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The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. You sit on the edge of the sofa with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Beside you, Rafe fights a smile as his eyes glance between the floor and Anna as if debating whether to continue.
Anna observes you both for a moment, knowing the weight of silence in couple's sessions and how humor can be a defense mechanism.
"Sometimes," Anna begins, "couples come here to talk about communication, trust, or money. But there’s more troubling issues that can be difficult to talk about. Like the way we handle anger or jealousy.” Her approach is tentative, her body language trying to remain neutral as she considers the way you speak and move around each other.
When you had originally filled out the intake form, the only hint you included in the "Reason for Visiting" section was anger issues and insecurities. Rafe had even read over the form before letting you submit it, but now that you hear Anna drawing conclusions from simply observing, you want to shrink into the couch. A part of you regrets coming to see her in the first place, but you want things to work with Rafe so badly. He’s the only guy you’ve ever loved and you’re not known for giving up so easily. Even if it’s for your own good.
Rafe shifts in his seat, jaw tightening at the direction the conversation is moving. You feel your fingers twitch with the urge to say something, but you can't bring yourself to. Your throat is tight and your stomach hurts.
"Y/N," Anna says gently, "when you and Rafe have disagreements, do you ever find that things escalate?"
You swallow, mouth dry as tension builds between you and Rafe. You look at him from the corner of your eye before meeting Anna’s gaze. "Sometimes," you admit. "It starts with the arguing, but then I’m... yelling, or he is, and I don't remember how we got there." Spin it on yourself, make it sound like you're to blame.
"And what happens then?" Anna wonders, her voice calm but worry obvious beneath the surface. She adjusts her position in the chair, leaning forward a bit as she listens intently.
You look down at your hands, picking at the skin of your fingernails as you think about what to say next. Whatever words you choose are going to be analyzed by Rafe, too. If you aren’t careful, the whole thing could blow up in your face and make everything so much worse. "I get so mad and I say things I don't mean," you whisper. "And I’m scared that he does, too."
Rafe tenses, his arms crossed as deflection becomes his primary weapon. "I'm not the only one who escalates things," he mutters. "We both get violent." He can't believe you're actually getting at him being physical. You're dancing around the topic like it isn't the most obvious thing in the world, and he'd slap a hand over your mouth if it didn't prove your point. He can control his anger without a therapist. He doesn't need to be here.
Anna interrupts him before he can carry on. "Rafe, this isn’t about blame. This is about understanding what’s happening when you fight. It's about calming your nervous systems when they perceive disagreements as threats."
Your eyes brim with tears, voice breaking as you continue. "I don’t want to feel afraid, but sometimes," you sigh, "when we fight, I don’t know if we’ll stop."
The words hang in the air, heavy as the three of you ponder over what you're insinuating. Anna lets the silence stretch just long enough for you both to feel comfortable with where the conversation is heading. She knows admitting to volatile reactions takes courage, so she lets you grab a tissue and dab at your eyes before speaking.
"This isn’t uncommon," Anna finally says. "In many relationships, resentment builds with each argument that goes unresolved. It can make you say things you didn’t mean, or even do things you regret. But what we can do is give you both the tools to prevent things from escalating."
Rafe’s demeanor softens a bit at her failure to pick up on your hidden meaning, though he remains defensive.
"Let’s talk about these fights," Anna continues. "Before it leads to shouting or insults, what could you both do differently?"
Rafe leans back against the couch, his arm resting on the edge as he rubs at his temples. The goosebumps of anticipation running up his spine finally subside. "I don’t know," he huffs. "I just don’t want to feel like she’s not listening to me."
You let out a slow breath, fighting the urge to scoff even though you roll your eyes at his words. "And I don’t want to feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him."
Anna smiles softly. "Now we’re getting somewhere."
You managed to avoid talking about the arguments leading to placating Rafe with sex. You had avoided telling the whole truth about hitting each other, pushing each other, and him choking you as you reached your climax. It's all so confusing how it unfolds that you're not entirely sure you hate it. You’ve come up with your own way of diffusing Rafe; the problem is having to do it in the first place.
The drive and ferry ride home were quiet. It isn't until Rafe pulls up to your gate and security lets him in that he talks about the session. As soon as you unlock the front door, noting the quiet in the house, that's when Rafe speaks. He's behind you as you hang your purse on a coat rack in the foyer.
"Are you trying to get the police involved?" He asks monotonely, shutting the front door as you wander into the kitchen. You wait to respond, to collect your thoughts instead of becoming defensive just how Anna suggested.
"I'm just trying to communicate better," you tell him as you get a glass of water. The fridge hisses as you fill your cup with ice, each cube clattering into the glass as Rafe sits on the other side of the island. It's getting late, light from the sunset shining through the kitchen windows. You turn on the overhead light and open the pantry next to the fridge.
"She didn't tell us anything we didn't already know," Rafe groans as you search for a snack. Rows of chips and candy and soup are stacked neatly on each shelf, the options overwhelming you.
"Do we wanna order something from The Wreck?" You wonder, sounding domestic as you attempt to switch the subject. You can practically hear Rafe rolling his eyes behind your back as you shut the pantry door and down your water. Mouth suddenly feeling dry, you refill your cup and scroll through restaraunt options on your phone.
"I'm not hungry," he huffs. There's a tone in his words that implies it's your fault he doesn't have an appetite. How does it feel, you think, having been unable to stomach much since the party.
"Well I am," you argue.
"Then I guess we'll do whatever you want," Rafe says as he throws his hands into the air. They fall lazily onto the counter as he grabs his keys. "Hurry up and order something so it's ready when we get there."
Part of you accepts that you would rather be with Rafe in public than alone. Even if he prefers staying in his truck while you wait for Kie to bring your food, you like people watching and the chatter and music. It isn't often you have time by yourself to just sit and observe, having been too caught up in Rafe and the fights to have alone time.
Pope and Kie are dancing together behind the counter, her father busy packing your food to go as Bob Marley plays. They're cute together, their friends sitting outside on the patio throwing food and laughing. JJ is outside too, but you have to rip your eyes off of him in case Rafe is watching.
Sara notices you, and walks into the restaraunt with an empty drink before sitting next to you at the bar. "Hey," she greets you.
Sara has rarely seen you since she was banging on the bathroom door weeks ago. You've been so cooped up wondering how to fix your relationship with her brother that socializing hasn't been on your to-do list. FaceTime and texting is about as much as you've committed to when it comes to talking to her, and you feel like a shit friend for prioritizing a guy over her. Even if prioritizing Rafe is starting to feel like something forced onto you.
"Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?" Sara asks, her cup being taken by Kie's mom for a refill.
You bite your lip, thinking about having to tell Rafe he has to be put on the back burner. A sudden eureka moment pops into your head, and your posture visibly straightens as you quickly come up with a plan.
"Do you mind going to the clinic with me? I need to get some birth control."
Sara's eyebrows shoot up and she fake gags in response. "I'm gonna pretend you're not with my brother, but yeah, I'll pick you up. Then we can tan on the beach, sip some beers? It'll be a nice way to prep for Midsummers." A smile replaces her scrunched up pout, joy radiating from her at the thought of finally hanging out with you.
A grin of your own appears on your face despite using your best friend as an alibi. If Rafe were to see your location at the clinic, you could just say Sara needed to pick up her prescription before you two went to the beach. You know of a clinic on the way; the plan is foolproof. Excitement blossoms in your chest as you and Sara discuss pick up times, Kie having brought your food just as you settle on one.
Kie, who overheard your plans, suggests everyone meeting up later on to surf. "It'll be raining tonight and that always makes for good waves," she says with a smile. Her relationship with Sara has grown into something empowering, and you'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't make you a tad bit jealous. Can you blame them, though? Rafe is so entangled in your life that it's becoming difficult to be with your friends. The fights just aren’t worth it, no matter how much you miss being with them.
Sara perks up at the idea, practically begging you as you fiddle with the plastic bag containing your dinner. You stutter, looking over your shoulder toward the parking lot where Rafe is waiting. When you drag your eyes back to the girls, they catch JJ's outside. He offers you a smile and a wave and you sheepishly return it, not wanting to be rude.
"Sounds like a plan," you tell the girls.
When you and Rafe get back to your house, it's quiet. The live-in maid is on vacation, your parents won't be home until Midsummers this weekend, and Rafe saw you waving at JJ. You manage to avoid the topic while you eat, having gotten comfortable in your pajamas and drinking a glass of wine. Every time he tries to bring it up, you shush him and tell him to enjoy the movie you picked out.
