pairing: frat boy!rafe x pogue!reader
cw: angst, fluff, bullying, strong language, slight sexual content, ethel cain!!!!
summary: you and rafe didn’t know exactly what you guys were to eachother. you had hooked up numerous times but you both wanted more, and you both didn’t know how to say it. after hooking up with rafe at the frat party, reader is faced with the reality of their pairing (through none other than r*thie) and she is faced with her FEEEELINGS !!!
a/n: this is part two of this! you don’t need to read that to understand it, all you need to know is that rafe and reader hook up and both like each other! thank you for all the love on part 1!!!! I dont usually write so I wasn't expecting it, and also thank u to the few people who asked to be tagged!!!! was literally ecstatic to see people were invested in it :)))))
Rafe pulled the expensive white sheets over your body carefully, like he was tending to a bird with a broken wing. Even at college, in what he called a stuffy ass box room (it was 15m²…), he had to bring some sort of luxury with him. He sat at the edge of the bed, perfectly still - too afraid to make a move in fear that he’d wake you up - and totally confused. Why did he even give a fuck if he woke you up? Why did this feel very strangely intimate despite the fact they’d literally fucked numerous times?? He needed a breath of fresh air immediately.
He stared at your sleeping face for a couple of seconds. He noticed how your lashes fell perfectly down onto your face, like a little doll. How your hair was all smushed into the pillow, cheeks rosy despite the faint dark trails of mascara travelling down them. He noticed how your lips were ever so slightly parted, gloss stained onto the side of them as you took tiny breaths in and out. He noticed a little bit of drool forming in the corner. Then he noticed his own lips had begun to curve upwards - and not in one of his smug grins. Shaking his head, he got up. Fresh air. That would clear whatever the fuck was going on with him.
He got up slowly, opening the door as he silently slipped out and shut it behind him, the music immediately flooding his ears once again. Taking a deep breath, he was in fact not greeted with fresh air - but instead particles of beer breath, the distant smell of vomit, and the odour of sweat now dissipating into his body like nuclear radiation in the air. He groaned in frustration. He didn’t even wanna be at this fucking party anymore. So what if it was his frat house and he was the one who threw it? He made his way down the stairs back to the main party. Strobe lights danced around the room as he collapsed down onto the couch, raking a hand through his hair. Topper slumped down next to him with a carefree drawl in his voice while Ruthie sat on the arm of the couch, kissing his neck sloppily.
“Rafe, you look fuckin’ wrecked, man,” he laughed. “Good lay?”
“Shut the fuck up, Topper,” he grumbled.
“Alright, alright.” He held his hands up, smirking. “She did a number on you, huh.”
He was 6ft sure, but he was not a reader of feminist literature by any means. He would usually retell all the raunchy details of his hookups to Topper and Kelce, relishing in the power it gave him, sometimes even embellishing a little just to inflate his already inflated ego.
“Yeah, you should’ve seen how wet she was, dude. Fuckin’ Lake Tahoe in that shit.”
“She moaned like a fuckin’ pornstar dude, practically screamed. I told her to shut up, but she couldn’t.”
“Literally just orgasm after orgasm. She’s a real slut, man. Couldn’t stop coming.”
He realised something then, he’d never told them anything about you. No lewd reenactments, no slutty revelations. He’d always kept you private. Kept your dignity. He frowned to himself in thought; perhaps he was somewhat of a gentleman. That was a lot more than the bare minimum after all. Right?
Some Kook girls had appeared beside him, one on his lap. He squinted, trying to distinguish the words that were being purred in his ear, and trying to think of how and when exactly these girls had teleported onto the couch.
“You got any blow, Rafe?” one girl stroked his torso with her manicured fingernail, blinking her too-long lashes at him.
“Yeah, it’s in my back pocket,” he mumbled, barely looking at her as he shifted upwards to let her pull it out of his pocket. He slid the girl off his lap gracelessly.
