dandydrunky

Latest Posts by dandydrunky

(Austin by Dasha) applied to reader x Rafe

Why do I see it?

(Coming soon)

Unrelated to OBX

Sorry to all my wrestling fans out there, like so sorry. I don't write for them, on this blog, but I do enjoy content about them.

My advice, get them out while you still can.

Those fics sitting in your drafts. Post them. Get it out and grieve.

And a moment of silence for the love and respect that is not reciprocated through these thoughts and actions.

Authors continue, discontinue, I support YOU and YOUR work, not the politics bullshit.

Stay strong.

Pogue!gf!reader

Rafe or Barry would get done folding you in half, having nearly stopped your heart from beating and have the audacity to leave a clip of money on the dresser while they went for a smoke.

Rafe is definitely tender-headed, but there was something irresistible about the way your nails sank into his scalp, desperately clawing at his hair that had him in literal tears.

He's a whimpering mess, hastily rutting into you, adrenaline coursing through him while you yanked at his dark strands, his face buried into your neck because he refuses to be caught crying as he empties himself into you.

His high fading with him rubbing his spent member on your sticky inner thighs, pressing stuttering kisses against your collarbone.

It was perfect, one of the best things about sex with Rafe, it worked every time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean you want to cut your hair?"

Your voice rang out through the speaker of Rafe's car, the bass was so loud you could almost hear your shock return through the stereo.

Rafe leaned his head back against the driver’s seat, a hand resting on the gear shift, the other running over his hair, a smile he tried to suppress cracking through as he heard you panic.

When he didn't respond back you switched the audio call to a video, the request popping up on his screen.

"Please tell me you're joking," you were unsure, seeing him snicker in the front seat, while he kept his eyes on the road.

Was he serious about that? If so, why?

He cleared his throat, fixing his eyes on you, paused in real time.

Your hair was wrapped, secure in a nice scarf, and you were in a white tee, your arms propping your head up, but also squishing your breasts together while the rested against the counter.

His tongue slides over his lower lip, pulling it back into a smile before he answered. "I wanna try something different," that answered about as many questions were asked, but of course you had more.

You were trying to get to the bottom of this because when he left that morning, literally two hours ago, that wasn't even on his schedule.

"You know what? I'm gonna see you when you get home," this had to be dealt with in person. "Mmhm, see you when you get here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why would you ever want to get rid of this?" Your fingers raked through sweaty locs, pushing stray stands out of his face, sweeping them back into a firm grasp.

He winced, a whimper rolling from his parted lips as he sheathed himself into you trying to find sanctuary in your gummy walls.

The pain shifted into adrenaline, and Rafe had that same look in his eye, when he's bordering tears, his irises darken, and his bottom lip get tucked between his teeth, doing nothing to hide his heavy panting letting you know he was close.

"Damn baby," he exclaimed, resisting your clutch, "you keep gripping my shit like that and I may not have to wait,"

And you did, your grip tightened when he threatened to wiggled free, but it was loosing traction when he latched his lips to your nipples, nibbling on them, and soothing it over with his tongue.

His strong arms dipped beneath you, stacking against your lower back as he pressed his face further into your chest, sinking his teeth into various spots.

He rutted his hips against yours feverishly, squeezing your body against his with every thrust while you worked to sooth the sting of your iron grip with kisses to his forehead. Sweet nothings whispered to him coaxing his climax as he pumped into you. Pushing you further into the mattress, arching your back against his arms, your legs around his waist, and his tall frame blanketing over you while his dick twitched against your folds, pumping himself inside you as he pulled out.

The two of you were a heated mess, Rafe holding one arm tucked behind you, the other came to rest on your stomach, staying between your legs, his elbow towards your hip, shallowly breathing against your skin, he hummed while you massaged his scalp, each delicate stroke a parting gift.

Green girl

Summary; dating Rafe throughout the seasons

Content warning; Rafe being Rafe, lot of talk about clothes and lifestyle (appearances and whatnot

A/n; each scenario is a different variation of pogue.

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S1 Rafe

Rafe was opposed to labeling you as his girlfriend for the first few weeks of your relationship, for various reasons, but the biggest?

You were a pogue, and in more ways than one it showed.

From the way you talked, slipping a bro or dude into an otherwise classy conversation to how you dressed.

When he finally accepted you were dating, it seemed to open him a little more.

Of course he still questioned why you repeated outfits and lived in an appropriately sized one bedroom for just you, but he wasn't prepared for when you asked back why he still lives with his dad.

His hobbies consisted of golf, drinking, partying, and biking while yours were pretty basic, you enjoyed a variety of arts, gardening, and fashion.

And not the expensive kind, the destructive kind. Tearing holes in jeans, cutting up sleeves, bleaching a faded tee, donating what you didn't feel you needed.

All in all he liked you, (even if he didn't show it as much as he should), despite your (obvious) differences

And dates were usually in private places where he could allow you to be as cheap as you'd like.

Otherwise he'd never hear the end of it and at some point he'd be inclined to agree.

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S2 Rafe

This was really the time where he wanted to help his dad as much as he wanted to piss him off.

What better way to do that than to date a pogue?

He felt obligated to upgrade you since you started dating

Buying expensive jewelry and clothes.

If he was gonna risk his reputation, he'd do it right.

Now, you accepted some of his gifts, a lot of them costing what you could probably achieve in 10 years, but not all of them

On dates he frequently ordered for you the priciest thing on the menu, but in your preferred palate, took you out to high end places, spent a couple thousands.

Once he was satisfied with the result of burying you in his riches he'd get right back to work.

You did like his taste, but some of the other things you donated to charity or even gave to friends

Rafe was passionate about his gifting, not because it was genuine, but because he needed to be able to show you off and proudly.

So, he instead of bombarding you with gifts you could give away, he bought YOU a house on figure eight

Try selling that

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S3 Rafe

He was different.

All the rumors revolving him, all the gossip, it didn't fit the guy you were dating.

Nothing about the way he sweet talked you or pampered you suggested he was anything like what they said he was.

This was a very important time in his life, where he was semi rehabiliting and learning to think and act for himself

He was a rich boy at heart, but tame in comparison.

He bought you gifts that you've suggested an interest in (this time with your blessing), but his love language was really acts of service.

Now, focusing on your relationship he had to take the time to know you and how to be at your service.

For you he shelfed his rich boy tendencies and learned how to meet you half way.

You taught each other new things

For example, years ago he wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near a washing machine, but you sometimes found him outside, putting the dry clothes into a hamper and/or folding them.

A memorable moment was a power outage at your place due to construction, Rafe instinctively wanted to maybe bribe a worker to repower your neighborhood in particular, but he didn't.

Instead, he helped you finish washing clothes out back that were mid cycle when they stopped, hung them on the clothesline, and lounged around the house between shifts.

You did wake the next morning to a fully a/c conditioned house and working lights.

Content warning; groping, reader has a potty mouth, traumatizing Rafe again, typical work day at the trailer, TENSION

A/n; Wolf of Wall Street reference if you squint

Word count; 1.2k

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"Hello again," you didn't have to look up to know it's Rafe again, trying to smother his heavy breathing with face paced steps in your direction.

It's his second time in your house in less than 12 hours, by enabling his poor habits you've been able to pinpoint his unscheduled appointments, usually within a three day period, meaning about 2-3 visits a week.

Money, drugs, transport, whatever Barry had to offer, but same day repeats were a huge no for Barry. Can't keep clientele if they're dead, it's his way of caring, unless they wave a couple bands.

But Rafe was special, you'll tell him no, no problem, and that's what you did. Even if you were actively spooning greens into thin cut rolling paper.

"Wha-, no, I'm not here for that," he huffed, even though he eyed the jar of rolled blunts.

"Why are you all sweaty and out of breath?" His shirt was dampened in the pits, easier to spot with how swamped he was everywhere else, his hair all sticking together, he looked good.

He stopped his movements, shooting you a squinted glare, lifting his hands above his head, resting them in his hair, "where is Barry?"

Where is Barry? If you had a dime every time he said that, you'd own that bar on figure 8, such a nice piece of land at the end of town, underfunded, partially developed, perfect.

Hello," he snapped, waving his hand in your face.

"Yo..." Barry's voice droned through the entrance, he sniffed, kicking aside your bra on the floor, tugging at his cargo pants, looking at the scene before him.