You're putting your plate in the dishwasher when he can no longer hold his tongue. "It's always back to him," you groan. Washing your hands, your back is turned to Rafe as he stands behind you, leaning against the countertop of the island. You can hear crickets outside, security patrols having quieted since your mother's case is wrapping up. All that remains of the patrol is the guard by the gate, two lone men who switch off day and night shifts.
"He seems to be preoccupied with you," Rafe argues.
"He's just being friendly." You dry your hands and throw the towel on the counter, finally turning to face Rafe just as he closes the gap.
"Friendly. That's the word you choose?"
You turn your head to the side, not wanting to make eye contact as he stands flush against you. The wine in your stomach turns sour with anxiety, both of you having finished a bottle in under an hour.
"He was only saying hi," you mumble.
"What were you and my sister talking about?"
"Going to the beach tomorrow." You force yourself to look him in the eye, unable to read the expression on Rafe's face as he looks you up and down.
"Am I invited?"
Your stomach drops at his question, not wanting to lie about something so important. His idea that he can control what you do with your body is only believable if you allow him to think so. What Rafe doesn't know won't kill him, especially if it prevents you from being trapped with him in forced parenthood. You don't feel so guilty about lying to him when you think about it like that.
"Sorry, it's girls only." You say it with a sheepish smile, hoping that stepping away from him and heading toward the stairs ends the conversation. Rafe's hand grabs yours just as you leave the kitchen, his fingernails digging into the veins of your wrist.
The look on his face has your hair standing on end, your body preparing for the violence it's quickly becoming accustomed to. Your breath catches in your lungs as you make a futile attempt to rip your hand from his grasp.
"Girls only?" Rafe asks, both words heavy with suspicion as he keeps you in place. You manage a small nod, eyes falling on his fingers and silently pleading for him to let go. Your submissive demeanor calms the fire burning in Rafe's chest, the fear and anger at any potential lie you tell crippling him.
"You know what'll happen if I find out JJ's there, right?" Rafe's voice is low, a small grin on his lips. The smile of the man you thought you knew only frightens you now.
You nod again, but Rafe pulls you close to him and it makes your feet stumble.
"If I find out you're lying to me," Rafe begins, tone making you look up at him, "you're never gonna leave my sight again."
The cologne that once made you weak in the knees is suffocating now, hatred developing for the good memories of his scent on your pillow. Resentment bubbles in your chest and you yank your hand from his grip, staring in his bright blue eyes as they bore into your soul.
“I’m not a child. Stop talking down to me."
“Stop making it so easy,” Rafe bites back. The hatred in his eyes makes your stomach flip, his words like a dagger cutting through your heart. The mocking look on his face sends a wave of nausea through you, heart physically aching at the sincerity in his voice.
Tears brim at your eyes as your chest tightens. “It’s easy to talk down to me?” You repeat, not wanting to accept the fact that this fight is making it feel like the end. How could he say something like that to you? How could he say and do such awful things to the person he loves - the person he says he loves.
“Is it easy for you to hit me, too?” You ask, voice small as grief overwhelms your body. Rafe’s scowl deepens as you step away from him. “Get out of my house,” you order. The wine has you feeling bold, and Rafe’s words are the cherry on top of your already ruined relationship. It was doomed from the start and you were too in love to accept it. You’re tired, you’re done. He’s scared you and hurt you too many times for you to keep lying to yourself.
“You’re acting fuckin’ crazy,” he laughs.
Bitterly, you shake your head and ball your fists at your sides, wanting to hug yourself but not allowing him to perceive you as weak. You aren’t sure if the swimming feeling in your head is because of the wine or adrenaline, but you step back toward the stairs.
Rafe follows you, various emotions evident on his face as he grips the handrail. “Midsummers is in two days. We’re going,” he urges. Your foot slips at the next step, but you catch yourself and continue backing up. Rafe steps up ever so slowly, approaching you with a twisted grin on his face. “We’re going to therapy,” he adds, hand motioning between you both. “We’re the perfect couple. You can’t just end it."
“I should’ve broken up with you a long time ago,” you cry. Tears slip down your cheeks, spine tingling at the look of malice on Rafe’s face. Everything in your body tells you to turn around, to flee to your room and lock the door. You’re scared, though; Rafe is faster and stronger and you would never be able to make it up the stairs without him catching you.
Rafe’s face falls, his shoulders sagging as you both stop at the middle of the staircase. “That really hurt,” he mumbles. "Breaking up because what?" He chuckles, sighing through his words and waving his hands around. "Because you've been talking to JJ?"
Rafe moves to take a step up. "You think I don't go through your phone when you're sleeping? Or-or when you're too busy playing with your makeup or some shit?"
Your heart thumps as if trying to leap from your throat, and your mouth goes dry as your ears ring. You never should've taken JJ's number; never should've let him convince you it was something as innocent as permission past security. It was only a matter of time before Rafe started snooping, and you want to kick yourself for believing he'd never invade your privacy.
How long had he been waiting to use that card?
Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, "When..."
Rafe tilts his head, eyebrows raising as he frowns at you. "You forgot to clear your message history."
The look on his face - a mix of anticipation and fury - has you gripping the banister. You can feel the warm beads of perspiration on the top of your forehead as you both stare at each other expectedly.
His eyes fall on your feet, clad in socks that make it difficult for you to walk backwards up the slick, wooden steps. You swallow, time moving slowly as you notice Rafe’s hand darting out to grab your arm. Pushing a hand against the railing, you’re able to lean away and turn around to run. Your footing slips and you land on your hands, the edge of a step digging into your knees as Rafe’s fingers wrap around your ankle.
You turn, back landing hard against the staircase as he climbs over you. “Stop! Please!” You cry, body moving as Rafe picks you up by your shoulders. Your limbs are twisted as you both struggle to remain standing, the stairs creaking under your shifting weight.
Rafe shakes you, your head snapping back and forth as your hands desperately grab onto his shirt. “Do you think I like doing this?” Rafe’s voice is pitiful, anger laced within his words as you sob. The thought that he could throw you down the stairs crosses your mind, making it even more apparent that you’ve got to hold onto him. He can’t throw you without his own body following.
“I love you!” Rafe says, eyebrows pushed together as his fingers dig into your shoulders. Your fingers ache as they grip his shirt, your feet slipping as he shakes you again. “I love you and this is what you make me do. Texting that fuckin' Pogue behind my back, deleting the messages?” His voice is quieter, his movements stilling as you both catch your breath. Tears dry along your cheeks, your head feeling flushed as you struggle with what to say.
“We’re going to pretend everything is fine,” Rafe says through gritted teeth. “We’re gonna smile and dance and our parents are gonna talk about babies and family vacations.” He’s nodding at his own words, the manic look in his eyes making your stomach twist. You take a deep breath, chest aching as sobs escape your mouth.
“I would rather die than be with you. Fuck therapy, fuck Midsummers. Nothing can change you, Rafe.” The words you say are bitter, but truer words have never been spoken. You think it’s the most honest you’ve been with yourself and with Rafe in months.
His face falls, void of all emotion as he processes your words with a slow nod. When his hands fall from your arms, you take a tentative step up again to put some distance between you. Rafe’s hair is a mess, the waves going every which way as his chest heaves with anger. “I don't want to see you ever again,” you say with a shaky voice.
Rafe’s eyes snap up, glaring at you from behind his bangs as his jaw tenses. He’s looking at you the same way he looks at Sara when their father dotes on her. The glare on his face is the same as the ones he gives JJ when he smiles at you. The predatory look on your boyfriend’s face makes your body jump, your nervous system firing so quickly you don’t realize you’re running up the stairs until footsteps follow.
Rafe is running after you, his feet thudding against the floor as you scramble up the stairs with a scream. Pure fear courses through your veins as you reach for your bedroom door. Rafe’s fingers lock into your hair, pulling you back and away from safety.
His fingernails scratch into your scalp, the strands of your hair tight in his grasp as he pulls you flush against his chest. Your hands reach behind you, desperately grabbing at his own hair as you try to twist yourself in his arms. Rafe is stronger than you, and as his other arm snakes around your waist, your gaze falls on the banister and the chandelier hanging over the foyer. It’s quite the fall and, if Rafe were to wish it, he could throw you over with ease. The thought of flying over the railing has you screaming and panting, but Rafe tugs your hair and presses his cheek against yours.
“Quit fighting me,” he demands. His voice is low and rough against your ear, but you placate him and still your movements. Chest heaving with panic, both of your hands reach back to grab his wrists. You don’t tug, afraid his grip will only tighten as if it were a snake around your throat.