“Don’t forget to pay me, yeah?”
The girl blinked up at him, readjusting her dress after being dropped onto the couch.
“Where are you going? I was gonna pay you tonight,” she grinned, biting her lip.
It made him feel strange. He felt like he could see right through her, and it was hollow. He usually accepted payment in the form of blowjobs or pussy with zero hesitation, but the thought of that right now - at least with this girl - made him feel nauseous.
“I’m going upstairs. Pay me in cash later. I won’t forget,” he called out as he made his way up.
“He’s going to find his girl,” Topper added with a smirk.
Rafe ignored both of them as he walked away, the conversation turning to a low buzz, fading into the music as he climbed up the stairs.
“That girl from earlier, y’know - in the sparkly dress,” Ruthie explained.
“Her? But she’s a Pogue.” The Kook girl wrinkled her brows, looking confused, a little disgusted even.
“Yeah. Rafe’s gone rogue for a Pogue, I guess. It’ll bite him in the ass, he’ll see,” she laughed.
Ruthie paused. She didn’t wanna give a compliment to a Pogue. “Well… like barely.”
Thankfully for Rafe, the ear-bleeding frequencies of their voices couldn’t reach him, as by that time he was upstairs - slowly unlocking his bedroom door so as not to wake you up. To his surprise, he was met with your wide eyes, dark in the low light of his room, sleepy but still sparkling. You looked like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, quickly taking your hand out of his drawer where it was occupied with one of his business textbooks.
“Oh, hi,” you offered a small, embarrassed smile, your sequin dress all rumpled and a little lopsided on your body. “I didn’t realise I fell asleep. Your door locks from the inside, so…”
“Yeah, uh, sorry about that. Are you… reading my textbook?” He slowly closed the door shut, leaning against it.
“Um, I was just bored. Just… looking around. It’s a nice room.”
“Yeah, you said that,” he smiled, sitting down on the bed.
“You have a Halle Berry poster,” you grinned.
“Nothing. Just very old-school of you,” you smiled, swaying on your feet a little. The nap had done nothing but delay your inevitable hangover.
You sat beside him on the bed, your knee slightly touching his accidentally. You felt the urge to pull away but ignored it, choosing to sustain the tingle of warmth that spread through you, just from the inch of his skin touching yours.
“So… you gonna give me a tour?” You turned to him, tilting your head with what he swore was the cutest smile he’d ever seen. Like a puppy waiting for a treat.
“Are you serious?” He laughed.
You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Well, you didn’t really think I came here just cause I wanted to hook up, did you?”
He shook his head, grinning. “Watch your mouth, sweetheart. It’s $10 per entry ticket.”
“What? But I’m already in here,” you pouted.
“True… I guess I’ll give you the tour for free. Don’t get used to it.” He grinned down at you as he stood up, taking your hands and pulling you to your feet as you wobbled, laughing.
He scratched his head, leading her away from the bed. “Alright, well, I guess we’ll start at the back. So, Miss Y/L/N, here we got, uh, a little wall thing with uh, some pictures on it.” He quickly steered you away. “Then next to that is my closet, lots of important things in here.”
“Wait, Rafe, go back! I can’t even see the pictures, turn a light on,” you laughed.
“They’re just pictures,” he groaned.
“Please? I have a really bad headache right now, so you have to do what I say,” you pouted playfully. The headache hadn’t even hit you yet, and you both knew that.
“If you really have a headache, maybe you should go back to sleep,” he rolled his eyes, but he turned his bedside lamp on anyway.
The room lit up just slightly, a dim, dark yellow. You leaned on your tiptoes to see the pictures he had on his corkboard.
He looked down at you, shifting on his feet a little. He didn’t wanna seem like a fucking sap, what with pinned pictures of his favourite moments in his college dorm, but it honestly helped ground him. He didn’t usually let anyone in here, and if he did, it was for sex with the lights out. So he felt practically naked watching you peer at every little picture.
