the door.

"Y/N, come on. I need to know you're alright," Barry urged, concern thick in his voice.

"Just a second!" you called back, pulse quickening as you made sure that there were no other clothes scattered around the room before, finally, wiping the last remnants of panic from your mind.

You opened the door to find Barry standing there, his brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

"What's going on?" His eyes flicked over your shoulder, searching for an answer, concern deepening the creases on his forehead.

"Nothing, I am just, uhm, reading," you lied, forcing a casual smile.

Barry's eyes narrowed, scepticism etched across his face.

"Reading?" he asked, chuckling slightly. "So, you cancelled on me to read?" he asked as you stepped back, glancing nervously towards the bathroom door.

"Yeah, I just really needed to catch up on my script. Steve had amended it and I wanted to make sure I was prepared for tomorrow's scenes," you told him, making up an excuse, but Barry did not believe you.

He saw your eyes, smudged makeup lingering like a ghost on your skin, as well as a hickey on your neck. Your hair was dishevelled, strands sticking to your forehead and he wasn't sure whether you had been crying or enjoying yourself with someone else.

"Seriously Y/N, what's going on?" he pressed, stepping closer, sensing something was off before, without asking first, stepping in past you.

"Nothing—really," you told him as he looked straight towards the bed where the rumpled sheets revealed the chaotic remnants of your earlier encounter. There was also a scent in the area, a scent that was too familiar, sparking awareness in Barry's eyes.

Barry's gaze flicked back to you and he chuckled slightly while you adjusted your hair, looking nervous and embarrassed all at the same time.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked, a twitch of amusement playing on his lips.

You swallowed hard, weighing your words carefully, but the tension in the room felt unshakeable.

"No, I am just, you know... getting ready to go to bed," you replied, cheeks red as you quickly averted your gaze, the lie hanging heavy in the air between you.

Barry's expression shifted, a glimmer of suspicion sparking in his blue eyes.

"Right. So, I should probably leave you to it then, huh?" he asked, his brow arching with mild disbelief and you knew that it was probably for the best.

"Actually, yeah, that might be a good idea," you replied, keeping your tone light, trying to deflect the awkward tension.

Barry nodded slowly, eyes still searching yours, evidently not convinced.

"Alright then," he said, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice. "I just wanted to check on you, but you seem to be doing more than okay, so have a good sleep, okay?" Barry stepped back with a slight chuckle and turned to leave, but you stepped forward, heart racing in your chest.

"Wait," you called, urgency slipping into your voice. "Maybe lunch tomorrow?" you asked, stepping closer, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "That way I can make it up to you, for cancelling tonight," you offered, glancing at him hopefully.

"Y/N, it's fine. Don't stress," Barry replied, his smile fading slightly as his brow furrowed. "There is no need to make it up to me and I really just came by as I wanted to make sure you're okay, not to make you feel guilty about cancelling," he added, concern creeping back into his voice before, eventually, he turned to leave.

"Thanks Barry, I will see you on set," you called after him, a knot of concern twisting in your stomach.

***

As soon as Barry had left and you had closed the door behind you, Cillian retreated from the bathroom, his expression a canvas of tension and relief.

"That was close," he murmured, running a hand through his hair, eyes darting toward the door, worrying about Barry and what he may have seen or observed inside your apartment.

"So fucking close," you echoed, heart racing from the thrill of it all before you broke the momentarily silence with a nervous laugh.

Cillian stepped forward, his voice low, "Do you think he suspects anything?" You shrugged, glancing at the door.

"Hard to say. He looked a bit... perplexed. But I don't think so," you replied, biting your lip, still feeling the residual tension in the air. "I mean, he might think that I have been with someone else tonight, but that's okay, as I don't think that he would suspect you," you whispered, glancing toward the door as if expecting Barry to come back.

"So, you're not worried about what happens next? With Barry, I mean?" Cillian asked you and you shook your head, determination flaring.

"No, I am not. But we need to be more careful. That's all," you replied, your gaze steady on Cillian's intense blue eyes.

He studied your face, uncertainty flickering for a moment.

"We do, especially with Nina arriving in two days," Cillian continued, his brow furrowing. "You know how she is; she notices everything," he stated, a hint of worry lining his voice.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words.

"Yeah, and I would rather not have to explain to my best friend that I have been having a huge crush on her father for a while," you exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head, a hint of amusement breaking through his tension. "For a while, huh?" he asked, wondering for how long you had felt that way and, just as he raised the question, you stepped closer towards him and started to trace his bare chest with your fingertip, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

"Uh-huh," you smirked, running your fingers through his greying chest hair, which was something that drew you in.

Cillian's breath hitched, his gaze intensifying.

"How long exactly have you been pining after me then?" Cillian wanted to know and you smirked again, tilting your head in mock contemplation.

"Since that weekend I spent in Dingle with your family a few years ago, for Nina's birthday," you admitted with a shy smile. "But, it was really innocent back then. It was just a weird kind of attraction I had, nothing serious," you admitted before sliding your fingers to his collarbone, feeling his muscles tighten beneath your touch.

"I better hope so, because you were like what... sixteen or seventeen?" Cillian said, concern etched in the lines of his brow.

"Yeah, I was young and I just... I don't know...," you shot back, eyes sparkling. "I mean, I would have never acted on it obviously," you explained with sheer honesty and, again, Cillian raised an eyebrow, curiosity shifting his gaze.