“You can’t walk away from us that easy,” Rafe sighs. His body is hot against yours, shaking with anger while he tries to calm his beating heart. He doesn’t think he’s been this angry with you since the night of the bonfire, and it’s taking every fiber of his being to control himself.
“Let go of me,” you order, voice wavering as your feet struggle to remain flat. Rafe’s hold on your hair remains tight, preventing you from finding your footing. You eye the railing again, gaze lingering on the cold flooring below.
“Are you dumping me for JJ? You're that fuckin' stupid?” Rafe wonders, eyes squinting as he pulls your hair to look into yours.
You violently shake your head, not wanting that thought to fester into another ordeal. If you could go back in time and warn your past self of all the anguish, betrayal, and lies - all the times Rafe put his hands on you and apologized with affection...
“Why do you wanna give up so easy?"
If you could go back in time, you never would have spoken to Rafe at all.
“You’re fucking crazy!” You cry, and the fear in your voice makes it almost unrecognizable to your own ears.
Rafe’s laugh is bitter. “I’m crazy?” He breathes out, amusement in his voice. “Baby, I’m just gettin’ started."
You think he’s going to throw you over the banister. His hands let go of your hair, your heart leaps out of your chest, and suddenly you’re flying forward.
Rafe’s hands on your back push you roughly between the shoulders. You land on your hands and knees, the force of his shove sending you to the wooden floor. The bones in your knees and shins grow hot with pain, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of losing your breath as Rafe kicks you in the stomach.
It’s stupid, but the first thought that comes to your mind as you choke is, “At least he isn’t wearing shoes."
You land on your side, back to your closed bedroom door as your front is exposed to Rafe. He’s standing over you, glaring as you gasp for air like he's a cruel child watching a dying dog. Your lungs burn, your chest aches, and you want to curl in on yourself. Stars blink behind your eyelids as you breathe in deeply, the smell of the polished wooden floor filling your throat. Air comes to you quickly, but it’s kicked out of you once again as Rafe’s foot juts into your stomach.
You cry out, tears springing from your eyes as you grasp at your chest, desperately willing the breath to return. It eventually does, but Rafe crouches down in front of you and, in your haste to crawl away from him, the breath leaves. You hold a hand between you both, begging him to stay back as you push yourself mere inches away.
Rafe tilts his head, eyes a dark blue and cold as he watches you struggle to inhale. A deep frown is on his lips, as if he’s upset with the way things escalated. He runs a hand through his hair, sitting in front of you as his cold demeanor melts into something like pity.
You manage to push yourself against the wall and hug your knees to your chest. Your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in, and you wonder if he kicked you hard enough to do severe damage. Your lungs ache, your knees and hands, too. There’s a bruise forming on your wrist from where you landed on it, and when you twist it a certain way it stings.
You eye Rafe, wide eyed and shaking as he remains seated on the floor. He goes to stand, but you jump back and he drops to his knees, holding a placating hand out as if to tell you he’s done hurting you.
“Baby,” he trails off. His hand reaches out for you, but you scoot further down the hall and shake your head in refusal. You want to be sick; you want to hold your stomach. “Baby, I didn’t…” His head falls, hands coming together on the floor as if praying. When Rafe looks back up at you, the only feeling you have for him is disgust.
“Can you breathe?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he watches you cry. No sound escapes you except for your shaking breaths, your body shuddering as adrenaline rushes through your veins.
You briefly think of the young man you knew before, the one who held you gently and reassured you of your insecurities. He's gone now, metamorphosized into something more sinister and unrecognizable. His sweet words are dull, his touch is like acid, and his cruelty is unmatched.
You don't know what else to do except stare at Rafe, clutching your knees to your chest and eyeing him as he begs for forgiveness again. This cycle of abuse is tiring, and you want to keel over and give up. You'd tell your parents, but the shame of it all - the way you doted on Rafe - it hurts you to break their hearts. You'd tell JJ, but that would be like putting a hit out on Rafe. You have to find a way out, even if it means abandoning everyone and leaving no room for error. You've become so desperate to leave, but fear makes you stay.
Rafe huffs, leaning back on his thighs as he looks at you through sweaty bangs. "Let's get you cleaned up," he suggests.
Every bone in your body fights his easy hands on your arms as they urge you to stand. You can barely look at him without feeling the need to vomit, limbs shaking as if willing his touch to disappear. Nevertheless, Rafe leads you into your bedroom and sits you at the foot of your bed. Every step he takes is carefully watched, your gaze unwavering as he disappears into your bathroom to switch on the shower.
You hear him fish something from his pocket, the plastic rustling as he empties the contents of a baggie onto the countertop. You hear the metallic clink of his wallet buttons and the familiar dicing of a credit card. When you hear him sniff, your suspicions are confirmed, and you want to sink in on yourself.
When Rafe returns, sweating and desperately trying to maintain his composure, you keel over and fall to the floor. Your stomach constricts, what little food you've managed to consume coming up and spilling onto the carpet. Your hearing goes out, and you can hardly move without pain shooting throughout your stomach as Rafe picks you up and strips you in the bathroom.
You raise your arms to aid with your shirt coming off. Rafe tugs your shorts down with ease, your underwear following as your hearing slowly returns. Rafe is telling you, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
As he eases you into the shower, you accept the fact that his words now mean nothing.
The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. You sit on the edge of the sofa with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Beside you, Rafe fights a smile as his eyes glance between the floor and Anna as if debating whether to continue.
Anna observes you both for a moment, knowing the weight of silence in couple's sessions and how humor can be a defense mechanism.
"Sometimes," Anna begins, "couples come here to talk about communication, trust, or money. But there’s more troubling issues that can be difficult to talk about. Like the way we handle anger or jealousy.” Her approach is tentative, her body language trying to remain neutral as she considers the way you speak and move around each other.
When you had originally filled out the intake form, the only hint you included in the "Reason for Visiting" section was anger issues and insecurities. Rafe had even read over the form before letting you submit it, but now that you hear Anna drawing conclusions from simply observing, you want to shrink into the couch. A part of you regrets coming to see her in the first place, but you want things to work with Rafe so badly. He’s the only guy you’ve ever loved and you’re not known for giving up so easily. Even if it’s for your own good.
Rafe shifts in his seat, jaw tightening at the direction the conversation is moving. You feel your fingers twitch with the urge to say something, but you can't bring yourself to. Your throat is tight and your stomach hurts.
"Y/N," Anna says gently, "when you and Rafe have disagreements, do you ever find that things escalate?"
You swallow, mouth dry as tension builds between you and Rafe. You look at him from the corner of your eye before meeting Anna’s gaze. "Sometimes," you admit. "It starts with the arguing, but then I’m... yelling, or he is, and I don't remember how we got there." Spin it on yourself, make it sound like you're to blame.
"And what happens then?" Anna wonders, her voice calm but worry obvious beneath the surface. She adjusts her position in the chair, leaning forward a bit as she listens intently.
You look down at your hands, picking at the skin of your fingernails as you think about what to say next. Whatever words you choose are going to be analyzed by Rafe, too. If you aren’t careful, the whole thing could blow up in your face and make everything so much worse. "I get so mad and I say things I don't mean," you whisper. "And I’m scared that he does, too."
Rafe tenses, his arms crossed as deflection becomes his primary weapon. "I'm not the only one who escalates things," he mutters. "We both get violent." He can't believe you're actually getting at him being physical. You're dancing around the topic like it isn't the most obvious thing in the world, and he'd slap a hand over your mouth if it didn't prove your point. He can control his anger without a therapist. He doesn't need to be here.
Anna interrupts him before he can carry on. "Rafe, this isn’t about blame. This is about understanding what’s happening when you fight. It's about calming your nervous systems when they perceive disagreements as threats."
Your eyes brim with tears, voice breaking as you continue. "I don’t want to feel afraid, but sometimes," you sigh, "when we fight, I don’t know if we’ll stop."
The words hang in the air, heavy as the three of you ponder over what you're insinuating. Anna lets the silence stretch just long enough for you both to feel comfortable with where the conversation is heading. She knows admitting to volatile reactions takes courage, so she lets you grab a tissue and dab at your eyes before speaking.
"This isn’t uncommon," Anna finally says. "In many relationships, resentment builds with each argument that goes unresolved. It can make you say things you didn’t mean, or even do things you regret. But what we can do is give you both the tools to prevent things from escalating."
Rafe’s demeanor softens a bit at her failure to pick up on your hidden meaning, though he remains defensive.
"Let’s talk about these fights," Anna continues. "Before it leads to shouting or insults, what could you both do differently?"