His eyes fell to you, on the couch, your bare legs parted, what visible part of your bottoms tucked just beneath your working hands, the rest disappearing beneath the half tied robe you're sitting in.

" 'Hell is this?" Mainly looking at you because when he left to go fool around in the makeshift shed out back you were reading a magazine that you had found tucked on his side of the bed.

Now it was open to a page of a girl bent over in a very skin tight skirt, looking back and in some stringy stilettos, her legs seemed infinite while her torso was buried beneath your station.

"I need a gun," Rafe interrupted the heated staring contest, watching as you reclined against the couch, kicking one knee up, the end of your robe hiking over your knee exposing your thigh, a sparkling pedicure gracing the cluttered table.

Barry's pupils voided solid for a second, his eyes flickering over to the kid. You really were distracting him.

But Barry obliged with the request, silently heading towards the bedroom, you giggled at the sound of his flipflops after him.

Rafe stayed in the living room, staring down at you. He's so tense, you wonder if maybe you can help with it.

More so leaning forward to roll a blunt, bringing the packed paper to your lips, looking through your lashes up at Rafe while keeping your head down, breathing on it gently, the tail of your tongue prodding through your lips, flicking at your project.

Delicate kitten licks, hardly even grazing the surface as you extended your foot to where he was standing, with the tips of your toes dragging them down against the fabric of his pants.

Barry came back in the room, holding a western revolver, jamming the loaded chamber back into place, holding it out for Rafe.

"Oh?" You hum, leaning forward, Rafe has more business to take care of than any responsible adult you know, which isn't many.

"You boys and your business," watching the quick exchange, seeing Barry also had a gun tucked in the waistband of his pants.

"Speaking of, what's all this?" the weed, the robe, looks like you in charge of this operation, that wasn't entirely untrue. "Restocking inventory."

"In a robe?" While you had a guest you were still in the comfort of your home, so if you decided to lounge around half dressed so be it. "I mean, I can always take it off," you shrugged, flipping the end up over your lap.

His hand swept over yours, pressing your hands firm in place in objection "you good."

Rafe watched in irritation as you two interacted, seemingly ignoring the urgency of his statement, glaring heavily at you.

It was you, not Barry.

You were a distraction, to him and Barry.

His glare had lessened when he felt the scrap of your nails against his thigh, followed by a heavier presence between his legs, bringing him back to present.

"Little boys shouldn't play with guns," your tone casual, but low, seductive almost. "But if you're all grown up," followed by a nice squeeze, squishing his balls against your palm, your lips curved into a sunken smile, you were enjoying this, "we won't have a problem...will we?"

A quick silence fell over the room, and then the faint whimper from Rafe, his knees bending as he was following the pull of your hands with his hips, he let out a strangled hum of acknowledgment and a haste nod making you smooth over your thumb over where you had been viciously tugging on him.

You kept him in your grasp for extra measure turning your predatory attention now on to Barry, first noticing his bottom lip tugged under his teeth.

You didn't have to look to know that turned him on, he kinda likes being told what to do, especially when you know what you want and how you want it.

"As for you," with your free hand you undid your robe, shrugging it back off your shoulder, showing the thin strapped tank you were wearing, fully giving away the curve of your breasts, "I'll remind you, they don't have this where you're going."

Something you liked to remind him of, if not daily, and it works every time.

Especially like now, when you've displayed your dominance even cornered by these two men, one in the palm of your hand and the other just as easily caving with the promise of your company.

He watched you cross your legs, pushing all other distractions aside as you drew attention to your unshielded figure. Even caught Rafe peeking, subtly.

"Fuck..." Your boyfriend muttered to himself, his eyes not at all leaving you.

Once you were satisfied with their response you let Rafe go, allowing him to stand still and process what had just taken place while you tucked a j in Barry's pants pocket, for good luck, you mouthed, intentionally squishing your breasts together as you did so.

It was enough to inspire good behavior.

Rafe elbowed Barry, nodding towards the door, hoping to escort him out of there before the plan got forgotten altogether.

The two damn near rushed out the door, Rafe following behind to make sure Barry made it, watching his disappear out front.

"Rafe," you called out, watching him slow to a stop, his head turned over his shoulder.

"You got a nice pair, keep it that way." He scoffed, flipping the end of his shirt up to tuck the gun in his waistband, resting it against his back as he walked out.

Content warning: Rafe being horny, little foreplay, lots of grabbing, kissing, takes place at your place, lots of teasing, established relationship, tit play

Summary: sexy time with a twist

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You were in the bathroom, hiking your favorite underwear up your legs, trying to capture the sensuality they do on screen when the doorbell rang throughout your living room catching your attention.

With one final draw up your thighs you pulled the waistline up, resting the elastic hem against your skin, twirling on the tips of your toes, looking back, giving your ass a little shake on the way out. You dropped the t-shirt from under your chin, smacking the lights with with your palm, entering the dark.

You skipped over to the door, careful to dodge an obstacles that may have been waiting for you. Successfully making it to the door, you twisted the knob to reveal in all his 6'2 glory, your handsome boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

You flicked on the dull porch light just to see his face, his eyes trailing down to your shirt, noticing the faint presence of your breasts, your nipples poking at the fabric freely.

"Expecting someone else?" He asked, watching you acan him from head to toe.

"Just looking," you sassed, throwing your arms around him, the action further confirming his suspicion when he felt your chest press against him, your arms sweeping beneath his, connecting around his back.

His hands came to rest on your lower back, his fingers deafly sweeping over the end of your shirt.

You let go ever so slowly, retracing your action, but instead of letting go your pinkie slips through his index and you reel him in, pulling him toward you.

Your shirt swayed teasingly as you twirled keeping him locked in your grasp, the change providing a good view to the white panties outlining the curve of your ass.

Rafe's lip curled at the silent promise of a treat.

"Turn the light off behind you," you said, waving at the row of switches. He took his time, memorizing the art before him, one he wouldn't mind adding a couple more strokes to.

He did as told, letting the dark envelop the house once more, following you to your single bedroom.

He wasted bo time, shoving you on to your mattress, your instincts making sure you landed on hands and knees, ass up, facing him. Full access as he wanted.

"Wait," you exclaimed, crawling away from the edge of the bed, making room on the other side.

"What?" He questioned, his hands pulling at your comforter in an attempt to guide you back over to him.

He was so needy when he knew he was getting action. Sometimes he took his time, but any other he got right down to business.

You flipped onto your back, sitting up against the pile of pillows behind you, an iron grip fell on Rafe's collar, his stature falling level to you in seconds.

He was still tall, even on his knees, struggling to maintain his posture as you pulled him forward so you moved your legs making more room for him, your knees folded against his ribs as your lips connected.

Once he was steady he hooked his cool fingers beneath your knee, shifting the whole situation to have him beneath you while he selfishly tugged at your clothes.

Things got heated quick, shirts got removed, and mouths got to work, his tongue swirling around your sensitive stump, his warm mouth closing around, teeth sinking into the doughy flesh. His palm kneed the other pinching it, flicking his thumb to sooth over the stinging.

He was so entranced by you he cupped them in entirety and just squeezed, thrusting his erection further up, now digging into the damp cloth between your legs. When he pulled away from your tit he kissed the other, and lowered you to the mattress, following suit, his body cared yours.

"Is that.." kiss, "enough.." slip of the tongue tickling through roof of your mouth, "break?"

If you didn't combust right there, melting to the heat applied to all senses.

Finally he was moving where he really wanted, from your hardened nipples, down your stomach, feeling it tighten further down.

His index circled your waistline before he sank in, making you hiss at his cold ring dragging against your pelvic bone.

"The fuck are these?" He grumbled, curling the fabric around his finger, pulling it, letting it snap back against you making you flinch.

"Huh?" You were steadying yourself on your elbow, watching him pull at but not move the panties.

This wasn't the first time he had sex with you, and definitely not the first time he's had to strip you to get you where he wanted.

"the hell is this shit?" He repeated louder, repeating the motion of.

"Rafe, what?" You pulled away, scooted up into a seat, resting your knees to your chest and arms stacked to cover your partial nudity.

"That's not what you usually wear," "and that has what to do with this?"

In all honesty this wasn't where you thought it would end up going, and you're still unsure of how it got to this point.

"What is it?"