Your hands were on the wall, eyes so close to each picture like you were at a freaking aquarium. “Rafe, this is so cute!” you practically squealed. Your fingers pointed out each picture like he hadn’t put them up himself.
“Aww, you and Kelce. Oh, Sarah looks so pretty here. Is that you and your dad? Ohmygod Rafe, you were the cutest kid ever. And look at Wheezie! I’m totally gonna cry. Aww, you have our senior class picture up. I can’t believe I came to school looking like that. You remember that girl with the ponytail? We were friends until I found out she was bitching about me behind my back. Wait, is that me again?”
A smile overtook your face as you leaned in to look at a dark Polaroid picture. It looked recent, maybe from the last party. You were draped across Rafe’s lap, both of you smiling goofily with your cups in the air, no cares in the world.
He blinked. He wasn’t listening to a single word you said. Just looking down at you while your wide, sparkly eyes moved from each picture to the next. He didn’t snap out of it until those eyes turned to look up at him. “Uh, what?”
“It’s us!” You grinned, poking at the Polaroid.
“Oh yeah, uh, Sarah took that at the last party. Y’know, with her new camera. She was taking pictures of fuckin’ everything. She, uh,” he cleared his throat. “She was the one who told me to put that up.” He lied with a nod.
“Aww. It’s so cute, Rafe. You better not take it down,” you grinned.
“Yeah, well. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said under his breath with a small smile.
You moved on to his closet, opening it up. You giggled as you pulled out some expensive blazer “You think I could pull this off?” You held it up to your body in the mirror. It went to your knees.
“Yeah, if you’re trying to pull a Darth Vader look off, maybe.” He laughed, but it couldn’t conceal the way his heart thumped when he looked at you; all sweet and tipsy and so… happy. He swallowed it down, shaking his head slightly.
You walked over to his desk. “I guess here is where you do your super cool business stuff, huh?” you teased, sitting down on his swivel chair as you lowered it down for your height and spun yourself around, making yourself dizzy as you laughed.
He crouched to your eye level, catching the chair as it spun and stopping your carefree squeals. “Slow the fuck down, tiger,” he laughed. “You’re gonna make yourself sick doin’ that. And if you throw up in my room, you’re not allowed in here again.”
Your eyes widened as you straightened your back, sitting up. “I’m not gonna throw up, I swear,”
“Good,” he grinned, making you blush a little before he sat at the edge of his bed.
You scooted forward to his desk, opening up the textbook. “The first four steps in the marketing process involve engaging customers and building customer relationships by creating and delivering superior customer value,” you read, nodding stoically. “Very true.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He grinned, watching you.
He flopped back onto his bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. You swivelled the chair around, your brows furrowed just slightly.
“Am I annoying you? I can get really annoying when I’ve drunk,” You winced.
He immediately sat up on his elbows. “What? No. No, not at all. C’mere.” He nodded beside him on the bed.
You got up, falling beside him with a sigh too, as you both stared up at the ceiling.
“You’re not tired?” He turned to look at you, a weird hint of softness in his eyes. You wished you could just dive into it, sink and never get out. You’d drown in them if you could.
“Oh, um, a little. I guess I didn’t realise it until I laid down.” You smiled slightly.
Your mouth opened and closed as the scenario flashed in your head in a series of images. You in Rafe’s truck, him driving you home, past the tracks and into the Cut. You could just imagine how he’d try and fail to hide his distaste for the area. Then you’d have to direct him past the shady alleyways and littered streets to the rundown trailer park you called home. Sure, it wasn’t a secret you weren’t rich. Whenever you guys had hooked up, it had been out somewhere or at Rafe’s place. You’d obviously never offered your place. He’d wince seeing it. The cracked back window. The lopsided steps up to the slide door. The rot growing along the frame. The softness you’d seen in his eyes would turn to disgust. You’d get out of the truck, and he’d drive right outta there before you could even say goodbye. It almost made you cry.
He saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you inhaled quickly, and how your eyes dimmed just a little. Maybe you had shit going on at home, he thought.
Noticing your discomfort in just that slight second, he cleared his throat. “Or, uh, you could come with me to Tannyhill. I mean- not to fuck. Just to get some sleep, then you can go home tomorrow. I’m staying back there for the weekend anyway.”
You smiled slightly, ease flooding back into your face. “Well, I’d hope not. I’m still worn out,” you giggled.
“Oh yeah? Didn’t seem that way when you were hoppin’ around my room like a bunny on crack.”
“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, shoving at his chest.
He grinned, catching your hands as he stood up from the bed, lifting you with him.
“C’mon, let’s go. You got all your stuff? Where’s your purse?” He said as he collected his clothes and belongings to take back home for the weekend.
“Ummmm…” you fumbled around the room looking for your leather handbag.
“I think I left it downstairs,” you pouted a little.
“Are you serious? Any asshole could’ve stolen that shit by now,” he huffed.
“I don’t think anyone’s gonna wanna steal my bag, trust me,” you snorted softly, thinking of the tattered material.
“You at least got your phone?”
“Yep,” you smiled, picking it up from the table, holding it up.
“Good,” he sighed. “Let’s go down, then we’ll go home. I mean- to my place.” He cleared his throat.
He opened the door for you, letting you traipse down the stairs ahead of him.
“Back to the fucking vultures,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his mouth.
You turned your head, giggling while you walked down the stairs, clinging to the railing. “Those vultures are your friends.”
“Yeah, well. Doesn’t mean I gotta like ‘em.”
“Kinda does…” You wrinkled your brows in thought before tripping over the last step.
“Hey, watch yourself, babe,” Rafe said as he caught you from behind, one hand on your waist and one on your forearm. “Like goddamn Bambi, you are.”
The party had died down by now. The strobe lights were still dazzling around the room, music bleeding into every corner of the house, but the space was instead occupied by passed-out students or people smoking or kissing in dark corners.
Before you had a chance to say anything, Ruthie had turned around on the couch, spotting Rafe steadying you. She elbowed Topper, laughing with that mean-girl cackle of hers.
“Cinderella! We missed you, baby,” she grinned. “Careful, it’s already past midnight for you. Back to the Cut you go.”
Rafe’s jaw clenched immediately. “Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth.” He enunciated every word, pointing right at her.
“Chill with the hostility, dude,” Topper laughed. He muttered with the smug smile of a guy who’s never worked a day in his life. “Not like she said anything wrong.”
“You wanna repeat that, Topper? Didn’t quite catch that.”
You were getting a little worried with how his teeth seemed to grind against each other behind his lips. How his muscles tensed beneath his polo. You tugged on his arm. “Let’s just go, my purse is over there,” you mumbled.
Feeling the pleading in your words, he let it go, breathing out slightly with a nod. “Yeah, get your stuff and we’ll leave.” You skittered to the side of the couch, crouching down to pick up your handbag from the floor before a hand above you snatched it up.
“You looking for this, babe? Real cute. Where’d you get it? Goodwill?” Ruthie smirked, holding your bag up.
“Just give it back, Ruthie,” you muttered, not having the energy to deal with her ass.
“Not like you’d lose anything without it,” she snorted.
“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” You sighed. Ruthie had made fun of you and every other Pogue girl incessantly since as far back as you could even remember. You were tired of the stick up her ass and her grade-school insults.
“Oh, I’m a bitch?” Ruthie scoffed. “At least I’m not a whore.”
“What did you just call me?” You narrowed your eyes, not believing the nerve of this bitch.
“You heard me. Everyone knows you’re slutting it up with Rafe for money.”
“Whoa, girls,” Topper laughed, his voice slurred. “Let’s calm down.”
Rafe looked up from his phone, wondering what was taking so long, until he saw you standing opposite Ruthie, daggers in your eyes. He quickly stood up from his place on the stairs.