Rafe leans back against the couch, his arm resting on the edge as he rubs at his temples. The goosebumps of anticipation running up his spine finally subside. "I don’t know," he huffs. "I just don’t want to feel like she’s not listening to me."
You let out a slow breath, fighting the urge to scoff even though you roll your eyes at his words. "And I don’t want to feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him."
Anna smiles softly. "Now we’re getting somewhere."
You managed to avoid talking about the arguments leading to placating Rafe with sex. You had avoided telling the whole truth about hitting each other, pushing each other, and him choking you as you reached your climax. It's all so confusing how it unfolds that you're not entirely sure you hate it. You’ve come up with your own way of diffusing Rafe; the problem is having to do it in the first place.
The drive and ferry ride home were quiet. It isn't until Rafe pulls up to your gate and security lets him in that he talks about the session. As soon as you unlock the front door, noting the quiet in the house, that's when Rafe speaks. He's behind you as you hang your purse on a coat rack in the foyer.
"Are you trying to get the police involved?" He asks monotonely, shutting the front door as you wander into the kitchen. You wait to respond, to collect your thoughts instead of becoming defensive just how Anna suggested.
"I'm just trying to communicate better," you tell him as you get a glass of water. The fridge hisses as you fill your cup with ice, each cube clattering into the glass as Rafe sits on the other side of the island. It's getting late, light from the sunset shining through the kitchen windows. You turn on the overhead light and open the pantry next to the fridge.
"She didn't tell us anything we didn't already know," Rafe groans as you search for a snack. Rows of chips and candy and soup are stacked neatly on each shelf, the options overwhelming you.
"Do we wanna order something from The Wreck?" You wonder, sounding domestic as you attempt to switch the subject. You can practically hear Rafe rolling his eyes behind your back as you shut the pantry door and down your water. Mouth suddenly feeling dry, you refill your cup and scroll through restaraunt options on your phone.
"I'm not hungry," he huffs. There's a tone in his words that implies it's your fault he doesn't have an appetite. How does it feel, you think, having been unable to stomach much since the party.
"Well I am," you argue.
"Then I guess we'll do whatever you want," Rafe says as he throws his hands into the air. They fall lazily onto the counter as he grabs his keys. "Hurry up and order something so it's ready when we get there."
Part of you accepts that you would rather be with Rafe in public than alone. Even if he prefers staying in his truck while you wait for Kie to bring your food, you like people watching and the chatter and music. It isn't often you have time by yourself to just sit and observe, having been too caught up in Rafe and the fights to have alone time.
Pope and Kie are dancing together behind the counter, her father busy packing your food to go as Bob Marley plays. They're cute together, their friends sitting outside on the patio throwing food and laughing. JJ is outside too, but you have to rip your eyes off of him in case Rafe is watching.
Sara notices you, and walks into the restaraunt with an empty drink before sitting next to you at the bar. "Hey," she greets you.
Sara has rarely seen you since she was banging on the bathroom door weeks ago. You've been so cooped up wondering how to fix your relationship with her brother that socializing hasn't been on your to-do list. FaceTime and texting is about as much as you've committed to when it comes to talking to her, and you feel like a shit friend for prioritizing a guy over her. Even if prioritizing Rafe is starting to feel like something forced onto you.
"Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?" Sara asks, her cup being taken by Kie's mom for a refill.
You bite your lip, thinking about having to tell Rafe he has to be put on the back burner. A sudden eureka moment pops into your head, and your posture visibly straightens as you quickly come up with a plan.
"Do you mind going to the clinic with me? I need to get some birth control."
Sara's eyebrows shoot up and she fake gags in response. "I'm gonna pretend you're not with my brother, but yeah, I'll pick you up. Then we can tan on the beach, sip some beers? It'll be a nice way to prep for Midsummers." A smile replaces her scrunched up pout, joy radiating from her at the thought of finally hanging out with you.
A grin of your own appears on your face despite using your best friend as an alibi. If Rafe were to see your location at the clinic, you could just say Sara needed to pick up her prescription before you two went to the beach. You know of a clinic on the way; the plan is foolproof. Excitement blossoms in your chest as you and Sara discuss pick up times, Kie having brought your food just as you settle on one.
Kie, who overheard your plans, suggests everyone meeting up later on to surf. "It'll be raining tonight and that always makes for good waves," she says with a smile. Her relationship with Sara has grown into something empowering, and you'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't make you a tad bit jealous. Can you blame them, though? Rafe is so entangled in your life that it's becoming difficult to be with your friends. The fights just aren’t worth it, no matter how much you miss being with them.
Sara perks up at the idea, practically begging you as you fiddle with the plastic bag containing your dinner. You stutter, looking over your shoulder toward the parking lot where Rafe is waiting. When you drag your eyes back to the girls, they catch JJ's outside. He offers you a smile and a wave and you sheepishly return it, not wanting to be rude.
"Sounds like a plan," you tell the girls.
When you and Rafe get back to your house, it's quiet. The live-in maid is on vacation, your parents won't be home until Midsummers this weekend, and Rafe saw you waving at JJ. You manage to avoid the topic while you eat, having gotten comfortable in your pajamas and drinking a glass of wine. Every time he tries to bring it up, you shush him and tell him to enjoy the movie you picked out.
You're putting your plate in the dishwasher when he can no longer hold his tongue. "It's always back to him," you groan. Washing your hands, your back is turned to Rafe as he stands behind you, leaning against the countertop of the island. You can hear crickets outside, security patrols having quieted since your mother's case is wrapping up. All that remains of the patrol is the guard by the gate, two lone men who switch off day and night shifts.
"He seems to be preoccupied with you," Rafe argues.
"He's just being friendly." You dry your hands and throw the towel on the counter, finally turning to face Rafe just as he closes the gap.
"Friendly. That's the word you choose?"
You turn your head to the side, not wanting to make eye contact as he stands flush against you. The wine in your stomach turns sour with anxiety, both of you having finished a bottle in under an hour.
"He was only saying hi," you mumble.
"What were you and my sister talking about?"
"Going to the beach tomorrow." You force yourself to look him in the eye, unable to read the expression on Rafe's face as he looks you up and down.
"Am I invited?"
Your stomach drops at his question, not wanting to lie about something so important. His idea that he can control what you do with your body is only believable if you allow him to think so. What Rafe doesn't know won't kill him, especially if it prevents you from being trapped with him in forced parenthood. You don't feel so guilty about lying to him when you think about it like that.
"Sorry, it's girls only." You say it with a sheepish smile, hoping that stepping away from him and heading toward the stairs ends the conversation. Rafe's hand grabs yours just as you leave the kitchen, his fingernails digging into the veins of your wrist.
The look on his face has your hair standing on end, your body preparing for the violence it's quickly becoming accustomed to. Your breath catches in your lungs as you make a futile attempt to rip your hand from his grasp.
"Girls only?" Rafe asks, both words heavy with suspicion as he keeps you in place. You manage a small nod, eyes falling on his fingers and silently pleading for him to let go. Your submissive demeanor calms the fire burning in Rafe's chest, the fear and anger at any potential lie you tell crippling him.
"You know what'll happen if I find out JJ's there, right?" Rafe's voice is low, a small grin on his lips. The smile of the man you thought you knew only frightens you now.
You nod again, but Rafe pulls you close to him and it makes your feet stumble.
"If I find out you're lying to me," Rafe begins, tone making you look up at him, "you're never gonna leave my sight again."
The cologne that once made you weak in the knees is suffocating now, hatred developing for the good memories of his scent on your pillow. Resentment bubbles in your chest and you yank your hand from his grip, staring in his bright blue eyes as they bore into your soul.
“I’m not a child. Stop talking down to me."
“Stop making it so easy,” Rafe bites back. The hatred in his eyes makes your stomach flip, his words like a dagger cutting through your heart. The mocking look on his face sends a wave of nausea through you, heart physically aching at the sincerity in his voice.
Tears brim at your eyes as your chest tightens. “It’s easy to talk down to me?” You repeat, not wanting to accept the fact that this fight is making it feel like the end. How could he say something like that to you? How could he say and do such awful things to the person he loves - the person he says he loves.
“Is it easy for you to hit me, too?” You ask, voice small as grief overwhelms your body. Rafe’s scowl deepens as you step away from him. “Get out of my house,” you order. The wine has you feeling bold, and Rafe’s words are the cherry on top of your already ruined relationship. It was doomed from the start and you were too in love to accept it. You’re tired, you’re done. He’s scared you and hurt you too many times for you to keep lying to yourself.