You're aware that his last relationships he's probably had girls dress up for him, and you do that occasionally, but Rafe doesn't usually care as long as he can relieve himself or you.

He's acting like a kid discovering porn, "comfortable is what it is."

"But why? You're young and pretty, don't you want to look like it?" He gestured towards the underwear. They were a little bigger than the average cut, they offered decent coverage and went high, and they resembled a diaper shape wise, but that shouldn't matter if they're coming off.

"What's wrong with these?"

"They're granny panties," you could hear the disapproval in his voice.

Did he want you to get rid of them or what? You only had one question, letting a silence creep between the two of you. They even have lace, not a whole lot, but enough.

"Are we still doing this or?" And he let your question linger, he shifted, his head shaking, hand coming to his face in contemplation.

You grumbled, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, he sat up, still thinking to himself while you scooted off the bed.

He turned his head for a second, watching you gather your shirt and hold your breasts out of sight with an arm, pulling it over your head.

You slowed your movements hoping he gave you an answer of some sort, but he kept watch, so you left him in the dark, disappearing into the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you, turning the light on, Rafe heard you moving around and was drawn back your way by the creaky door.

Your hip leaned against the doorframe, your fingers pinching your shirt up to reveal you had changed into black lace, thinly cut that would potentially give you a wedgie.

He visibly perked up, tilting his head at you, itching to come forward.

You approached the bed, walking slowly, crawling towards him, stopping at his lap, you brought your legs beside him, straddling him, letting the rest of you relax against him.

"Let's try this again," you offered, delicately pecking his lips.

You let him undress you again, this time with the aid of the lace, he still slipped them down to your ankles.

"Thought you wanted those," you pointed out, finally feeling his fingers dig into your core.

"Eh," he shrugged, "visually."

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A/n; for a second you had him like...

Dog days are over

Ill!Rafe x gf!reader

Summary: Rafe's your patient

Content warning: fluff, symptoms consistent with a cold, soft-ish Rafe, medication, meditation, and some TLC, Cameron sibling dynamic

A/n: Happy Valentines Day

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Something is off.

You felt it.

With infrequent visits from your boyfriend, texts over calls, and no contact otherwise you were concerned.

He's expressed a text is nice, but it doesn't properly demonstrate his disapproval, if any. That and he doesn't like to miss you on the phone. If you needed to talk then and there he'd do it.

You usually see him around when you're not hanging out, but the last two weeks have been different.

Last week you caught him at the bonfire, and he kept you in his sight while chugging a barrel of beer, and Tuesday he arranged lunch plans for you two, but that was the last time you actually saw him.

Since then he makes sure to send a text a day at least, in between those. It's not always coherent, but it's something.

Today would mark the third quarter of a week in which you haven't had physical contact.

Rafe, on the other end of that was miserable. His head was killing him, palm pressed up to his forehead as he sat in the kitchen, squeezing the life out of a water bottle, letting some of it dribbling down his chin.

He was encouraged before seeking a medical fix to try drinking water since he and hydration have history.

Advised by you, the one time you played doctor.

Maybe you could cure him, you've done it before right?

But, by the way your phone hasn't rang, he's decided against it. Until you got a text from an unknown number.

Unknown

Unkn: Please come get my brother

You: Sarah?

She's who you immediately thought of because you were considering a house visit.

Once she confirmed it was her, you immediately edited the contact name.

Sarah <3: Yes

You: what's wrong?

Sarah <3: I'll call you

And when it rang you picked up. Sarah initially didn't say something, but you could hear her footsteps, and the wind faintly in the background.

You listened on, curious about what was happening, and then you heard it.

A suppressed cough followed by a sniffle, but that wasn't all. "Sarah, get out," Rafe rasped on the other end, his voice clear in the background.

And then her retreating steps.

Once she was out of earshot she adjusted the camera to face time, her blonde hair whipping into frame.

"How long has he been like that?" "Who knows?" She shrugged, adjusting her shirt. She didn't have much to say on the matter, she simply flipped the screen around, revealing Rafe on the couch.

He's on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow and a blanket pulled up to his waist. Visually his surroundings were clean, no tissues, pill bottles, no indication he's been on the couch longer than it looks, but if you squint you could see the crease in his forehead, and chest moving with his labored breaths.

Then it switched back to Sarah, "get him out of here, please."

"I'll see what I can do," you said, kicking off your covers.

You were on the road soon enough, driving to the Camerons's house.

When you arrived, you pulled into the driveway, backing symmetrically against the curb, turning off your engine.

Sarah tip toed outside, skipping over to your car with the biggest grin. "So?" She asked, hopefully placing her hand on her hips.

She had a lot of faith in your ability to influence Rafe to do anything.

"I need to see him first," you dodge, stepping up to the porch. Your knuckles rapped against the door, stopping when you heard a groan from the other side.

You pressed your ear to the door, hearing Rafe's grumbling and dragging feet. The lock clicked against the door, Rafe's fingers gripping the door frame, a couple inches above his head, which was hung low.

You looked up, your fingers sifting his hair out of his face, your eyes looking up to meet his tired, droopy ones. He straightened his lousy posture, turning his head away, "What're you doing here?"

Sarah called, but that's not what he wanted to hear. "I've been meaning to visit," you step closer, wedging your foot between the door. "Let me in?"

He again grumbled under his breath, shuffling back, keeping an eye in you as you walked through the door, closing it behind you.

Now you were looking around. You could see Rafe's makeshift palate on the couch, the living room furniture spotless, and an air freshner fuming in the corner.

Mint?

"So, how are you feeling?" "Fine."

You had dropped your bag off on the loveseat, across the way, sitting down in the corner, keeping him in sight.

You figured your staring had made him uncomfortable with how much he shifted around once he "settled". Not long after for the one second you turned away he got to his feet, gathered his blankets and lugged them over his shoulder, heading up the stairs.

You waited to he disappeared to give him a semblance of space, too getting to your feet.

Sarah peeked her head back in, scanning the coast landing on you, shimmying the belt of your jeans up a little higher. You shot her a playful look, unhooking your car keys from the chain of your purse, tossing them to her.

"Got it," she whispered, popping out.

And so you went up.

Rafe's room was in poorer shape than the living room. Bed disheveled, laundry tossed over, his pillows stripped, curtains tied, his closet had seemingly flooded into the room, and the picture above his bed was crooked.

"Rafe..." You offered a sympathetic look, tilting your head at him. He rolled his shoulders back, plopping onto his bed, hands folding over his abdomen.

This was so unlike him, the bed like him, but everything else was usually neat. Some superstition about the state of your mental. Right now his is crowded, stuffy, and in need of a little tidying up.

You trudged through his sock pile, stepping into the clear tile of his bathroom floor, eyes immediately drawn to the trash overflowing with tissues. Empty boxes parked on the sink, floor, in the tub.

Unlike some people, he's not too kooky about being sick. In fact he'll lie in it.

You didn't need to check his temp to know he was burning up, despite the goosebumps littering his arms.

He was sick. Not a doubt in your or his mind.

You peeled back his foggy mirror, looking at the many yellow prescription bottles he's got lying in a row, twisting the labels around.

Some of these are for low blood pressure, not of course prescribed to him.

"Bae," you called, swiping a couple up, "which one of these is Tylenol?" Probably none.

And you were right, not Tylenol, ibrouprophen, not acetaminophen, nothing you could think of off the tip of your brain. "Okay," perhaps you were being too specific.

"Which one of these is a painkiller or reliever of sort?"

Finally, Rafe thought. A broader spectrum to work with. Over the counter meds wouldn't do it for him. Part of him wanted the high.

"White pills, red label," he coughed.

White pills red label, white pills, red label, white pills, you repeated to yourself, swatting the other bottles away. You found it far off in the corner. "Vicodin?"

"Yeah,"

"Two, right?"

"Three,"

"Nice try," you chuckled popping the pills into your palm. You know he'd take one every 30 minutes if he didn't feel they were kicking in fast enough.

Before you could ask about water you stepped forward until a mound of them, all crinkled up, empty, there had to be at least 10.

Poor baby, he was really suffering.

"Sit up and lean back," you instructed, holding your hand out, watching him look down at the pills then to you.

He attempted to grab them, but you closed your hand making him grumble, "I'm fine where I'm at," he grumbled for the umpteenth time.