You took a deep breath. You weren’t gonna let this Regina George wannabe get to you. “Just give me my fucking bag, Ruthie,” you sighed.
“Oh, this bag?” She smiled, a cruel glint in her eyes as she looked down at it. “Here.” She emptied out the bag onto the floor, all your items scattering everywhere. Your dollar-store lip gloss, a few crumpled-up bills, a vape, your ID card. All clattering to the floor with a miserably small sound, yet loud enough for heads to turn and laugh. Rafe’s heart dropped, his veins burning as he began storming over.
You wished to God that you had the instinct to throw hands at this moment. Lord knows you wanted to drop-kick that girl down 300 flights of stairs, but instead your eyes burned with tears and your cheeks flushed with humiliation. You quickly gathered your things, just wanting to get the fuck out of there.
Ruthie looked down at you with a cruel smile before tossing your empty handbag towards the front door. “Go fetch, sweetie.” She laughed.
Rafe’s jaw was clenched so hard he thought it might pop out, his eyes wild with fury as he rushed over a second too late. With your things held tightly to your chest, you kept your eyes to the floor. God forbid anyone saw you crying right now, especially Rafe. You wished a hole in the ground would just swallow you up. Making your way to the front door, you barged past Rafe’s shoulder as he whipped his head around; confused, pissed, and his heart bruising a little at the sight of you.
“What the fuck was that?” He spat out, seething. “Topper?”
Topper simply stifled a laugh. “Dude,” he held his hands up. “She’s drunk, okay. Don’t blame me.”
“You two are fucking assholes. Get the fuck out of here.” He shoved Topper’s chest back against the couch.
“Chill, bro. I live here. What do you want me to do?”
Rafe brought a hand over his jaw in annoyed fury. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t give a fuck, he just wanted these morons out of his sight.
He looked over to see where you were; you must have already gotten out of the house.
“You guys are fucking lucky I gotta leave now. You pull some bullshit like that again, and I make sure your daddy doesn’t make a cent for the next 5 fuckin’ years.” He pointed at Ruthie, his eyes dead cold with anger.
She just laughed as Rafe stalked away, calling out to him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you can’t find your wallet tomorrow!”
Rafe slammed the front door, spotting you. Your arms were folded around each other, handbag safely on your shoulder as you made your way to his truck quickly. Your body was leaning over slightly, just desperate to get out.
He hurried over to you, turning you around while his hands gripped your upper arms, slightly rubbing them.
“Hey, hey, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry about that. They’re fucking assholes, okay? Don’t listen to them.” His eyes bored down into yours, pleading with you to look at him.
“They’re your friends,” you muttered, staring at your heeled feet on the concrete.
“They’re not. They’re just losers who stick to me like fuckin’ I don't know, insects, just- they’re not my friends.”
“You used to say the same things as them. If we weren’t… whatever we are, you would’ve just pointed and laughed like the rest of them,” you mumbled, swaying a little on your feet.
He looked down at you, his heart cracking at your words as he unsuccessfully tried to catch your gaze. You weren’t exactly wrong… But it still killed him that you thought of him that way. That you thought he’d ever hurt you like that.
“Is that really what you think?”
You didn’t say anything, just stared down at the ground, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.
He swallowed, mumbling softly. “Just get in the truck, Y/N. You’re tired.”
He opened up the passenger door for you as you climbed in, shutting the door with a gentle slam before getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine. As he cruised down the road, he couldn’t help himself from stealing glances at you, your hair falling over your face, head rested against the window.
“You want the windows down? I’ll roll ‘em down a little,” he murmured, pressing the button and letting streams of cool air in.
You said nothing in response. With his right hand flexing on the wheel, his left hand drummed against his thigh nervously. Why the fuck was he getting nervous? He hated this; what you said, how quiet you were being, the little frown on your lips.
