#him refusing to leave barry

[itachi86]

the way oliver opens up to barry too

[shrimpybbq]

rafe experiences the comfort of a mother

synopsis: rafe appears on his girlfriend’s doorstop, badly burnt and in need of care and affection

Rafe stood in front of the guest room, body stiff and hand frozen against the wooden door. He wanted to knock, he really did, and yet he was hesitant. Only the day before had the couple fought, screaming and shouting until both were out of breath. Rafe had watched his sweet girl leave with teary eyes and he’d felt bad, his heart twisting as she had slammed the door in his face. It was the same door he finally knocked on after realising he’d been motionless for too long. The rap of his knuckles echoed and for a moment, he wondered if she wouldn’t answer the door at all, until a creak sounded. Rafe raised his gaze to see his girlfriend standing in front of him, her fists rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“R-rafe? What are yo-”, she began to ask, voice heavy with tiredness, the hour late. It wasn’t until she looked at him properly that she paused, taking in his entire state. Rafe was standing there, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. It wasn’t the childlike pose that caught her eye though, no - it was the way Rafe’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and his bottom lip wobbling ever so subtly.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, as if she were talking to their son. Rafe could only shake his head side to side, slowly pulling his arm away. At the sight of the red and blistering flesh, she gasped loudly, “Oh my god! What happened?”.

“I-uh, I got into some trouble,” Rafe responded timidly, full of shame and in pain.

“Come here,” his girlfriend said, gently ushering him into the guest room, “sit down. Have you cleaned this?” She asked. Again he shook his head, leading her to hum lowly. “Ok, I’ll need to clean it. Gimme a sec.”

Rafe sat on the bed patiently as he took in the room. He’d never been in there since she began sleeping in there, now taking in all the little trinkets she had lying around. He had been trying to get her to move back into his room but she still refused, and the pair used the nursery as a mutual zone.

His musings were cut off by a gentle voice questioning him.

“What happened Rafe?”

“It’s nothing, just an accident, you know?” Rafe grumbled out as she began to wet antiseptic pads in front of him. She looked up at him, gaze incredulous.

“This is bad, Rafe. You don’t just get something like this accidentally! You said you got into trouble before - what did you mean by that?” She questioned. Rafe sighed, having underestimated just how much she would question him, but he should’ve expected that, he thought to himself. When he didn’t answer, she began to clean his arm.

The sharp stinging sensation that travelled through him as the antiseptic touched his burn made Rafe jump, his voice exclaiming in shock. It was that sudden pain that caused the unshed tears in his eyes to spill over, and it was like once he started he couldn’t stop. All his pain and worries spilled out of him, the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh baby, it’s ok, come here,” he heard her say, cleaning forgotten as she pulled his head into her chest. Whenever she had comforted Rafe in the past, this had been his favourite position, curled up against her chest and having his hair stroked. So she did just that, soothing his heaving sobs with each pass through his hair. “It’s ok Rafe, you’re ok here baby. I’ve got you, ok? Breathe, Rafe.”

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his sobs wetting the fabric of the tank top she wore. He’d almost completely exhausted himself by the time his sobs stopped, only able to breathe deeply now. It was then his muffled voice could be heard, “it was Barry.”

He felt her stiffen before she tentatively probed further. “Barry, your dealer?”

At the feeling of him nodding, she pulled him away from her chest. Her voice was stern, as if she was talking to a small child,

“Rafe, why is your dealer burning you? What did you do?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looked just a like their son, she thought, his features so innocent and needy.

“I-I couldn’t pay him back in time… I tried, I really did, but I had this thing and I couldn’t get it all there in time, and I said- I said to him I would get it bu-but he didn’t care,” Rafe began to ramble, his voice pleading with her to understand him. He had been trying to do better, for her - for his family. He watched her sigh, before she returned to clean his wound in silence. Rafe wanted to speak, to explain himself more but he didn’t know what to say, and the idea of her disappointed gaze upon him once more sealed his lips. The feeling of her fingers smoothing a burn cream over his wound tenderly had him curling back into her chest.

She began to card her fingers back through his blonde locks, feeling Rafe relax against her. When he was upset he would be one of two ways: angry and reactive, or clingy and touch-starved. Today, it was clear he was the latter. She couldn’t bare to leave him alone like this, and so she gently whispered,

“Come here baby, let’s get you into bed, ok?”

Rafe pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked up upon her face.

“Here?”

She nodded and began to pull the covers away, creating a space for him to shuffle in. Rafe allowed himself to be guided under the quilt and he couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of her fingers tenderly brushing his messed-up strands away from his forehead. As he made space for her beside him, Rafe watched his girlfriend pull away from the bed.

“Nononono-” he began to mutter, only to be cut off. His hand was outstretched pathetically to try and keep her by his side, scared to be alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m just going to the nursery. I thought you’d want him to stay with us tonight,” she soothed, watching surprised as Rafe shook his head in response.

“No, let him sleep. Just c’mere,” he mumbled, dragging her into his side and under the blankets. Within seconds Rafe had found his position for the night, curled up into her side, his head resting on her chest once more. He was so sullen and quiet as he listened to her heartbeat, hands clutching at her waist.

“Goodnight Rafe,” she uttered sleepily, the events of the night catching up to her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against her chest. He didn’t say it often, preferring to show his love for her through actions, but she always knew it. With a soft kiss against the crown of his head, she echoed those words back to him, before slipping into unconsciousness,

“I love you too, baby.”

[chosolar]

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈ when I'm with you

street racer sukuna x fem!reader

streetracer!sukuna is arrogant and cocky for a reason. he knows he's the best and no one can compare to him when it comes to being the fastest.

streetracer!sukuna has had a few run ins with the police here and there for speeding ofc and reckless driving, but he has enough money to pay off the tickets. the police have gotten so many complaints about him that they are on a first-name basis with him, but sukuna has always managed to get out of trouble with them

streetracer!sukuna may seem like the biggest fuckboy but finds hooking up and relationships to be a waste of time. he doesn't know why he has a reputation of being a fuckboy when he hasn't been with a lot of girls. why would he spend his money on flowers and date nights when he can use it to buy parts for his car?

streetracer!sukuna drives 2 different cars - the car he often uses for racing is his custom-wrapped burgundy red supra mk5, modded to the gods. the other one is his daily car, a black gt4 that is his baby. both of his cars are unique and anyone knows that the dark red supra is his.

streetracer!sukuna is wealthy enough as it is, but with all he races he's won, he's able to provide himself without his family's money. his parents wanted him to take over as he's the oldest but refused to do so, feeling that his calling in life was not being in suits and meetings all day. his parents aren't happy with the career he chose but they support him by giving him a huge monthly allowance.

streetracer!sukuna met you for the first time at a gala he was forced to go to in place of his father. he was getting annoyed of the other guests asking when he'll be working with his father over and over again so he took off to an empty part of the building, hoping to relax before he goes back in again. sukuna loosens tie and opens the door that leads to the balcony, not expecting to see a lady already there. "oh sorry I didn't know someone was here already."

"oh no don't worry, I was just about to leave," you reassure him and smiled. sukuna sighs and walks over to the spot beside you, resting his arms on the top of the balcony railing. "you don't have to leave. did you come out for a breather too?"

you nodded, "yeah a little. it's my first time going to a gala and I wasn't expecting it to be so..."

"snobby? pretentious? all of the above?" he butts in, his interruption earning a laugh from you. "yeah just a little."

both of you kept quiet for a bit when sukuna speaks up to introduce himself and you reciprocate the action. he's silently glad that you don't know him, either through his family or as the reckless street racer. he ended up staying with you longer than expected but he wanted to continue getting to know so he asks for your number before heading back to the gala.

streetracer!sukuna usually spends his friday and saturday nights driving around when he's not racing. usually he cruises with gojo and geto, but sometimes sukuna prefers the silence of being by himself. he's used to it now though, often choosing to race with no passengers compared to the other racers.

streetracer!sukuna finds himself wanting your company after meeting you at the gala. with races taking place at night, sukuna likes that he has the daytime to meet with you. whether that was picking you up from work or taking you out to a breakfast date, sukuna is always wanting to spend time with you somehow.

streetracer!sukuna is uncharacteristically bashful when you ask him about racing and his cars. he usually loves talking about it and always brags about his cars whenever he gets the chance but when it came to you, he has a hard time. (it's because he's worried you'll think he's living a dangerous and irresponsible life and if it was anyone else he wouldn't care but you're the first person whose opinion he cares about). he makes sure to only tells you half-truths when you question him about racing - yes he goes fast (and has crashed into road barriers), yes the police have stopped him a couple times (he's been arrested a couple of times but is released the day after). he cares about how you perceive him so he tries to not inform you of the dangers he experiences with the career he's in.

streetracer!sukuna usually drives fast but when you're in the passenger seat, he is not going any more than 10 above the speed limit. he's a professional racer so he's used to driving at high speeds but he doesn't want to risk anything with you in the car. sometimes you'll ask him to do a pull which he reluctantly agrees to, but he doesn't even try to reach the red line. he knows his cars well but he thinks about the off-chance that something could go wrong.

streetracer!sukuna is elated that you don't judge him for what he does for a living. he knows that it's a non-traditional job and it can be unstable but for sukuna, it's a lucrative occupation. he asks you often to come with him during races with a large prize because he says you're his lucky charm, he actually just wants to show off. ever since you got together, he's earned more than enough for the both of you to live very comfortably.

streetracer!sukuna only lets you drive his car. word spread around that someone that's not sukuna was in the driver's seat of his supra AND his gt4, and even some of the guys texted sukuna to see if it was true. he asked you first if he can tell them that you guys are together, and immediately said yes when you let him. to confirm everyone's suspicions, sukuna posts on his instagram a photo of his cars side by side with you sitting down on the hood of the gt4 posing cutely with the caption "everything I love". it's the only picture that he has pinned on his profile (yess we love a king who shows off his girl)

streetracer!sukuna is the epitome of gentle giant to you. everyone knows him as the intimidating tall racer who has a resting bitch face and does not like talking to anyone, but he's such a giant softie when he's with you. when you're beside him, all of a sudden he's smiling and doesn't look like he wants to murder someone. other racers only come up to sukuna when you're with him because you force sukuna to be nice and actually talk to them (they're thankful for you).

streetracer!sukuna is 2 words - THE CLINGIEST! because he races at night and when he hasn't seen you for a long time (1 day), he'll come over to your place and sleep over. he doesn't care if he has to drive to the other side of the city to do so, he wants to see you now. he gets grumpy if he doesn't feel you in his arms when he wakes up. mans just wants to wake up being cuddled and who can blame him

streetracer!sukuna was insanely nervous when he met your parents. he wasn't worried when you met his because he knew that they would love you (spoiler alert they do), but his palms were sweating when you said your parents wanted to meet him. he knows that his appearance is not the most conventional with his pink hair and tattoos all over his body, especially his face. he wanted to make a good impression so he opted to went to his mom to get help for his outfit and how to impress your parents. his mom thanked you after he left because she never thought she'd see the day her son would willingly wear a shirt with a collar.

streetracer!sukuna contemplates if he should stop racing when he misjudged the distance of the car when he was trying to take over and got into a really bad crash. he recovered quickly and is fine now, but the image of you crying at his bedside wouldn't leave his head. he knows you want to be supportive but he notices how hesitant you get when he tells you he has a race. he would do anything for you, even if it that means giving up his dream so that you could have a peace of mind.

streetracer!sukuna loves you unapologetically. he's never met anyone so encouraging and so patient with him, and he would be the world's biggest idiot if he fumbles you. he doesn't care if anyone calls him a simp for prioritizing you first above all else, he loves you too much to care about being name called. he knows you deserve the world and does his best to give you so, treating and spoiling you with whatever you desire. he's never going to let you go, and he doesn't care what anyone thinks because he knows that you're his endgame.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈

I wanna make a smau for this but like idk if I should, what do you guys think? again, not proofread hehe

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (7) r.cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, dd/lg, sugar daddy rafe, spoiling kink, little space, reader is feeling extra small, little editing, barry doing barry things 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Finally!!

word count: 4.2k

In which your Daddy wants to take you on a business trip but you're feeling way too little to want to tag along.

masterlist

Rafe pressed his phone between his shoulder and ear, needing to free both his hands to attend to you. Tears streamed down your face as you squirmed around on the sunroom couch. Two small swollen spots were on your arm, bee stings, but you were flailing so much that Rafe could barely get a good look. Unfortunately, Rafe was on the phone when the incident happened, and he and Barry were discussing today’s important plans. 

“It hurts!” you cried out, and Rafe could only assume that you’d never been stung by anything before. You woke up pouty, with Rafe sensing that you were on edge, maybe disappointed that Lana had been gone for so long, but this seemed to be the final straw for you: “It hurts!”

“What’s all the drama, Country Club?”

“Got stung by some bees,” Rafe spoke tersely, trying to pin your arm down, “I know, baby, I know. Gotta get the stingers out.”

He pressed his body weight against your hip, gaining better leverage to keep you still. Holding your arm tightly, he used a card from his wallet to scrape the area side to side. This only seemed to distress you more, but this was the best way he knew how to get rid of them. 

“Please, please, please,” You begged over and over, “It hurts, Daddy.”

“She gonna be okay for the trip?” Rafe heard Barry ask. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. She’s gonna love it,” Rafe grunted, keeping you pinned underneath him. 

Maybe this was a sign, Rafe thought. The morning so far had been terrible and no good for you, he didn't want to add further to your discomfort. With relative ease, Rafe got both stingers out, but you were still in pain, that was clear, “Stay right there, don’t move,” Rafe spoke sternly before he moved from on top of you, “Gonna get you some ice.”

“Don’t wanna go–please don’t leave me,” Rafe huffed at your immediate refusal of his command. He had no idea why you’d gotten so riled up. For time and argument’s sake, Rafe lifted you into his arms. He carried you back into the house and towards the kitchen. 

“Sterling was pretty willing to stop stealing your workers and spreading rumors about the company, yet he wants to meet again. You don’t think it’s shady he wants to meet outside of Kildare?”

“He wants more,” Rafe said as he sat you down on the kitchen island. He grabbed his phone again with his hand as he started to rummage through the freezer, “That’s the only possible reason.”

“And you want to hear him out? What else do we need from him?”

“What, you don’t think we need him?” Rafe countered, “You’re the one who gave me the idea in the first place.”

“I just …” Barry started, “I didn’t think you would want to go further.” 

“I’m not–It’s not a big deal,” Rafe shook his head as he finally picked out an icepack. Rafe’s mind was split between the urgent need to soothe your pain and the looming business discussions with Barry. A huge real estate investment convention was being held at some fancy hotel in Charleston and Sterling had chosen it as the setting of their next meeting. 

With the ice pack in hand, he returned swiftly to where you sat on the kitchen island, visibly distressed and still sniffling from the bee stings. “Here, baby. Hold that against your arm for me. It’ll make it feel better.”

Reluctantly, you held the icepack against your injury. The tears had stopped falling, but Rafe could sense that you were starting to grow upset with him rather than the bee sting. 

Rafe leaned against the counter, trying to ignore your glare and focus back on the conversation. "It’ll be a good chance to see who he’s connected with, maybe find some new business partners. I wanna see what else he’s after,” Rafe explained. “You didn’t see how desperate he acted at the club … I know we can get much more out of him. Like you said, everyone has a weakness.”

“We could use his connections,” Barry conceded, “But you don’t think he’s gonna maybe want an actual chance with Bambi?”

“I know how to handle this. I won’t let him get close enough to think he actually has a chance.”

“Huh,” Rafe could practically feel Barry’s uncertainty through the phone.

“Barry,” Rafe continued, his tone sharp and commanding, “I want everything ready. We’re taking three cars—two SUVs and the truck. You’ll drive the SUV with two guards, and me and Bambi will ride in the truck, and we’ll need another two men riding behind us. You’ll lead the way to Charleston. We won’t need it, but I want backup, extra firepower, the works.” 

Without another word, Rafe hung up the phone call, throwing his cell phone onto the counter. 

Next, Rafe searched for the first aid kit underneath the sink, “Are you angry, Daddy?”

“No,” Rafe said, looking into your eyes. “You know how Barry and I talk to each other. Daddy’s not mad.”

“Who were you talking about?” You brought your uninjured arm up to wipe your wet face. 

“We’re going on a trip,” As you stared at him, Rafe pulled out a red first aid kit. He set it on the counter before he rummaged through it, pulling out the tools he needed. “Remember Mr. Sterling? Daddy’s got some business to handle with him.”

You flinched when Rafe dragged an alcohol wipe across your skin, but he placed a hand on your waist, steadying you. You were much more compliant, much calmer when Rafe’s skin was against yours. 

“Oh,” You spoke simply and Rafe searched your eyes for the thoughts swirling behind them, “My arm hurts.” 

Rafe sighed, finding the pack of bandaids, “I know, Bambi. You want a pink or green bandaid?” 

“Where’s the Cinderella ones?” Your lips pouted as you looked down at the options Rafe presented you. 

“I don’t know. We must be out. You can have pink or green.” As your frowned deepened, Rafe took a deep breath, trying to hold his tongue, “Pick. Or Daddy’s gonna pick for you.” 

Reluctantly you reached out a finger and pointed to the pink bandaid. Rafe carefully placed it over the sting. 

Rafe leaned back, studying your face for lingering distress. “After this morning, I think a little vacation would make you feel better,” he said softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m taking care of everything. I just need you to be good.” 

“I want Lana to come with us.”

“She has the week off, remember?”

“What am I supposed to do while you’re working? You can call her, maybe? Maybe she’ll want to come.” 

“She’s with her family, Bambi. All week. I’m not gonna bother her,” Rafe spoke, finality in his tone. 

He closed the first aid kit and pushed it aside. “You’ll be fine without Lana. You’ve got me. I’ll keep you busy.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your gaze, but you were still pouting, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the pink bandaid he’d applied moments earlier.

“You’re always working,” you muttered, looking down at your arm. “You won’t have time.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained measured. “When I’m not working, I’m with you. Today’s no different. You’re gonna love it. We’ll stay in a big room and you can order whatever food you want and they’ll bring it to you.”

Your lips twitched as if considering a smile, but the pout remained. “But Lana always packs good snacks.”

“Bambi,” Rafe chuckled, stepping closer to wrap an arm around your waist. “I can pack snacks. I know what you like, don’t I? 

“Okay,” you mumbled reluctantly. 

Rafe smirked, satisfied with your compliance, before he lifted you off the counter and onto your feet, “No more tears, yeah? I don’t like seeing you upset.”

You nodded, watching as Rafe returned to his phone and began typing furiously. Your face fell again, and you realized that you craved Rafe’s undivided attention. Rafe’s “work” was beginning to bother you. When you stood in place, he looked up at you once more, “Why don’t you go upstairs and start packing baby? Put on something comfortable for the drive.”

You parted your lips but closed them quickly. You considered just being grateful that Rafe was taking you along on his business trip. After all, you hadn’t left the island the entire time you’d been with Rafe. Wasn’t there part of you that wanted to see more of the world? You ignored that voice in your head. Today, all you felt was that you wanted to be in bed, cuddled up to Rafe. You moped all the way up the stairs, and once you got to your room, you plopped sadly down onto your plush carpet. 

Rafe tried to organize his thoughts and keep everything he needed to do in line. He’d surprised himself with how much responsibility he’d been able to handle after caring for you for so long. He certainly wasn’t the man he used to be. Every step he made now was for you. 