"Choke," you wished, tossing them at him.

He wheezed out a broken laugh, making you almost regret your request, "if you insist," he smirked, watching you scramble to the edge of the bed, reaching for the medicine.

He pulled away.

Of course.

Your knee slipped beneath his as you climbed on top of him, sitting on his thigh, the other leg propped up beside you. "Finally, some urgent care," he leaned forward, abs crunching beneath your hand pinning his waist down.

"Not that kinda rodeo," you insisted, slipping your fingers over the crevice of his shoulders, squeezing them, pinching at his collarbone.

His brows unfurled, loosening at the feel of your attentive touch working over some tense spots.

Once you got him mellowed out you scooted off his lap, settling beside him, running your fingers through his hair.

You would've made tea, or got an him an ice pack, but his body temperature was so out of wack he may not be able to handle anymore chemical changes.

When you were done your fingers found their way through his hair, sweeping it back from over his eyes, combing it back, giving his scalp a nice scratch the had his head tilting over your shoulder.

He huffed against you, defeated the simple act had tamed him considerably.

"This all you wanted? Just a little loving?" He opened his eyes, cocking his head back, "Why are you talking to me like I'm a dog?"

"I think all partner talk was derived from talking to dogs," you concluded, shrugging it off.

You sat there for a while, acting out terrible scenarios of how talking to a partner could feel like treating/taming a dog.

While you were talking, you put the rooms trash to use, sifting through what you could reach from the bed.

And Rafe made a game of shooting balls of socks into his laundry bin.

"This feels poguey," he comments, leaning his head back against your lap with a genuine smile.

"Doesn't make it less fun," it just meant he wouldn't admit to anything that's happened in the last two hours.

His wrist flicked back, hurling the white socks towards the bin, landing beside it.

"Oh, big talk there," you winced, pinching his side.

"Alright, hotshot, let's see you make a basket," he challenged, looking up to you.

All was in good fun and while kisses may have been contagious you stuck to scratching his chin, placing your palm over his forehead and kissing the back of it for the time being.

I would just like to say no matter what x reader I pair with Barry they will be down bad for each other. Nasty, sticky, sweaty, dirty, gritty , just downright horrendous in love.

Relief

Barry x reader

summary; in which cramps are kicking your ass your boyfriend comes in clutch

Content warnings; fingering, stimulation, long hair Barry, reader is ovulating, overstimulation, mention of periods and pain, gumming, hair pulling, sensitive!grumpy!reader, playful banter, dry humping

A/n; Barry’s a drug dealer, we know this. Not proof read

Word count; 1.8k

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"This is bullshit," you grumbled to yourself, arching your back up, pressing your palms square against the patch of carpet you cleared for this excerise, chin up as instructed.

Despite dealing with this since being a pre-teen you have yet to find an efficient way to alleviate the severity of cramps. Why you resorted to google for relief.

So, here you are, holding the cobra position that allegedly allieives pressure around the hips and lower back.

You didn't believe it made a difference as you inhaled slowly, the knot around your pelvis following the pained breath.

This was such a stupid idea. Especially since despite your current activity you're trying to reduce unnecessary movement.

This was the fourth thing you've tried in the last ten minutes and it seemed to enhance your discomfort. While the reality appeared to be you were just to impatient to anticipate the results of your efforts the truth was Google was partly to blame with how unreliable some of the suggestions are.

You dragged your knees beneath you, coming into a seat on your heels, you swiped your phone up closing the search tab, shuffling over to the leather couch on your knees, very delicately rising into a quick squat. You pushed yourself against the seat of the couch as the door had opened, your ankles crossing to contain yourself.

"Do I even wanna know?" Barry asked, tossing his keys over the ashtray by the door. "Only if you ask," you replied leaning against the armrest.

Barry shrugged, heading over to the kitchen, the door rattling with glasses as he pulled out a beer, capping it off on the counter, walking back through the living room.

"Alright, what were you doing?" He asked, taking a seat beside her, kicking his feet up against the glass coffee table, tucking his hair back.

"Yoga," you answered, turning to face him. "Which position is this?" He pointed to you leaned against the couch, phone in hand, the other propping your head up.

"Uh, think it was called I quit, you can find it between never again and hell no," being active was literally the last thing you wanted on your period.

"Well you don't do that shit no way. Why not pop some shit like a regular person?" He asked, setting his drink against his lap, holding it between his thighs, the ends of his shorts scrunching up.

"Because I don't trust nothing 'round here. You got a pill for anything, back hurt, neck hurt, need help getting it up? You got it," last time you took some kind of reliever from Barry it was an edible.

"Well, depends on what you need help with," he shrugged, throwing an arm over the couch, raising an eyebrow prompting you to roll your eyes at him. "Cramps. But every time I take something from you I end up high as hell."

"Shit, you want to feel better or not?" Believe it or not he was actually trying to help. "I found a couple alternatives-" "any that work?"

You knew he was probably right and since he was home he could give you the right medication this time. So, you thought about it.

Between the pointless poking of various body parts, excessive hydration and massaging sore spots nothing had helped. You looked to him, your face setting to not give away a potential yes.

"No, and the rest of the alternatives are unhelpful. Things like avoid caffeine, drink water, and 'quit smoking', like I asked how to stay hydrated rather than how to get rid of them."

"Sounds like you outta options," he mumbled, pressing his lips against the beer bottle, watching you sigh in defeat.

Your eyes flickered in annoyance, watching the little smirk curl on his lips. "Alright," you let up, knowing you were desperate at this point.

"But you're taking full responsibility if something happens," Barry dismissed you, getting to his feet. "Where are you going?" You asked, watching him step over your legs, pulling his shirt from around him, "I'll be back."

You leaned back, a pout on your face, watching him disappear into your shared room.

He came out seconds later, stuffing something in his pocket.

"What's that?" "I told you I'll take care of it, I'll take care if it," he teased, walking back into the kitchen. The sink runs over the sound of dishes cluttering, the spongy sound of the soap dispenser sounding as he looked over to you, rubbing his hands together.

At least he was being clean you thought, watching him flick his hands over the sink, then swipe them off on the towel tossed over the counter.

"Get comfortable،" he warned, sitting beside you, his hand falling to your thigh, giving it a squeeze, you let him lift your leg, slowly, uncrossing your ankles.

"So," he started, scooting closer with the help of his knuckle against the seat, his knee knocking against yours.

"Something you haven't considered..." His hand on your thigh slipped between your legs, pressing against your crotch. You eyes followed, hand following his, falling over his smooth skin.

"Seriously?" He wants to do this now?

"You asked for my help," he shrugged, "yeah, I'm starting to reconsider," you teased, clamping your thighs around him.

His dull fingers gripped your thigh, making your legs part slightly. "Just trust me," to which you hummed in response.

His burning grasp on your leg climbed up your waistline to the hem of your leggings. While shorts would have been more convenient since you were deadly afraid of tampons, you'd stick to pads and with that came the need of a solid hold that would prevent shifting.

So you leaned back, allowing his index to drag the band down enough to slip his hand against against your warm skin, skimming straight over to your folds, curling his fingers inside, making your hips move back.

Barry scoffed, continuing to brush over your clit, just stroking two fingers over the sensitive bud, you flinched feeling him press against your slick walls. "Goddamn girl," he exclaimed, digging his hand deeper, the tip of his middle finger circling your entrance.

A hum fell from you lips as you tried to focus on the sensations of his hand pressing against you, his movements slick as your legs wobbled together.

Barrys eyes flicked over yours, a disapproving glare fell over him, his free hand slipped beneath your thigh, placing you calf over his lap, parting your legs for more room as he pinched your clit, smoothing over it with the tick of his thumb.

You felt his hand brace itself against the fat of your ass, followed by a deliberate tug, making you recline further into your seat, leg part even further and then a firm grip pinning you in place.

"Don't run from it," his voice distracting you from the heat rising beneath you, the twirling of his fingers had you squirming in your seat, "Just breathe, breathe through it," he advised, slowing his movements down.

He spent the next couple of minutes stroking your clit and dipping just the tip of his fingers in you, feeling you tremble beneath him.

He winded you up and down keeping his movements short and sweet, he had gotten closer, know with your lap pressed against his thighs, your hips sunken, offering him more room, he kept to his minimal ministrations, pinching and pleasing your drenched cunt.