"Sure, but you did now, right?" His voice low and challenging, electric tension charged the air between you.

"Yes, but I'm not a kid anymore Cillian and, now, it feels real," you shot back, determination coursing through you as you met his stare. "So, how about you? Since when have you felt this way about me?" you teased him, your hand lingering on his collarbone, watching his breath hitch slightly.

Cillian's expression shifted, caught off guard. He hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a split second.

"Not until recently, until that weekend, just before we started filming," he admitted, voice low. "You're different now. Mature, more intriguing and I enjoyed our talk that night. It was refreshing, in a way I didn't expect."

You leaned in, curiosity sparking in your eyes. "Refreshing how?" you wanted to know and Cillian's lips curved into a faint smile, and Cillian's gaze softened, revealing a hint of vulnerability.

"I liked your perspective on things and I just felt at ease with you which is unusual for me, especially with someone your age," Cillian's lips quirked into a smirk as he brushed his thumb across your cheek, heat blooming between you.

"Someone my age, huh?" you murmured, teasing just a little.

Cillian chuckled softly, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes.

"I'm just saying, you carry yourself differently than other women your age," he explained as he leaned closer, breath warm against your skin. "Most girls in their early twenties are really immature and I could never be attracted to that," he explained.

"Well, maybe I am an old soul," you replied, a teasing smile playing on your lips before you kissed again and Cillian's lips met yours, firm and warm, igniting a spark that sent shivers down your spine.

You melted into the kiss, heart racing, fingers weaving through his hair as the world beyond disappeared.

"And right now, this old soul here, needs you to finish off where you had left off before Barry came by," you told him softly, pulling him closer, feeling the tension between you crackle and Cillian's eyes darkened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Come on then," he growled, his voice low and gravelly.

He grabbed your hand and led you to the bed, his movements urgent. He pushed you gently onto the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours.

You were quick to wiggle back out of your clothes and then propped yourself up on your elbows. Your heart was pounding as you watched him slowly push down his briefs again and let his cock spring free.

You bit your lip as you took in the sight of him again. He was already halfway hard again and you licked your lips, your pussy clenching in anticipation, your body aching for another taste of him.

"I can't believe you are hard again already," you murmured, your voice low and sultry as Cillian joined you on the bed. "It doesn't take you very long to get into the mood, does it?" you teased as you reached out, wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, feeling the velvety softness of his skin, the hardness beneath.

"Not with you , no," he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You smiled, a wicked glint in your eyes as you increased your pace, your hand moving faster, tighter around his shaft

"You know I just realised that I have not gone down on you yet," you said, your voice a low, sultry purr. "And, I think it's about time that changed."

Cillian's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. "Fuck, Y/N, you're going to make me cum just from hearing that," he growled, his voice tight with need.

You didn't respond, instead, you leaned down, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that had gathered there.

"Hmm," you hummed, your voice a low purr as you took him further into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his shaft, your tongue swirling around the head.

Cillian groaned, his hips bucking slightly, his cock sliding deeper into your mouth.

"Fuck, that feels good, Y/N," he growled, his fingers tangling in your hair before you pulled back slightly simply to push him down on to the bed, easing the positioning for you.

It took only a few seconds before you were on your knees, between his legs, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock again.

"Oh god," he simply growled, his hips bucking eagerly.

You smiled around his cock, your eyes watering slightly as you took him even deeper, your throat constricting around him. You felt his cock hit the back of your throat, and you held him there for a second, relaxing your throat muscles, before pulling back slowly, your lips tight around him.

You repeated the process, taking him deeper each time, your saliva coating his cock, your tongue swirling around the head.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking good at that," Cillian groaned, his hips bucking up to meet your mouth. "Your mouth is like fucking heaven."

You hummed in response, the vibration sending shivers through him. You reached up, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock, your fingers stroking him in time with your sucking.

"Jesus, Y/N," Cillian gasped, his hips bucking. "You need to stop or I won't last," he groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair just before you pulled back again.

"Fine, I will stop, but I after we are done, I want you to cum in my mouth," you insisted, your voice sultry and demanding.

Cillian's eyes widened slightly at your words, but his cock jumped in your hand, precum leaking from the tip.

"You want me to cum in your mouth, Y/N?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire.

"Yes, I do," you answered, your voice firm and determined. "I want to taste you and swallow every last drop," you told him as you released his cock from your hand.

You then climbed up his body, your hands gliding over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscles beneath your fingertips. You straddled him, your pussy grinding against his cock, feeling the hard length of him against your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want to feel you inside me again," you whispered, your voice husky with desire as you aligned yourself with his cock, the head of him pressing against your entrance.

Cillian groaned, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "I want to feel you too Y/N," he growled, his voice low and demanding.

You took a deep breath, your body trembling with anticipation as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely. You moaned, your head falling back, your body adjusting to the feel of him inside you, the sensation overwhelming and intense.

Cillian's hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helped guide you, showing you the rhythm he wanted.

"That's it, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "Ride me. Fuck, you feel so good."

You started to move, your hips lifting and dropping, your body taking him deeper with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him, the thick, hard length of him sliding in and out of you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Fuck, Cillian," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate. "Your cock feels so fucking good inside me," you moaned before

you started to ride him harder, your hips moving faster, your body slamming down onto his cock, taking him deeper with each thrust.