Still, he was beginning to realize just how much he relied on Lana, how much she had helped both of you. Now, it was all on him. Between packing business attire, sorting through important documents, confirming meetings, and delegating tasks to his employees, he also had to make sure his truck was ready for the road. And then there was you, your lunch had to be packed, along with plenty of snacks, your favorite water bottle adorned with pink bows, and a tablet with headphones to keep you entertained. More importantly, to keep you from overhearing the kinds of conversations he didn’t want you listening to.

He finally felt on top of things, Barry and his men had arrived, and the cars were readied in driveway. But the moment he climbed the stairs and stepped into your room, that sense of control vanished. His jaw tightened at the sight before him. You were sitting on the carpet in the poofiest pink dress you owned, tears streaking your cheeks as you fumbled with a ribbon, your small hands trembling in frustration as you struggled to tie a bow in your hair.

“Bambi, baby. We’re gonna be in the car for hours. It’s not dress up time,” Rafe chided. 

“Don’ wanna’ go,” You hiccuped. Looking around the room, Rafe saw no sign that you’d actually begun gathering anything for the trip, “Please.”

Rafe consciously took a deep breath to steady his heart rate. The last thing he wanted to do was take out his frustration on you when you were in this state. He walked over to your armoire and picked out an appropriate outfit for you. 

Sitting down on the carpet with you, Rafe easily grabbed you by your hips and pulled you into his lap, “What’s going on with you, huh?” Rafe asked, tilting your chin to look him in the eyes. He brushed a finger across your cheek, wiping away tears. 

You pouted in response and Rafe’s lips pressed into a thin line. He grabbed the thick tulle of your dress at your waist and started to pull it up your torso. You started to wiggle a but Rafe only pulled you closer, “Arms up, c’mon,” Rafe encouraged. He pressed down the urge to discipline, to become impatient at the fact that you were delaying their departure.  

Instead, he stripped the dress off in one swift motion, letting the poofy fabric pool beside you before reaching for the soft, light green Tinker Bell baby tee he’d picked out.

Sliding each of your arms through the sleeves, he tilted his head, studying you as he pulled the fabric down over your torso. "Are you too little to dress yourself today, Bambi?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. A theory was already forming in his mind, a quiet suspicion about what was really behind your unusual behavior.

You nodded shyly before laying forward, resting your head on his shoulder. “I see, hmm. You’ll need Daddy’s help then,” Rafe sighed, now fully understanding you were slipping into a younger head space. Instinctively, his hands smoothed over your back. For so long, you’d been determined to be independent, eager to explore the world, to make friends at ballet, to learn and grow on your own terms. He had been so focused on giving you freedom within the boundaries he set. He hadn’t considered how much comfort you might find in letting go completely. In regressing.

And now, here you were, seeking the security of his presence, of his care. Holding you tight in one hand, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. He texted Barry to give him twenty more minutes. He held you there for a few minutes longer and debated how he would coerce you into the car. 

“You want some bows in your hair, baby?” He asked after a moment and you nodded against his shoulder. He reached for the one you were fumbling with earlier, “Daddy’s gonna bring you to the bathroom, okay?”

He carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the cool counter as he tended to your hair. It wasn’t his best work but he managed to tie some ribbons around the two curly buns on top of your head, “Look, there’s my beautiful, baby,” Rafe kissed you on your forehead, then nose, then both of your cheeks, until you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips, “Let’s get you ready. Don’t worry, Daddy will do everything.” 

He dressed you in a light, yellow tennis skirt with comfortable built-in shorts, the soft fabric swishing as he adjusted it on your hip. Packing a pair of converse in your bag, he let you remain in your flower-printed socks. He doubted you would get to the car in any other way than in his arms. 

Making sure you had things to do in the car and a few stuffed animals, he packed the rest of the things you needed, mostly outfits for the rest of weekend, into your suitcase. Satisfied that everything was in order, he zipped up your bright pink suitcase and set it aside. Now, all that was left was getting you to the car which, as he expected, would likely mean carrying you there himself.

When the two of you finally made it out of the front door, Rafe found Barry leaning against the hood of his SUV, “What’s the hold up?” Barry asked immediately, his sharp gaze flicking between Rafe and the way you clung to him.

Rafe was too focused, though. Without so much as a glance, he handed off your bright pink suitcase, dropping it into Barry’s hands with an unspoken expectation.

Rafe opened the passenger door, settling you into your seat and buckling you in. He placed a stuffed giraffe in your arms, making sure your water was in the cupholder, and you could reach your backpack. You looked up at him with sad eyes, your lips starting to tremble, “What is it?” Rafe asked, eyes full of concern. 

“Need Bunny,” you murmured, your voice small.

Of course, Rafe had forgotten the most important thing, your American Girl doll, “Where’d you leave her, baby?” 

When you only shrugged, Rafe sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door securely, he rounded the truck, his stride purposeful as he shot Barry a glance. “We’re leaving in two minutes.”

Barry scoffed but didn’t argue, watching as Rafe disappeared back inside the house.

You awoke to Rafe opening the passenger door. Carefully, he slipped off your headphones before pausing the Disney movie that you were watching on your tablet. You started to stir as Rafe undid your seatbelt. You whined, “Let’s stretch those little legs, Bambi,” Rafe spoke softly in response, “We’re halfway there.” 

You yawned, reaching out to him, even half asleep. Rafe tried to explain gently that he wouldn’t be able to carry you in public. To keep you from having a full meltdown, he promised he wouldn’t let go of your hand. 

You swung your legs over the side of the seat and Rafe was able to help you slip on your shoes, tying your laces quickly. When you finally got to your feet, you were wobbly. Rafe smoothed out your skirt for you, ensuring it wasn’t riding up in the back, before he grabbed your hand. 

“Where..” You started, pausing as you rubbed your eyes with your free hand. 

“Gas station. Let’s go pick some snacks, yeah?” 

“Candy?” You perked up. 

“One candy,” Rafe agreed. 

You spotted Barry, filling up at the gas pump directly behind the one Rafe had parked at. You liked Barry, he was nice to you, even if he usually had harsh words with your Daddy. He flashed his gold tooth at you, offering a small wave, but you tucked your face into Rafe’s arm, hiding yourself. You felt overwhelmingly shy, still, despite know him well. 

Rafe held your hand as you stepped inside, your eyes taking in everything around you with wide, sleepy curiosity. The air inside the station was cool and the fluorescent lights flickered softly above.

The gas station was quiet, typical for this time of day, with just a few locals milling around, most of them grabbing their own snacks or paying for their gas.

You clung to Rafe’s hand, your fingers curled tight around his, your sleepy eyes still darting around the store. You weren’t quite sure where to look first. The shelves lined with brightly colored candy wrappers drew your attention, but so did the rows of chips and juice boxes.

He walked with you toward the candy aisle. You let go of Rafe’s hand for just a second, standing on your tiptoes to try and see the top shelf. There were so many choices but your eyes always came back to a package of gummy worms. Rafe stood behind you, his arms crossed, watching as you took your time. 

You finally picked up the bag and held it up to him, the smile on your face shy. You glanced back at the candy before you asked with a small, barely audible voice, “One for Barry?”

Rafe looked over at Barry through the glass windows, still pumping gas outside, “You want to get something for Barry?”

You nodded and something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, something dark, maybe anger or possessiveness, “Fine, you can pick one thing.” 

When you’d picked out another bag of gummy wors for Barry, you followed Rafe as he grabbed a large bottle of water and a bag of chips. After Rafe paid for everything with his black card, you followed him back through the parking lot. You looked up at Rafe expectantly as you approached the three vehicles all of you were traveling in. 

“It’s your gift, you give it to him,” Rafe said. His look of encouragement was slightly forced but he placed a small hand on your back, urging you forward, “Go, little girl. I’m right here.”

“Here,” you said quietly, when your hesitant steps finally brought you over to the Barry’s car. In the passenger seat, you saw a tall and muscular man that you didn’t recognize. You looked away from him quickly, focusing on Barry. You placed the bag in his hand.“Candy… for you.”

Barry looked down, clearly surprised, but his lips curled into a grin. “Well, look at that,” he drawled, “That’s mighty sweet of you. Thank you, Bambi.”

Rafe, standing off to the side, shot Barry a sharp look, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. 

You nodded, fingers curling around the edge of your skirt before you turned and walked back towards Rafe. With one last glance toward Barry, who was still standing by the SUV, Rafe slid his hand to the small of your back, guiding you back to the truck.

The Uptown Grand sits in the heart of Charleston’s historic district, a five-star hotel that exudes old-world Southern charm. The bustling energy of the high-end real estate development convention provided the perfect backdrop for your Daddy's plans. He didn’t seem to flinch at the curious glances from the occasional attendee who dared to acknowledge his entourage. To most, he was a shadow moving through the crowd, and to those few who did give him a second glance, his quiet authority was all too clear.

Rafe sat you on top of a stack of suitcases that sat on the luggage cart, keeping you out of the way, as he handled checking in to the opulent hotel. A song from the Little Mermaid played in your headphones as your eyes wandered everywhere, to the soft velvet curtains, polished marble floors, and all of the antique, gold chandeliers. In the center of the lobby was a large fountain that added an unexpected calm to the environment. You watched as men and women in impeccable business attire navigated the space, their footsteps purposeful, conversations hushed but intense.

You shifted slightly, taking it all in, feeling like a quiet observer in a world that wasn’t quite yours. Bringing you back down to earth, Barry offered you a gummy worm and you happily accepted, having ate all of yours hours ago. 

You tuned out as Rafe began to push the cart towards the elevator, walking along with Barry, they talked about business things that you didnt understand. You adjusted your headphones, looking down at the sorting game you’d been playing on your tablet. 

You rode on the cart all the way from the elevator to the hotel suite. Your room had double doors and sat at the end of the hallway. Barry was in the room right next door and you watched as Rafe spoke some parting words before you both entered your room. The door shut and Rafe swiftly helped you down from the spot where you were perched. Still enjoying your calming music, you walked around the room, setting your tablet down on the coffee table in the seating area. 

The furniture and decor was extravagant, even more so than at Tannyhill. High ceilings stretched above you and warm light casted golden hues on the room. You wandered further, into the bedroom, finding a king-sized bed dressed in soft looking sheets and a tufted headboard that stretched nearly to the ceiling. The en-suite, visible from the bedroom, featured those same marble floors from the lobby and gold fixtures. 

You were still taking it all in when you felt strong arms wrap around you, Rafe pulling your body into his. He tucked his head into your neck, placing kisses there, until you were giggling. When he loosened his grip, you turned to face him. He slowly lifted your headphones, grinning tiredly down at you, “It’s been a long day,” He said, “A bath and then it’s bedtime, okay?”

You didn’t argue, just melted against him. 

He lifted you, carrying you into the bathroom. You sat on the counter, swinging your legs idly, watching him with tired eyes as he ran the bath, testing the temperature with his hand. You watched him undress, your cheeks heating up at the sight of his sculpted figure. After he undressed you, the two of you slipped into the water. You settled between his knees, laying back against his chest. He arms curled around your middle and for awhile there was only silence. Just the rhythmic sound of water against porcelain, the steady rise and fall of his breath against your shoulder. 

When you were close to falling asleep, Rafe guided a soapy cloth over your skin, getting you clean. 

“Bambi,” Rafe spoke softly, “I have to tell you something.”

You hummed in response, loving the feeling of his gentle hands, “This weekend is very important to Daddy. You’ve already been a good girl but I need you to be Daddy’s perfect angel. Everything I say, or Barry says, you do. Do you understand?” 

“Mhm, Daddy,” You murmured, feeling his arms tighten around you in approval, “Can I ask somethin’?”

“Course, baby.”

“Wha…”  You tried to put your words together, choosing each one carefully, “Wha do you want from Mr. Sterling?”

Rafe went quiet for a moment. You turned your head to peak at him, “Everything, I think.”

“Everything,” You repeated, blinking up at him. 

“Mhm,” He presses a kiss to your temple, “Everything pretty and shiny. All the toy’s he doesn’t play with correctly. He’s sitting on a whole kingdom, doens’t even know how to run it. Doesn’t know how to take care of it.”

You scrunched your nose, thinking, “You’ll ask him for it?” 

“Something like that, baby,” Rafe’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a smirk, “Just gonna help him understand. Help him see things my way.”

“Daddy’s so smart,” You sighed, snuggling against him. 

Rafe hummed, pleased. “That’s right, angel,” he whispered against your hair. “And my baby’s gonna be extra good for me, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled sleepily. “I’ll be so, so good…”

hope you enjoyed!! a reblog w/ your thoughts would be much appreciated :)

[earlgreylatte]

2V1

In which you stand no chance against them.

Hal Jordan and Barry Allen

You were going to die. You were definitely going to die.

Writhing against the binds Hal constructed did little to let you escape Barry’s fervent mouth. You lost count on the number of orgasms the speedster ripped out of you, vibrating his tongue and fingers in a way that had you seeing stars. You’re not sure how a training session devolved into the two men trying to see how many orgasms they could wring out of you. This was not you intended your endurance training to go, but you couldn’t deny you were being pushed to your every limit.

Hal, using his ring, had kept you on the edge for what felt like hours, mercilessly teasing you with his fingers, forcibly keeping your body still with his constructs, the only thing you could do was cry and tremble. You nearly sobbed in relief when sweet Barry felt guilty enough to step in, kissing your thighs apologetically before pressing his mouth against your mound, eating you out like a men possessed. But now you were shaking and sobbing for a different reason as the man refused to even come out for air.

“You were so desperate earlier, begging to come, but now you want to tap out, sweetheart?” Hal crooned, watching you break again as he languidly strokes himself. “After Bar gives you exactly what you asked for?”

The man tsks mockingly as Barry nips at you, eliciting a yelp from you.

“Don’t focus on him, just let me take care of you, honey, I want you to feel good,” Barry murmurs, blue eyes gazing at you with a striking intensity as he moves up your body, peppering you with open mouthed kisses until he’s able to mouth at the pulse point on your neck.

Hal barks out a laugh, “You’ll spoil her like that.”

His suit dematerializes, revealing him in his full nude glory as he approaches your laid form with a smug smirk as you try not to gawk at his size.

“After all, you still owe us, don’t you, baby?”

Booster Gold and Ted Kord

Earlier you had insisted you could handle it. You were more than ready. Honestly, how hard could it be, you joked.

But as Ted began to slowly penetrate you from behind, you realize you might have bitten off more than you could chew.

Letting out a shaky moan, your head falls forward onto Booster’s shoulder, who nuzzles his cheek against your hair, “Just breathe, you’re doing so good.”

You can only whimper pathetically, panting at how overwhelmingly full you felt. You hear Ted groan into your ear, hands flexing against your hip.

“Almost there,” he grunts before letting out a hoarse laugh, “Might not last long with the way you’re gripping me.”

“‘Think that’s my line,” you mumble, keeping your face pressed against Micheal’s shoulder, before flinching away when you feel him twitch inside you.

“MJ!” You scold halfheartedly, keeping your eyes shut lest you finish embarrassingly quick.

“You’re both so hot,” he groans out, strands of blond hair sticking against his forehead.

Ted chokes out a laugh, sliding his hands up to grope your breasts, having finally bottomed out. “Let’s try not to make this into a fastest orgasm contest.”

“Don’t know if anyone is going to beat your record,” Booster teases you, kissing your forehead, as you try to shoot him a teary glare.

“Just shut up and move already—ah!” You are promptly cut off when Micheal sharply thrusts into you before laughing again.

“Don’t be in such a rush, we have all night to leave you in bed for the next week,” The blond hums, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit causing your breath to hitch.

“Besides, you look cute when you’re stuffed by our dicks…want to savour it, right Teddy?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him tease you…too much,” Ted whispers in a mock conspiratorial tone as his grip on your chest tightens.

Yes, you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle

After dumping Bruce, you hadn’t expected another of his ex lovers to approach you nor did you expect for her to make advances towards you. But you count yourself grateful, knowing that the bat’s other lovers would have rather put a blade to your throat. And there was something undeniably alluring about her, something that left every one of her actions demanding your total attention.

And it was nice to talk shit about your mutual ex.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to when you found yourself drowning in her arms, every stroke and graze being devastatingly intentional, leaving you to completely submit to her whims. Not that you minded. What you did mind was when Bruce suddenly entered through your hotel room’s window while Selina had three fingers in you.

It was almost funny seeing the detective visibly stiffen in shock, seemingly out a loss for words, “I…I thought—“

“You know I don’t spend all my time stealing. Maybe you should spent more time out of that cowl too,” Selina smirks, still not removing herself out of you, only pressing more weight against your body when you squirm.

“Well, might as well stay for the show,” Selina jerks her head toward the armchair next to the window, “God knows you haven’t been getting any since you let this one go.”

You almost laugh at the woman’s boldness before she bends her fingers in a way that having you letting out a shaky moan.

“Eyes on me, sweet girl, let’s show the bat how a lady should be treated,” She purrs.

You quickly find yourself forgetting about Bruce until you hear the sound of his belt clinking and a quiet moan.

Huntress and Question

Honestly, you must have a penchant for attracting weirdos, you think, as you find your days consisting of a certain anti hero and conspiracy buff glued to your side.

Both were, without a doubt, nut cases; Helena, with her too knowing gaze and sharp tongue, and Vic’s muttering and faceless mask making the duo a bit odd in the eyes of others. But the two weren’t all bad. Helena always looked out for you, ready to come to your defence without question, even if it meant threatening people with her crossbow. Vic had a knack for remembering the most obscure details you’ve shared and always knew what you needed with just a glance.

Really, they weren’t as bad as people made them out to be.

However, you promptly withdraw any kind word you’ve said about the two of them when you’re left at their mercy.

You squirm against Vic’s lap, his grip on your naked waist unrelenting, as his erection presses against your rear as Helena tightly sucks your clit, ripping a strangled yelp from you. You’re sure you would have jumped out of Vic’s lap if not for his hold on you.

“Aww, you’re so cute, never had anyone lick this pretty pussy before?” Helena laughs before pressing her tongue against your folds as you let out a cry.

You feel Vic’s thankfully unmasked face nuzzle against your neck, “Based on her reactions and lack of any evidence of a former lover in my investigation—“

“Q!” You complain, feeling your face heat up before moaning when Helena slides a finger in you without warning.

“What have I said about names?” She scolds you with a twinkle in her eyes.

“A bit unfair considering you’re both still in costume,” you pant.

“I wouldn’t call my coat a ‘costume’—”

“Shut up, Q.”

Really, they weren’t that bad.

Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first helenavic threesome fic LMAOO actually I will now take this as fact without verifying, it is my badge of honour…also I really put b in that chair lol… Masterlist

This is how rip hunter was conceived btw!!