“You’re acting fuckin’ crazy,” he laughs.
Bitterly, you shake your head and ball your fists at your sides, wanting to hug yourself but not allowing him to perceive you as weak. You aren’t sure if the swimming feeling in your head is because of the wine or adrenaline, but you step back toward the stairs.
Rafe follows you, various emotions evident on his face as he grips the handrail. “Midsummers is in two days. We’re going,” he urges. Your foot slips at the next step, but you catch yourself and continue backing up. Rafe steps up ever so slowly, approaching you with a twisted grin on his face. “We’re going to therapy,” he adds, hand motioning between you both. “We’re the perfect couple. You can’t just end it."
“I should’ve broken up with you a long time ago,” you cry. Tears slip down your cheeks, spine tingling at the look of malice on Rafe’s face. Everything in your body tells you to turn around, to flee to your room and lock the door. You’re scared, though; Rafe is faster and stronger and you would never be able to make it up the stairs without him catching you.
Rafe’s face falls, his shoulders sagging as you both stop at the middle of the staircase. “That really hurt,” he mumbles. "Breaking up because what?" He chuckles, sighing through his words and waving his hands around. "Because you've been talking to JJ?"
Rafe moves to take a step up. "You think I don't go through your phone when you're sleeping? Or-or when you're too busy playing with your makeup or some shit?"
Your heart thumps as if trying to leap from your throat, and your mouth goes dry as your ears ring. You never should've taken JJ's number; never should've let him convince you it was something as innocent as permission past security. It was only a matter of time before Rafe started snooping, and you want to kick yourself for believing he'd never invade your privacy.
How long had he been waiting to use that card?
Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, "When..."
Rafe tilts his head, eyebrows raising as he frowns at you. "You forgot to clear your message history."
The look on his face - a mix of anticipation and fury - has you gripping the banister. You can feel the warm beads of perspiration on the top of your forehead as you both stare at each other expectedly.
His eyes fall on your feet, clad in socks that make it difficult for you to walk backwards up the slick, wooden steps. You swallow, time moving slowly as you notice Rafe’s hand darting out to grab your arm. Pushing a hand against the railing, you’re able to lean away and turn around to run. Your footing slips and you land on your hands, the edge of a step digging into your knees as Rafe’s fingers wrap around your ankle.
You turn, back landing hard against the staircase as he climbs over you. “Stop! Please!” You cry, body moving as Rafe picks you up by your shoulders. Your limbs are twisted as you both struggle to remain standing, the stairs creaking under your shifting weight.
Rafe shakes you, your head snapping back and forth as your hands desperately grab onto his shirt. “Do you think I like doing this?” Rafe’s voice is pitiful, anger laced within his words as you sob. The thought that he could throw you down the stairs crosses your mind, making it even more apparent that you’ve got to hold onto him. He can’t throw you without his own body following.
“I love you!” Rafe says, eyebrows pushed together as his fingers dig into your shoulders. Your fingers ache as they grip his shirt, your feet slipping as he shakes you again. “I love you and this is what you make me do. Texting that fuckin' Pogue behind my back, deleting the messages?” His voice is quieter, his movements stilling as you both catch your breath. Tears dry along your cheeks, your head feeling flushed as you struggle with what to say.
“We’re going to pretend everything is fine,” Rafe says through gritted teeth. “We’re gonna smile and dance and our parents are gonna talk about babies and family vacations.” He’s nodding at his own words, the manic look in his eyes making your stomach twist. You take a deep breath, chest aching as sobs escape your mouth.
“I would rather die than be with you. Fuck therapy, fuck Midsummers. Nothing can change you, Rafe.” The words you say are bitter, but truer words have never been spoken. You think it’s the most honest you’ve been with yourself and with Rafe in months.
His face falls, void of all emotion as he processes your words with a slow nod. When his hands fall from your arms, you take a tentative step up again to put some distance between you. Rafe’s hair is a mess, the waves going every which way as his chest heaves with anger. “I don't want to see you ever again,” you say with a shaky voice.
Rafe’s eyes snap up, glaring at you from behind his bangs as his jaw tenses. He’s looking at you the same way he looks at Sara when their father dotes on her. The glare on his face is the same as the ones he gives JJ when he smiles at you. The predatory look on your boyfriend’s face makes your body jump, your nervous system firing so quickly you don’t realize you’re running up the stairs until footsteps follow.
Rafe is running after you, his feet thudding against the floor as you scramble up the stairs with a scream. Pure fear courses through your veins as you reach for your bedroom door. Rafe’s fingers lock into your hair, pulling you back and away from safety.
His fingernails scratch into your scalp, the strands of your hair tight in his grasp as he pulls you flush against his chest. Your hands reach behind you, desperately grabbing at his own hair as you try to twist yourself in his arms. Rafe is stronger than you, and as his other arm snakes around your waist, your gaze falls on the banister and the chandelier hanging over the foyer. It’s quite the fall and, if Rafe were to wish it, he could throw you over with ease. The thought of flying over the railing has you screaming and panting, but Rafe tugs your hair and presses his cheek against yours.
“Quit fighting me,” he demands. His voice is low and rough against your ear, but you placate him and still your movements. Chest heaving with panic, both of your hands reach back to grab his wrists. You don’t tug, afraid his grip will only tighten as if it were a snake around your throat.
“You can’t walk away from us that easy,” Rafe sighs. His body is hot against yours, shaking with anger while he tries to calm his beating heart. He doesn’t think he’s been this angry with you since the night of the bonfire, and it’s taking every fiber of his being to control himself.
“Let go of me,” you order, voice wavering as your feet struggle to remain flat. Rafe’s hold on your hair remains tight, preventing you from finding your footing. You eye the railing again, gaze lingering on the cold flooring below.
“Are you dumping me for JJ? You're that fuckin' stupid?” Rafe wonders, eyes squinting as he pulls your hair to look into yours.
You violently shake your head, not wanting that thought to fester into another ordeal. If you could go back in time and warn your past self of all the anguish, betrayal, and lies - all the times Rafe put his hands on you and apologized with affection...
“Why do you wanna give up so easy?"
If you could go back in time, you never would have spoken to Rafe at all.
“You’re fucking crazy!” You cry, and the fear in your voice makes it almost unrecognizable to your own ears.
Rafe’s laugh is bitter. “I’m crazy?” He breathes out, amusement in his voice. “Baby, I’m just gettin’ started."
You think he’s going to throw you over the banister. His hands let go of your hair, your heart leaps out of your chest, and suddenly you’re flying forward.
Rafe’s hands on your back push you roughly between the shoulders. You land on your hands and knees, the force of his shove sending you to the wooden floor. The bones in your knees and shins grow hot with pain, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of losing your breath as Rafe kicks you in the stomach.
It’s stupid, but the first thought that comes to your mind as you choke is, “At least he isn’t wearing shoes."
You land on your side, back to your closed bedroom door as your front is exposed to Rafe. He’s standing over you, glaring as you gasp for air like he's a cruel child watching a dying dog. Your lungs burn, your chest aches, and you want to curl in on yourself. Stars blink behind your eyelids as you breathe in deeply, the smell of the polished wooden floor filling your throat. Air comes to you quickly, but it’s kicked out of you once again as Rafe’s foot juts into your stomach.
You cry out, tears springing from your eyes as you grasp at your chest, desperately willing the breath to return. It eventually does, but Rafe crouches down in front of you and, in your haste to crawl away from him, the breath leaves. You hold a hand between you both, begging him to stay back as you push yourself mere inches away.
Rafe tilts his head, eyes a dark blue and cold as he watches you struggle to inhale. A deep frown is on his lips, as if he’s upset with the way things escalated. He runs a hand through his hair, sitting in front of you as his cold demeanor melts into something like pity.
You manage to push yourself against the wall and hug your knees to your chest. Your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in, and you wonder if he kicked you hard enough to do severe damage. Your lungs ache, your knees and hands, too. There’s a bruise forming on your wrist from where you landed on it, and when you twist it a certain way it stings.
You eye Rafe, wide eyed and shaking as he remains seated on the floor. He goes to stand, but you jump back and he drops to his knees, holding a placating hand out as if to tell you he’s done hurting you.
“Baby,” he trails off. His hand reaches out for you, but you scoot further down the hall and shake your head in refusal. You want to be sick; you want to hold your stomach. “Baby, I didn’t…” His head falls, hands coming together on the floor as if praying. When Rafe looks back up at you, the only feeling you have for him is disgust.
“Can you breathe?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he watches you cry. No sound escapes you except for your shaking breaths, your body shuddering as adrenaline rushes through your veins.