Cillian groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you move on top of him, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, your body glistening with sweat, making you look utterly fucking beautiful.

"I am so close," you panted, your voice breathless and desperate as you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your belly, ready to snap. "I need you to fuck me harder, Cillian. Please," you begged, your voice a desperate whimper.

Cillian's eyes flashed with hunger, his jaw clenching as he growled, "as you wish." His hands on your hips tightened, his fingers digging in, his hips snapping up to meet yours, his cock pounding into you with force, the bed creaking and groaning beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall with each brutal thrust until, finally, you came.

You screamed his name, your voice hoarse with exertion, your body convulsing around him. "Fuck, Cillian, I'm cumming!" you gasped, feeling like you were running a marathon, your body pushing itself to the limit. You threw your head back, a long, low moan escaping your lips as your orgasm tore through you, every muscle tense and shaking.

As your walls contracted around his shaft, Cillian tried hard not cum with you, but the sight of you, head thrown back, mouth open, gasping for air, was just too fucking much. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his hips snapping up to meet yours one last time. "I can't hold back. I'm going to cum."

His cock pulsed deep inside you as he released a low growl, his body tensing as he emptied himself into you. You could feel his hot, thick cum filling you, coating your insides, marking you as his.

"Oh god that feels so good," you moaned, your body still shaking from your own orgasm, your walls milking him for every last drop.

Cillian groaned, his body shuddering with the force of his release, his hips still moving against yours, his cock jerking inside you as he came.

"I am sorry," he murmured, his voice ragged, "I couldn't hold back."

"Don't be sorry," you moaned, your body still trembling with the remnants of your own orgasm. "I love feeling you cum inside me," you told him, your voice breathless and content.

Cillian's eyes darkened, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. "I love it too, Y/N," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Watching you cum, feeling you cum around my cock... it's fucking incredible."

He reached down, his fingers gently stroking your thighs, his touch soft and loving. You smiled at him, your body still humming with pleasure before, finally, you climbed off him, feeling dizzy and somewhat nauseous from exertion.

Cillian noticed right away that something was off and looked at you, his eyes softening, a flicker of concern in them.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle, as he sat up.

"I am not feeling too good," you admitted, your face flushed, your body still shaking slightly and Cillian reached out, his hand caressing your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

"When did you eat last?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

"I... I don't remember," you replied, your stomach grumbling softly, reminding you of the fact that you hadn't eaten anything substantial in a long time. "Maybe at lunchtime?"

"Jesus Y/N," Cillian cursed under his breath, his eyes flashing with worry. "Where is your glucose monitor?" he asked, urgently standing from the bed, his naked body not bothering him in the slightest. He was only concerned about your wellbeing.

"In my bag," you replied, your voice weak as you pointed towards the chair across the room.

Cillian quickly retrieved it and sat down beside you, his jaw set in a firm line.

"Let's get you sorted out," he murmured, his hands gentle but firm as he pricked your finger, taking a drop of blood for the monitor. You winced slightly, but his touch was soothing, his presence calming you down.

Cillian watched the monitor closely, his brow furrowing as he waited for the results. A low curse escaped his lips as he saw the number on the screen.

"Fuck. You're low. Really low," he murmured, his voice tinged with concern before he started looking through your bag to find your glucose chews.

Once found, Cillian quickly retrieved them and handed the chews to you. You took one, popping it into your mouth, and started to chew.

"How long does it take for these to work?" Cillian asked, his brow still furrowed with worry.

"Usually about 10 minutes," you replied, your voice slightly more steady as the sugar began to hit your system.

Cillian nodded, his gaze not leaving you as he sat down on the bed beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He could feel your body start to relax as the glucose began to take effect, your breathing evening out, your skin warming up.

"Better?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. "Mm-hmm. Yes, thank you."

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent, a mix of sweat and sex and something uniquely you. A wave of tenderness washed over him, and he held you tighter, wanting to keep you safe, to protect you.

"You scared me there," he murmured into your hair.

"I am sorry. It's so fucking embarrassing ," you mumbled, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red as you tried to hide your face against his chest.

"Hey," Cillian murmured, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so that you were looking at him. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

You bit your lip, your eyes searching his. "But it's not very sexy, is it? I mean, I would have liked to have kept going, but... my body just had other plans."

Cillian chuckled softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek.

"Trust me, I couldn't have gone a fourth time anyway," Cillian teased, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn't help but smile back at him. "Well, I guess you are pushing fifty, after all," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Cillian chuckled, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. "Exactly," he told you before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, before speaking up again.

"Now, we should probably get some sleep. It's late and we both have a big day tomorrow," he murmured, his hand slowly stroking your hair.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I think you're right. I am exhausted," you admitted, yawning softly. "Will you stay?"

you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked into his eyes, a hint of vulnerability shining through.

Cillian's eyes softened, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. "If you want me to," he said, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of your mouth. "I do," you confirmed and, after just a few more minutes of kissing and caressing each other, Cillian helped you settle under the covers, pulling you close to him.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in your ear before he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, casting the room into darkness.

"Goodnight, Cillian," you said as you snuggled closer to him, your head resting on his chest, his warmth and strength enveloping you as you drifted off to sleep.