And that was just foreplay, once he had you relaxed, panting to yourself in your corner he reached in his pocket, pulling out a little plastic bag with a white substance.

"What's that?" "All your problems gone away, huh?" He kept steady, increasing the pace, watching your hands still your boobs from moving, painfully hard against your palms.

He enjoyed watching you, his thrust now up and teasing, his body moving forward with each, his lips falling to your jaw, eliciting a string of whimpers from the pain and pleasure.

He reached for the bag, bringing the plastic to his lips, he pulled away from your flourished skin, bringing the substance to his nose, giving it a huff, he sits it against his knee.

While you were just about reeling from the escalated encounter, he still kept his hand at work, prepping the powder.

Your lips parted, chest moving up with your breathing, he took the opportunity to push against your jaw, your first instinct to bite at his hand, he retaliated with a haste kiss, opening you up again, he mowed his fingers over your gums, capturing your protest with his encouraging whispers.

It tasted bitter to you, unpleasant, but as quickly as it appeared it stopped, a sudden loss of feeling in your mouth, the rawness of your lips against Barry’s had made you lean into, a hand eagerly slipping into his hair.

Your nails scratched at his scalp, tugging at his hair, earning the sink of his teeth into your plush lower lip.

"Yeah, you like that," he whispered into you, licking at the roof of your mouth. All of it was so euphoric and overwhelming, you had slipped out of reality for a minute, and you floated on cloud nine for what felt like hours.

The troubles of cramps seemed a thing of the past, the only tightness you felt were your walls fluttering around Barry’s fingers, spiraling through your g spot.

"Almost there, now," he cooed, pulling you up against his lap, he backed his hips in sync with his prodding, moans rolling from your lips, the sweet melody with his gyrations had the coiled wringing in your stomach, the floodgates opening as a pleasureful wave of calm washed over you with the release of lower tension.

"There you go," he whispered, placing wet kisses on your neck, his hand still playing with your worn clit, he focused on the excess stimulation even as your body softened against his, the muscles of your thighs instinctually clamping around his hand, shaking against him.

While you recovered Barry gripped your hip, slipping you from atop his lap, letting you go limp beside him, eyes wide, lips parted, and the occasional hiccup, feeling the strain of his fingers against your folds.

The overstimulating and the temporary high from the coke had skyrocketed you to cloud nine and as soon as the cloud disappeared you floated back down to earth, crashing against the head of the couch.

Barry held a cocky smirk watching you come down, the orgasm still fresh on you, you looped your arm through his, putting your head on his lap. He finally withdrew his fingers, seeing them glossed in arousal and the tiniest amount of blood, he chuckled standing up, making you groan at the loss of contact.

He went to clean himself up, coming back later to you passed out where he had left you. He snickered at the sight, coming back to his place at your side, bouncing against the cushion he leaned forward grabbing his abandoned beer, eyeing the left over coke.

Sticky

Warnings; Barry being Barry, grinding, licking, swearing, attempted undressing, smoking, overstimulation (if you squint), heavy making out, Rafe being sour, established relationship, ass slapping (briefly)

A/n; TBH this is self indulgent, 🫣 There is a plot-ish

Word count; 2.5k

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You were napping, your head cradled in your sleepy state, nose tucked into the crease of your elbow, leg propped up at the perfect angle and your backside tooted up a little more than usual, resting in all its glory, the only surfaced thing on the sunken mattress.

Normally you would be sprawled out all over the sheets, arms thrown over your head or to the side, whatever felt right, and of course the blanket you so desperately clung to ended up wrung around your waist, thrown over your leg, the other limply hanging over the edge of the bed.

The sound of Barry's obnoxious laughter echoed down the hall, following him into his mess of a room, his flipflops knocking stray beer bottles over as he pushed forward, noticing you for the first time in ever that he's seen you on one side of the bed, comfortably laid out, well one and a half if he's being technical, but still.

It was a sight to see, your pajamas hanging around you, tight around your arms due to being curled somewhat to the side, your breasts mashed together with the help of your arm, which he just now noticed, your position.

Face down, ass up.

His favorite.

You didn't seem to budge, even with him being a bull in a china shop. Fortunately, over the last two years you've grown accustomed to that as he did with your sleeping style.

He leaned forward, his hand falling dangerously close to your thighs as he pushed down between the small triangle shape between your legs. His knee followed, his shorts scrunched up at the knee as he placed it a few inches behind his thumb, adding more pressure to the center of the mattress, the plush surface keeping you stable bending to him as if on command.

You stirred, your hips dipped from side to side, trying to regain comfort, but instead you were greeted by the warm grasp of his free hand, his thumb sliding over the bowl of your ass, cupping it gently, his other fingers drumming over it, pressing into it a little firmer than last time, but not hard enough to jolt you awake.

Once he was steady he leaned forward, blanketing himself over you, burying his nose against the side of your head, letting out a silent sigh against you, his lips pressing against where he rested.

You rolled around, still chasing the fleeting comfort of drowsy ness, your eyes flickered open at the feeling of his heavy presence, your hips playfully arching towards his resting grasp, causing him to give another squeeze in response.

"You gone get up yet?" He asked, watching you recoil the sheets as a solid response.

He gave a gentle pat against your skin, hearing you grumble, you could feel a grin spreading across his face, "words," he teased.

You weren't even fully awake, but you can tell he just wanted to play with you. A squeeze here, a smack there, like you intended.

Unfortunately he doesn't mix business with pleasure, so long as he has 'clients' over you weren't getting any play.

Your voice is hoarse and thick as you shift off one side, making a minor adjustment to face him, lips parting to ask, "you close up shop yet?"

"Nah-" "then no," you responded, burying your face back into your arm.

You awaited a response along the lines of 'almost done,' or 'they can wait,' but dope isn't cheap and neither is Barry. Nothing. Nothing over the shuffling of feet, a solid smack, Rafe's fist meeting his palm as he stared at the scene before him.

Barry on top of you, your legs overlapping and more skin than necessary showing, mostly from Barry as he was covering you, and his hand placement, one one your ass which was housing a growing boner and the flushed look on Barry's face.

Barry wasn't shocked either, once he realized it was Rafe he leaned down on top of you, your head turning as he planted a kiss to your cheek, easing off of you.

He rolled his eyes, backing out, throwing his head back, feigning disgust as if he hadn't caught yall doing worse on multiple occasions.

Once he was up he spared you a second glance, his tongue flicking over his lower lip at the sight of you, disgruntled and bothered, followed by rustling sheets he then turned to Rafe, squinting his eyes at him.

He sucked in a harsh breath, urging the kid out of the room, following behind him, he lazily grabbed something off the shelf as he was passing through the hall, Rafe stepping onto the porch first turning to him, Barry leaned against the frame, muttering under his breath as he clutched the flask in his hand, letting it fall to his hand the other running over his eyes.

"Busy morning?" He asked, watching him take a whiff, nodding his head over the metal, pressing it to his lips. "You want business, you gotta make an appointment like everybody else," he interrupted, changing the topic.

While you were still in bed, groggy from your boyfriend feeling you up, you had managed a sitting position, shoulders slumped, and legs sway inches above the ground, your hand rubbed your eyes viciously, falling against your thigh with an audible slap.

Just as you stepped out of the room, decent to your standards you trudged through the hall into the foggy living room, magazines face down with coke residue next to them, you heard a grunt followed by a husky whistle.

You turned your head to see one of the newcomers coming out of the bathroom, in a plain white tee and his faded jeans flooding at his ankles. He sported a fresh cut, the gel hadn't even set yet as his hands slicked his hair further back, making his forehead bigger, eyes darkened and dilated as he approached, his eyebrows raising in expectation. You scoffed, giving him a dirty look.

He reciprocated, his tongue licking at his teeth as his heavy boots kicked open the seat to a foldable, his meaty hand scrunching up his pant leg as he took a seat, legs spread, one hand subtly patting his thigh, the other resting on the edge of the table, his fingers uncurling the cig from behind his ear.

It was only hot when Barry did it. The difference being he didn't have to try, this guy would call you over, but you would already be at Barry's side. When he would lean back against his seat, chin up, you'd sit on, sometimes straddling his lap. Your eyes would be on his or pressed against his shoulder with his arm slung over your shoulders or hanging off your hips. His lips, planting soft, wet kisses on you, especially that little spot just behind your ear, or the base of your shoulder. Bonus points for if he was busy, how all his features set in determination was a different kind of feeling.