You briefly think of the young man you knew before, the one who held you gently and reassured you of your insecurities. He's gone now, metamorphosized into something more sinister and unrecognizable. His sweet words are dull, his touch is like acid, and his cruelty is unmatched.
You don't know what else to do except stare at Rafe, clutching your knees to your chest and eyeing him as he begs for forgiveness again. This cycle of abuse is tiring, and you want to keel over and give up. You'd tell your parents, but the shame of it all - the way you doted on Rafe - it hurts you to break their hearts. You'd tell JJ, but that would be like putting a hit out on Rafe. You have to find a way out, even if it means abandoning everyone and leaving no room for error. You've become so desperate to leave, but fear makes you stay.
Rafe huffs, leaning back on his thighs as he looks at you through sweaty bangs. "Let's get you cleaned up," he suggests.
Every bone in your body fights his easy hands on your arms as they urge you to stand. You can barely look at him without feeling the need to vomit, limbs shaking as if willing his touch to disappear. Nevertheless, Rafe leads you into your bedroom and sits you at the foot of your bed. Every step he takes is carefully watched, your gaze unwavering as he disappears into your bathroom to switch on the shower.
You hear him fish something from his pocket, the plastic rustling as he empties the contents of a baggie onto the countertop. You hear the metallic clink of his wallet buttons and the familiar dicing of a credit card. When you hear him sniff, your suspicions are confirmed, and you want to sink in on yourself.
When Rafe returns, sweating and desperately trying to maintain his composure, you keel over and fall to the floor. Your stomach constricts, what little food you've managed to consume coming up and spilling onto the carpet. Your hearing goes out, and you can hardly move without pain shooting throughout your stomach as Rafe picks you up and strips you in the bathroom.
You raise your arms to aid with your shirt coming off. Rafe tugs your shorts down with ease, your underwear following as your hearing slowly returns. Rafe is telling you, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
As he eases you into the shower, you accept the fact that his words now mean nothing.
I'm back! My family and I battled a stomach virus, food poisoning, and went on vacay so I've been very busy. But! I'm about done with the new chapter of Devil on My Back, and I think I'll be publishing it in a couple days.
Sorry I haven't been active lately. I'm wrapping up two full time courses with college and my son has a virus so I've been in go mode. Hoping to drop something soon. Thanks for the patience!
Rafe's grip on your face and the closeness of his body feels suffocating. Your heart pounding in your ears, palms sweaty as you try to unlock the bathroom door as he presses you into it. His hold on you drops as he rips your hand away, and you squirm like a rabbit in a trap as you try to untangle your arms from his grasp.
He wrestles you a bit, chests heaving as he finally catches both your wrists in his hands and forces your arms down to your sides. "Let go of me," you demand. Stomach churning, you groan as his face gets close to yours and a wicked grin tugs at his lips.
“Hold still, baby," he says, teeth nipping at your chin.
The tequila in your stomach threatens to come up, but a knock on the door has you sighing in relief. Sara's voice calls your name from the other side and it's mixed with worry and frustration. "Rafe, open the door!" She orders, voice muffled but firm.
Rafe glances past your head, his fingers tightening around your wrists as he shoots you a warning glare. Eyes still on you, he directs his response to his sister. "Fuck off, Sara. She's fine." Rafe blinks at you, his smile faltering as the hold on your hands breaks slightly as Rafe lifts the hem of your dress. "Right?" He asks you in a hushed voice. You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers brush over your panties, thumb rubbing at your folds.
You lean your head against the door, struggling with the decision to ask for help or let Rafe calm himself by using you. "I'm okay, Sara," you tell her. "Just drunk."
"Are you sure?" She doesn't know if her brother is the type to hold your hair back while you empty your stomach, but she doesn't know her brother well at all. Maybe he is.
No, her brother is the type to slip a finger inside you as he keeps your wrists locked against your stomach. You inhale sharply as he curls the digit, adding another finger and pushing your panties aside.
"I'm sure!" You say, voice breaking as Rafe digs into a spot that has your legs shuddering.
You hear Sara sigh against the door, her hand dragging along the side as she brings it down from the threshold. "I'll be downstairs, okay?" Her worry is still present, but she isn't strong enough to break the door down even if she knew what kind of man her brother is. Rafe is so good at slipping the mask on and off that even his own sister has no choice but to believe he treats you well.
Sara leaves just as Rafe tears your panties down your legs, his fingers slipping out of you so he can spin you around. He forces you to bend over the sink, your stomach digging into the marble counter as he fumbles with his belt. Sex with Rafe is becoming a way for him to check your loyalty. For you it's the easiest way to disengage him, like pulling on the collar of a biting dog.
He lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. "What was JJ saying to you that was so important, huh?" He drags the tip against your folds, collecting the slick there as you watch him in the mirror. The anger is still present, but now he's consumed with leaving another mark on you and in you.
"Nothing," you sigh, head hanging as he inches his way into you.
You try to play the part, desperate to change the subject so he can take his anger out in a way that doesn't scare you. Sex - angry or gentle - is something you understand. With Rafe and his jealousy there are just too many layers for you to tear apart in one conversation. Your body is the best choice and you give it so easily.
Rafe hums, filling you until your ass is flush against his abdomen. He digs into you, pushing you up on the tips of your heels as you groan, hands splaying across the mirror. "I don't think it was nothing," he says. Rafe pulls his cock out and slams back into you, driving the tip into your cervix with each thrust. You cry out, a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through your core as he fucks into you roughly. He bunches your dress up on your back, his other hand steadying your hips as he fucks you.
Your slick walls suck him in, the sound of skin slapping skin louder than the bass downstairs. You moan, trying to keep quiet as his cock drives deep into what feels like your stomach. Eyeing him in the mirror, Rafe's eyes are focused on the way he quickly sinks into your cunt, his length disappearing with each thrust. He's rutting into you fast and hard, each slam of his hips knocking your pelvis into the edge of the counter. His eyebrows are knitted together with focus, mouth slightly open as he sighs and moans.
"Such a fucking slut," he groans. Rafe watches as you pant, your face twisted in pleasure until he pauses his movements. "Turn around," he orders. You do as he orders, feet toppling as you hop onto the counter and your head swims.
He thrusts into you again, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs as you lean your head against the mirror. You hold onto his shirt, using the material to ground yourself to the moment and forget about the reason you're in this situation. You try to enjoy the way your stomach tightens; you try to convince yourself it's just a quickie with your boyfriend at a party.
"You like talking to other guys? You like pissing me off?" Rafe's voice brings you to reality, your eyes flying open as his hand wraps around your throat. He presses his cheek against yours, breath fanning across your face as his cock plunges into you over and over. Your walls spasm around his length, squishing noises evident as Rafe's question hangs in the air. "You like being punished, huh?" His grip around your throat constricts, the air in your lungs quickly used up and the organs begging for more.
Rafe's eyes stare into yours, hooded with pleasure as he watches you struggle to breathe. He's fucking you deep, his cock stretching you from the angle you're sitting at and it digs into your tight walls. You feel so good but you can't breathe. In your struggle, your flailing arms knock over bottles of soap and lotion, sending the objects clattering onto the floor.
“I see you talking to him again, I won’t let go."
He's getting off on your struggle and you can feel him twitching inside you. Desperate, you grip his waist and dig your fingernails into the skin beneath his shirt. Your eyes are wide and your vision is unfocused, the burning in your legs almost too much to bear as the warmth between your legs leaks out.
The band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm takes the last of your oxygen as your eyes roll back and you stifle a sob. Just as you think you're about to pass out, Rafe lets go of your throat and smacks you across the face. It makes you gasp and air quickly fills your lungs. Your heaving breasts and the way your pussy is squeezing him makes Rafe cum. He fucks you as he twitches inside of you, grabbing onto your hips as you sharply inhale. Your heartbeat pulses hard in your throat, lungs aching as you catch your breath and your cheek begins to burn.
Rafe pulls out of you with a hiss. His head hangs and you eye him, still breathing heavily as he leaks out of you and down your thighs. You aren't sure what lines have been crossed. Rafe is good at taking advantage of you and rewarding your eagerness to please him. You almost think he's conditioning you to anticipate the fight, to enjoy the tension that comes with it, and to be willing to ease it by opening your legs.
When you slide off the counter and the both of you get your bearings, Rafe unlocks the bathroom door. His cum drips down your thighs and you wipe it away with toilet paper before flushing it. The evidence is gone, but when you look in the mirror there are faint red lines on the side of your neck from where he choked you. A bright pink splotch across your right cheek makes it obvious that he'd slapped you, and that familiar uneasy feeling creeps back in.