“Uh, you wanna put your music on? I’ll let you put that Ethel Wayne bullshit on.”
“It’s Ethel Cain,” you corrected, finally cracking a small smile again.
He smiled at the sight of yours, feeling successful. “Yeah, whatever. Still think she’s creepy.”
You connected your phone to the aux, hitting shuffle on her music. Dust Bowl played out softly, filling the space between you two. You hated how much any song could make you think of Rafe.
Pretty boy, natural blood-stained blond.
After a minute or so of the music he murmured. “This is sad.”
“Well, I’m sad.” You said it like a quiet joking rebuttal, but he knew you weren’t kidding.
His jaw clenched. He hated his asshole friends. He hated himself. He hated seeing you like this.
He finally pulled into his driveway, his eyes on his lap before lifting them to look at you.
“You know I’d never do that to you,” he mumbled in the quiet, the wind gently rustling outside the truck as crickets chirped. “I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna humiliate you, or- or make you upset. In any way. I know I’ve been an asshole before, but… I don’t care about like, how much money you have or where you come from. That’s all bullshit to me. I wanted to punch all of their faces. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
You met his eyes with a tentative, soft look.
“You know that, right?” He didn’t know why he so desperately needed you to say yes.
“Okay,” he breathed out a little. “Good.” He smiled gently as he took the keys out of the engine, turning to open the door.
“I-“ you croaked out ungracefully. Your mouth opened and closed. Your heart knew what it wanted, beating so fast you felt like it could run away from you. But you didn’t know what to say. You just wanted him.
“Yeah?” He blinked, turning back to you.
“I, um,” you swallowed. After a pause of silence, his eyes searching yours, you let out in a breathless whisper, “What is this, Rafe?”
He furrowed his brows. “What’s what?”
You wanted to swallow your words immediately, but it was too late. “Like… us.”
“Like… are we just fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? I just- you-“
“What do you wanna be?” you asked back. No way would you be the one to take the brunt of rejection.
“I asked first,” he grinned softly.
Fuck buddies? He thought about the endless Kook girls he’d consider fuck buddies, or the random one-night hookups whose names he couldn’t remember even with a gun to his head. He didn’t like the idea of you being in that category. Friends with benefits? He guessed you guys were friends. You never hung out unless it was in bed. But he knew your music taste, your favourite post-sex food, your family issues, your favourite animal - he still remembered releasing into you one time and how you’d randomly said that seahorses were your favourite because the males got pregnant. He knew that you slept on your right side most of the time, one leg raised like a knocked-out ballerina, that you liked horror movies, that you thought too deeply, your eyes zoning in on nowhere in particular, while your face dropped in a trance-like state of wondering, planning, worrying, dreaming, whatever it was you did in there. He imagined climbing into your brain, sorting through everything, finding thoughts of himself, hoping they were good, hoping they were like his thoughts of you. He couldn’t call you friends with benefits.
Before he could voice anything, you’d plucked up a gust of courage. In a quiet, wavering sigh, you whispered, “I don’t wanna just be a girl you fuck and forget about.”
“Don’t think I could do that even if I tried,” he murmured back, not missing a beat.
You felt the butterflies swarming in your stomach like a tornado.
He swallowed. “It feels different with you. Scary. Like- like I don’t know how to act, or what to say, and I don’t wanna do anything wrong to you. I don’t-“ he laughed a little nervously. “I don’t really do this.”
“So you wanna date?” A playful smile glittered on your lips, your heart somersaulting like it was on molly.
“Wh- I never said that,” he laughed, but you swore you could see a hint of pink creeping over his cheeks.
“I mean… would you want to?” He murmured in the suffocating silence, the tension so thick you could choke on it.
You had to look down at your lap as you smiled, tongue pressing at your cheek giddily. He had no fucking clue.
“Shut the fuck up,” he laughed.