You ate that shit up.

But not with this guy. He's no Barry.

Still you couldn't resist, calculated steps forward, you pulled up a chair, the floor creaking beneath you as you dragged it before him, turning it to face him, yet still you stand.

"See, now you're teasing," he muttered, the gears of his lighter flicking in his hand, the spark lapping at the swollen top, his chapped lips pressed to the end of it, taking a deep breath as his thumb pocketed the flame.

You didn't smile, instead you remained indifferent at this, your knuckles wrung against the head of the chair, the back of your hand providing cushion for your chest as you leaned against your knuckles, moving your breasts up and his eyes down.

Soon you spoke, maintaining eye contact, though your peripheral caught his hand squeezing the crotch of his pants. "Now, why," you paused leaning toward, pushing heavily against your hands, "would I do that?"

A chute of smoke hit your face as he sucked in a breath, his knee wobbled side to side and his other leg extended, "why? I'll tell you why?"

You tilted your head, wiggling your hand to free it up, resulting in the jiggle of your breasts, small, but noticeable. And you could see it now, his slick words rolling right off his tongue and into his pants. "I'm listening," you hummed, nodding to him.

His body shifted against the seat, seeing you lean further forward, your fingers drawing a slow line up the table, over to his side, you hand ever so smoothly grazed over his forearm, causing the twitch in his wrist to capture yours. "That's not nice," his voice deep and gravelly, the cigarette once again being brought to his lips.

Honestly, you weren't a fan of the aftershave, he looks ruggish, but he smells off brand, atleast for your liking, and how he wore his obviousness, like a badge of honor. Like his dated watch could compete with a gold chain.

Barry's gold chain.

Your fingers closed around the plastic wrapped box you had been reaching for, and you drew your arm away, now thumbing over the bold Marlboro print. "That's," you flipped the lid back, plucking one from the near empty casing, "not my problem," and you headed outside to the porch.

Barry leaned against his chair, one hand propped behind his head, the other resting in his lap as he watched Rafe do another line, flicking his nose with his thumb. He then looked at you, standing in the doorway watching.

You tilted your head at him, then leaning down to press the cigarette to Barry's lips, his eyebrows cinched together and his hand came to his lips, the index and middle holding it close to his mouth, "you up now?" He asked, his eyes flicking up to your face.

Another thing you loved about him, he was respectful. Even if it was unserious, his eyes would always be on yours, no matter if you were feet away or you inches. He did like to be all over you though, when you weren't talking.

" 'Course," you responded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He shrugged, grabbing a lighter off the cluttered table, clearing the seat beside him for you to sit.

Rafe watched the interaction, scrunching his face up. You didn't usually sit around with Barry's clients, most despite an obvious addiction not knowing how to handle the chemicals they're inhaling, but Rafe was different.

Some rich local who had no business around here, but was way closer to Barry other than yourself, that's what made business fun, when he came around. Flashing his little tight shirts, pocketful of cash, and always got something to say. Makes you wonder why he spent most of his afternoons here anyways.

You sat down beside Barry, rather than kicking your feet up on the coffee table you swung your legs over his, resting your thighs right over his lap, earning another eye roll from Rafe.

You noticed, throwing your arm over the end of the couch, "problem, Rafe?" In which Barry looked up at you and him. "Keep all the PDA shit inside, I've seen enough already," he grumbled, running his hand over his face.

"Yeah? try knocking next time, country club," Barry muttered, reaching for a band. "You don't have a door," he sassed, watching Barry count the money.

True, but all of those unwanted encounters were avoidable. "Then stand your ass on the porch til I come out," you both know that wouldn't have happened if he didn't interrupt when he did.

Rafe rolled his eyes, again. He knew better than that, and he's lucky. Most would've gotten kicked out for interrupting, even charged extra if they were insistent on watching, not that it would happen, but money was good.

You, however, wanted to spite Rafe.

It wouldn't do much, but you drew your leg back, you knee solidly supporting one hand now, the other following suit, but you made sure to add pressure across Barry's growing erection. His hips wiggled against the seat, trying to ignore the sensation, but you repeated this motion a couple of times, hearing the flutter of the cash in his hand stop as he pulled the next bill, his eyes lazily scanning over it, but more focused on what you're doing to him.

And that little Cheshire grin wasn't helping.

Rafe watched, his head falling to his shoulder, an unimpressed expression on his face as he crossed his arms, watching you too.

And it escalated from there, your leg now hooking beneath his, you steadied yourself against his shoulders, pulling yourself into his lap fully. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling his muscled legs through his shorts, moving your hips forward and back again.

He began recounting, now holding the money behind your back as you slowly rocked your hips against his, your head now fell back, lips parting as you looked to Rafe, watching his nose upturn and lips curl into a pout. You let a noise that resembled a whimper and Rafe sprang up, keeping an eye on you two. It wasn't even genuine, it was just to piss him off, and it did as he hastily reached in his back pocket, fumbling with his wallet he pulled out a couple crumpled bills, throwing them into the table.

Barry still seemed in his own world, now bringing his arm around the side of your neck, he brought the money closer to count, Rafe drumming against his leg, waiting to be dismissed. You slipped the half smoked stick from his lips, ashing it out against the couch cushion, flicking the butt somewhere.

"Seriously, man, I don't know how you do this," he commented, watching Barry press a kiss against your temple. "Easy, it's my lady," and that response earned him a sloppy kiss on the lips, partly from him trying to regain focus and you snatching his attention back.

With a wave, Rafe was off to his bike, sparing you a glance before jamming his helmet on.

Your tongue had come out, since Barry was busy, you decided to kiss his cheeks, down, nibbling on his jaw, and especially trailing it back up with more kisses. While you still had an audience, you unwrapped your hands from around his back, bringing them to his face, his eyes following your movements as you squished his cheeks, tongue out, pressing against his warm skin, lapping at the curve of his face, to a patch way off to the side that had been reddened by the sun, sheen with sweat the tip of your tongue moved from his jaw to his temple, you lips closing to another peck.

You could hear Rafe speed off in the distance, turning your head to see him flipping you off as you did so, you chuckled, turning back to Barry.

His face may not have given anything away, but his hardness pressing against you definitely did. And soon after he rolled everything up, he tossed it into the seat cushion to reorganize for later instead his strong hands scooping you up, off his lap, his hand squeezed your ass as he carried you inside.

The guy from earlier watching in the corner, you had seen, pulling away briefly to stare, Barry too had noticed, nodding his head towards the door, indicating he should leave. Once he did, stumble out, beer in hand. Barry talked about charging him later, but for how he was focused on your hands slipping beneath his shirt, running over his chest, and fluttering down his back, the shirt riding up as you did so.

Word count: 1402

A/n; I'm proud of this (hope I did this properly) tiny last minute editing.

Warnings; bad day, angst with a happy ending, Rafe being boyfriend material pet name (pretty girl) hurt x comfort

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Rafe Cameron, prideful, persistent, and above all punctual.

Admirable, aggravating.

When Rafe texted you and said he was coming by, you knew that meant 10 minutes max, before he would be knocking on your door.

You were paniced, reasonably so. You had just stepped out of what was supposed to be a relaxing shower, your skin pricked with goosebumps as the cold air hit your exposed skin.

10 minutes, and here you were debating if you wanted to respond or not, but anything was better than staying at that house any longer.

Love would not be enough restraint for you if you had to deal with another one of your family's feuds.

It soon hit you that time was ticking, your hands tossing your phone into the pile of pajamas you were in earlier as you quickly got to work dying yourself off.

As soon as he approached the porch you appeared in the doorway, a soft smile tugged at his lips seeing you standing there.

Hips leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, and your beautiful face staring expectantly into the distance.

Even still he walked up the creaky steps, hands open to relieve you, but when you remained planted, eyesight shifting towards his polo, the closed collar underlining his broad chest, and muscles caught your gaze.

He countered the hug within distance, slugging an arm around your shoulder, he leaned down, pressing his cold lips against your heated skin, causing your cheeks to bubble, lips pursing in a supressed smile. "Missed me didn't you?" He cooed, the keychain circling his index jiggled, the tip of his finger teasing the underside of your jaw.