[archiveluna]

BSF!RAFE S1–S4! ₊˚ෆ INSPIRED BY THIS & THIS!

season one. what a horrible boy… literally the worst friend ever. honestly treats you like shit and he’s probably made you cry before—but also kinda overprotective? he can say mean shit to you but the moment someone else tries to do the same he is not having it! and more often than not, topper and you have to pull him away because he tries to start a fight with whoever said anything to you. constantly ditching you, forgetting any plans you’d made, and only offering half-assed apologies to get you off his back. it’s such a toxic friendship. you’ve tried cutting him off before, but it doesn’t really work because he refuses to let you go. you can block his number, block him on social media, but the next day he’s still showing up to your house like nothing happened, letting himself in. straight up laughs in your face if you tell him to get out. condescendingly calls you baby. “think you’re overreactin’ a little bit, baby. i already said i was sorry—dunno what else you want from me.”

season two. still kinda toxic, but let’s also add codependency and possessiveness now. he’s spiraling and you’re the only who’s there for him. he honestly scares you a little bit at times… but you genuinely do care for him. how can you not? it’s rafe—you’ve known each other your whole lives. and in his own way, you know he cares for you too, so you stick by him. doesn’t want you to look at him the same way everyone else does, so he doesn’t tell you about peterkin or any of the other shady shit he does, and you don’t ask either. he shows up to your house at unholy hours of the night, rarely ever calm. he’s always wide–eyed and jittery from the lines he’d done before leaving his house, seeking your comfort and reassurance. you show up to pick him up when he’s released from jail after ward ‘dies’ and you hold him in your arms later that night when he breaks down and tells you everything. now that you know what he’s done, he sees no point in keeping anything from you… but just know he’s never letting you go now. “don’t know what i’d do without you baby… you’re the only thing that’s keeping me from losin’ my goddamn mind.”

season three. you couldn’t leave with him when he’d left for guadeloupe with his family, so you don’t hear from him for a while. it’s not that he didn’t want to text or call you—he was dying to. rafe genuinely felt like he was going crazy without you, but he couldn’t risk it. when ward sends him back to the obx, you’re the first person he pays a visit to. you freeze when you open the front door, and there he is. he looks different. more… put together. the buzzcut makes him look mature, the way he was dressed—the way he carried himself. god and then he’s smiling at you. “hey baby…” he drawls. you throw yourself into his arms, gasping out his name, and rafe doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, gently swaying you both. “missed you so damn much,” he mumbles into your hair. apart from when he’s out with barry dealing with some ‘business’, the two of you are glued to each other. and he’s sooo touchy… <3 always has to have an arm lazily slung over your shoulders or around your waist. also likes to rest his hand on the small of your back. things definitely change between you two—in a good way.

season four. the line between ‘best friends’ or more is getting blurry between you two. but neither of you really talk about it—not yet, at least. he’s so sweet and attentive sometimes you can’t believe this is the same rafe who used to treat you like shit. now that he has his own house you spend most, if not all, of your time there. he even cleared one of his drawers out for you. you have makeup, jewelry, and other things scattered around his room or bathroom. and honestly? rafe loves it. he loves you. he doesn’t know why it took him this long to come to his senses but he’s never been more sure of anything than he is about this—about you. you’re his girl, the one person who stood by him through it all without judging him and he knows he most definitely doesn't deserve you, but he'll be damned if he lets anyone else sweep in and take you from him. rafe doesn’t outright ask you to be his girlfriend but his sudden change in behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by you. the way he calls you “baby” or “sweetheart” feels way more intimate and possessive now. ‘unintentionally’ kisses you once as he’s heading out. when you don’t immediately shut him down he keeps doing it until the quick kisses turn to making out, and making out turns into you two getting a little too carried away. gifts you a promise ring and officially asks you to be his girlfriend—proceeds to fuck you into the mattress later! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ “my girl,” he grunts against your ear, sliding in and out of you as the bed creaks beneath you both from the force of his thrusts. “never lettin’ you go baby. you hear me? you’re stuck with me forever sweetheart.”

[girlinterupptedsblog]

request.. reader tells Rafe that barry paid for her new nails and he freaks out in jealousy

New nails

Hope you will like it love x

Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, possessiveness, jealousy, strong language, heated confrontation, implied smut, rough behavior, gaslighting, unhealthy obsession.

You admired your nails, tilting your hands under the light to watch the way the glossy finish shimmered. Barry had done a good job picking out the color—it was perfect. Not too bold, not too plain, just right.

And all you had to do was say thank you.

You weren’t stupid; you knew Barry had an angle. He’d been hovering around you for weeks, waiting for an opening that you wouldn’t give him. But you didn’t stop him from paying for your appointment today. Maybe it was just boredom, maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the fact that you were sick of Rafe treating you like a possession he refused to claim.

He didn’t want a relationship.

But God forbid anyone else tried to have you.

You had barely been home for two hours before the inevitable happened.

Rafe found out.

And now he was here, banging on your door like a madman.

"Open the damn door!"

You exhaled slowly, rolling your eyes before pushing yourself off the couch. He was relentless, and you knew he wouldn't leave unless he got what he wanted. With a deep breath, you turned the lock and pulled the door open.

Rafe stormed in before you could get a word out, his face twisted in anger. "Barry paid for your nails?"

You crossed your arms. "Nice to see you too, Rafe."

"Don’t do that," he snapped. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m pissed."

You arched a brow, feigning innocence. "I don’t, actually. You don’t want me, remember? So why the fuck do you care who pays for my nails?"

His jaw flexed, and for a second, you swore he looked caught off guard—like he hadn’t expected you to throw his own words back at him. But it was only a flicker before his usual arrogance returned.

"Because you’re not his," he seethed.

You scoffed. "I’m not yours either, Rafe."

The silence that followed was deafening. His eyes darkened, lips parting like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. He just stood there, tension rolling off him in waves.

Then, without warning, he lunged.

Your back hit the wall before you could react, Rafe’s hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in. His breath was warm against your face, his body pressed so close you could feel his heart pounding.

"You wanna push me, huh?" he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "You wanna see how far I’ll go?"

You swallowed hard, but refused to back down. "You already made it clear what you want, Rafe. You don’t get to pick and choose when you care."

His eyes flickered to your nails, and his lips curled in disgust. "What, you think Barry can give you what I can’t?"

You tilted your chin up defiantly. "He treats me better than you do."

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think he’s doing this out of kindness? You think he actually gives a shit? He’s just waiting for a chance to fuck you."

"And what if I let him?" you challenged, your voice dripping with defiance.

Rafe’s hand shot up, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him. "Don’t fucking test me," he warned, his voice a growl. "Because I swear to God, I’ll remind you exactly why you keep coming back to me."

You hated that he was right. Hated that his touch sent a shiver down your spine, hated that despite everything, you still wanted him.

Rafe smirked, like he could see the war raging inside you. "Yeah," he murmured, pressing his lips to your jaw. "That’s what I thought."

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. "You’re such an asshole."

He hummed against your skin.

His lips found yours then, possessive and demanding, a silent claim that he refused to put into words. Because Rafe might not have wanted a relationship—

But he’d be damned if he let anyone else have you.

[jjscrybaby]

𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑵𝑬 💿 — 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚

rafe cameron x fem!reader | angst | (drug use, drug addiction, 1 mention of vomit & overdosing, happy ending cause i’m the worst with angst.)

masterlist.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You couldn’t look away, no matter how badly you wanted to. His pupils were blown out, his nostrils were red and dripping, there was a slight swing to his jaw. You knew it was bad, but you’d never let yourself focus on it this much; you knew once you did there would be no going back.

Rafe was pacing back and forth, he’d started of with telling you a story about Topper but now he was on a self-pitying rant — the cocaine talk is on another level. He must’ve done at least a gram, you were certain there was a little bit of dry blood on his hands.

“You know I don’t want to be like this, right? Like, not that it’s that big of a deal, everyone does it, I mean even Top’s doin’ it at the moment. It’s not like I’m forty, I’m nineteen, I’m allowed to fuck up—” he rambled, hands waving about erratically as he spoke.

One thing he’s promised you when he first started the drug was that you’d never have to witness it, yet here he was in your bedroom off his head. This was your safe place, away from his angry outbursts during the withdrawals and constant need of reassurance during the come-downs.

“Rafe,” you interrupted, your voice exhausted yet snippy. He looked over at you, eyes wide. “What are you even talking about?”

“…what?” He murmured. It was clear he had no idea, and that just made you more pissed off.

“We were meant to be getting pizza and watching a movie,” you stated, tears springing to your eyes. He’d promised that you’d finally get a chill night to yourselves, but then again he always does.

“Yeah, order the food then,” he shrugged, grabbing his phone from the vanity to throw to you.

It landed on its screen, and the first thing you noticed was the white powder residue that had stuck onto his phone case. Your lip quivered, hands shaking as you shook your head and held the phone back to him.

“You won’t even be hungry. You’re off your fucking head,” you stated.

Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes at your attitude. “No I’m not. I’ve been home all day.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rafe!” You snapped, sitting up fully now as you stared daggers at him; trying to ignore the sting of your tears. “You’ve been with Barry, haven’t you?”

“I— I don’t get why it’s any of your business. You’re not my fuckin’ mom. I’m a grown man, I can do what I want,” he argued, voice raising.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You weren’t even sure the words were going to come out, but the second they did you felt a horrifying feeling; relief. Relief that you’d finally spoken your mind, relief that you weren’t allowing yourself to live in constant fear anymore.

Every moment you couldn’t get ahold of Rafe, night or day, you had a vivid image of him on the floor, choking on his own vomit after doing one too many lines. You’d told him once, in the safety of your covers, and he’d told you to stop being so damn dramatic. The problem was that you weren’t being dramatic, and him overdosing was a perfectly reasonable worry for you to have.

“What?” He asked, after a moment of silence where he’d just stared at you as if you’d lost your mind.

“I can’t do it,” you repeated, voice breaking. “I love you, but I refuse to be in a relationship where all I do is worry about you.”

“That’s- that’s not fuckin’ fair, baby. Don’t do that. You know I love you.” He was on the bed now, panic in his eyes as he crawled towards you and tried to grab at your hands. “I have a problem, okay? I know that. I’ll work on it, I promise. Just don’t do this, okay? You don’t want that, you don’t want to leave me.”

“It’s not about leaving you, Rafe,” you sob, now allowing your tears to freely fall. “It’s about putting myself first. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. We can’t even have one night without you being on it!”

“That’s not true! I’m not on it right now!” The fact he continued to lie just made things worse, and just made you stick with the decision you’d made.

“I want you to leave,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, reaching forward to wipe your tears with his thumbs. “No. I’m not leavin’. We’re not doing this. I need help, okay? I need help.”

“You may know you need help, but are you ready to get it?” The silence that followed was answer enough. “I want you to leave.”

Tears streamed down both your cheeks, he shook his head as he gripped onto your face. “Please— don’t do this, baby, please. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to lose you—”

“Then sort yourself out,” you stated bluntly, pulling away from his hold. “And once you do, we’ll talk.”

It looked like he was going to argue again, beg you to change your mind, but the look in your eyes told him it was no use. You’d decided, and deep down he completely understood why.

He got up from your bed, lip quivering and tears down his pale cheeks. He grabbed his phone and keys from your vanity and looked back at you, you refused to look at him. He stepped out of your room and closed the door behind him, collapsing against your bedroom door with a sob.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You hadn’t expected to hear from him right away, and you definitely weren’t going to be the first to reach out, but you didn’t think that five months would go by without a word. You hung in different circles, the last time you saw him was three months ago at the country club where you’d swiftly locked yourself in the bathroom to sob.

“Hey.” Your whole body stiffened at the familiar voice that you hadn’t heard in so long, your head swivelled round.

He looked different, he looked healthy. He’d gained the weight back in his face and his hair was buzzed short. You hadn’t seen him whatsoever, so you almost let out a gasp at the new look.

“Hi,” you replied softly, fingers tightening around the red-solo cup in your hand.

“Can we talk?” He asked. If he’d ever asked that before, you’d know that it wasn’t a question. It was a demand. But now it really felt like he was asking, it really felt like you had the option.

“Um… yeah. I just need to bring these drinks to the girls,” you explained, nodding to the table where you’d filled up multiple cups with vodka and orange-juice.

“Sure. Meet me in the hallway in five?” He questioned, giving you a smile. You felt yourself nodding your head, mirroring his expression.

You took the drinks over to your friends, you told a little white-lie and said you were going to the bathroom. They didn’t know the ins and outs of yours and Rafe’s relationship, but they knew how broken you were at the end of it; they wouldn’t understand.

He was leant against the wall, nibbling on his bottom lip as if he was nervous. When his eyes landed on you, he smiled softly and took a step forward to meet you halfway.

“Hey,” he greeted, again.

“Hi,” you murmured, looking up at him. “You shaved your hair.”

“Wanted a change,” he shrugged, running his hand over his buzzed head with a sheepish smile. “You like it?”

Surprisingly, you found yourself nodding. You’d always loved his hair, loved running your fingers through it or sleepily watching him sort it in the mornings. But the buzz cut made him look more mature, and that was something you never thought you’d see.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” you stated quietly. You’d refused to ask his friends where he was when you saw them at parties and the club, if you did it would only be proving you missed him.

“Yeah, uh, I spent a few months off the island,” he explained slowly, keeping his eyes on yours. “Went to rehab.”

“What?” You weren’t sure you’d heard him right, eyes widening slightly and heart racing. “You went to rehab?”

He smiled at you, nodding. “It was unhealthy and I needed to stop before I lost anything else.”

“So you’re sober?” You asked hopefully, praying this wasn’t some kind of cruel trick; a way to get his revenge for you leaving him behind.

“Yeah, I’m sober. Off the booze, too. Drinking water,” he laughed, waving his cup around.

“What are you doing at a party then?”

He scratched the back of his neck, letting out a soft chuckle. “Uh, well, I only got back last night and I was going to try and go to your place but Top texted saying you were here.”

“Why are you here to see me?” You asked, heart stuttering in your chest.

“Because I fucked up, and you’re owed the biggest apology out of anyone. But mostly I wanted to show you who I am now, and who I want to be… with you,” he explained, voice soft and quiet.

Your eyes shone with tears as he stepped closer to you, one hand wrapping around your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You gave him a wobbly smile.

“I love you, so fucking much. These last few months have been hell, for a multitude of reasons, but all I could think about was you. I treated you badly, and I understand if you never want to see me again, but I’m begging you to give me another chance. To let me treat you how I should have from the start,” he said, wiping away a tear that dripped down your cheek.

“Okay,” you agreed, voice wavering with emotion. “I want that.”

A grin broke out on his face, his lips latching onto yours. The kiss was gentle, full of love and a thousand apologises. He pulled away first, his forehead leaning against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured back. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Already? Someone’s eager,” he teased, making you swat at his chest with an amused smile. “I’m kiddin’. How ‘bout we go get some pizza and watch a movie?”

You nodded your head, arms looping around his neck. “Sounds perfect.”

[rafesangelita]

♡ MUSIC TO WATCH BOYS TO :: “i like you a lot, putting on my music while i’m watching the boys.”�� there’s no denying the attraction you and rafe share when you two meet each other. the only problem? he does business with barry, your older brother.

warnings: dealer!rafe, barry’slittlesister!reader, slight age gap, mentions of drugs, dealing of drugs, protective barry, heavy flirting, teasing, playful banter, slight slut shaming, mentions of underaged drinking (reader is twenty, rest assured!), unprotected sex, semi-public sex, rafe fucks you against the wall, hair pulling, overstimulation, cream pie

links: series masterlist | next chapter

wc: 3.8k

tick, tick, tick.

you glanced at the clock in the corner of your room, the time 3:37 PM flashing back at you. the hottest time of the day, and you were definitely feeling it. you sighed, deciding to play some vinyls to pass the time. barry had stepped out real quick, leaving you by yourself to play your music as loud as you want.

you hummed along to the tranquil sounds, putting your hair up in a ponytail as you watched the record spin. placing your hands on your hips, your head shot up as you heard the revv of a bike outside. probably barry, you thought. making your way to what’s supposed to be the living room, you waited for the door to open, ready to give your brother an earful about the ac going out, again.

instead, you were met with a loud bang and a series of knocks after that. you jumped at the sound, peeking outside the window to see who it was. fresh haircut, collared shirt, and a gold ring on his index finger, he was definitely not from this side of the island. “it’s rafe man, open the door!” you paced back and forth, wracking your brain if whether or not you should let him in. barry’s number one rule for you was to never open the door to anyone who comes looking for him, he refused to get you involved in anything he did.

what was a kook doing here anyways?

the man outside kept knocking until finally you cracked the door open, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “ah, shit, i’m sorry i didn’t know barry had a girlfriend.” you were immediately taken aback by his words, a grimace gracing your face. “ew, no way! he’s my brother.” you moved forward, your body basically wedged between the flimsy metal.

at this, rafe raised his eyebrows. “your brother? i’ve never seen you here before.” you crossed your arms. “yeah, that’s because he’ll have a heart attack if i come out while he has someone over.” rafe scoffed. “yet, you opened the door for me?” the corner of his lips lifted slightly, your heart squeezing at the sight. “don’t flatter yourself, it’s not everday that a kook turns up outside.” you tilted your head, letting it rest on the doorframe. rafe scanned your outfit before his gaze settled on your eyes. “that’s fair,” he nodded, “i could see the resemblance a little.” you laughed softly.

“we have different dads, but i’m way prettier than he is.” you rocked on your feet, letting your orbs wander across the man in front of you. “yeah, you are,” your cheeks heated instantly, rafe taking notice of the effect he had on you. “you gonna let me in? or do i have to stand here until barry gets back?” you pretended to think, tapping your red nail against your chin. “you could wait!” you slammed the door, laughing loudly at the look on his face.

as much as you really did want to let him in, you knew you had to be smarter, considering the kind of business barry was in. you went back to your room, still giddy from your interaction with rafe. you moved the curtain, watching as he plopped down on one of the crates outside. pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your music still played in the background as you kept your eyes on him.

there was no denying how attractive he was, anyone with two eyes could see how handsome he was, especially with that pained stare of his. less than five minutes later, you saw barry walking up the dirt path, rafe jumping out of his seat to greet your brother. you quickly stood by where the entrance of your room was, listening closely to their conversation. “hey, man, did you try to come in or something?” your eyes widened as you mentally slapped yourself. of course you’d forget to lock the door when you really needed to.

“nah, a girl answered it.” to be fair, you slammed the door in rafe’s face, but you didn’t expect him to full on tell on you for it. “you don’t say…” you threw yourself on your bed, pretending to read a magazine just in time for barry to come in. “come out here,” he ushered you towards the living room. “you answering doors now?” he sat down next to rafe on the couch. rafe wore a smirk, obviously enjoying all of this. “i just answered this one. he looks harmless anyways,” rafe’s smirk disappeared as barry burst out laughing beside him. “damn country club! can you tell we’re related?” you rolled your eyes, taking a seat at the small round table by the kitchen.

rafe held his hands up in defense. “i’ll give that one to her,” he took out a wad of cash, throwing it in barry’s lap. “just don’t do it again, alright? i ask you not to do that for a reason.” barry pointed at a paper bag in front of you. “stopped at your favorite spot, mary gave it to me on the house as soon as i mentioned your name.” you smiled, taking the slice of cherry pie out of its container. you made a mental note to go by and thank her later. “thank you, bear,” barry shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as soon as the nickname slipped.

“y/n..” you laughed, licking the cherry filling from your finger. rafe watched you the entire time, loving the way your laugh sounded in his ears. “i’m sorry!” you wiped your brow, the sweat reminding you of what you were gonna tell him in the first place. “the ac is out again by the way,” barry took a box out from behind the couch, “yes, y/n, i know it’s like a thousand degrees in here.” he cracked open the windows. you looked past him, your eyes falling on rafe who was manspreading on the couch. with a view like that, it was nearly impossible to look away.

him and rafe started trading cash and blow, both of them wearing a serious expression as rafe weighed the baggies and barry counted the money. “i ran into lori on my way back,” barry spoke up, “she said you and her were gonna go out tonight?” rafe paused, looking up at you as you nodded. “yeah.. so?” you arched a brow at him. “you aren’t going to the tavern again are you? i’m not gonna be happy if i get another phone call that you and your troublemaker of a friend are dancing on tables together.” now it was your turn to be embarrassed.

you cleared your throat. “yes, we are going to the tavern, but no dancing on tables this time, just to hang out with some friends.” barry nodded. “i’ll be paying that bartender a visit if he serves you,” you swallowed thickly at his words. “you’re not even old enough to be in there.” he added. rafe’s jaw clenched as you answered back. “i’m old enough for them not to ask questions, they don’t care.” you got up, throwing the empty pie container in the trash can.