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jscrawls · 3 months ago

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dragonborn reader! Yandere snippets

🔹🔹🔹

bruce stares at clark across the table, hoping in vain that he’ll look away from them and pay attention to the meeting. instead he seems to be pointedly ignoring him to talk to the problem the new member, slowly twirling his curly hair around his finger, it’s starting to creep bruce out. the unwavering stare and slow blinking eyes like a relaxed cat basking, the flush reaching the tips of his ears, the damn giggling. the world’s strongest man is acting like a teen with his first crush.

“superman.” bruce clears his throat, hoping the kryptonian can hear the annoyed click in his jaw.

“hmm?…oh i don’t care about the budget changes for the tower.” clark finally tears his eyes away from the newcomer, his expression instantly becoming more focused.

“…we changed topics from budgets twenty minutes ago. we’re talking about the recent reports from the lantern corps.” annoyed didn’t quite cover how bruce felt, can one meeting go smoothly?

“oh, we can investigate whatever it is together, have you ever been flying?” clark quickly turns his attention back to the newcomer, looking genuinely exited to have something to do together, possibly alone.

bruce wants to slam his head on the meeting table when the other’s quickly react with loud complaints instead of focusing on a solution.

🔹🔹🔹

you’re just washing the remnants of a potion spill off your hands when diana approaches you with a gentle smile on her face, two xiphos swords in hand. she leans against the doorframe and gestures towards you with the practice blades, eyeing the bottles covering the small round table behind you.

“you’ve been crafting a lot of things the past week, would you like to spar? the mind and body should be equally nurtured after all, no?” she smiles, the lines crinkling under her eyes in fondness as she speaks.

“well, i don't see any harm in-” you start to speak, only to be interrupted by Arthur quickly walking out of the backroom and dumping soggy plants on the clear part of the table.

“actually I'm helping dovahkiin test the alchemical properties of deep sea plants, they're very interested in learning about these and well, I'm the only one who can get them.”

His voice is a touch too friendly compared to how tightly he grips some deep colored vine looking plant, the Atlantian straightens up to be nearly as tall as Diana, you feel a bit awkward when they're suddenly staring each other down with tight smiles, caught in the middle of two royalty having a measuring contest on the fly.

“You people need Talos…” you mumble under your breath.

🔹🔹🔹

J’onn stares up at you from your lap, in his true form as he lays his head on your thigh in relative silence. His expressions are so alien that you can't read them as you speak, he just stares.

‘- and so then you finish making the potion and you quickly take off your enchanting gear before drinking it and putting your gear back on, this causes the gear's enchantments to react differently with your Magicka and you can briefly make a stronger potion and repeat the process-”

You've been rambling for a while, talking about different things in your life while he uses your legs as a pillow, he's one of the hardest to read, you accidentally nearly set a hand on him and he pushes it away. But he's still listening to every word you say, his eyes locked on yours in Stony silence.

Batman walks in the common room and takes one good look at you two, and then promptly turns and leaves.

🔹🔹🔹

Running the thief down isn't hard, they dodge pedestrians and leap over the dwemer automaton looking wagons as they try to flee with the purse clutched tightly in their hand, taking right turns in their attempt to escape you.

It doesn't take any more than a whirlwind sprint and a paralysis spell to put a stop to their crime, carefully picking up and dusting off the fabric as you turn and lazily step on the crook's leg as you start your search for the old lady.

Barry knows he could have caught them in half a second, had the purse back in the owners hands before they could blink, but there's just something about watching you on the hunt. He prefers watching from a distance for a bit as you relentlessly hound them down and take matters into your own hands, he starts to jog over to you once they're caught. He tries not to shiver in jealousy when you step on the crook.

“Heyyy dovahkiin! Good catch there! want me to run them to the police station for you?” He falls in step beside you, a big grin on his face as he looks you up and down as casually as he's able to.

“the guards will come and fetch them, won't they?”

your voice is a bit growly from having just used the thu’um, though the flash doesn't seem to mind it.

Barry nearly shivers in delight, looping his arm through yours as he starts walking faster. “Sure, sure. Hey let's go find this purses owner and maybe I'll get you out of armor for a drink or two. Whaddya say?”

“…. Flash it's middle of the day, and I have alcohol in my pocket at all times regardless I didn't need to buy any.”

🔹🔹🔹

“Dovahkiin, you're looking nice today.”

Hal’s voice calls out as you walk out of your forge room, you don't feel nice, sweaty and grimy and covered in ash smears doesn't sound like looking nice, you feel gross.

“Hello lantern.” You reply curtly as you tug at your thin shirt, sometimes it's better to wait until winter to forge dragon bone.

“That's no way to greet your favorite guy, after everything we've done together?”

Regardless of your grossed out feelings Hal strides over and throws an arm around you and pulls you closer as he pulls you towards the hall, you feel like you're sticking to his flight suit.

“lantern, I need to bathe.”

“Alone?”

Batman, who had been hoping desperately to ignore the two of them, sighs loudly in disgust and stands to leave the room. Even more annoyed when he hears Hal snickering behind him.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: has anyone noticed how little media there is for Martian manhunter? They can't even settle on a design for him it seems

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wordstome · 1 year ago

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Endless Nights - Price x Reader

I started thinking about Sandman again because of Barry Sloane as Destruction of the Endless and went back to reread everything Destruction is in, including his Endless Nights story. Now I can't stop thinking about Price x archaeologist reader...