You stiffened at the action, taking the first step forward, muttering a quiet 'sure'.

"Ahha," he chuckled dryly, following your lead.

Even if you didn't share the enthusiasm he was happy to see you.

You approached the car, Rafe cutting you off mid step to pull back the handle, the dark paint job facing you now as you scoffed playfully circling the door.

"After you milady," You rolled your eyes at his antics, kicking one foot into the car, the other followed by your chin pressing sharply into your chest as you ducked the roof of the car, settling side.

You wiggled in your seat, immediately reaching for the seatbelt, pulling it smoothly across your chest.

You let out a breath you were holding. Had it got stuck or you couldn't adjust it just right and you had to wrestle it, you'd scrap the whole car. Even if it wasn't yours, you were especially fragile right now.

Rafe got in the driver’s side, the engine roared to life at the twist of his hand, a triumphant grin crossed his face, his nose scrunching as he did so, looking at you excitedly.

Would it be rude to ask why he was so...energetic...today?

The answer?

He saw it.

Through his tinted shades currently sitting in his cupholder.

The attitude in your body language, the shift of weight from one leg to the other, the strain in your formerly guarded form, the unhappiness in your features, and especially the wrinkles siding beside the corner of your eyes. They weren't from smiles, but from heavy glaring.

And smiles would be evident in the way your cheeks pigmented a visible tone after long periods of laughter, and how puffy the corners of your mouth got.

It didn't at all sound attractive when he brought it up to you, but he explained his admiration for your joyous nature, and how when you smiled you smiled big.

And despite your objection in his words, your lips wavered, peeling back into the corners of your face, showing him just what he thought to be true.

"Did you..." You paused, his attention immediately turning on you. "Have you been hanging around Barry again?" Was the only respectful way you could ask.

He didn't take offense, instead braced his hands against the steering wheel, "No," he drew out, putting the car in reverse.

You nodded, awkwardly placing your hands in your lap.

At first being home free helped. Something about the drive around, loud music, and sea salt in the air had made you forget the knot swelling inside various places.

Just as progress was made a flip switched.

It was the song playing on the radio. Something you didn't care to remember because you felt it.

Those sick, unwell feelings form in the pit of your stomach at the words, and now more than ever a raw intensity pulling within you drawing you back to a place of anger.

A place of hurt.

Rafe noticed at first, it was subtle. The head nodding, rolling your eyes as he turned the volume up. He paid attention.

He knew these.

He knew you.

Then a couple miles down, you were singing along, looking as you did do, but he could feel you loosening up.

But just as fast as it appeared it stopped.

He turned the music down, hoping you would continue, but you didn't.

Back to silent nodding and now something else. Your eyes. They were blinking... rapidly.

Now he knew something was up. Something heavy.

Little did he know the events of the morning lingered a dense electric gray over your head, and rain would soon pour from your clouded irises.

"Did something happen? You're all sad and,"

"And shit," you responded, tilting your head back.

"Yeah... all sad and...shit," as you had not so eloquently put it.

"It's nothing," by now it was everything.

"That doesn't sound right," he countered, his foot applied pressure towards the break, the wind breaking acceleration had decreased to the speed limit at best.

And you held back a couple of tears, but that didn't stop strays, warm against your skin. You could feel a burning in the top of your nose, and a climbing temperature around your ears indicating you were about to cry.

"Do you want to talk about it? I can listen," he offered.

You simply sniffled, you palmed up, roughly pushing against your skin, wiping tears. "Do you even know where we're going? We've passed that same park like three times," you said referring to the open field with 101 benches placed too close together.

Sometimes your deflection could be ignoring his question, answering vaguely, or in this case, insulting his navagation skills.

"No, no," he played along, "That's the country club, it's got an expansion, pretty much every road has a view of it."

That actually makes sense now.

Still.

He continued to examine you, your body language.

It was just as tense as before, if not more.

Your little breakdown had only gone on for a quick minute and then you were back to being stone.

If only he could turn you into statue.

Unlike your earlier suggestion before you the dizzy world had slowed and vision returned.

Not before the sight of a concerned smile, his hand parked over the steering wheel, the other resting on the armrest, his torso twisted to meet you.

This time he didn't try to convince you, he let his sad, pretty eyes manipulate you into a sharing state.

"It's just not my day today," you confessed, a little bob in your head confirming that.

"Well, we can change that," his ringed fingers found there ways rubbing against your salted skin swiping tears.

He leaned forward, his lips pressing to your cheekbone, lingering over your skin, the edge of his nose rubbing up the bridge of yours, traveling kisses planted on you in various spots.

He made it to your hair, letting out a hum, tilting his head against yours, making himself level with you, you looked up through your eyelashes to find his comforting gaze on you already, promising better.

Amist the intimate gesture he leaned into it, his elbow honking against the wheel, a bold whistle vibrated through the car, making you jump.

You felt his long lashes tickle your cheek, an embarrassed sigh left him, his forehead still pressed against your face.

And while he thought the accidental honking had ruined the slow, intimate vibe, it tickled you.

His reaction of resignation and reserveness had made it better, and you couldn't hide the smile on your face, the peaks of your teeth peering through and a hearty laugh escaping you.

Rafe carefully kissed your jaw once more, slipping back into his seat, both hands holding the seatbelt at the chest, as he was still fixated on you.

You were smiling.

Rafe made a face, to which he followed up with "there she is," and the mellowness of his tone was enough to make you melt.

"There's my pretty girl."

Ft OBX and the Bahamas finest

Barracuda wasn't that bad, but he's not good either.

Excluding Barry and Rafe, I will happily throw Topper and Kelce's irrelevant ass in next poll.

And Papa Heyward was the best

Last two are SERIOUSLY debatable, but peoples choice, so choose wisely.

The Winter Recital

A/n; this was so rushed, I am so sorry, I tried

Warnings; fluff?

"How do we plan three weeks in advance, and you're still unprepared?" Rafe grumbled, watching you toss through your closet. "In my defense," you didn't miss his teasing glare, daring you to justify it," a lot can change in three weeks."

You are headed up to St. George in Bermuda for the holidays, exquisite, isn't it?

Kildare had a history of celebrating Christmas, but their more glamorous festivities are usually around summer and spring.

Not that you minded, but this was you and Rafe's 2nd Christmas together. And it had to be nothing like the last one."I'll buy you something when we get there, if we can get there," Rafe offered, tugging you out of your closet.

It's just nerves. He was also escaping his family for the holidays.At least until New Years. Somehow, Rafe had managed to get you out the front door and out to the dock where your ride awaited. You skipped ahead, now your turn to urge your boyfriend along.

"Cool your jets," he was being weighed down by the luggage you wanted to bring. The only thing of his he carried was his wallet. Lord knows he would need it. Especially when you had wanted to double the 20% tip he was already leaving the driver. The cabin was quaint and festive, ribbons tied above the door and looped throughout the staircase in bright green and scarlet. It smelt of pine and cinnamon as you were led through the house, admiring the decor as you did.

It was so homey, and Rafe knew it was perfect when you disappeared up the stairs, leaving him to haul your luggage through the doorway. "I'm never going back home" was your official declaration. And that wasn't even the best part. Amist raiding the insanely sweet hygiene products, in the bedside the you found a holiday card for the guests of cabin 8, "Rafe," You called, hearing his hurried steps, you chuckled to yourself, flipping the card over. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, everything is perfect," you handed over the card, watching a defeated sigh leave his lips, but a look of curiousity flash as he skimmed over it's contents.

"Okay? It's just a welcome card." Just a welcome card? "It's scented," you snatched it back scratching at the back, your dull nails denting the card, rather then the patch.Rafe sighs, tossing you his keys which you fumbled but then caught.

"Why did you bring these?" "That's what you're worried about? They're my house keys, they were coming with me even if we went to the North Pole." There was his Christmas spirit.You shrugged at the point, racing the keys over the card, bringing it up to your nose, inhaling deeply. He simply watched, a slight scrunch in his nose, watching you cuddled paper.

"It can't be that good," he grumbled, stepping forward to be met with your shoulder as you turned away.

"It's better than your cologne," you teased, to which his smile sank into a pout, "you love my cologne," "Yeah, but..." You drew out, another long, excessive inhale, "This is my new favorite." The parchment was ripped from your face, folded half heartedly, "enough of that," he hummed, tucking the card into his pocket.