“i’m gonna go get ready at lori’s, at least at her place i could make it out the door without melting.” you went to your room, quickly throwing some clothes in your bag before making your way to the living room. rafe stared at your exposed midriff as you stood in front of the door. “lori’s is kinda far, why don’t you wait till i’m done here and i can take you.” you shook your head, your fist twisting the doorknob. “no need, i’ll come back home later tonight.” you spared rafe one more glance before leaving, a small smile forming on your lips when he winked.

“i didn’t know you had a little sister, bear.” rafe mocked your nickname for your brother, barry shoving his shoulder soon after. “call me that again and i’m gonna fuck you up country club.” rafe clapped his hands, putting the bags he weighed in his backpack. “i’m just fucking with you man,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “but seriously you had a sister this whole time? and i’m barely finding out about her now?”

barry flashed him a look. “yeah, and? you don’t need to know about her,” he put his cash in the same box as the coke, flipping the top closed. “she’s the only family i got, i don’t want her in the mix with what i do.” he sat back in his seat. “she’s cute.” rafe shrugged. “yeah? your sister is cute too, ‘think she’ll give me a chance since she’s already running around with a pogue anyway? watch your mouth, man.” rafe laughed as beads of sweat started forming on his forehead.

“jesus christ.” he shook his head. “kook party tonight, so i’m gonna be on my way.” rafe slung his backpack over his shoulder, making his way outside. “come back with my money tomorrow!” barry shouted from the living room, cursing under his breath as he watched rafe leave.

-

“aw, come on, one more!” lori pushed a shot glass towards you, all of your friends watching with anticipating eyes. this was only your second shot, not nearly enough to get you drunk whatsoever. obliging, your friends roared into cheers as you downed the burning liquid, slamming the glass down on the counter. “that’s our girl!” lori shook you by your shoulders, the bartender looking away from where you sat. “okay, no more. seriously, i can’t go home drunk.” you laughed.

you had been at the taven for nearly two hours already, your friend group settling down for the night as some of them started to leave. “hey,” lori took a swig from her beer, “would you mind if i left with chris? he’s been trying to get me to go home with him all night.” a part of you knew your best friend would leave with her on-again off-again boyfriend before you two had even arrived here.

“no, you go ahead. you know me, i’ll just catch a ride with someone else.” you hugged her, shaking your head as she mouthed a ‘thank you’ on her way out. just as the door closed behind her, it swung back open, your breath catching in your throat at the man striding in.

rafe.

you spinned in your chair, eyes shutting tight as if that’d make you disappear into thin air. sure enough, you felt the heat of someone on your back, his voice cutting through the thick air of the bar. “two cokes,” you relaxed, accepting your fate as he cleared his throat. “you gonna stay facing the wall the whole night?” you caved, unshielding your face from your hands. “what are you doing here?” you felt exposed, your top suddenly feeling more tight than it did five minutes ago. “this is a bar isn’t it?” he scooted a glass towards you, taking a sip from his own.

“you know what i mean. barry isn’t anywhere near here.” you heard your heart beating in your ears as he eyed you carefully. “i didn’t come for barry.” rafe leaned closer to you, his cologne intoxicating you more than any bottle of liquor in here could. “aren’t you supposed to be making my brother money right now?” sass was your defense mechanism, and right now you needed it. “i already did, sweetheart. sold out in thirty minutes.” your mouth opened slightly.

“i didn’t know blow was in such high demand over there on figure eight.” you covered your chest, a shiver going down your spine when his eyes flickered to your cleavage. “yeah. a bunch of sheltered rich kids made me, well your brother, nearly two thousand dollars in less than an hour.” you scoffed. “anything to rebel against mommy and daddy, right?” you accepted the soda, letting yourself relax. “you’re telling me you never rebelled?” rafe scoffed. “i never had to.” you shook your head. at this, the man next to you scooted closer, his thigh touching your own.

“where are your friends? i thought you told barry they’d be here with you.” he looked around, noticing everyone talking amongst themselves. “they were here with me. i usually like to stay later after it calms down a bit.” you shrugged. rafe nodded, his hand moving the hair off of your shoulder. his touch was enough to make goosebumps spread across your skin. “tell me something, y/n..” rafe leaned in, his breath fanning against your cheek, “does your brother know that your tits spill out of your tops when you go out?” your head shot in his direction, your face growing hot at his proximity.

“i wonder what he would say if he knew there was so many eyes on you.” you sighed, rafe’s large palm now resting on your thigh. “including yours?” his fingers dug into your skin as you let out a shaky breath. “why don’t you tell him, then? let him know that you were in the same bar as me.” while you expected him to respond with something smart, his lips hovered above yours as he whispered, “i won’t tell if you don’t.”

rafe kissed you, your hands balling up his shirt as you kept yourself from moaning at the taste of him. he kissed you slow and deep, the feeling of his lips moving so languidly with yours becoming your new favorite thing. rafe groaned, the sound pulling you out of whatever world you were in at the moment. his eyes swept over your face, his chest rising and falling as you pulled away. “i, uhm— i need the restroom, i’m sorry,” you panicked, clutching your bag as you speed walked down the dark hallway of the bar.

what the fuck were you doing right now??

you shut the door behind you, your eyes narrowing as the neon signs on the wall flashed their colors at you. you had never even been with a pogue, let alone a kook. not to mention, rafe does business with barry, it would make things complicated and you don’t even want to think about what your brother would do if he found anything out. you ran your fingers through your hair, taking a deep breath before you found yourself touching your lips, the feeling of rafe still lingered there.

you knew what you had to do; you needed to get out of here as soon as possible and forget about him. as harsh as that sounds, you couldn’t risk everything just because he gives kisses that you’ll reminisce about years from now. ‘okay..’ you muttered to yourself, gathering yourself together as best as you could. as soon as you opened the restroom door, it all came crashing down as rafe looked up from where he was leaning against the door frame. the second your eyes met, you pulled him in as he attacked you with another kiss. this kiss was rough, it was bruising, but so fucking good.

rafe locked the door behind him without turning around. “we shouldn’t be doing this.” you spoke inbetween kisses as he backed you up against the wall. god, he was tall. rafe towered over you easily. “no, we shouldn’t,” he ran his thumb across your bottom lip, “this will be our secret, alright?” him indicating that ‘this’ was going to become a thing, meaning this wasn’t a one and done situation, made your heart flutter in your chest. you nodded, your bag long forgotten on the floor as he undressed you. “fuck, you’re perfect,” his shirt was next to go, the sight of his erection pressing against his jeans was enough to make you clench around nothing.

you shuddered as he took his belt off in one swoop, his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles. he grabbed you by your hips, picking you up as he pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. “i’ve wanted to do this to you since the second you answered that door.” his mouth latched onto your neck, your fingers tugging at the ends of his hair as he ground his cock against your wet folds. “these fucking eyes,” he moved your hair, both of you moaning as he entered you slowly.

“oh, fuck,” your head fell on his shoulder as he fucked into you. you don’t know what was hotter, the expression on rafe’s face, or the fact that he was fucking you while standing up, your weight like nothing to him as he slammed you down on his hips. “saying i look harmless? wait till you find out about me.” he repeated your words from earlier at the trailer, now understanding completely that this man was anything but. he made you want to do things you’ve never done, things that have never even crossed your mind.

“i was wrong.” you planted a kiss on his jaw, the action sending a shiver down his spine. rafe never let anyone kiss him during sex, or at all really, he didn’t know what was happening, all he knew was that he liked it when you did it. you hissed with every thrust, your back scratching against the wall. “hurts, rafe,” you mouth hung open as he grunted, letting you down on wobbly legs. he grabbed your wrists, placing them on your back as he bent you over the sink. rafe only entered the tip, a smile growing on his face as you looked up at him through the mirror.

“why’d you stop?” you nearly pouted before he delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, i wanna watch.” rafe’s head lolled to the side as you glided onto him, your velvety walls sucking him in with ease. “oh, my god,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyebrows knitting in pure bliss. “you’re doing so good.” he breathed out, his hips bucking when you clenched around him. you were a high he could never come down from, the realization hitting him in his chest. he grabbed your waist, his large hands encircling your lower back as he started thrusting.

even though your elbows ached from your arms being tucked behind you, the pleasure overpowered any discomfort you felt as you fought to keep your eyes open. you were so full, the feeling of his head constantly hitting that soft spot inside of you made your knees buckle as rafe reached under, rubbing your clit at an unforgiving speed. a sob ripped from your throat, your head hanging in defeat as rafe watched your reflection. even when you were getting plowed into, your eyes sparkled under the neon lights, your lips looking swollen and perfect for him.

rafe felt his own climax approaching as his determination to make you cum first grew. the coil in your tummy was unwinding with each stroke of his fingers until finally it snapped, your eyes rolling back as he pulled you up by your hair. “gonna send you home tonight with my cum sticking between your thighs, how does that sound?” you moaned at his words, nodding as your soaked cunt fluttered around his cock.

rafe buried his face in your neck, leaving sloppy kisses as he finished inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum adorning your walls. “take it,” he covered your mouth as you whined at the overstimulation. “take every last drop you fucking slut.” his movements came to a slow stop, your eyes damp with tears. rafe dabbed the corner of your eye with his thumb, shushing you as he pulled out. “you’re too pretty to cry,” he spun you around, your fucked out eyes gazing up at his. “there’s no way in hell i could walk all the way home now.” you sighed, an exhausted laugh falling from your lips.

“you were going to walk home?” disbelief echoed in his voice as he pulled up his pants. “yes, but don’t worry i’ve done it plenty of times—” rafe picked up your clothes from the floor, “you’re never doing that again, got it? i’ll be your personal chauffeur if i have to.” he helped you put on your shorts and underwears, both of you smiling softly at eachother. just as rafe was going to hand you your top, you shook your head, pointing at the bag in the corner. “i have a spare t-shirt in there, i can’t let barry see me in that.” you leaned against the sink, your legs feeling like jelly. rafe slung your bag across his shoulder, putting your t-shirt on for you.

“all ready?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting you up as you made your way outside the restroom, trying to the best of your ability to avoid the stares of those who watched you two leave the bar. as if he could sense your unease, rafe turned as you walked up to his bike. “what’s wrong?” he moved your hair out of your face. “word travels fast around here,” you looked into the distance, your mind racing with how barry would confront rafe if he ever caught ear that you and rafe left the bar together. “yeah? so,” you flashed him a look that said ‘my brother will actually kill you if he finds out about this!’

rafe sighed, pushing his helmet into your hands, “don’t worry about anything, i’ll ride out of there fast enough for him not to see me, alright? if he questions you just say it was someone else. it’s dark as shit out here anyways.” you felt a lot better, ultimately deciding to let him take you home. he had you back at the trailer in less than ten minutes, your heart racing as he rode up the dirt path. you swallowed nervously, hopping off when he came to a stop. you handed him his helmet, about to run inside before he grabbed you.

he took your lips in a searing kiss as your hands snaked over his shoulders. “i’ll be here tomorrow to give your brother his money,” he whispered, grabbing a handful of your ass while you looked back at the seemingly quiet trailer. “rafe you have to go!” you laughed, pecking his lips one more time before you jogged to the front door. sparing him one more glance, you waved as he watched you go inside, only hearing him ride off when you shut the door behind you. you sighed, not being able to stop smiling at the whole thing. “you’re back late.” you jumped at the sound of barry’s voice as he walked away from the window. “uhm, yeah- i’m pretty tired though, so..” you avoided his gaze as you started to make your way to your room.

“hold it right there.” just like your movements, your heart stopped as barry let out a bitter laugh, the light from the tv illuminating his face. “am i tripping or was that country club that just dropped you off?”

fuck.

[ghostofwriting]

In London: come back, be here

Rafe x Reader

warnings: mentions of cheating

Word Count: 6,416

In London: Series Masterlist

Note: This is part of the In London universe, and it can be read standalone. I strongly recommend reading them in order of release (you can find that in the masterlist)

Summary: Rafe's actions after she leaves Kildare.

Rafe sat hunched over his phone, his fingers trembling as he repeatedly hit the dial button. His heart raced with every unanswered ring, every text left unread. He had been blowing up her phone for hours, his calls and messages growing more frantic with each passing minute. He'd tried everything—texts begging for her to talk to him, voicemails soaked in regret—but still, no response.

Desperation gnaws at him as he moves on to her mom, calling her in the middle of the night, sounding more like a man on the edge than someone who had once been her daughter’s boyfriend. “Do you know where she is? Please, I just need to know she’s okay.” Her mother’s voice on the other end was calm but firm. “I don’t know, Rafe. She’s not here, you need to stop calling me.”

But Rafe didn’t want to hear that. He couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to accept it. He wasn’t ready to admit that she was gone, that she had walked away from him for good. The weight of his own betrayal crushed him, each memory of the lies, the mistakes, and Kiara sinking deeper into his chest. He had cheated on her. He had broken her trust in the worst way possible, and now, she was gone, and he couldn’t undo any of it.

The truth echoed louder than his panic. She wouldn’t forgive him. Not this time.

His chest tightens, and a bitter laugh escapes his lips, though it lacks any humor. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as the harsh reality set in. Rafe throws his phone down onto the bed, his hands clutching at his hair as he sinks into the dark silence of his room. He missed her so damn much.

His heart ached in a way he hadn’t known was possible. The space she used to fill in his life was now a gaping hole, one that he had created. He knew it, and there was no running from it. No matter how many times he tried to reach out, no matter how many calls he made, nothing would bring her back. He had pushed her away, and now she was gone.

Tears well up in his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to cry. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. The only person he wanted to talk to, to hold, was the one person he could never have again.

Rafe collapsed back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his chest heaving with each breath as the weight of his actions finally, fully, crashed down on him. She was gone. And it was his fault.

+++

Days blurred into one another as Rafe spiraled. The emptiness inside him became unbearable, so he sought anything to numb the pain, anything to stop the relentless ache that gnawed at his insides. At first, it was just a drink or two to take the edge off. But soon, it wasn’t enough. The alcohol didn’t dull the sting, it didn't silence the screaming thoughts in his head. It only fueled them.

He finds himself drinking more and more, drowning himself in whiskey until his vision blurs and his mind fogs over. He’d been here before. When his dad had put too much pressure on him to take over the company, when he felt like he wasn’t enough and his dad would never love him like a dad should love their son. When she had made him feel like he would never be good enough for her. When she told him that his dad’s love was not the end all be all and that he had people who loved him for who he was. He couldn’t see it then. He was blinded by the hurt of his father, of his shortcomings, of her sharp tongue when he was already down. Drugs had taken the edge off. Drugs had also lowered his inhibitions so much that he ended up in bed with Kiara, 

It’s not long before he starts reaching for pills again, molly, oxy, whatever he can get his hands on. Barry refuses to give him any cocaine and he doesn’t want to go out of his way to find another dealer so he settles for anything that would give him that brief escape. 

The high was fleeting, but in those moments, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of his own regret. He didn’t feel the agony of her absence, the constant reminder of his betrayal.

He starts partying, staying out late, surrounded by people who don’t care about him, who don’t know the real him. It didn’t  matter. All that mattered was the numbness, the temporary relief from the gnawing pain in his chest. The people he hangs out with don’t know any better so they  encourage him, laugh with him, feed into the destructive cycle. They don’t know what is really going on, they just saw a guy who was letting loose, having fun.

But when the alcohol hits its peak, when the drugs blurr his thoughts even more, Rafe’s mask begins to slip. The walls he’d built around his vulnerability came crashing down, and his desperation, his grief, poured out in ways he couldn’t control.

One night, after hours of drinking, Rafe stumbles into the kitchen, barely able to stand. He leaned against the counter, his breath heavy, his body unsteady. His friends are still partying in the other room, laughing, not noticing the storm brewing inside him. He pulls out his phone,  scrolling through the contacts until he finds her name. His thumb hovers over the call button, but before he can press it, his phone slips from his hand, crashing to the floor.

“Call her,” he mumbles, his voice slurring. He turns to the stranger in the room with him, his eyes wide with panic. “Please, someone… call her for me.”

The stranger looks at him like he has two heads “uh what?” Rafe sinks to his knees trying to grab his phone from under a cabinet. The stranger gives the drunk man an uncomfortable glance and looks towards the person entering the kitchen. 

“Rafe.” Barry says, trying to hoist him up by his armpits.

 Barry had been watching him, he didn't know what to say or how to help. Rafe had never been like this before. His pain was raw, and it was too much for the group to handle. They tried to get him to sit down, to stop drinking, but Rafe couldn’t hear them. All he could hear was the silence from her side of the phone, the echo of her absence.

“Please…” he whispered again, his voice barely audible now. His eyes were glassy, pleading. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her. I’ll fix it, I swear, just—just make her come back. Please.”

Sarah has been quietly observing from the doorway. She has been worried about him for weeks now, ever since he’d started disappearing for days at a time, since the drinking and drugs began to take over. She knew something was wrong, but she had no idea how bad it had gotten.

She stepped forward, her heart aching at the sight of her brother, broken and lost in a way she’s never seen before. “Rafe…” she said softly, trying to get his attention. “You need to stop, okay? You’re not okay. You’re going down a bad path.”

Rafe looked at her, his eyes blurry with tears and alcohol. “I don’t care anymore, Sarah. I fucked up. I ruined everything. I need her back. I can’t breathe without her.”

The desperation in his voice cracks Sarah’s heart. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to fix this. She had always looked up to her older brother, the version he had been when she was still here, but now… now he seemed like a stranger, lost in his own self-destruction.

“Please, Rafe,” she said, her voice trembling. “Stop doing this to yourself. She’s not coming back, not like this. You have to deal with what you did. You can’t keep hiding from it.”

Rafe’s face twits in pain. “I don’t know how, Sarah. I don’t know how to live without her. I don’t know what to do.”

Tears well up in Sarah’s eyes as she reaches out to him, but he pulls away, stumbling back to the couch, his head buried in his hands.

“Don’t leave me,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Please, just don’t leave me.”

The words hung in the air, and Sarah felt the weight of them crash down on her. Her brother, the one who had always been so strong, the one who had always protected her, was now broken beyond repair. And she didn’t know how to fix him.

She had to do something. But what? She can’t watch him self-destruct, but she doesn’t know how to pull him out of this darkness. All she can do is stay by his side, even as he pushes everyone away, even as he continues to spiral further.

+++

Rafe's grief had consumed him, and all he could do was keep chasing the high, hoping for a moment of numbness, a fleeting escape from the reality that she was gone, that she wasn’t coming back,  and that he had destroyed everything.

His desperation had grown so all-consuming that nothing else mattered, nothing except the faint, impossible hope that she would somehow hear him. The numbness from the alcohol and pills was starting to wear off, but the pain in his chest never subsided. Every morning felt like waking up in a nightmare, each day blending into the next, a haze of drunken nights and clouded judgment. He didn’t care anymore. He just couldn’t bear the silence, the empty spaces that she once filled in his life.