You smiled, looking up at him a little softer, something wistful in your eyes. “I was really scared. That you didn’t feel it. I thought I was gonna make a total fool of myself in front of you.“
“You could never do that,” he mumbled.
You bit your lip trying to hide your smile. His tongue darted out to wet his own as his hand held your face gently, thumb pulling out your bottom lip.
“You’re so beautiful. Like really. You’re real.”
“I’d hope so,” you giggled quietly. You felt like his eyes were seeing right through you; it made you nervous.
“No, I mean… you’re not like everyone else.”
“I’m not like other girls?” You rolled your eyes.
“Can you stop trying to shoot down everything I say?” he laughed. “You know what I mean. You’re… genuine. You know? I look at you, and I feel all this weird fucking sap shit. You fucked me up, Y/N,” he laughed with a hint of vulnerability.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever asked,” you mumbled with a little smirk; you couldn’t help it with your comments. God forbid a girl made endless jokes in a serious conversation to hide her quivering anxiety…
“Yeah, sorry. Forgot you don’t like that shit, do you?”
As you opened your mouth to half scoff, half laugh, Rafe pressed his lips onto yours. Heavy and delicate. Wanting but not demanding. He held you by the cheek, lips moving with yours as if he just wanted to seep into your skin. He pulled back, forehead resting against yours as he breathed heavily. Your eyes fluttered open, brows creased in fear you’d done something wrong, or he’d changed his mind.
“Are you okay?” You whispered.
“Yeah, I- just, uh.” He swallowed, pulling fully back as he sat back in the driver's seat. “I just… you’re a special girl, Y/N. You know? I… I didn’t really realise, I guess, exactly how I felt before tonight. And now when I touch you, it feels like I’m touching fucking glass. I mean like, the prettiest, sexiest glass ever.”
You laughed quietly, not really getting it.
“I’m scared. I’m good at like, business. Money. Deals, drugs, fucking. I’m not good at real shit like this. It fucking scares me. And you… I just don’t wanna hurt you. And I’m not gonna be selfish enough to act like I can be that guy for you, you know? The fuckin’ Prince Charming shit, God knows that’s what you deserve,” he mumbled.
He thought of all the ways this could go wrong. All the ways he would fuck you up. He knew you weren’t some innocent girl, but you were good. Like, really good in your heart. He wouldn’t let himself take advantage of that. He thought about all the ways he’d already fucked people up; Sarah, Wheezie, Rose, the numerous girls he’d left heartbroken without a thought. But the idea of leaving you like that made him sick.
“I’m not a good guy, Y/N. Not good enough for you. I’ve done… I’ve done a lot of shit that I regret, shit that keeps me up at night. And I’m scared of you seeing that.”
Your eyes softened a little. He looked so young in this light, the interior dim yellow of the car shining on his tired features, the shadows from outside looming over his chiseled features as he looked down at his hands in his lap.
“I never asked for a Prince Charming.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
“Just you,” you smiled gently. “Warts and all.”
His heart soared, a stupid smile playing at his lips as he looked at you.
“Yeah, we’re doing this,” you giggled.
“Alright, well. I’d kiss you again, but uh, it’s almost morning, and your ass needs to be in a bed to deal with tomorrow’s hangover.”
“Fuck the hangover,” you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for another kiss.
Whatever ‘good guy’ fantasies he had of painfully rejecting your advances and carrying you like a princess to bed, letting you sleep peacefully like your body desperately needed, were all thrown out the window as soon as he felt your desperate lips on his. His hand quickly curled in your hair, a whimper escaping your lips, the vibrations seeping into his own as he let out a groan. You climbed across the centre console. His hands followed, steadying your lower waist as you straddled his lap. He quickly turned off the overhead light, giving you guys some semblance of privacy even though you were literally in his truck in the driveway of Tannyhill.
“This fuckin’ dress,” he muttered. “Gonna get me in trouble twice in one night.”
tags: @myst3ryincorporated @natalie6776 @n-obrien