1.7k, please forgive any archaeological or military errors I only took like 1 anthropology class two years ago

You've been on all sorts of digs, but this has got to be one of the most chaotic. Your team's been sent to this peninsula to unearth some recently discovered artifacts. They think it's remnants of a little-known indigenous population, and it's your job to dig everything up safely.

Only problem is, there's a military base on top of it.

"Maybe it won't be so bad. Military personnel are good at following orders," your coworker says while you're unpacking your tools.

You snort. "Yeah, but they're equally good at putting holes in things and blowing things up. I don't think they have a lot of respect for fragile ancient artifacts."

"Ouch," your coworker says, wincing and putting a hand to his chest in a mock expression of pain. "No love for our nation's bravest?" You roll your eyes at him.

"It's not like that. I'm just saying we need to be vigilant about keeping them away from work sites. Take no shit, as it were."

"With the military? Good luck, I guess."

It's not that you dislike or even distrust every single person who's ever been in the military, it's just that you don't have much faith in their ability to hold respect for your work. Archaeology is quiet, meticulous work, a far cry from gunfights and kicking doors in. You're going to be here for quite a while, and if you don't establish boundaries right out of the gate, you'll be fighting an uphill battle for the rest of the dig.

That's what you're telling yourself as you sit in a gray, featureless meeting room. You and your supervisor are supposed to be meeting with a John Price, a British SAS captain. Kate Laswell, an American CIA agent, told you he's the proxy you'll be cooperating with during the dig.

You're prepared for all sorts of men to walk through that door: a balding middle-aged man with a power trip, or perhaps some blustering meathead whose voice no longer goes lower than a shout. Instead, the man that walks through the door and shakes your supervisor's hand leaves you staring, just barely keeping it together enough so you're not drooling with your jaw on the floor.

He's hot.

Your head fills with static as he turns to you and hits you with possibly the most endearing smile you've ever seen on a man. It's not just that he's somehow pulling off the beard and mutton chops look, or that his rough British accent is making you feel some type of way down there. It's the way he walks, like it's heavy—

"Pleased to meet you," Price says, shaking your hand. His hand engulfs yours as he gives it a brief squeeze. It takes your every last brain cell to answer with something other than Please tell me you're not wearing a wedding ring because you're actually single.

The meeting consists of him and your supervisor laying ground rules while you nod mutely and try not to audibly moan when Price adjusts himself in his seat, his hips moving in a way that is definitely going to undo you if you think about it too hard.

You walk out of the meeting having barely survived, but confident that the whole ordeal was a one-time thing. He's just who you complain to if one of the soldiers stumbles into a work site and smashes one of the artifacts, after all. You'll never have to see him.

Except you do. Every day, multiple times a day, he's there. He's obviously got his own shit to do of course, but it's like you can't get away from him: walk into a tent, and he's there chatting to one of your coworkers. Eat a meal, and he's there talking to a squad of soldiers and clapping someone on the back with a hearty laugh. Turn a corner, and he's there to full-body slam into you—

"Pardon me, sweetheart. Didn't see ya there." You're ashamed to say you don't do much more than stare at him with what must be the most pathetic petrified doe eyes as he gives you a pat on the shoulder and goes on his merry way. That was like running into a solid brick wall...

It would be fine if it were just you having a silly little unreciprocated crush. You've had those before and survived. But what starts to get to you is the little things: the way his eyes flick to you when you enter his vicinity, accompanied by a nod. The way his eyes linger on you for a moment too long before looking away. The brief touches against your shoulders or hips when he's maneuvering past you in a small space.

Frankly, it's driving you crazy, and it's starting to show.

"If you dust that piece any harder, you're going to damage it," your coworker scolds you. You all but jump backwards from the piece you're working on. You'd been so absorbed in mentally dissecting his body language the last time you were in the same room as him that you'd brushed the piece far beyond the point of being clean.

This won't do. You have to do something about this.

Mercifully, you've been given your own individual room to sleep in, which is quite the luxury after a career full of sleeping in dusty tents or sharing bunks with coworkers. It also gives you enough privacy to...take care of business, as it were.

Obviously, you didn't bring any "tools of the trade" that weren't useful for your work, so it's just you and your hand past 11 pm. You feel beyond perverted, slipping a hand between your thighs as you think of Captain Price.

You can still feel the weight of his hands on your body, brief though they were, and picture what else those touches could be doing. Your own voice slips out in a moan as you imagine his, low and grumbling yet soothing while he pushes you into the sheets, that endearing smile turned devious and devastatingly sexy as he spreads you open for him with those hands of his and collects your wetness on his fingers...

Your heart jumps out of your chest as you hear a knock at the door. You all but fall out of bed, scrambling to pull on enough clothing to be decent. "J-just a minute!" you call, inwardly cursing yourself for how breathless you must sound.

You answer the door, flustered and a mess, to see the subject of all your fantasies staring there. For a split second, you're petrified by the possibility of Price having heard your desperate whines and whimpers and knocking on your door to politely ask you to quit cranking it in his barracks.

"Apologies, sweetheart. Hope I didn't wake you up?" His eyes are so striking, so sincere, that you know he could have woken you up from the best sleep of your life and you'd still be unable to be mad at him.

"No no, I was...no need to worry. What can I do for you?" you say, relief flooding through you. Of course he didn't hear you. He's not a total pervert like you.