Rafe notices you pause, his hand falling away from the doorknob as he smiles. It's almost teasing as he tilts his head and tips your chin up, admiring the mark he's left on your skin. "If anyone asks," he begins coldly, "tell 'em you liked it."
Heeding Rafe's threat, you manage to avoid JJ for nearly two weeks.
Whatever adoration you had for Rafe is now replaced by fear. Then again, you suppose that's what he's wanted all along. He's been more possessive as of late, urging you to download a location monitoring app, refusing to wear condoms, and making unannounced visits. He brings flowers and your favorite foods under the guise of pampering you on your period. Your parents dote on him as much as he dotes on you, both of them falling for the facade. Only you have become fully aware of the devil he truly is.
Part of you knows he's trying to control every aspect of your life, from what you wear to what you do with your own body. You remember the conversation you had with him about starting birth control, recalling how he said you would gain weight or your skin would break out. "Besides," he'd said with a scoff, "if you get pregnant I'll just have to marry you."
His comment had made your stomach drop because you realized that was his plan all along. If you carried his child you would always be in his life, always be tied to him in some way. You thought about going to a clinic to get birth control anyway, and pondered how long it would take for him to notice where you were on the off chance you could break away from him long enough. With how closely he watched you now, though, it would be difficult to plan so far ahead.
You managed to ignore JJ's texts and calls until your father inevitably hired him to mow the lawn again. When he had told you that JJ was going to come over later in the week, your heart nearly fell out of your chest. What did you expect though? Your father appreciated his work and JJ desperately needed the money. It was only a matter of time before you would have to face him again.
As fate would have it, your boyfriend is out of town with his father learning how the family business is conducted. He takes it more seriously now that the thought of marriage is in the air despite your young age, but his father likes you and business is good. The future shouldn't surprise you in all its inevitableness. You're starting to become too tired to fight it.
JJ texts you all day to ensure security will let him through the gate and, when he does pull up, you tell the guard to let him in. You stay in your room for most of the time he mows the yard, but hunger prevents you from hiding all day. You venture downstairs an hour or so later, intending on making a quick snack and then sneaking up to your room again. You're just about finished chopping up strawberries for a salad when the sliding glass door of the back patio opens.
JJ looks tired, and not just because of slaving away in the hot sun. The last time you had interacted was almost two weeks ago, and the busted lip and black eye are nearly gone now. His shirt has the sleeves cut out, blades of grass sticking to his sweaty skin as he shuts the door behind himself.
You try to ignore his presence as he searches the cupboards for a glass, but JJ's gaze on your back is white hot. You can see him out of your peripheral as you scrub the wooden cutting board clean of salad ingredients. Bits of cucumber and tomato fall into the sink, washed down the drain you wish would also swallow you whole.
"Where is he?" JJ asks with malice as he crosses the kitchen to fill his glass at the fridge tap. The sound of his voice is enough to send goosebumps up your back.
"In Charleston with his dad," you answer simply. Recollecting the last time they spoke and how your boyfriend responded to your interaction, you try to focus on your food and not on the memory of him pushing you and choking you. If Rafe caught you talking, you don't know how far he would take it this time.
"I half expected him to be here," JJ says with a chuckle. "The way Sara paints it, you two are inseparable now." He downs his water, throat bobbing from how hard he swallows the ice cold water.
Your attempt to remain neutral is futile as you turn to face him, salad in hand like you're too busy to notice the way his jaw clenches at the sight of you.
You've lost weight in the two weeks since he last saw you. Even underneath your oversized hoodie he can tell that you haven't been eating much. Your eyes are dark and lifeless, the youthful glint having sizzled away. The grip JJ has on his glass tightens because he knows there's a reason for your sudden meekness, although he doesn't know just how bad things have become.
"Yeah, well," you sigh, "I am his girlfriend."
The reminder sets him on edge, and he can't help but make his frustrations clear as he sets his glass on the island countertop. "The last time we spoke you acted like that little fact was the end of the world."
"Things change," you say with a shrug. The bowl in your hands is becoming heavy, your low appetite having an affect on your body's strength.
"Things change overnight?" JJ asks with a scoff. He glances over the marble countertops and the dim wicker light fixtures your mother picked out years ago. "Only you have," he continues, shaking his head. "I don't know you well but I know something is wrong."
"I don't wanna talk about this," you say curtly. Turning to leave the kitchen, JJ moves quickly past the island and gently tugs on your shirt sleeve to stop you. Facing him with a pout, you tap your fingers against the bowl impatiently.
"Are you okay?"
The question makes you laugh.
"As I'll ever be," you say, then turn to walk back upstairs and into your room. As you force yourself to eat in the comfort of your bed, you think about how you technically told JJ the truth. You genuinely don't believe that your future with Rafe will be any better than it is now, and that thought is enough to make you lose interest in eating again.
It's the week before Midsummers and you're desperately searching for makeup inspiration to match the crimson dress Rafe got you. He's sitting on your bed watching as you scroll through dozens of Pinterest photos, commenting on each picture you show him from your vanity.
"Too much gold."
"Too much glitter."
"Do you have to wear that much? It's Midsummers, not our wedding."
Eventually you give up and play around with your own colors, choosing one that he finally deems subtle enough. You'll have to buy more foundation, having run out of last season's shade since Rafe has become more...dominant.
You're blending a touch of gray into the corner of your eye, thinking about how it got so bad so quickly. Rafe was charming when he wanted to be, especially in the first few months of being with you. He was damn near perfect, but now that your parents are traveling more and Ward is pressuring him into the family business, it's like he's taking advantage of your loneliness.
You've always been eager to please teachers, friends, and your parents, but you've always stood up for yourself. Rafe points out everything you do wrong now. When you say something in a sideways tone, urging you to communicate your jumbled thoughts, and telling him about anyone you interact with. You know where this is all going, but you also know how kind he can be. You think you're trying to appease him - trying to be perfect - in hopes that he'll become that lovely gentleman you first fell in love with.
The coke definitely isn't helping.
He snorts a line off your nightstand before tucking the little baggie into a book you're reading. You've told him time and time again that if your parents found it you would be shipped off to a convent, but he always waves you off with a laugh. You've given up on talking about it.
You shut your makeup palette with a huff and wipe the eyeshadow from your eyelids. "I'll drive I guess," you say. Rafe is leaning against your headboard, feet crossed at his ankles as he nervously shakes them.
"You really expect me to not be high at this thing?"
The thing he's talking about is therapy. You finally found someone on the mainland that would accept you and Rafe as a couple, much to his dismay. Each session costs two hundred dollars, but you haven't stopped asking to go since the night of the party. His hand around your throat and the threat he made rings in your head every night, and you told him you wouldn't go to Midsummers if he didn't at least try to get better.
Rafe hops to his feet, grabbing your purse from the back of your chair.
"Let's get this over with," he sighs.
It takes over an hour to get to the therapist's office. You drive in silence, watching Rafe from the corner of your eye as he drums against your dashboard to a Nine Inch Nails song. Little moments like that make you think about the date nights past curfew and the gentle way he would kiss you. Ever since he's gotten comfortable with your dismissal of his anger, those days are gone. Part of you will deny that and hope for a saving grace. This therapist could help.
Her name is Anna and she's just a tad bit taller than you. She's in her forties with bobbed brunette hair and kind eyes. She calls your name and Rafe's and smiles as you both walk into her office. A couch is under a window that overlooks the street you pulled up. Trees sway behind the glass and cars pass, casting shadows along the coffee table and sage green walls. Her chair is opposite the couch next to her desk, and she sits down in the armchair as you and Rafe get comfortable.
Rafe grabs a metallic fidget toy from a bowl on the coffee table. You note the placement of tissue boxes, motivational nature photos, and the way Anna taps her pen on her notepad. Rafe has come down from his high, and you nervously twist the cap on your water bottle as you cross a leg over the other.
"So," Anna begins, "what brings you both in today?" She glances at Rafe, eyeing the way he avoids looking at her and then she looks at you.
Where do you start? The screaming matches, the pushing, the threats - it all makes your mouth dry as you struggle with coming clean in some random therapist's office. You have sex to avoid fights, the physical violence is getting worse, and - to top it all off - the same guy Rafe thinks you're cheating on him with, is the guy who makes you feel seen.
You open your mouth, struggling to find the right way to say all that without the cops being called. When Rafe leans forward to place the fidget toy back, he speaks for you both.
"We need help," he says as a smirk crosses his lips. "I can't keep my hands off her."