He knew he was sinking lower and lower, but that doesn’t  matter either. All that matters is finding a way to get her to talk to him, to forgive him. To make everything right again. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t possible.

The first time it happened was at a party, a random night that blurs together with all the others. He had been drinking heavily, trying to drown out the thought of her. But it doesn’t work. He sits with Kelce and Barry, laughing with them like everything’s fine, like he hasn’t just spent the entire afternoon staring at her name on his phone, willing it to light up with a message from her.

"Hey," Rafe slurred, looking over at Kelce, who was texting someone on his phone. "Give me your phone."

Kelce barely looked up, too drunk to notice the desperation in Rafe’s voice. "What? Why?"

"Just—just give me your damn phone," Rafe insists, his tone harder than he intended, making it clear that this isn’t a suggestion.

Kelce, unfazed by the anger in Rafe’s voice, handed it over with a casual shrug. "Fine, whatever. Don’t break it or whatever."

Rafe doesn’t waste a second. His hands are shaking as he unlocks the phone, the screen blurring with the alcohol-induced haze in his vision. He scrolls through the contacts with a feverish urgency, finding her name and hovering over it. His thumb hesitates over the call button, just for a moment, but that moment feels like an eternity. Then, without thinking, he presses it.

The phone rings. And rings.

His heart pounds in his chest as each ring seems to echo louder in his mind, each one a cruel reminder of how far gone he is, how hopeless this all feels. His thumb hovers over the screen, ready to hang up if she doesn’t answer, but he can’t bring himself to do it. What if, somehow, this time she picks up? What if this was the moment when everything changes?

But no. The call goes to voicemail, as it always does. Rafe curses under his breath, throwing Kelce’s phone down onto the table as if he’d just been slapped.

"Fuck!" he shouts, the frustration spilling out of him. "Why won’t she just talk to me?"

Kelce, now realizing how badly things had gotten, gives him a sidelong glance. "Dude, maybe you should just… lay off it for a bit. You’ve been at this for weeks now. It’s not helping, man."

Rafe doesn’t care. doesn’t care about Kelce’s advice, doesn’t care about anything other than getting her back. He snatches up Barry’s phone next, his movements erratic, frantic. Barry is too caught up in the music to notice what Rafe is doing until it’s too late.

"Rafe, what the hell are you doing?" Barry asks, glancing at him with a confused frown.

Ignoring him, Rafe is already calling her number. His thumb feels heavy, but he can’t stop. Every time the call goes unanswered, every time he hears the voicemail greeting, a part of him dies inside.

"Come on, sweetheart," he whispers into the phone, as if she could hear him. "Please, just pick up."

But she never does.

When the call ends, Rafe slumps back against the couch, his chest heaving as if the air was being sucked from the room. He’d been doing this every day, every single day, but it never got easier. The pain only deepened.

"Rafe, you need to stop this," Barry said, his voice quieter now, tinged with concern. "You’re killing yourself, man."

But Rafe can’t stop. Every time he picks up someone else’s phone and calls, he holds on to that shred of hope—that maybe, just maybe, she’s just waiting for him to reach out one more time. Maybe she’s watching her phone, waiting for his message, longing to hear his voice like he’s longing to hear hers.

It was irrational. He knew it. But that doesn’t make it any less real.

As the days passed, the calls kept coming. Sometimes it was Kelce’s phone, sometimes it was Barry’s, sometimes even Sarah’s phone, though she had started keeping her own distance from him. Rafe doesn’t care. If there’s even the slightest chance that she would answer, he had to take it. He can’t bear the thought of never hearing her voice again.

Meanwhile, Sarah was getting increasingly worried. She can see her brother falling apart in ways she can’t help fix. She’d come into the room to find him sprawled out, drunk and high, his hands shaking as he fumbled with someone else’s phone, desperately dialing the number he  knows by heart. His eyes are bloodshot, his face gaunt, as if the weight of his guilt was crushing him.

One night, Sarah had found Rafe sitting on the edge of his bed, his head buried in his hands. The room was littered with empty bottles, and the air was thick with the smell of whiskey and stale smoke.

"Rafe," she said softly, trying to get through to him. "You have to stop. This isn’t you. This… this isn’t how you fix things."

He hadn’t responded. His body trembled with exhaustion, and his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "I just need to hear her. Just one more time. Please, Sarah. Please…"

Sarah sank down beside him, her own tears threatening to spill. "I know you miss her. But you can’t keep doing this. You have to face what you did. You can’t fix it by drowning yourself in this... this mess."

Rafe looked at her with hollow eyes. "I ruined everything, Sarah. I lost her. I cheated. She’ll never forgive me."

Sarah shook her head, her heart breaking for him. "You don’t know that. But you’ll never find out if you keep destroying yourself like this."

Rafe hadn’t said anything else to her. He had just stared at the phone in his hand, his fingers had traced the screen as though somehome, that small gesture would get her to call back.  

+++

Rafe doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken. All he has now is hope—no matter how irrational—that one of these calls, one of these desperate pleas, might bring her back. 

His mind races as he sits on the couch, he grips his phone, the screen now dimmed and lifeless in his hand. The empty bottles on the coffee table seemed to mock him, their contents long gone, leaving only the lingering stench of whiskey and regret. The sounds of the party were muffled in the background, but Rafe can’t hear them anymore. All he can hear is the deafening silence from the other end of the phone, the void that had swallowed her up, and the ache that tore through him every moment she wasn’t there.

A conversation with Topper changes everything. It hits him like a ton of bricks. 

Topper had been quiet for a while, his own guilt simmering just below the surface, but tonight, he seemed off. He kept glancing over at Rafe, as if debating something, and Rafe knew his friend had something to say. He’d been drinking, but the sudden shift in Topper’s demeanor made his gut tighten.

“Rafe,” Topper finally muttered, his voice low. “I need to tell you something.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked up from the phone in his hand. His pulse quickened. “What?”

Topper hesitates, his brow furrowing in discomfort. “Sarah and Sofia… they know where she is.”

Rafe’s heart stops. The words hit him in the chest, like a punch he wasn’t ready for. His vision blurred as a wave of panic washes over him. “What the fuck do you mean, they know where she is?” he demands, rising from the couch and taking a step toward Topper, his voice shaking with frustration and disbelief.

Topper backs up slightly, holding his hands up in defense. “I don’t know how, man, but they do. Sarah told me. Sofia and her keep in touch. 

Rafe’s breath comes in short, desperate gasps. He feels a knot of betrayal twist in his stomach. "And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?" His voice rises, the anger seeping in with the desperation. "You know how badly I need to find her, Topper. Why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Topper winces, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t think it was my place. Sarah made me promise... she said we should respect what she wants. She doesn’t want you to know where she is.”

The room suddenly feels cold, as if the walls are closing in on him. Rafe staggers back, staring at Topper as if he’d just betrayed him in the worst possible way. He had done everything to try to get her back, everything to fix the mess he’d made, but now, his own sister, his own flesh and blood, was protecting her, keeping secrets from him, just like everyone else.

Rafe doesn’t know what to say. He has to talk to Sarah and get her to tell him where his girl is. Where she’s staying, where he can find her. He has to convince Sarah that he deserves to know.

Topper watches him as if he can read his mind. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He doesn’t have to. Rafe can see it in the way his eyes shift uncomfortably. "You need to let it go, Rafe. I know you're hurting, but she’s made her choice. And you… you need to accept it."

Rafe laughs bitterly, the sound of it harsh and broken. "Accept it?" He paces the room in a blur, his mind spinning. "You’re telling me to accept that she’s gone, that she won’t even talk to me because of what I did? That she’s hiding from me, and you—" He stops and turns on Topper, his voice rising, "—you knew, and you didn’t even tell me?"

"I don’t know where she is," Topper says quietly, but firmly. "I just found out that they do but they didn’t tell me anything. They promised her”

Rafe’s chest tightens as his fists clench, the words crashing against him like a tidal wave. The promises. The secrets. He had betrayed her in the worst way possible, and now it felt like everyone around him was betraying him, too. His mind races, his heart hammers, and it isn’t long before the panic begins to rise again.

"Where is she?" Rafe asks through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper.

Topper shakes his head slowly. "I don’t know, man. I swear. You need to talk to Sarah if you want answers, but she won’t give you anything. She promised and she’s not gonna break it."

Rafe’s vision narrows, and a wave of cold fury surges through him. He can’t believe this is happening. He can’t believe that after everything, his own sister was keeping this from him. Keeping the love of his life from him as he suffered. 

"You think you’re helping her, don’t you?" Rafe spits, his voice trembling with anger and pain. 

"You think you’re protecting her from me-” he chokes over his words “like this is your retribution- like if- if she were to find out you were helping her she’ll forgive you. Well, you’re wrong.” Rafe spits “she will never forgive you. You are just as dead to her as I am.”

“You have no idea what I’d do just to talk to her, to apologize. To tell her that I’m sorry. But you all won’t let me. You’re all just… just standing there, watching me fall apart."

Topper flinches at the rawness in Rafe’s voice, but he doesn’t back down. "I’m sorry, man, but it’s not about what you want anymore. She’s made her choice. She’s not coming back unless she’s ready to."

The words hit Rafe harder than anything else. She’s not coming back.

He turns away from Topper, his hands running through his hair in frustration. He feels a storm brewing inside of him, the storm of all the guilt, the loneliness, the anger he had been carrying for weeks. The people around him who were supposed to care—his friends, his sister, the ones who had always been there—were now keeping him at arm’s length, blocking him from the one person he still needed most.

With a cold, angry look, Rafe grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “I don’t care about promises. I don’t care what you think is right anymore. I’ll find out where she is. And when I do, I’m going to make her listen to me. No one is going to stop me."

Topper doesn’t try to stop him this time. Instead, he just stares after Rafe, his face drawn with concern. He can see that the guy standing in front of him isn’t the same Rafe he was a month ago. This Rafe was broken beyond repair, desperate in a way that made his heart ache.

But there was nothing anyone could do anymore. Rafe was too far gone.

+++

Rafe paces back and forth in the quiet living room, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The knot of guilt and frustration twists in his stomach, but there is something else there, too—anger. Anger that had been building since she left, since he had made that unforgivable mistake. And now, Sarah’s hiding her from him.

"Sarah," Rafe's voice is low, controlled, but underneath the surface, the tension is palpable. "You know where she is."

Sarah, sits on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, looks up at him with a mixture of pity and caution. She has never seen Rafe like this before, desperate, broken, unhinged. She shakes her head, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I’m not going to tell you, Rafe. She left for a reason. She’s trying to move on."

Rafe's eyes narrow, his frustration spiking. "She left because of me. I need to fix it, Sarah. You have to understand that." He takes a step closer, his hands resting on the back of a nearby chair, gripping it as if he needs something solid to hold onto. "I know I messed up. But I can't live with this, without knowing where she is. Please, tell me. Help me make things right."

Sarah’s face softens, but her resolve doesn’t waver. She had seen her brother's remorse, had heard his pleas, but she also knew how hurt Yn was, how deep the wounds ran. Telling him where she was, would only lead to more pain.

"Rafe," she said quietly, her eyes not leaving his, "if you really want to fix things, you need to give her space. Let her come to you when she’s ready. Pushing her won’t change anything."

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. Sarah has always been the one who tried to see the bigger picture, and in this case, she might have been right. But the ache inside him was too strong to ignore, and he could feel time slipping away. If he didn’t act now, he might lose her forever.

“I can’t just wait,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t try.”

Sarah looks at him, her heart aching for both of them, but she stands her ground. "Then you have to let her go. It’s the only way you’ll ever have a chance to get her back."

Rafe stands in silence for a long moment, his shoulders tense with the weight of the conversation. Finally, he nods, though the defeat in his posture was clear.

"Fine," he said, turning to leave the room. "But I’m not giving up on her. Not yet."

+++

Rafe walks into the rental house of some touron. It’s alive with noise, laughter, music, and the clinking of bottles. 

But Rafe doesn’t care about any of that. He's only here because Sofia is here. He’s been trying to track her down for days. She had been dodging his phone calls and texts, probably because Sarah warned her that he knew they knew. 

He stares at Sofia as she sits across the room on the couch, laughing with a group of friends. He hasn’t thought this plan through. He’s desperate, he’s high, and he’ll do anything to contact Yn.

Sofia’s phone rests causally on her lap. He had been waiting for this moment all night. His frustrations had reached a boiling point, and he needed to do something. Sofia knew where she was, which meant that they still talked to some extent. 

He moved swiftly, weaving through the crowd, careful not to attract Sofia’s attention before he had a chance to snatch her phone. He reaches Sofia, leans in, and before anyone can react, grabs her phone from her lap. He continues walking swiftly through the crowd, no hesitation. He hears Sofia’s protests as he darts upstairs and into a room.

He’s lucky to have known Sofia for almost his entire life, he unlocks her phone without an issue, thankful that her password continues to be the same. It takes him a moment to find yn’s number. Maybe they aren’t talking as much as he thinks they are. 

His heart pounds so loudly he can barely hear his own breath. He takes one last look around the empty room, bracing himself, before pressing the dial button.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times.

And then, finally, it clicks.

“Hello?” her voice comes through, and it sends a shiver down his spine, He’s missed her. It sounds like she’s out, there’s wind, car horns, and people. 

His throat tightens. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out at first. Hearing her voice again after everything, it’s  more than he can handle in that moment. He had screwed up so badly, and now, here she was, answering after everything he had done. 

“Sof?” She asks curiously. She thinks it’s Sofia. Of course she does. 

"Yn," he croaks, his voice raw, desperate. "It’s me. Please, just—just hear me out."

The silence on the other end of the line is heavy, suffocating. Rafe can feel her hesitation, the distance she had built between them. His heart races, and he takes a deep breath, pushing forward.

"Please, I need to talk to you. I—I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t lose you, sweetheart. I’m such an idiot. I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I’m begging you, just—just give me a chance to make it right."

There’s a long pause before her voice finally breaks the silence, and when she speaks, it’s like every word comes with a weight that crushes Rafe’s chest.

"You need to stop calling me" her tone is sharp, edged with pain. "You can beg all you want, Rafe, but it doesn’t change anything. You’ve already hurt me too much. I can’t keep doing this with you."

Rafe’s stomach churns. He had known this moment was coming, but hearing her say it out loud still felt like a punch to the gut.

"I don’t expect you to forgive me," he whispers, his voice breaking. "But I’m asking for a chance, just one chance to prove to you that I can be better. That I can make up for what I did."

Her sigh echoes through the line, full of disappointment. "You don’t get it,"  her voice hardened. "I don’t want your apology. I don’t need your promises. I don’t want anything from you. You had your chance, Rafe. And you blew it."

Each word is a needle, piercing through the remnants of hope he had clung to. Rafe's chest tightens, but he refuses to give up. He presses on, voice shaking..

"Please. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry for what I did. I can’t live with myself knowing I hurt you like this. Please, don’t shut me out."

Her voice softens for a fraction of a second, but it quickly hardens again, like a wall she had built between them.

"I don’t care how much you love me, Rafe. You broke me. I can’t go back to someone who would do that to me. Not even for you. I won’t forgive you. I won’t forget what you did. I’m done."

The finality in her words hit him like a slap. He could hear it in her voice, the resolve, the exhaustion, the pain she had carried for so long.

"No," Rafe whispered, his voice cracking, his heart shattering again. "Please…baby, please don’t say that. I can’t lose you. Come back, come back and be here with me."

There’s a long, painful silence. He thinks she might hang up, that this would be the end. But instead, her voice comes through one last time, softer but resolute.

"Goodbye, Rafe," she said quietly, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "Please don’t call me again."

The line goes dead, and Rafe stands there, staring at the phone in his hand, his whole world crumbling around him. He had known it was over, but hearing her say it—he couldn’t even breathe. The finality of it, the weight of it, crushed him in a way he never thought possible.

He had begged, he had pleaded, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Rafe stands there, his heart still pounding in his chest, the phone burning a hole through his hand.  He barely registers as the door opens and Sofia Storms over, her eyes flashing with fury. 

“What the hell, Rafe?” she snaps, yanking her phone out of his hands. Her fingers tremble from anger. "You can’t just take my phone and call her like that. Are you out of your mind?"

Yes, probably. 

Rafe barely registers the sting of her words, his mind still stuck on the finality of Yn’s goodbye. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts. "Sofia," he pleads, his voice hoarse, "you know where she is. Please, I need to find her. Tell me where she is."

Sofia’s expression hardens, and she steps back, holding her phone close to her chest. The anger in her eyes, replaced with a deeper, almost sorrowful kind of disappointment.

“No,” she says firmly, her tone unwavering. “I’m not telling you. I won’t be the one to lead you to her.”

Rafe’s heart drops. "Please, Sofia. I can’t lose her. I’ve already lost so much. I—" His voice catches in his throat as he searches for the right words, anything to convince her.

Sofia shook her head, her eyes narrowing with resolve. "You don’t get it, do you? Even if I told you where she is, it wouldn’t matter." Her voice softened, but there was a quiet certainty there. "You wouldn’t find her in the way you think you will."

Rafe took a step forward, his desperation growing. “I don’t care! I just need to talk to her, to apologize. Please, Sofia, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” she interrupts, her voice cold but with a tinge of sadness. “You don’t get that Yn isn’t the same person anymore. And neither are you." Her eyes flicked to the phone in her hands, the device now a symbol of everything he had broken. “You think you can show up and fix it with a few words? With begging her to come back? You’ve changed, Rafe. And so has she."

His nails dig into his palms as he tries to ground himself. "I know I messed up. I ruined everything. But I can’t let her go. I love her, Sofia. I can’t just let her slip away without at least trying."

Sofia’s gaze softens, but her resolve doesn’t waver. "You love her? Then respect her, Rafe. Respect her space. If you really loved her, you wouldn’t be here, making things worse, acting like she owes you a chance." She lets out a sharp breath, almost as if she were trying to hold back tears. “You’re not the person she needs right now. And if you ever want a chance to make things right, you have to fix yourself first. Because this version of you? The one who’s so consumed by guilt and anger that he’ll stop at nothing to get her back? She won’t want anything to do with him.”

Rafe freezes, the weight of her words sinking in, like bricks falling one by one on his chest. "But I can’t change what happened," he whispers. "I can’t change the way I hurt her."

Sofia’s eyes softened, but her voice remained firm. “You’re right. You can’t change the past. But you can stop making it worse. If you really want her to come back, stop chasing after her. Start being the person she deserves—someone who respects her decision, even if it’s not what you want. If you can do that, maybe, just maybe, she’ll see a version of you worth coming back to.”

Rafe stands there, rooted to the spot, the pain of her words sinking deeper than anything he had ever felt. He had been so focused on finding Yn, so desperate to fix things, that he hadn’t seen the bigger picture.

Sofia turns away from him, but not before one last look over her shoulder. "Just stay out of her life okay? You’re not the only one suffering.”

Rafe watches as she disappears back into the party, the sounds of the music and laughter drowning out his thoughts. For the first time, he wasn’t sure what the next step was.

+++

It was just past midnight when Rafe finds himself mindlessly scrolling through social media, trying to numb the ache in his chest. His thoughts, his emotions, are a jumbled mess after everything with Yn, and he can’t seem to escape it. His thumb scrolls lazily across the screen as he passes post after post, most of them meaningless distractions. But then he freezes.

A post from Ruthie. Topper’s ex.

The picture shows her and a girl he doesn’t recognize, both beaming into the camera from some trendy bar. The caption read: "NC girls reunited." The location on the post reads “London, England.”