"Well love, I...it's probably best if you come take a look for yourself," Price says, looking almost sheepish. Your heart sinks a little—this cannot be good.

He leads you out of the barracks towards one of the job sites, directing you towards a table with several excavated artifacts laid out. "One of my men thought it'd be wise to steal his mate's torch, had him stumbling around in the dark out here. He says he bumped one of these tables and heard something fall on the ground, and I figured you should know right away instead of waiting 'til the morning and having all sorts of people tramping through here."

You give him a brief grateful look before crouching down with a flashlight. After a bit of looking, you find the missing object: a thick shard of pottery, lying forlornly on its side by a table leg.

You reach forward to pick it up, but the captain has spotted it as well, resulting in his hand landing on top of yours over the pottery. For a brief, dizzying second, his hand lays heavy and warm over yours, and you could have sworn that his fingers had shifted as if to take your hand in his.

In a blink, the moment's over, and the captain's hand shoots back to his side. Trying not to make an utter fool of yourself, you push yourself back up to a standing position, examining the pottery shard with a discerning eye.

"Looks like no harm was done," you say to him with a smile. "Mayday averted."

"Good to hear. I'll make sure the knuckleheads who did this receive a thorough dressin' down for this incident." You're grateful that the warmth rushing to your face at his stern tone can't be seen in the dark as you carefully set the pottery back in its place on the table.

"I'll walk you back to the barracks. Can't have my favorite archaeologist stumblin' their way around themselves, now can I?" You nod mutely, unable to look at him for much longer than a few stolen glances.

The two of you are quiet all the way back to your door, where you stand in the hallway, fidgeting with your hands and feeling the urge to say something, anything. "Thank you," you blurt out. "For not waiting until tomorrow morning. There's no telling what foot traffic would have done before we noticed the missing piece."

"Your work's important, love. And while you're here, you're our guests. It'd be rude to not be taking care of your work, wouldn't it?" You nod shyly, basking in the warmth of his attention.

You're frozen to the spot as he leans in to whisper directly in your ear, his lips brushing against it. "Next time you're relievin' a bit of tension, feel free to stop by my quarters, yeah? I think you'll find there's a lot more I can take care of than just your work."

Your eyes go as wide as saucers as he winks at you. Before you can even process what just happened, he's already walking away from you down the hall.

Feeling like you've just been handed some delicious and forbidden secret, you whirl around to shut yourself into your room, sliding down with your back against the door to sit on the floor. Did that truly just happen? Are you hallucinating? Or had you fallen asleep by accident and you're really just having some beautiful, delusional dream?

It doesn't feel like a dream when you realize you're soaking wet.

God, I cannot wait until Barry Sloane's Destruction promo images drop. For reference, these are the posters we got for season 1:

To be very honest, I wrote this like a possessed woman in the span of like an hour. I don't think there's going to be a part 2 unless you guys really get me going with some new ideas 😅

Also, I don't have a tag list (because I write almost exclusively for one particular Austrian), but I will tag my beloved @danibee33, and @ceilidho, as thanks for giving me Barry Sloane brainworms.

#price x reader #captain price x reader #price x you #captain price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #john price #captain john price #captain price #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #Barry sloane

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tanjamikaelson · 3 months ago

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BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 26

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 26: | WRECK |

You parked your car in front of Barry's trailer, gripping the steering wheel as you tried to find the courage to face Rafe. The air was heavy, your heart thudding in your chest as you sat there for a few moments, staring at the trailer in front of you. You knew what was waiting inside—a version of Rafe you barely recognized anymore. But you had to go in. You had to know what was happening to him.

With a deep breath, you exited the car, your footsteps hesitant as you walked toward the door. You paused for a moment, the fear gnawing at your insides, but then you pushed the door open. The place was quiet, Barry wasn’t in sight, and for once, there weren’t any other addicts hanging around. It was just Rafe, sitting on the couch, his eyes bloodshot, remnants of cocaine scattered across the table in front of him.

"Rafe," you said softly, your voice shaking as you took in the sight of him.

Rafe's jaw clenched, but he didn’t look up at you. His fingers flexed around the armrest, his entire body tense. "I told you not to come."

"I had to," you whispered, stepping closer despite the warning in his voice. "I had to see you."

His eyes remained fixed on the table, his voice a cold, cutting edge. "Well, I don’t want to see you." He spat the words, doing what he always did when he felt cornered—turning the situation against you. "If you want to be with pogues like Sarah, go and be with them. I won’t hold you back."

You shook your head, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. "No. I just went to see her, Rafe." The silence between you was unbearable, the weight of the truth crushing you as you forced the words out, your voice barely audible. "Rafe—You... you shot her."

His eyes flickered up at you, his expression cold, detached. "I know. And I don’t care that I did."

Your heart broke at the emptiness in his voice. You wanted to shake him, to bring him back to the Rafe you once knew—the Rafe who loved you, who would do anything for you. "She almost died," you whispered, hoping to break through whatever wall he’d built around himself.

"Too bad she didn’t." His words were like a slap in the face, and your knees nearly buckled under the weight of them.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you screamed, your voice filled with pain and anger, unable to contain it any longer.

Rafe shot up from the couch, towering over you with a dangerous look in his eyes. "What’s wrong with me?" he chuckled darkly, the sound bitter. "She betrayed us! She’s going to get everything she deserves!"