"Don't be sad," he wrapped his massive arms around you, rendering yours to your side, his heavy head falling against your squared shoulder.

You tried to shake him off, managing a slight twist before giving up. You were only getting out if he let you out.And strangely enough he did.Something replaced the warmth of the scented card, something stronger, muskier and thick. Rafe's cologne. "Now I smell like you," "and you love it," he argued.

The night went on like that, playful banter, and gentle affections, eventually you crashed in the living room by the the brick fireplace.Rafe wandered down the steps in a low hanging towel, another working at his wet hair, his attention landed on your curled up form on the couch. You're resting in front of your unopenned briefcases splayed out on the fur rug.

To his surprise you were in one of his flannel curled up against the velvet couch.

"You packed three suitcase just to wear my clothes?" he scoffed playfully, picking up a shirt of the floor. The next morning you two woke up snug on the couch, your head in Rafe's lap and his arm around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he gently whispered nudging your shoulder, "Merry Christmas," his lips ghosted over the she'll of your ear.

Your elbow jerked into his stomach instinctively, earning a groan into your ear. He leaned back scooting against the couch, resting his head against the pillows.

Don't worry, he's was gleefully dancing around the kitchen to some old vinyl you found, and making hot chocolate late into the day.

And it wasn't all bad, you took a walk around the town, visiting stations, and you spent time in the store spending Rafe's money.

At that point he had trade you his wallet so he could carry all of your bags.

You returned back to your cabin after all of that and crashed to watch some holiday movie waiting for nightfall.

When it did you asked Rafe to help you pick an outfit to which he kept responding "you look great in anything."

It was frustrating as it was flattering.

You ultimately ended up with fur coat, (Rafe's) and a sweater dress with wool leggings, just in case it gets cold. And it does, but it also snows, Rafe's hand holding yours as you walk side by side, your other hand smearing it from every availabe surface.

You go out, party, dance, but your favorite part of the night was the couple's cooking contest. To participate in your favorite tradition of the night, and to also be with the one you love unlike last year.

Now the cooking was slightly over cooked, but it looked pretty. You didn't win, but you had fun. You did however get voted for best chemistry, earning you a wreath around your neck, wrapped in ornaments, chesnuts and a classic mistletoe.

"You owe me a kiss," Rafe teased, to which you scoffed, nudging his shoulder.

"Under the mistletoe, remember?"

Rafe grumbled beneath his breath, his hand reaching for your arm, "What're you doing?" you asked, feeling him squeeze your elbow.

"Mistletoe, remember?" He carefully picked you up, you squealed your feet leaving the ground.

Still, you attempted to balance yourself against his shoulders, resting your arms, his hand wrapped around your waist, the other sliding up your back, guiding your head down to his.

And you share a gentle kiss, his lips cool against yours, and your tension melts, allowing you to soften in his grasp. He smiles against your lips, letting out a breath of cold air, "ready to take this back to the cabin?" You nodded against him, leaning back in.

A winter recital

(Rafe Christmas special)

Posting tomorrow

A/n hopefully you enjoy it and happy holiday🎄

in the meantime

Yall chose Topper over JJ over POPE??!!! And poor JB, damn. Give these men (not Topper) the love they deserved

The last one is debatable, but if majority wins...

The last one is debatable, but if majority wins...

A/n; This will have a couple parts. I haven't finished part one of s4, but this is loosely from what I've seen. With a twist ;)

Warnings; fluff, slight angst, no Jiara, No hate to Kiara, but she does like JJ (even if he's already got a girlfriend) on a brighter note more Pope :)

"Yeah, man, Cleo made me this peppered dish, and it was magic, let me tell you," JJ was staring at Pope, his hands balling in excitement, knees bending as he explained, his eyes closed briefly. The blond snickered, watching his friend's animations, to which Pope straightened up, leaning back against the dock, casually shrugging it off, "I mean I couldn't feel my face, but," he looked around making sure the coast was clear, knowing Sarah or Kie would have gossiped like nobody's business, "worth it."

"I'm happy for you man," JJ said, reaching into his pocket, fetching his lighter, his tan fingers grasping the cold metal, running over the initials as he reached for the freshly (as of yesterday) rolled blunt. His other, patting Pope's shoulder. It was nice to see the pogues finally getting the peace they deserved, and Pope happy with Cleo after his short lived fling with Kie, they don't talk about it.

Speaking of which, she was spotted, storming down the driveway, water drops glistening on her warm skin, her hair stringy, and loosely framing her face as she raked a towel across her shoulders. JJ was quick to notice, the unmistakable, progressing grumble falling from her sunken lips, curved into a sour expression, "check it, dude" he interrupted, the two's eyes following the sway of her hips, matching her face-paced steps up against the plank stairs.

The door swung open, she disappeared inside, the boys following suit after J delicately placed his weed behind the safety of the rope railings, jogging to catch up.

JJ entered the house, hearing distant voices, he could tell it was tense, the silence blanketed the atmosphere, and a latch unhooked, Pope head hung headed towards a confused JJ.

"What happened? He whispered, gripping Pope's shoulder, his concern had seemed to fade in the two seconds the blond was out of the house. He still didn't get an answer, instead a distant shrug, indicating it couldn't have been good.

He continued forward, his ringed fingers gripping the end of the wall, he listened intently, hearing the cluttering of dishes, and the heavy metal clanging, he flinched at the sound, boxing up, he stiffened the wall.

He could tell she was unhappy.After the heavy clatter had died down, he peeked his head from around the corner, seeing her pulling her shirt over her head, the wet fabric smacking against the counter. JJ eased from behind his defense, revealing himself to her, hands thrown up in surrender, "what happened?”

Topper and his stupid kook friends," nothing more had to be said. His hands lowered to his side as he stepped closer, which she allowed. She let him into her personal space, his touch slowing the hand that was scrubbing her arm harshly, now moving the rag in cautious, immediate circles.

An intimate silence had fallen over them, especially under the sound of running water and gentle breathing.

JJ's fingers slipped beneath hers, her rosy knuckles uncoiling as he took over, dragging the material in delicate motions, his eyes following what he was doing.

Kiara's guarded stance had dropped significantly, shoulders relaxing, and her metal rings glided over the edge of the sink while he worked on her back. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” His knuckles dragged against her soft skin, skimming the side of her spine, sending a facial jolt through her. She wanted to, of course she did, but she simply shook her head, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in an attempt to calm herself.

“How about with Pope?” He’s noticed when Kiara and Pope are around each other things get tense.

He wouldn't say anything for the sake of his friend, but it must have meant she felt it too, refusing to answer him or even look in his direction.Now JJ was torn, on one hand his friend needed help on the other Topper had to be dealt with.

“Done,” he murmured, tossing the damp towel against the counter top. Kiara's back arched against the cold air, the warmth from their closeness fading, JJ watch her spine curve, her body turning around to face him.Her lips were curled in a pout, her hair strung over her shoulder, thickly clumped together over her eyes, and her hand holding her elbow, tapping her rings and bracelets against her forearm.

JJ stood still, reaching out, he pushed her hair back behind her ears, her dimpled smile making an appearance, wavering as he took a step back. She accepted the distance with a drawn out blink, almost willing him back over, but instead she breathed out a thank you.

“ ‘Course,” he offered a tight lipped smile, “what are friends for?”

Friends? They just had a moment and he's calling her a friend? She scoffed to herself, leaning back against the counter, watching him walk off towards the door.

Now that that was taken care of, JJ headed back to the dock, surely to find Pope, smoking his blunt, angrily inhaling, and with a small cough breathing it out. Smoking wasn't his thing.

He liked a clear train of thought, but it seems his distasteful interaction had disgruntled him.

“Pope,” JJ summoned what was left of his enthusiasm, approaching slinging his arm around the guy’s shoulder, plucking the weed from his hand. He brought it to his lips, taking a quick huff, tossing it over the railing, into the water.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, pushing the bottom of his jacket up, his hands finding his pockets, “nah, man, it's not your fault,” he shrugged.

Yet here he stood apologizing. He knew that even though he would deny it, the apology meant a lot to Pope. “We cool?” “...Like chili,” Pope fished his hand out his pocket, the two fist bumped, patting each other on the back, the mood seeming to make it's way back to them.

Pt.II coming soon