Ruthie hadn’t been around for long. She had realized that Topper wasn’t who she wanted to be with and left. For the short amount of time that she was around though, Yn had made her feel welcome. She had told him that she felt bad that Topper would invite her places and then leave her with a bunch of strangers. 

When Ruthie moved to Charleston, he remembers Yn still keeping in touch. Maybe, just maybe, Ruthie knew where yn had gone. 

Could it be?

 He clicked on the profile of the girl tagged in Ruthie’s post. Amber. He scanned through her feed, his eyes darting from picture to picture. Amber was also from NC, she didn’t have anything that would say she knew yn. 

He opens up her first post which was a carousel. He scrolls through and  doesn't see much until one picture makes his blood run cold. 

There they were, Amber and Ruthie, standing side by side in a bathroom mirror, the kind of candid shot you’d post without thinking. The lighting wasn’t great, but what made his stomach churn, what made his heart stop, was the jacket.

The jacket.

He would recognize it anywhere. The leather, the slight distressing on the sleeves, the stitching that she had insisted on showing him. The one he had looked for day in and day out because she couldn’t stop talking about it. He had given her that jacket for their anniversary two years ago. 

The one she’d wanted so badly.

It was only half in the frame, the bottom half peeking out from behind Amber, but it was enough.

Rafe’s breath catches in his throat. He leans in closer to the screen, his hands trembling slightly as he reads the caption: "Uni bathroom, Ruthie, ms future lawyer, and a dream."

His mind spins. Why would Yn be with them? Why would she be in London?

His thoughts collided with the memory of calling Yn the other night, at 2 AM, when it had sounded like she was in a busy place, a bustling one.A city that was awake. A different timezone. It was like his mind was piecing together a puzzle he hadn't even realized existed.

London. Ruthie and Amber.

The jacket.

It clicked.

Without thinking, he grabs his phone off the table, his heart pounds in his chest.

“Guess I’m going to London,” he mutters to himself, the weight of the decision sinking in.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to find, doesn't know how to find her in such a big city, he doesn’t even know where to start. But one thing’s clear: He can’t sit here wondering any longer.

He has to see her.

[obxsprincess]

drug dealer!barry x reader x toxic!rafe

“she lets you do this often man?” rafe snickers — watching you on all fours, sprawled over barrys bed. his greedy eyes trail over your tits, and your pretty features as you face him. legs wide and dripping in your glossy arousal as barry kneels behind you. the same smirk plastered on his face, mirroring the man in-front of you. “whenever she’s looking for some strong shit, yea’” you squeak a moan as you feel barry press agaisnt you. a metal laced sound invades your ears before you feel the hard pressure agaisnt your ass — his thick cock slips between your sopping folds. lubricating his dick in your sweet wetness.

“fuck, glad I came today for my coke. look at you princess, paying for your shit by letting your drug dealer fuck you,” a sound between a gasp and a moan escapes you as rafes hand curls around you chin, tilting you to look up at him.

how you got here you had no idea, what started as your usual ‘payment’ ended with the kook king now standing infront of you with his god forsaken grin, and the prominent bulge in his pants making your pretty head spin.

and even more as barry’s cock grindes agaisnt your swollen clit, rubbing the needy pearl in ways that you biting you lip in desperation. “you fucking like this don’t ya? the rich little slut likes being fucked by two males do you baby,?” rafes dark chuckle made your cunt grind into barry in return, your eyes fluttering back as a groan escapes the male behind yous mouth. “auh! auh- y-yes”

“this gonna’ get you a big supply,” a sudden slap hits your ass, the pleasure of barrys cock agaisnt your clit and the pain making you numb in blissful filth — and yet rafe refused to let your eyes leave his.

“fuck her man. I wanna see the way little ms. goody two shoes pays for her drugs” before your eyes can widen at rafes words, barry grips your hips, positioning his tip agaisnt your dripping hole. “ain’t’ needa tell me twice,” you don’t even have time to gasp before barry’s thrusts into you — rutting, and stretching you with every fat inch. you silken walls clench around him, your eyes screwing shut. “god dammit, girl,” barrys ruts are anything but gentle — pulling out just to pump back into you. the pure roughness making you forget rafe was even there. until his grip tighened on your jaw. “little slut, feels good don’t it? look at her man. fuck, never thought I’d see you here sweetheart. eyes on me, pretty thing” if his drug dealers cock wasn’t moving inside of your pussy, which was gripping him like a fucking vice, you’d think rafes tone was affectionate. but there was nothing remotely romantic of this — not when your moans and mewls filled the room, the voices of the two males praising you as if you weren’t even there. it was so dirty — the pleasure that consumed your spinning head, and the way it felt so sinfully good.

the moment your eyes flustered open, the mere size of rafes dick made your pretty cunt clench around the cock rutting inside of you. it was red and leaking, and gliding right into your lips as if you were merely a drooling flesh light. the realization that rafes massive length and barrys thickness fucking you from the front and back made you feel so naughty — and yet in a filthy little cloud of ecstasy. “ya’ be a good slut, and then you’ll get your fucking drugs, yea?” the way they fucked you was merely for their own greedy pleasures — but in the very back of your pretty head you couldn’t help but want more.

[feral-childs-word]

The fallen crown

🪻 Episode 1: Agony

🪻A special shout-out to: @cheust

🪻 I honestly had no idea how to start this 😭 I let this sit for days until I had a idea 💔

Wails rung out in the palace. Maids and butlers wincing and feeling pity for the poor women. After all her son had passed.

They don't know what happened to the poor boy but all they knew is the king Bruce Wayne the ruler of Gotham came back holding a barely recognizable boy that was non other Jason todd the second prince.

Soon the queen Y/n Wayne had to find out the hard truth when asking for Jason only to find out by the maids and not even her own husband telling her and keeping her in the dark.

The queen wailed her heart and soul out cursing every god for taking her boy her sweet boy her son. Despite not being blood related he was still her boy her little scrawny feral boy that the king picked up from the slums.

Not even the first prince Dick Grayson had experienced the love of the queen. But it was his fault for pushing her away and refusing the effort she was giving for that boy only to be in vain only speaking in greeting when they crossed paths.

But Jason the queen's favourite her son had now perished to the Joker. Nobody knows the origin of the joker and how he came to be. But they knew he was bloody thirsty and eager for the hunt of the weak. He had killed the queen's son and the king did nothing about it like a coward.

The queen now felt anger the anger rising realizing it was the king's fault had he not brought Jason with him to that trip none of this ever happened. Her son would've been alive snoozing in her arms while the fire burned bright in the fireplace as she read one of Jason's favorite stories.

None of this would've happened if it wasn't for the king's carless and stupid decisions.

And she couldn't stand the man anymore letting him push her away to leave her every night on the cold bed leaving her lonely and unsatisfied every night claiming he has papers he needs to finish.

The queen also felt hatred for the joker. She wanted his head on a spike for the world to see that man dead by her hands. She wanted the joker to feel her grief and anger towards him and to the world.

But alas the joker was nowhere to be found. Disappearing without a trace.

Now as she stood at the church looking down at her treasure her pride and joy a young boy now in a coffin dressed in his finest clothes. Oh how Jason hated wearing fancy clothes when he was alive always telling the queen how itchy they were.

The queen's lip wobbled but she refused to cry again. Her hand slowly reached out to hold Jason's cold cheek. How she hated how cold her baby was.

Alfred had to pull her away from the coffin so the church could barry her son. But she couldn't keep her eyes away from him. Before she left she gently placed her treasured napkin on his chest not caring anymore despite it being her favorite.

She turned away walking away from the coffin. Her eyes hardening as she stared at Bruce with his neutral look.

She walked over and stood next to him as he walked over to the coffin. Using her hand to hold his shoulder harshly and leaned in to his ear.

"This is your fault. No matter how you run from this moment. I will always be here to remind you for what you did."

[shrimpybbq]

season 3 rafe with his gf & son

they’ve been on guadeloupe for a month now, and it was like rafe had transformed into a whole new person. he was the man of the family now, and he was taking over the finances, the household and all their business dealings. he had also changed drastically as a father, spending any of his free moments with charlie and everything he does, he does it for him

ugh rafe treats his gf so good in season 3, doing his best to show her just how much he appreciates her. he’s constantly spoiling her with affection, gifts, and dates. they go to nice restaurants on the island before coming back to the house, giggling as they make their way upstairs. rose groans as she sees rafe’s hands squeezing her ass, silently thankful her room is on the other side of the house (rafe is a loud grunter in bed, but sometimes he moans just that little too loudly)

they have the master bedroom in the house on guadeloupe and he loves to share a bath with his girl, relaxing with a glass of whiskey as she rests against his chest. rafe feels like everything is perfect in those moments

gf is still a bit uneasy about all the events that took place, but she tries to push her feelings away. she was here now, and this was going to be their life so she tries to embrace it

they spend lots of time out on the boat, lounging on the deck and relaxing in the sun. rafe loves to see his girl in a bikini, and he can’t keep his hands off of her, only behaving when charlie comes out with them too (rafe and charlie wear matching swim shorts)

she’s 100% in denial about the buzzcut at first, eyes widening as he walks through the door. he had mentioned getting a haircut but not this! gf is running her hands over his scalp sadly, whining about where ‘her’ hair went

“Don’t you like it, baby?” Rafe asked, looking down cheekily at his girl. He hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“I mean…. you still look good,” she said as her hand gravitated to the nape of his neck, quietly admitting “it suits you.” Rafe just smirked before placing a passionate kiss on her lips, his lips curving as she automatically went to thread her fingers through his locks, a small whimper leaving her in frustration.

when rafe meets with carlos singh, he’s already missing his family. after being blindsided by singh’s demands he goes to leave only to be stopped, the older man speaking calmly, “do I look like a fool to you, Mr Cameron? I know you want to get back to your pretty little family, but you have the cross, therefore, one of you has had the diary. If you don’t want anything to happen to those you care about, then get me that diary.” rafe is immediately on edge, telling him not to speak about his family ever again. he can’t stand the idea of either his gf or son getting caught up in his drama

rafe isn’t keen on going back to the obx, especially not after settling into a routine in guadeloupe. i can picture him refusing to go unless he gets to bring his family with him, despite their reluctance. little charlie loves guadeloupe and doesn’t want to go, but a little convincing from his mother and father and he’s excited and clapping his hands happily

barry comes around to tannyhill to discuss his and rafe’s plan, only to see the couple sitting outside on the large balcony. rafe is outstretched on the lounge, girlfriend sleepily tucked against his side. she’s almost asleep when barry walks in, whistling loudly at the sight of rafe’s hand once again on her ass

wherever rafe goes, gf goes too - he’s becoming paranoid that someone will hurt them. because she comes everywhere with him now, she’s aware of everything happening with the gold. rafe trusts her, and he tells barry that he should too. besides, it’s her and her son’s future in the balance too

when ward returns to kildare, rafe is not happy. he finally feels like things are falling into place - his girl is happy, his kid loves being home and he has the cross (or what’s left of it). he can start again, become a real businessman and provide for his family. he can give them a life others could only dream of, and whatever his dad wants is no longer relevant to him

rafe proudly displaying his girl in front of the whole party at his house, a little drunk and declaring his love for her, her cheeks flushing deeply at his words

rafe who has some of the gold turned into a ring to propose to her with, plus a pair of wedding bands for later. he wants to spend his whole life with his girlfriend, and call her his wife for real this time. rafe proposes casually, bringing out the ring from his bedside table one morning, sliding it on her finger while she sleeps. high school gf stirs later, going to brush her hair out of her face only to catch sight of the gleaming rock on her finger

“Rafe? What’s this?” She asked teasingly, rolling over to look at Rafe as he pulled on his shirt. He smiled cheekily, feigning ignorance.

“Hmmm… I don’t know anything about that, but it looks nice - don’t you think?” Rafe responded, matching her teasing tone. At the sight of a smile spreading across her face and a small ‘mmhmm’, Rafe couldn’t help but lean over the mattress, his arms caging her in. He placed a heady kiss on her lips, only drawing back once both were breathless.

“Are you gonna keep it on?” The blonde man asked, a hint of nervousness seeping through his voice.

“Of course I will, baby.”

rafe loves calling his girl his fiancée, so proud that he finally stepped up and showed her how much she means to him

he won’t tell her about his plans to kill his dad, but he’ll talk in vague terms to her about it. when she probes, he just tells her that this time it’s better if she doesn’t know

after rafe sends his dad to go on the plane, he returns to tannyhill. he had received his father’s blessing, and he was in charge of everything now. he feels like he has the entire world in the palm of his hands, and the perfect family by his side

his pretty fiancée waking him up a few weeks later with the sound of her vomiting in the ensuite, the second day in a row. she’s pale as she looks up at him, weakly resting her head against the wall as she asks him,

“What do you think about having another baby?”

Click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

Click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter XII

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.179 ] [ 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.

I will never be able to top that Cain and Abel paragraph. Please mourn for my writing career. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

You can feel the vice grip of JJ’s hand pressing against your veins, your pulse thundering against him, growing faster with every failed attempt to wring yourself away.

– JJ, – You gasp, trying to twist yourself out of his hold, pulling, wringing, fruitlessly. He yanks you forward before you can finish, dragging you toward the bike.

Your breath catches.

– JJ, let go of me, you’re hurting me—

– Get on the bike. – He doesn’t yell it. His voice is tight, barely restrained, the kind of anger that isn’t meant to be loud—it’s meant to be a warning.

You shake your head, twisting against his hold. – You can’t drive like— You can’t— I can’t just leave—

– Yes, you can. – His grip tightens. – You will.

He’s pulling, and you’re fighting it—your heels digging into the pavement, the weight of your body thrown back, hand grasping at the grass like it can hold you back. You try to wrench your wrist free, but he’s so much stronger than you like this, fueled by something dark, barely controlled.

– Stop it! Please, just fucking stop it, JJ! What are you doing?! – Your voice cracks, desperate. – You’re acting crazy, just—let me go!

He doesn’t. Not for a second. His hand tightens, impossibly, against your arm and he tugs you forward with all his force until you crash against him, barely on your feet, your knees shaking.

– JJ—

– I swear to fucking God, – He growls, his voice a rumble something familiar, painfully so, something that makes your stomach turn. – if I have to tell you again—

You shake your head, thoughtlessly, maniacally. You can’t control the movement.

You don’t know what he’ll do if you refuse.

And that’s the problem.

Because neither does he.

JJ isn’t thinking. He isn’t here.

He’s someone else entirely. His mind is a blur. Whoever this person is, standing before you, wants nothing but to hurt you.

Your heart hammers as the reality sets in.

You could fight. But he'd beat you. You could hope for help. But there’s no one around to stop him. You could scream, but what good would it do if no one’s there to hear you?

And if you don’t do what he says?

He won’t leave.

Not until you get on that bike.

Barry’s bike.

Barry. 

Your heart stops.

Where is Barry? What did JJ do to him? Why didn’t he answer your calls? Did he take something else? Did he leave him, alone, somewhere, with nowhere else to go?

And if he doesn’t leave, if he keeps shouting like this, keeps grabbing you, demanding you go with him—

It’ll be worse.

So much worse.

Your job. Your safety. This sliver of security you're already clinging to by the skin fingernails.

You just barely escaped being fired. JJ isn’t above making a scene to teach you a lesson. He doesn’t care how much he hurts you when he’s like this.

The words get caught in your throat. You force yourself to swallow them down, along with everything else you want to say.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the seat.

JJ exhales like he’s been holding his breath. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t talk to you, doesn’t let go of his anger. Just swings his leg over the bike and nods toward the seat behind him. – Get on.

You hesitate, taking a step back without even thinking, like your body won't let you do this, and he snaps—one hand darting out, grabbing your wrist again, tugging you forward so violently you stumble.

Your stomach lurches.

You don’t want to do this.

But what choice do you have?

You climb onto the bike, your legs barely steady, your arms wrapped around him because you have nothing else to hold on to.

JJ barely gives you time to breathe before he guns it. The engine revs, roaring like a vicious animal. The bike lurches forward before you’re even ready. Your grip slips. Your balance wavers. For a split second, you’re weightless.

You slam against JJ’s back, your arms snapping around his waist on instinct, clinging tight as the bike rockets forward, faster than it should, faster than it ever should.

– JJ—!

The wind rips the word from your mouth.

Streetlights flash by in violent streaks of gold and red. The world blurs at the edges, sharp and endless and cruel, like you’ve been thrown into a nightmare that won’t stop shifting.

JJ doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t breathe. His body is tense, coiled too tight, a wire pulled so thin it can feel the incoming snap. His grip on the handlebars is white-knuckled, his back rigid beneath your grip.

The bike swerves.

Your stomach drops.

The road bends, but JJ doesn’t. He takes the turn too sharp, too recklessly, the tires skidding for half a second. Your whole body tilts, your knee nearly scraping asphalt.

You whimper, pressing yourself closer, fingers desperate as they grasp his clothes, knuckles aching from how hard you’re holding on.

– JJ—slow down!

He doesn’t.

The engine growls louder, vibrating beneath you, rattling in your bones, shaking in your chest like a second heartbeat.

He flies past a red light, too fast, too close, too dangerous.

A car blares its horn—loud, long, furious.

You choke on a scream, your whole body bracing for impact, for the crash, for the pain—

But nothing comes. Only the phantom of an accident growing within you, coiling inside your chest, tightening, painfully, building up a fear that already has you frozen, praying, waiting for death.

Terror crawls up your throat, sharp and cold.

– JJ, please, –  You gasp, voice cracking. – Please—just stop.

For a moment, you think he won’t.

For a moment, you think he’ll ride forever, until the world ends, until you both crash and burn.

Then, finally—finally—he eases off the throttle.

Not much.

Just enough to breathe again.

Just enough to make you realize you were barely breathing at all.

Your pulse roars in your ears.

The wind still slashes at your skin, the tires still groan against the pavement, but the speed—the nightmare speed—has lessened.

Your fingers ache from gripping too tight. Your lungs burn from holding back screams.

And just then, just when you feel the burn in your throat, your lungs, your eyes, retreat, when your arms loosen the slightest bit, when you nearly relax, he sinks his foot on the gas, and suddenly you’re going faster than you ever were.

You can’t contain the scream this time— It surges through you like a bullet, and it ends halfway through, your voice dying in your chest, having used up the little breath you had— you’re choking again. You can’t think.

Your mind rushes, your hands cling, tears falling from you before you can even register them.

But JJ doesn’t slow down.

Even as the streets turn to dirt. Even as the road twists into something precarious, dangerous, unforgiving.

The pavement is cracked, riddled with potholes, with gaping wounds in the asphalt that could send you both flying if he miscalculates even once.

But he doesn’t care.

He flies down the path like he’s untouchable, like the Cut itself will bend to his will, like there’s no chance he could crash.

But you could.

You watch the ground loom ever closer with every turn he makes, asphalt slashing against the metal of the bike like a blade.

Your bones rattle with every jolt, your stomach lurches as the tires stumble over loose gravel, and you can barely think past the fear.

The bike jerks to a halt before your house so suddenly that you don’t even realize it stopped at first.

And you’re falling.

You don’t know whether you jumped or were thrown off.

Your feet hit the ground, but your legs don’t hold.

Your knees collapse into the dirt.

Your hands reach out, clutching the earth beneath you like it’s the only solid thing left in the world.

You gasp, dragging air into your lungs like you’ve been drowning for miles.

The ground is solid. Rough. Real.