You knew the drugs had taken over, warping his mind, but the venom in his words was undeniable. Your chest tightened, your hands trembling. You couldn't keep lying to yourself. This was who he had become—this was the Rafe he was choosing to be.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you took a shaky step back. "I can't do this anymore," you screamed, your voice breaking as you looked at him, hoping to find even a flicker of the man you loved.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his face twisted with anger. "I knew it. You’re choosing her—just like everyone else!" he yelled, his voice growing louder, more desperate. "Nobody ever chooses me! Nobody sees what I’m doing for this family!"

"You can’t expect people to choose you when you go around killing people!" you shot back, your voice raw with emotion. "You shot your own sister, Rafe. How do I know you won’t try to kill me too?"

For a split second, his expression softened, as if your words had finally reached him. "I would never do that to you," he whispered, his voice almost pleading.

But you couldn’t believe him. Not after what you’d seen. Not after the lies. "I can never be sure of that anymore."

His face twisted again, anger flashing in his eyes. "She’s filling your head with lies! She wants to turn you against me!" He stepped forward, his voice rising again, desperate to pull you back to his side.

"No," you said, your voice steady, though your heart was breaking. "You’re the one lying to me. You’re the one who’s turning me against you." The words were final as they left your lips. You turned to leave, but before you could take more than a step, you felt his hand wrap tightly around your wrist, pulling you back.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, yanking your arm free, your heart pounding in your chest as fear and anger took over.

Rafe stood frozen as you stormed out the door, his hand hanging in the air as if he couldn’t believe you were really leaving. He didn’t move as you got into your car, watching helplessly as you sped away. Inside, he felt something shatter, but he was too far gone, too deep in his own darkness to pull himself out.

•°•°•°•°•°•

The drive home was a blur of tears and blurred lines. You could barely see through the mist of your emotions and the storm of tears clouding your vision. Every thought, every image of Rafe—his coldness, his anger—flashed through your mind. Your heart ached, and you pushed the gas pedal harder, wanting to get home as quickly as possible, desperate for the safety of your room. But your mind was far from clear, and the road ahead seemed to blend into the chaos inside you.

You didn’t see the other car until it was too late.

The sickening sound of metal colliding, the jolt of impact, the world spinning, and then... darkness.

When you finally opened your eyes, the sterile white walls of a hospital room greeted you, so bright they made you squint. Confusion washed over you as you realized you weren’t at home. You weren’t safe. You were in a hospital bed.

"Mom?" you whispered, your voice weak and scratchy. The weight of exhaustion settled over you.

Your mother, sitting beside you, shot to her feet, her eyes brimming with relief. "Thank God you're awake," she said, her voice trembling.

You struggled to remember. "What... what happened?" you asked, your memory hazy, a jumble of flashes from the accident.

"You crashed your car," your mother explained, her voice filled with concern. "You're lucky, sweetheart. Rafe found you."

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest. "What do you mean he found me?" You stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

Your mother nodded gently. "He said you two had a fight, and he followed you to make sure you got home safely." She hesitated, watching your reaction closely. "He’s in the waiting room if you want to see him."

"No!" you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. "I don’t want to see him."

Your mother blinked, surprised by the intensity of your response. "Okay, honey, okay. But he’s really sorry. He blames himself."

You swallowed hard, bitterness rising in your throat. "As he should," you muttered under your breath, the pain and anger surging within you once more.

Your mother sighed, clearly not understanding the full extent of what had happened. "I should call a doctor," she said softly, standing up and leaving the room.

As soon as she was gone, you exhaled, feeling a mixture of relief and dread. But that relief was short-lived. The door creaked open again, and when you looked over, it wasn’t a doctor. It was Rafe.

He stood there, his face pale and drawn, staring at you like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked. Slowly, he stepped closer, guilt written all over his face.

"I’m so sorry, baby," Rafe whispered, his voice trembling. "I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. I should’ve stopped you."

You turned your head, unable to look at him, the tears welling up in your eyes again. Everything inside you screamed to push him away, to protect yourself from the person he had become.

"Please, look at me," he begged, his voice breaking, the desperation clear. You could hear that he wasn’t high anymore. He wasn’t on drugs now. He had sobered up, but it wasn’t enough to heal the damage that had already been done.

You felt the soft brush of his fingers as he reached for your hand, and instinctively, you yanked it away, your heart shattering all over again.

"Just go," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the pain in your words cut deep. You couldn’t bear to face him, not like this.

Rafe hovered there, uncertain, wanting to say more, wanting to fix everything, but the moment was lost. He flinched when your mother returned with the doctor, the door swinging open with an unwelcome interruption. He took a step back, his mouth opening and closing as if he were about to say something else, but no words came out. Defeated, he left the room without another word, his presence vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

The doctor came over and checked on you, his tone gentle as he explained that you were lucky. No broken bones, just unconsciousness for a few hours and some scratches from the shattered window. But as he spoke, you barely heard him. Your mind was elsewhere, caught between the hurt and betrayal swirling in your heart.

After a few more hours of rest, they finally let you go home. You climbed into bed as soon as you got back, the familiar comfort of your room doing little to ease the storm of emotions raging inside you.

Your mother sat on the edge of your bed, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "What happened with Rafe?" she asked carefully, her voice soft but probing.

The question sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over you. You couldn’t tell her the full truth. You couldn’t tell her that the boy you loved had spiraled so far out of control that he’d shot his own sister.

"He uses drugs," you said, your voice shaky but steady enough to be believable. "I can’t deal with him anymore."

Your mother’s brow furrowed in concern. "Did he ever offer you drugs?"

"No." You shook your head, desperate to distance yourself from Rafe’s destructive habits. "He never did. It’s just... he’s not the same when he’s high. He becomes someone else—someone I don’t recognize."

She nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "If he really loves you, he’ll stop. The drugs won’t bring him any good."

"Yeah," you whispered, "That’s what I told him."

Satisfied for the moment, your mother left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You lay in bed, clutching your pillow tightly, trying to shut out the memories of the last few days. But sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind kept spinning, replaying every moment, every word, every look Rafe had given you.

And as much as you wanted to believe he could change, a part of you knew that this might be the end.

RAFE'S P.O.V:

After you stormed out of Barry’s trailer, leaving behind the weight of your final words, Rafe stood there in a suffocating silence. His mind spun with thoughts of losing you—of how everything was spiraling out of control, how Sarah had ruined everything by dragging you into this mess. He needed you, more than he could ever admit, but in that moment, he felt like he was losing you. He knew he couldn’t let that happen.

With heavy footsteps, he exited the trailer, his heart pounding in his chest as he walked towards his car. The anger still simmered under his skin, but the guilt was starting to bubble up too. He fumbled with his keys, frustration surging as he realized just how deeply he had pushed you away. Rafe knew he had to follow you, to find you and make things right.

As he drove down the road, his headlights illuminating the dark, deserted street, he saw it—your car, crashed on the side of the road. His breath caught in his throat, his heart sinking. The passenger side of your car was completely crushed. Panic surged through him like a wave, drowning every rational thought.

Without thinking, he slammed on the brakes and pulled over, barely putting the car in park before he was running towards you. His heart hammered in his chest as he threw open the driver's door, his hands trembling as he reached for you.

“Y/N,” he choked out, his voice breaking as his hands gently touched your face. “Wake up. Please wake up.”

You were breathing, but you were unconscious, your body limp against the seat. The sight of you, so still, tore through him like a knife. He ran his fingers through your hair, his mind racing with a hundred different fears. He shook you gently, desperate for any sign of life beyond the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

“Come on, baby. Please…” His voice cracked, filled with desperation, knowing he couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not like this.

When you didn’t respond, Rafe’s panic spiked. He fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed for an ambulance. His voice was frantic, barely coherent as he told them about the accident and your condition. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited, his gaze never leaving you, praying that you’d open your eyes.

The ambulance arrived quickly, the flashing lights cutting through the darkness. Rafe stayed by your side as the paramedics arrived, watching helplessly as they lifted you onto a stretcher and placed you into the ambulance. His heart pounded with fear as he followed the ambulance to the hospital, his mind a mess of guilt, anger, and desperation. He called your mother, his voice trembling as he explained what had happened, his own shame barely contained as he told her you were on your way to the hospital.

The waiting room felt like a prison. Each minute dragged on painfully, the ticking of the clock in the sterile hospital room driving him to the edge of his sanity. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t think straight. His mind kept replaying the sight of your unconscious body, your car crushed on the side of the road, and the horrifying thought that it was all his fault.

He stared at the door to your room, his pulse pounding in his ears. The door opened, and when he saw your mother leave to fetch the doctor, his body moved on autopilot. He needed to see you.

When he stepped into the room, the sight of you lying so still in that hospital bed nearly broke him. The weight of his guilt came crashing down all at once. Every fight, every word he had thrown at you in anger, every mistake he'd made… it all came back, suffocating him. He blamed himself for everything—for the accident, for the fight, for putting you in this position.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Rafe whispered as he approached you, his voice hoarse with regret. “I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. I should’ve stopped you.”

But you didn’t look at him. You turned your head away, tears brimming in your eyes, and his heart shattered in a way he hadn’t thought possible. The distance between you, the emotional chasm that had grown wider and wider, felt insurmountable. He had driven you to this—pushed you to a place where you couldn’t even bear to look at him.

“Look at me, please,” Rafe pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, desperate to hold onto you, to feel some kind of connection.

But when you pulled your hand away, rejecting his touch, it felt like a final blow. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotion from overwhelming him. "Just go!" you cried out, your voice filled with pain.

In that moment, everything inside him collapsed. He wanted to say so much more—to tell you that he didn’t mean the things he’d said, that he was scared of losing you, that he didn’t know how to fix the mess he’d made. But the words stuck in his throat. He could see that you were done with him, and it broke him.

“I—” Rafe began, his voice a mere whisper, but he was interrupted when your mother returned with the doctor. He stood there, feeling helpless and defeated as the doctor examined you, making sure you were okay.

Rafe had no choice but to leave. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, retreating from the room, but the guilt was still there, eating him alive. As he walked out of the hospital, the weight of what he had done pressed down on him like a heavy blanket. He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something—anything to release the storm inside him. But he couldn’t. He just kept walking, the memory of your tear-filled eyes haunting him.

And as much as he wanted to blame Sarah for turning you against him, deep down, he knew that this was his fault. He had pushed you away, he had hurt you, and now... he was terrified that he’d lost you forever.

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