But it slips through your fingers, and you can’t hold yourself steady.

You try to focus on the feeling of grit beneath your nails, the sting of pebbles digging into your skin.

Anything to remind yourself that you’re not moving anymore.

But you still feel it.

The phantom pull of the road. The momentum still dragging at your bones. The way your body still thinks you’re going too fast, too fast, too fast—

Somewhere in the haze, you hear voices.

Barry. John. Shouting. Arguing.

You squeeze your eyes shut, press your fingers harder into the dirt, try to remind yourself that you’re here. That you’re on the ground.

That you’re not crashing.

But God, it still feels like you are —Your hands shake so badly you can barely hold the dirt within your fingers. You breathe, gasping, trying to get air, but it’s stuck against your hiccups, against the sobs you don’t even have the strength to choke down— You’re crying. The air is still whizzing past you, sharp, so sharp you can feel it dragging you back, the ground looming closer, your bones nothing but glass.

– There you fucking are. Was it fun? You had your little fucking joyride?! – The voice echoes out from beyond, like you’re stuck, sinking into the air, towards the pavement, and they’re watching you from above.

It's Barry, you realize.

His voice cuts through the haze, loud and livid, sharp enough to hurt. And something inside you thrums. That stupid part of yourself, the part that always hopes someone will help you.

You want to run to him. You want him to see you, to hold you —solid, real, safe— you want something against you, something that isn’t this void that clings to you, this feeling that you’re a moment away from the worst pain you’ll ever feel.

But you can’t stand.

You can’t look at him.

You can’t do anything.

Your hands are still pressed into the dirt, your chest heaving, your body still bracing for impact that never came.

Because it still feels like you’re falling.

And you are.

You’re on the ground, but you’re not. You can’t stand. You can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Something is gonna crash against you. Something sharp. Something that’ll hurt you.

You’ve been beaten enough times to know this feeling, the gasping, aching anticipation of the whip coming down, that split second before someone hits you, before the ground jolts you, before something in you breaks.

Your whole body shakes—not just from fear, not just from the cold, from the void, but from the ache of knowing something worse is coming. You know it's coming. And you know you won’t come out of this unscathed.

Barry stops.

Mid-step, mid-swing, mid-word—he stops.

Because he sees you.

He sees you on the ground.

He sees you pale, trembling, sobbing.

And just like that, his anger vanishes.

He says something, his breath caught in his throat as his steps quicken, as he rushes towards you, having completely forgotten the rest.

His boots crunch against the gravel, loud and reckless and looming. You can’t even help but flinch. Your body jolts backwards, away from him, and you’re crawling again, recoiling until he’s dropping to his knees beside you, reaching out but not touching.

Like he’s done so many times.

And you’re there, this broken stray, cowering in the corner, shaking, shaking so bad you can’t even reach for him like you want.

– Sweetheart, – He murmurs, low, gentle in a way that makes you feel all the more pathetic. – Look at me.

You can’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, curling tighter into yourself, fingers digging into the dirt as if you could disappear into it.

Barry swears under his breath. His hand resting so softly against your shoulder that he too is almost startled by how you flinch.

He stills.

His hand is barely touching you, barely even there, and yet your whole body flinches—hard, like he struck you instead— like a dog, waiting for a boot in the ribs. 

His breath hitches.

– Shit, – He exhales, barely a whisper. Slowly, carefully, he puts his hand on yout back. You don’t move.

You stay there, curled tight, fingers buried in the dirt, shaking, shaking, shaking.

He steadies the rest of his hand against your skin. And you don’t move. Because this is familiar. He’s done this before.

This isn’t new.

Barry swears again, softer this time, and then —very slowly— he moves again. His knees drag through the dirt, his other hand rests on your side.

Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just... offering.

A slow, steady pressure against your back. A grounding weight. A reminder.

You shudder.

Your body is still caught in the past, still bracing for a hit that isn’t coming, still waiting for the moment of impact.

But it doesn’t come.

Just warmth.

Just Barry.

Again.

Nothing’s coming. You have to tell yourself. It’s over. You're okay.

But you don’t believe it. Not fully.

– Sweetheart, – He tries again, voice lower now, still gentle but almost frustrated. Your heart catches. And you feel that guilt blooming in you again. Because he’s had to do this before. Because he’s had to pick up the pieces of you from the ground plenty of times before. You want to kick yourself. You don’t deserve this. You almost flinch away. But his hold tightens, the slightest bit. Grounding. Like he’s afraid to scare you away. –  You’re okay. You’re okay. Just relax. You're okay.

You’re okay.

You don’t move.

Not until he presses a little firmer. Not until his fingers brush your ribs, not holding, not forcing, just... there. Until he pulls at you, softly, not like JJ did. 

Barry doesn’t hesitate.

His arms wrap around you, firm and solid, pulling you in, gathering you up, shielding you from the air itself. The second you feel his grip tighten, you break. A sob wracks through you, sharp and choked, as your hands claw at his shirt, gripping, gripping, gripping.

You cling like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

Like you’re still moving too fast, and he’s just barely keeping you grounded.

Barry holds you tighter. – You’re okay. – He repeats.

Something's coming. Steps behind him. You see the outline of someone, legs walking towards the two of you, but when you move, he holds you tighter. Arms bracing your back like a straightjacket, keeping you from yourself. Keeping you sane.

– You’re okay. – Is the only thing he says. And he keeps saying it, again and again, until the words echo in your mind, bouncing against the walls of your skull, less and less frantic until you can say it. 

You believe him.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to stop falling.

But your name resounds again from behind you. Once, a second time, then you feel that same hand that grabbed you sink into your arm again, trying to pull you back. – Get up! – JJ shouts, nails sinking into your shoulders as he grabs you.

Barry pushes him away.

Shoves him.

You hear the stutter in JJ’s steps as he stumbles back, sinking further into his arms like a child. – What the fuck did you do, huh? What the fuck did you do to her, JJ?!

– Get up and fucking look at me. – He keeps pulling at you, calling your name, his hand burrowing into your flesh. You want to stand, you want to push him away, but you cower. And Barry does it for you.

He shoves JJ again, hard enough that you feel the struggle between them. – She ain’t gotta listen to a word you say, psycho! What the fuck is your problem?!

JJ laughs—sharp, bitter, like it’s the funniest fucking thing in the world.

– Course you’d hide behind him, – He spits, his voice mocking, cruel. – That’s all you ever fucking do. Hide.

Barry tenses.

You feel it.

The way his muscles coil, the way his grip shifts, ready to push back, to swing, to end this.

But JJ doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even look at Barry.

He’s still looking at you.

You can feel his eyes burning holes into your back as you pull back from Barry. You can feel the rage emanating off of him.

– You got nothing to say now? – JJ presses, stepping closer. – Nothing at all? You usually talk such big game, baby. Now you can't even look me in the eye?!

Barry moves first.

– Back the fuck up.

It’s not a warning.

It’s a command.

– Why? Are you worried she’s too close to stab me in the back again? The way I see it, she’s in the perfect position to do that to you, man!

You pull back from Barry, hands still clinging to his shirt as you turn to look at JJ, but Barry doesn’t let go, not as JJ’s gaze finally flicks to him, smirking, scoffing. Not as he pulls you to your feet again, tearing you away from your friend like you're nothing but a thing he can take.

– You feel good? – JJ’s voice is low, furious, barely held together, as his hands sink into you. – Feel real fucking good going behind everyone’s back? Working for Rafe? That do it for you? 

Your chest tightens.

– Stop it—

– You got your little job, right? – JJ barrels over your words, stepping closer, looming, his breath hot, sharp, filled with venom. – That what you’re calling it now? Fucking us all over for a paycheck? Maybe that isn’t it though, maybe you’re the one who’s getting fucked, huh?

John bristles from the porch, his voice low, tense. – JJ.

– Nah. She knows what she’s doing, right? Did you tell your brother how Rafe was all over you in that parking lot, calling you baby and shit?! That dignified, hard-working girl act you put up really paid off huh? You really had us all fooled! – John doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t call JJ out, he just stands there. – Feel fulfilled now? Now that you managed to tick off every fucking form of betrayal in the book? Because you got me fucked up!

Barry’s done.

– She ain’t got you fucked up, man. That’s exactly what you are. Are you serious right now? – Barry snaps, voice rough with disbelief. – You wanna talk about her fucking up? You—you who does nothing but fuck up?!

– Nobody is fucking talking to you, bro.

– Ain’t nobody around here your “bro”, JJ. Thank God, too. Weren’t your parents siblings or whatever? That’d explain why you only got half a fucking brain.

– Shut the fuck u—

– Oh, Alabama over here’s mad! – Barry scoffs, a quick, sharp sound drained of anything even close to humor. – That’s actually hilarious. That some bum like you would feel like you have the right to call anyone out on what they do or don’t do for work. You sit here, lounging for free in this house she pays for, doing jack shit with your fucking life like the trailer trash your ass is—but she’s the bad guy for working? Is that how long it’s been since you had a job, JJ? That you can’t fathom the possibility of someone making money without selling themselves?

JJ laughs.

Not real. Not amused.

Just dangerous.

Like he’s already decided how this ends.

– That’s cute, – He murmurs, nodding slowly, like it’s all some joke he’s humoring. – That’s real fucking cute. You’re gonna add anything to this conversation, or is your dog doing all the talking for you today?

Barry chuckles. Dry and low, so low you can barely hear it. – Dog? You run around sniffing John B’s ass all day and night like you’re in heat or something, but I’m the one who’s a dog? Shit, I ain’t see a bitch around here but you, JJ.

JJ lunges. His fist swings through the air, quick and violent, but before he can even touch Barry, he uppercuts him in the stomach.

JJ tumbles back, his hands still on you, tearing at you, grabbing, ripping, pulling— but his grip doesn’t stand the pain Barry caused him, and he falters.

Barry reacts instantly.

He grabs his arm, shoves him off of you, pivots —his knuckles slam into JJ’s temple.

The sound is sickening: A dull, thudding crack of bone on bone. JJ’s head snaps sideways. His body stumbles, tilting, collapsing.

But Barry doesn’t stop.

He’s on him before he hits the ground, tackling him hard, sending them both crashing into the dirt.

JJ barely has time to react before Barry’s fist connects again.

And again.

And again.

A hit to the jaw—JJ spits blood.

A hit to the cheekbone—his head slams back against the ground.

Barry is relentless.

You call his name, your heart racing, the blood searing your vision like a burning bush, but he doesn’t listen.

His teeth are bared, his muscles coiled and shaking, his body moving on pure fury, on the weight of everything JJ has said, everything he’s done. The years he’s spent hating him for you, the months he’s been hating JJ for the stupid shit he pulled and the problem’s he’s caused him.

He’s beating him to a fucking pulp.

JJ groans. A sharp, wet, broken sound, choked by the blood in his mouth.

His fist swings again—

And that’s when you move.

You throw yourself forward, grabbing Barry’s arm, yanking, clawing, trying to drag him off—

– Stop it! You’re gonna kill him! Stop it! – Your voice cracks, weak, your attempts useless even as your brother joins you, trying to pull them apart, but Barry keeps swinging.

His breathing hard, shaking, still staring down at JJ, moving despite your grip and John’s, like he wants to break something permanent. Like just bruising him isn’t enough.

Like he’s one more hit away from doing it.

You pull harder, hands gripping his clothes, his arm, anything you can reach.

Barry jerks against your hold, laughing, spitting at JJ—then finally, he lets you drag him back.

His breathing is ragged, wild, unhinged.

JJ groans, coughing. His face is already swelling, blood smeared across his cheek.

Your stomach twists.

You reach for him before you can think, hands hovering over his face, over the bruises already forming.

– JJ, – You breathe, shaking. – Jesus fucking Christ.

He's a mess. Blood, flesh, face. You can barely make one thing out from the other. Barely see the damage.

Your hands brush the bloodied hair out of his face, an instinctive motion, just so you can see where the cuts ends and the swelling begins. And for a moment, he almost seems like he’ll let you.

JJ's eyes part, moving though your face as you look at him, and he breathes in deep. He sighs. 

A familiar sound. 

Relief. 

Relief that it's over.

You reach again, just barely ghosting your hands over his temple, where Barry hit him first. But his eyes widen, something in them shifting, cold, cruel. 

And he shoves you away.

Hard. 

Hard enough that you stumble back as well.

Hard enough that Barry notices.

You hear him tear himself away from John's grip, rushing past you, but you grab him just in time. – Please, please Barry. Stop it. Just stop it. Don't do this right now.

Barry is still trembling, breath wild, erratic, hands twitching like he’s one second away from lunging all over again.

You feel it, the anger rolling off him in waves, the way his body keeps trying to pull forward, like something feral inside him hasn’t had enough.

You grip his wrist tighter. – Please, – You whisper. – Please, Barry. Just stop it. Don’t do this right now.

Barry’s teeth grind together. His breath is sharp, ragged, dangerous.

But he listens.

JJ doesn’t.

John helps him sit up, a steadying hand on his back, but the second JJ is upright, breathing, aware again—he’s talking. Talking, insulting, tearing into you like it’s the only thing keeping him conscious.

– You’re gonna let him? – His voice is hoarse, broken, but still filled with venom. – This piece of shit does nothing but get you in trouble but— He spits blood onto the dirt, wipes his mouth, shaking his head. – You’re just gonna let him do whatever he wants?

Your stomach twists.

– JJ—

– I shouldn’t be surprised. – His head snaps up. Eyes blazing, furious, wild. – You let it happen, – He snarls. – You always let it happen, You don’t give a fuck about us. Don’t fucking act like you do. You stood there and fucking— He gestures to himself, to the mess Barry made of him, to his swollen face, to the blood dripping onto his collar. – And you fucking let him do it.

– What the fuck are you gonna do about it, then, tough guy? – Barry laughs, his hands trembling. 

JJ’s muscles snap tight.

You push Barry back again, more frantic now, shaking, pleading, but he doesn’t listen. 

Your hands tremble.

JJ pushes himself up fully now, John’s grip still firm on his shoulder, holding him steady. But it doesn’t matter. 

Because JJ is not steady.

Not at all.

– You ain’t gonna say anything, huh? – He breathes, voice cold, sharp, shaking. – You play the tough girl act very well for someone who’s such a bitch.

Barry tenses again. His laugh is the crack of a whip as he pushes past you, you have to shove at him just so he won’t rush in and punch him again. 

John’s holding JJ back, his face wrecked with something almost sad. Almost worried. – Let go of me. – Barry groans, the impatience growing in his voice. – Let go of me sweetheart, this motherfucker needs to be put in his place.

– Let it go, Bee.

– Let it go?! – He does a double take, looking at you as if you’d grown a second head. – Let it go? He just called you a—

– I heard it. Please, this is enough. You nearly killed him. You won. – You grip his arm tighter. His breath comes out heavy, perplexed. – Just let it go, please.

John’s voice is a murmur behind you, whatever it is that he says to his friend doesn’t reach you, but you know it isn’t working, because the outrage on JJ’s face doesn’t budge. – JJ—

– You’re a fucking traitor. – He spits your name out along with the blood, your brother still trying to pull him back with all he’s got. – You are. You’re a traitor and a whore!

It punches through you.

JJ stumbles forward, closer, swaying but still standing.

– You don’t belong here, – He seethes. – Get the fuck out.

Your heart stops.

You blink at him, your breath snagging in your throat.

This is your house. Your home. He can’t—he can’t just tell you to—

– Get out. – It’s louder this time, meaner, angrier, like it’s his right to say it, like he actually has the power to take something else from you. – Since you’re so happy to be Rafe’s free use slut, go ahead and do it on your own! We don’t fucking need you!

Your lips part. – This is my house, – But your voice is a sliver of what it once was. You’re not looking at JJ. You barely hear his words, but your brother is standing there, completely still. His arms suddenly lax around the other boy. – This is my house! – Louder, firmer, but just as useless.

– I don’t think it is. – JJ laughs. He’s looking back at your brother now, too. Because he knows John isn’t gonna say anything. He knows it just as well as you do. – Your name isn’t John Routledge. That’s the name on the deed, isn’t it? And it’s not yours.

– John. – You’re pleading again. The gray-green of your brother’s eyes gaping at you emptily, thoughtlessly, as if he’s gone into shock. – Say something, John. This is my house too!

He doesn’t say anything.

Just stares.

– Say something!

You don’t know how many times you’ve done this.

How many times you’ve stood there, practically on your knees, begging him to act like a brother. To act like he cares about you. To act as if he’d loved you for a single moment of his life.

You don’t know how many times you’ve gotten this exact response.

The blank stare.

The guilty face.

That look in his eye that tells you just how much he doesn’t have it in him to pretend, even for a moment, that you’re less than the stupid girl who, for whatever reason, has done everything in your power to keep him afloat.

– John. – His name comes out hoarse, quiet. A whisper. A prayer. A plea.

His eyes never waver from yours, he keeps looking, keeps standing there, and though his face is cracked with guilt, there is no shame. Nothing that would make him act on it.

Maybe there’s just nothing there.

No fire. No anger. No defense. No loyalty.

Just the look you’ve seen a thousand fucking times before.

You don’t know why you still beg. You don’t know why you still believe. 

You are pleading with a ghost.

John doesn’t move. He just looks at you. Like he’s already decided. Like this is already done.

And it is. 

But it wasn’t done with the fight, or the cursing, or the blood, not even the way JJ turns, tossing the keys to the bike onto the ground, storming off like he’s the one who was wronged. Not when you see the way John hesitates for half a second, looking at you like he wants to say something, like he wants to take it back, like he wants to undo what’s already done—

Not even when he follows him, turning his back on you like it’s so simple, so natural, like it was always meant to be.

It ended years ago.

Maybe it never even began.

Maybe you're the only fool alive who ever believed you were his sister.

The night cracks open.

The silence presses in.

You're stuck inside your body, inside your head, inside all the memories that claw their way back into you like rusted nails.

You are twelve years old, standing behind John, watching through the schoolyard fence as JJ and the others shove you into the dirt.

"Ain’t she your sister?" someone asks.

John laughs with them.

"Nah, man. I don’t know her."

You are fifteen, standing in the living room, your hands trembling at your sides as your father slams you against the wall.

John is at the end of the hall.

Watching.

Silent.

Your father’s voice is thunder in your ears.

"You think you’re smart, huh? You think I don’t know it was you?"

But it wasn’t you. It was John.

And he lets it happen anyway.

You are seventeen, standing in this very yard, watching your brother walk away from you again.

Just like he always does.

Just like he always will.

Because John —the John you thought you knew, the John that sobbed in your arms for months every night your father didn't come home, the John who wouldn't eat unless you fed him, who wouldn't sleep unless you held him, wouldn't leave the house unless you were close enough that he could grab you, was never there. John, the boy, John, the brother. He's only ever existed as far as he needed you. And now he doesn’t— is not there. 

He's John B.

The star student, the popular kid. That boy that was always too good to hang around some mongrel like you.

And this is what John B does.

This is what he’s always done.

He doesn’t protect you.

He doesn't defend you.

He doesn’t choose you.

Every time you’ve asked God whether you were your brother’s keeper, you felt the weight of every living soul around you say no —You closed your eyes, and you were Abel, lying, stupidly, on the ground you just tilled as he stood behind you with a stone, ready to crush you. You were Remus, laying bricks with your back turned as he came to slay you. You were Osiris, walking thoughtlessly into a coffin he’s made to bury you, fully believing that he wanted nothing but to see you well— Because for every life you’ve shared, he’s killed you, and still somehow convinced you to pray that you’re still siblings in the next.

You don’t remember when your hands started shaking.

Or when your knees lost their strength.

Or when your breath began coming too fast, too shallow, not enough, never enough.

All you know is that the world tilts.

And you sway.

And you break.

And you cry.

You reach out—for something, anything—but there’s nothing to hold onto.

Nothing but empty space where your brother used to be, where the two of you used to play, where you once believed you could be something like brother and sister.

The sky blurs. The trees waver. The ground rushes toward you.

But before you can collapse, before you can even feel yourself falling, Barry catches you.

He's solid. Real.

Not like John. —You shake your head, mentally scratching that concept from your conscience— Not like John B. 

– Hey—hey—look at me. – Barry’s hands grip your arms, tight, steady. His eyes search your face, his chest rising and falling like he’s just run a mile. – C'mon. Breathe.

You press your hands against his chest, against something solid, something unshaking, something that won’t disappear the moment you close your eyes.

And finally you do breathe. But the wound is still gaping. Still bleeding. And John B is already gone. The door slams closed, leaving you to rot in the silence, bathed by the flickering light of the porch; the one you asked him to change for a lightbulb you bought weeks ago, and is still sitting, forgotten on his nightstand.

Barry smooths the tears away from your face, like he used to do when you came to him after a fight with your father, like he’s done for every heartbreak since. – Let’s go home. – He whispers, his hands still cupping your face. The plastic of his keys—Rafe’s keys— pressed against your jaw. – C’mon, let me take you home.

– It's gone, Bee.

– It's not.

– He kicked me out, I can’t come back. It's gone.

– It’s not, it isn’t, don’t fucking say that—don’t ever say that again. – His grip on you tightens, the muscles of his hand flexing against your skin, quick, so quick, you barely brace yourself when he makes you stand in front of him. – That piece of shit isn’t your home. This place? This fucking dump you lived in? This isn’t your home. I’m your home, okay? And you’re mine, and you’re not staying here to keep breaking your own heart over and over again. Let's go.

– Barry—

– I don’t wanna hear it. – He's firm. He's angry. Your chest weighs heavy, still forever afraid of any sign of anger, even when it’s not directed to you. But he holds you, and he looks at you, really looks at you, and he repeats. – Let’s go, okay? I’m taking you to my place, and I don’t wanna hear you complaining. 

– Okay.

– C’mon. 

Barry’s hands are firm, unshaking, steady, and you barely feel them as he guides you toward the bike. Everything is distant, muted, like you’re watching yourself move from somewhere outside your own body. A conscience beyond your own. 

You let him press the helmet onto your head, let him buckle it under your chin with a flick of his fingers. And you watch the way he moves.

His hands are still clenched as he tosses your purse, discarded over the ground, on your lap. He looks over his shoulders, at the closed door, with his jaw clenched, and every so often he shakes his head, frowning, outraged by a thought you can’t hear, can't know.

You don’t remember climbing onto the bike.

You barely register the way Barry grips your hands, pulling them around his waist, but he doesn’t say anything. Not the usual "Hold on, sweetheart," he always says like it’s second nature, not any of the stupid comments he makes whenever you ride with him. His movements are brisk, borderline impatient, but not careless, never careless. He kicks the bike to life, the engine shuddering through your bones as it hums beneath you, the heat of the exhaust jostling against the scrapes on your legs.

Then, you’re moving.

Not fast. Not yet.

But even at this speed, the wind presses against you, makes you feel untethered, unsteady, fragile in a way you haven’t let yourself acknowledge until now. You close your eyes and grip him tight, focusing on the smell of the helmet, breathing it  in, the smoke of his cigarettes, the shoddy menthol of his nicotine gum, and something grounding, something real. 

Your fingers find the fabric of his shirt —your shirt— the old marina shirt that belonged to your dad, the one you were wearing that day with him and Rafe, when everything went to shit. It’s crumpled, but it feels nice, still tender from the fabric softener you used for that last wash.

You feel the moment he registers it, the way you grip him, trying to distract yourself—the way his muscles tense slightly, the way his hands shift against the handles, grip tightening, the moment of hesitation before he sighs through his nose and settles.

He drives slower than usual.

Not slow, but slow enough that you can tell.

Slow enough that it’s not Barry’s usual recklessness, his usual need to prove something.

Slow enough that he’s paying attention.

You don’t know how long you ride like that.

Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Maybe a whole fucking lifetime.

Everything is blurred, stretched thin, bleeding together like a half-forgotten dream, and you let it wash over you, let the hum of the engine drown out the roar in your head, let the road carry you somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here, that isn’t now.

You don’t notice when he turns onto the familiar back roads.

You don’t notice the flickering neon light, the cracked pavement, the darkened windows.

You don’t notice where you are at all.

Not until he kills the engine.

Not until the silence crashes over you, sharp and final. Not until you hear the low creak of his kickstand settling, the way he shifts slightly beneath your hands, pulling off his helmet, running a hand through his hair before glancing over his shoulder.

Not until you look up.

And the sign is right there, right above you.

The River Styx.

Your stomach drops.

But Barry doesn’t say anything, his fingers brush over your wrist, still taught around his waist, and he pats his other hand over your knee. – C'mon.

You just stare at the sign, the neon glow casting strange shadows across the pavement, the weight of everything pressing down on you all over again.

You should have known.

Of course he’d bring you here.

Because where else would you go?

Where else is there to go?

Barry swings his leg off the bike, tossing the helmet onto the seat, shaking his head like he’s already exhausted by whatever is going on in his own head. He exhales sharply, running a hand over his jaw, then gestures toward the door.

– Come on, sweetheart, it's about time this day fucking ends. 

You swallow hard, unmoving.

His brows pull together slightly, like he’s trying to be patient, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say, but Barry isn’t built for patience, for softness, for comfort in the way people expect it.

So instead, he sighs, takes a step closer, and reaches for your wrist, fingers curling around it, not pulling, just holding. – You promised. – He says, but this time it actually is softer, kinder, nearly patient. – Now, we can go back if you want, but then the deal is over, and you'll have to sleep on the pull-out couch.

You scoff, still looking at the sign, but you feel your arm relax under his touch. – You suck.

– Not just yet, I’m still sober. – He winks, smiling half-heartedly as he pulls you to the door.

Finnean, the owner’s son, grins the moment he sees you, arms crossed over the bar, his too-many tattoos peeking out from what should have been the sleeves of this dirty wife-beater he’s wearing, the gold tooth in his smile catching the dim light. – Well, well. Look who finally crawled outta the grave.

– You thought we were dead? – Barry hums, unamused, knocking twice against the counter as he slides onto the stool, pulling you beside him. 

Finnean laughs, more a scoff than anything as he places two cups before you. – D’you ever hear the expression ‘only the good die young’? Good ain’t the case for you two. I was actually leaning towards your ass finally getting detained.

– Why? Your brothers need a lil company? Maybe sweetheart can go to see them. – Barry pats your leg, smiling, tight and taught, none of the usual ease on him. – What’d you say, jailbait?

– You can go all you like, sweets. I’m just not sure you’d come back.

– You’re a peach, Finn. – He smiles at you, green eyes flashing with something you don’t want to understand as he turns his back and grabs something.

– And you’re a plump, little red cherry. – He shakes his head, setting the glass down in front of you with a wink before tossing something onto the bar. – I could just pop you in my mouth.

A bowl of bright red maraschino cherries sits before you. Your heart stumbles, a smile actually forming on your face.

Barry grins, nudging them closer. – Knew that’d cheer you up. – His shoulder brushes yours as he pulls your stool closer, watching you eat. – We weren’t in jail or nothing, but this one just got out of house arrest.

– That brother you’re always talking about? – He asks Barry, already throwing his head back, laughing, reaching for the bourbon before Barry even asks. – That explains it. – You stop for a moment, aching again.

Was it so obvious? – Does it? – You murmur, and Finnean gives you a look.

– You disappear for months, and when you finally show up, you look like someone dragged you through hell backwards. – He nods at Barry. – He looks ready to start swinging on the first motherfucker who blinks at him wrong.

– That’s just his face, – You say dryly, eating so you don’t have to look at them.

Barry just snorts, shoving your shoulder lightly. – Ain’t you a charmer? – He takes a cherry from your hand, still chewing it as he downs his cup. – Hit me again.

– You tryna meet God or something? – Barry chuckles at your words, this time more genuine. The smile lingers as Finn pours more bourbon into his glass, sliding another over to you.

– Holler when you get tired of this loser, okay sweetheart? – He winks, that same old joke he always says, grinning as he slides on over to another customer. – Finn will love you long time.

You breathe out slowly, your lungs still burning as you reach for the glass.

You’re tired of thinking about John.

Tired of mourning someone who was never there to begin with.

Maybe Barry had a point with the whole drinking your sorrows away thing. He’d been doing it for years, already. Started drinking just after his father was finally arrested for good.

And hey, if it worked for him…

You bring the glass to your lips, feeling your friend’s eyes on you as the liquid runs down your throat like straight gasoline. He chuckles, patting you in the back.

The first drink burns.

The second warms.

By the third, you’re floating.

The night bleeds away with every time you glimpse the bottom of your cup staring down at you.

Time slips through your fingers, lost in the clink of glasses, the sharp burn of bourbon, the sticky sweetness of cherries.

But though your thoughts slow, the ache never leaves you.

Barry loosens, even as you remain a little melancholy, all warmth beside you, his voice low in your ear, teasing, coaxing laughter from you with every sarcastic remark, every quiet joke. He tips the bottle, refilling your glass before you can even think to ask.

Your chest clenches.

The songs in the background rise, fall, twist into something familiar.

Somewhere between the fourth drink and the sixth, you’re singing along, voice tangled with Barry’s, both of you yelling out the lyrics, slurring through the old Irish verses, laughter shaking through you as the whole bar joins in.

You don’t remember when Finnean slid the bottle of homemade moonshine across the counter, just that Barry caught it with a smirk, tucking it under his arm before pulling you off the stool.

His hands are already on you, already guiding, already pressing against your waist.

You stumble, laughing, pushing him back. – You can’t fucking drive like this, dumbass.

Barry grumbles, rolling his eyes, but you grab his arm and pull.

So you walk.

Through the streets of the Cut, the night air cool against your flushed skin, your voices loud, singing through the empty roads from your empty chest. Barry spins you at one point, pulling you into his arms, making you laugh, and you linger a moment longer than you should, his arms still around you when you finally pull away, palms burning hot through the fabric of your shirt as he walks behind you.

By the time you reach his trailer, your legs ache, your chest hurts from laughing, and your head is woozy.

His trailer is dark, not a single light on as he pulls you towards it, hands searching your sides, his chest pressed against your back. His fingers rest at the small of your waist, loose, familiar, something closer to instinct than thought.

He’s closer than he should be, you know he is, but you don’t push him away.

Maybe it’s the drinking.

Maybe it’s the way the night has stripped you raw, leaving nothing but exposed nerve endings and memories that won’t stay buried.

Or maybe it’s just him.

The warmth of him.

The familiarity of him.

The fact that he’s still here despite the fact you’re down in the dumps.

But the way he's looking at you now isn't new. It's far too familiar.

His lips part slightly when he turns you, his head tilting, eyes flicking between your mouth and the mess of your hair, the flush of your skin, the shape of you standing so fucking close to him you could feel the shape of your body moulding to his.

He leans in, breath fanning against you like a dragon’s, warm, cutting, almost inviting you to be bitten. You turn just in time, his lips landing on your cheek, warm and soft, and way too eager. – You know we never stop once we start. – You mumble, your back brushing the railing as he pulls you up the stairs.

Barry’s lips twitch. His fingers flex against your waist, just barely dragging down, slipping lower, gripping just enough to pull you fully against him.

His voice is low, rough, already gone. – Who says I want to stop?

You know you shouldn’t.

It’s been a while since you drank and remained conscious, but the ache in your chest is doing nothing for your rational thinking skills, and when he cups your face, soft, so soft, like no one else in the world ever does, you let him.

You taste yourself first—sweet, sticky cherry, the sugar lingering on your tongue, and he hums, pulls away just a bit, licking his lips before he kisses you again. You taste him, then. Malt. Amber. Tobacco. Bourbon-smooth and burning at the edges.

You feel guilty already.

But you want the comfort. The ease. The warmth.

His hands tighten, pressing into the small of your back, like he needs you closer, like the inches between you are somehow unbearable, and he sighs against your lips as he kisses you again. The guilt writhes within you as your pride swells. He hums into your mouth, something low, something pleased, something that sounds dangerously like relief.

You barely register him guiding you back until your calves hit the edge of the couch on the porch, and suddenly you’re falling.

Not away from him.

With him.

Barry pulls you onto his lap, knees spreading beneath you, hands gripping tighter, hotter, rougher.

His mouth moves against yours with purpose now—hungry, claiming, a little desperate, a little too much. But he never pushes. He always begs you to take.

You feel his breath stutter when you shift against him, when your hands tangle in his hair, when your fingers scrape against his scalp just the way he likes and he groans, deep in his throat, pulling you tighter.

This is it.

This is the cycle.

This is the inevitable.

This is history repeating itself.

This is what you do when you have nowhere else to go.

This is a promise, a bad decision made in the heat of too much alcohol, sealed between his teeth and your lips, unspoken, unbreakable. You don’t really know what you’re promising. But like the fool you are —like the fool you’ve always been— you’re almost glad to hold it out on a silver platter, just to get that rare sliver of love you’re always desperately grasping at.

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

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice w/ Huntress!Darling & Sidekick!Darling

I've been having some ideas while watching Young Justice and the Justice League Unlimited series, specifically about Huntress. In the show, she is a former Justice League member who was kicked out for getting too violent...

And I got an idea.

A former member of the Justice League who got pissed off at the Justice League after her former partner who was in the Justice League got kidnapped and killed and the Justice League decided to just hand over their killer to the law. She knows that the killer will not actually change and will get themselves out of prison, and no actual justice will be served in her eyes. Then, on top of it all it feels like none of the other Justice League members care that she just lost the person who means most to her, after the meeting where they were talking about his death Hal started flirting with her, and then Barry would not even look her in the eye when she started chewing him out for not being quick enough, it was like they wanted her partner to die...

So fueled by rage and loss, she leaves the Justice League.

Other members of the Justice League try to talk her into joining again, also checking up on her to make sure she is still alive and making sure she is taking care of herself, because after all she is still lost in all the grief she went through. Still, she just continues to refuse, pushing everyone away and just getting more and more violent when she deals with and solves crimes, even getting on Batman's watchlist for how aggressive she is getting. Then comes the day when the crime lord responsible for her partner's death is released from prison, and she tracks his location to a hidden human smuggling ring, and she almost kills him, she has a knife to her throat, and then-

"Help me, please!"

She hears a young girl's voice, one of the victims who was kidnapped. She looks to see the girl being dragged off with a gun to her head, and then something just clicks inside of her again, the reason why she became a hero in the first place. She runs to save the little girl, letting the crime lord go in the process, giving up everything she wanted all these years to do the right thing. It's a freeing feeling, really, when she is helping the girl get out of the building, knowing deep down that she did the right thing at the end of the day.

She takes the girl in, after all, she was orphaned, and the system only ended up with her getting trafficked, and eventually she wanted to become a hero just like her now guardian, because without someone like her, she would be dead or worse.

Eventually, she accepts the offer to join the Justice League again when she encounters Green Arrow on a rooftop during one of her patrols, he was actually following her, and it ended in a friendly sparring match, she realized he was stalking her and she was pissed off. The thing is, she has one requirement when she rejoins the Justice League since she already knows about their covert operations team built of sidekicks.

It is almost shocking to see their former and new member come back into the Watchtower with a teenage girl at her side, after all they had all been checking up on her, and not once did they see this girl, but a deal is a deal, she rejoins the Justice League and her sidekick gets to join their covert operations team.

One day after training, the Young Justice team is gathered and introduced to their newest member, the sidekick of the formerly rogue Justice League member. Some are slow to trust, like Superboy, or even Artemis, some of them welcome her and try to make her feel at home, like Miss Martian, Robin, Zatanna, Kid Flash, or Aqualad. Eventually, they all warm up to her, maybe a bit too much, getting protective of her on missions, even jeopardizing the mission or putting civilians in danger just to protect her.

So a choice has to be made by the Justice League: do they keep this sidekick on the young team in order to keep the person who means so much to so many of them, or do they cut her from the team and in turn loose her again.

It would be such an easier choice to make if they were civilians or injured enough that they would have had to be cut from this line of work.

I just love the idea of Huntress!Darling & Sidekick!Darling, I don't know, just the unhinged mother-daughter duo who are like feral house cats half the time and the other half of the time Sidekick!Darling is worrying over her mom who got caught in her grief over her old partner, aka the Question.

If anyone has any requests for this idea or ideas for Sidekick!Darling's hero name, drop it in my ask box.

[earlgreylatte]

The Not So Little Things

Hal Jordan: Despite his general disdain to authority, he gets off to being the one in control. Definitely has a daddy kink, and even if you refuse to call him that, he’ll just refer to himself as such when he’s slamming into you, cooing at you for being so good for him and to just let daddy do all the work. And while he likes brat taming, nothing makes his heart go as gooey when you look so happy to take what he gives you, looking up at him with adoring eyes that eventually tear up from the sheer overstimulation of him not relenting until you’re shaking and barely able to speak.

Barry Allen: Somehow so unaware that he has a monster dick, due to his own inexperience and not being a big fan of casual flings. But he’s a quick learner, observant of your reactions and always willing to try new things. Grows confident pretty quick after the first two times he has you dumb from his cock. Definitely gets into some mild temperature play, already running hot from his powers but he still likes to slightly raise his temperature when inside you. Also great at massages. While hesitant at first, the longer you’re together, the more willing he is to utilize his speed against you.

Booster Gold: Coming from the 25th century where genetic modification and designer babies are the norm, he’s so entranced by every mole, beauty mark, and stretch mark. They’re like nothing he’s ever seen before, there’s just something so entrancing about each line, that has him carefully tracing his finger against your skin before eventually enveloping it with his mouth, licking, sucking and kissing every inch of you, showering you with praise for being so beautiful and perfect. He loves how he can just touch the proof of the life you’ve lived thus far. Won’t stop starting at your face if you have beauty marks there and definitely looks up the meaning of each placement on the internet.

Ted Kord: Worship the insecurity out of him. There’s so much firm muscle beneath his plushness, he’s a former gymnast after all, and even in his retirement, he’s still so unbelievably attractive when he puts on his old suit even while complaining that it doesn’t fit well anymore. He has to be blind to how good his ass and thighs look in spandex. He’s crazy for even suggesting he needs to diet, he’s literally perfect. So kiss and play with every inch of him, before taking his length in your mouth. So attractive when he just relaxes against you, mouth slack open as he lets out the prettiest noises. Teddy, the man you are.

Bruce Wayne: Use him however you want. Give him nothing in return, and he’ll still stare at you with that gushy look in his eyes. He’s more than willing to spend the whole night, or morning if he’s returning from patrol, with his head between your legs, ignoring his obvious need. Leave him wanting until just a stroke and squeeze is all it takes to have his eyes rolling back as he comes with a low groan. If you let him, he’s more than willing to leave you bedridden for a day or two. The duality of men.

I feel like booster with how much I pine for Ted. Also!! My team red post isn’t popping up in the search bar, damn you Tumblr…

Masterlist

Edit: why is professor zoom so ugly when booster is like the pinnacle of the beauty standard