Hey, I was re reading devil on my back and I was wondering why reader is not on birth control??
Also do you know when reader gonna get with JJ??
(I love the series keep it up 💜💜)
Hi! I'm actually touching on that in the future so thank you for bringing that up. I'm writing in brief stints since I'm very busy and can't sit and write whole chapters.
I'm not sure exactly when JJ and reader will get together but I wanna build on Rafe and reader for a few chapters with sprinkles of JJ. Currently working on the next part of the story.
Not a call, a text, or even a like on Instagram. While his silence would usually leave you pacing your room and driving around Kildare searching for him, you know this is typical.
You remember a conversation you had in Sara's room before you and Rafe started dating. He had been gone for a week without calling anyone in his family, and they all seemed indifferent to his disappearance. You were reading a magazine on Sara's floor while she hung upside down on her bed. She was scrolling through John B.'s Instagram when you asked her why no one cared where her brother was.
"Rafe goes on week long benders all the time," she had said with an eye roll. "He always comes back."
You assume the situation hadn't changed just because you all grew older. The last interaction you had with him makes you wonder if his three day stint has anything to do with you. Sara has told you multiple times that Rafe's reactions have nothing to do with you - that he's his own person in control of his own emotions.
Easy to say for someone in a safe and loving relationship.
There is nothing left for you to do but sleep. For three days you've been cooped up at home, unable to face the truth that Rafe simply didn't want to see you. Even when both your parents were home before taking separate planes for more work, you were unable to plaster a fake smile and be one big, happy family.
The fairylights in your room make it easy to cocoon yourself in blankets and drift to sleep. You dream of elementary school, of chasing friends down slides and playing house. You were always chosen to play the mom, and a little girl named Nina was always your daughter.
You remember holding Nina's little fingers in your own, squeezing them between your knuckles so hard she would squeak. But Nina was known for not talking, and it took the teachers a while to realize you were intentionally hurting her. You don't know why you liked hurting someone you enjoyed playing with, but it made you feel better. When you clutched her hand and dragged her around, it made you feel like a superhero. Like you had mind control powers.
You suppose, in your ten year old brain, you bullied Nina because you wanted her to be your friend forever. She kept playing with you. She was loyal. Even if you hurt her, she liked playing with you because you were always the mom. You were the kid everyone wanted to play with, and being bullied was worth being popular.
It's like your subconscious is aware of Rafe's presence in your bedroom. Your body becomes aware when he slaps his hand over your mouth, your eyes snapping open as fear cripples you. Rafe holds a finger to his lips and, once you realize it's him, he leans back and takes his hand from your mouth.
Sitting up, you clutch your blankets to your chest and study him. Rafe's hair is greasy and hangs over his forehead, which is damp with perspiration and three days of grime. His body is unsteady as he teeters on the edge of your bed, a hoodie you don't recognize sliding off his shoulders.
"Where have you been?" You whisper, the shock of finally seeing him - and in this state - evident on your features. Rafe's eyes are hooded with sleepiness, the bags under his baby blues a starking contrast of purple. He probably hasn't slept the entire time he was missing.
"At Barry's," he groans. "I missed you." Rafe leans forward, sluggishly falling onto his hands as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You place a hand on his chest, whether to steady him or push him away, you don't know.
"I missed you too," you say uneasily. "Have you eaten? Do you wanna shower?"
Rafe tilts back, kneeling at the foot of the bed and blinking slowly at you. "No," he says with a shake of his head, "I want you." Rafe moves on his hands and knees to get closer to you, the bed moving beneath his weight. "I wanna show you I'm sorry," he sighs.
Leaning back, you shut your eyes in exasperation and look at your bedroom door. You've learned to lock it since Rafe is a fan of sneaking in when your parents are home. Security lets him through the gate and doesn't tell your parents, assuming he's welcome any time or he's not a threat. It almost makes you laugh.
"I don't think that's a good idea right now, baby," you admit.
"Why not?" He wonders, collapsing onto his stomach and hugging a pillow. You look down at him and run your fingers through his damp hair, pushing the strands off of his forehead.
"I didn't hear from you for three days. I'm not exactly in the mood."
"My phone died," he huffs. Rafe is looking up at you with one eye, the other hidden by the pillow as he turns his head side to side. His attempt to get comfortable is futile; he only thought of you on his bender and now he needs you. Why couldn't you understand that? He came back for you.
For three days he thought about you. Every line of coke, every shot of liquor made his clouded mind think back to you. He isn't sure how long it took him to walk to your house from Barry's, or if he laid his hands on any of the girls hanging around the dealer's trailer. He remembers talking to some of them, and he remembers talking to bikers, alcoholics, and Kooks alike.
Who he was at Barry's doesn't matter anymore. He walked to your house, recalled each turn to make despite the narcotics in his bloodstream. He was fueled by guilt and passion and rage. What had you been doing in his absence? He needed to come back, needed to remind you who you belong to.
Rafe pushes himself up, his arms shaking as he takes your head in his hands and smushes his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise, but you let his tongue inside your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and something bitter you recognize as the remnants of coke.
You try to break the kiss, try to pull away, but his hands keep you close.
Too quickly does he pull your pajamas shorts down, his fingers quickly moving to slide your panties down your legs. You open your mouth to protest just as he throws your legs over your shoulders, your plush thighs settling at the sides of his head. Suddenly forced onto your back, you manage to breathe out his name before his tongue flicks across your clit.
The buzzing sensation has your eyes shutting tightly and your head falls back against your pillow. Your nails dig into the sheets, body wriggling as he licks a stripe against your aching hole. Quickly your hands grasp at the hairs at the back of his head, pulling as he sinks two fingers between your legs, his tongue circling around your sensitive bud.
It feels like standing too close to a fire. A warmth wraps around you, ignited by the way Rafe's fingers curl up into that spot that makes your legs shake. He laps at your clit, tongue making quick work of bringing on your first orgasm. You try to keep quiet, try to swallow the high pitched mewls that he elicits from you so effortlessly. He knows your body so well - he'd sacrifice anything to make you feel this good.
The thickness of his fingers, the way they make your pussy squelch as they twist and curl, has your walls pulsating and your body tensing. Your back arches and Rafe pushes against your stomach, eating at you like he's starving. He moans, his eyes watching you as he pushes his fingers as deep into you as his knuckles will allow. "You gonna cum?" He teases, breath warm against your wet cunt.
You can't keep your eyes on him, can't steady your breathing. God, you missed him. Missed the way he drives into you, sucks on you, bites your thighs between kisses.
You cum around his fingers hard. His movements don't cease. Rafe licks up your slick arousal, moaning as the tip of his tongue pushes against your clit. His fingers slow their pace, easing you down from the explosive and mind numbing high he gifted you.
The grip you had on the sheets finally relaxes, and Rafe takes advantage of your slack body as you catch your breath. He's pulling his pants down enough to spring his cock free, the hard length slapping against his stomach before he eases past your folds. You whimper, not wanting to ruin your reunion but hesitant because you don't know where he's been the past three days. The knowledge that Rafe hates condoms makes you even more afraid.
You don't voice your concerns, allowing Rafe to slide his way into your sensitive walls. You missed him and want to make him feel good, so you grab his shirt and bring him close as he fills you to the hilt. His eyes shut as his stomach touches yours, both of his arms caging you in as he allows you to get accustomed to his cock. "Been a while," he groans. "You're so fuckin' tight."
You push his bangs away from his sweaty forehead, your pussy squeezing him as you plant a kiss on his lips. He doesn't kiss you back, but grabs your chin with one hand and slowly, achingly, pulls his cock out until just the tip teases your entrance.
"Did you miss me?" He asks, fingers digging into your jawline. The force of his grip mushes your lips together and leaves you with the inability to say yes, but you manage to nod. "Yeah?" Rafe confirms, and then he pushes into you with such force it drives you up the mattress. "Prove it."
In one swift movement, Rafe wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up, settling you on his cock as he lays back against the mattress. His tip presses into your cervix as you wiggle your hips and try to adjust to the stretch with a huff. Rafe tucks the hem of your shirt into your mouth, the mounds of your breasts moving as you start to grind your hips against his. The cotton of your shirt muffles the moans that you produce as his length shifts and stretches you out.
Rafe shuts his eyes, eager to fill you up after having been without you for so long. He revels in the way you balance yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He's so desperate to have you that he didn't even bother taking off his shirt. Rafe can feel your nails digging into the fabric just as easily as he can feel your pussy tighten around him.
You rock your hips back and forth, each sway knocking the tip of his cock into the deepest parts of you. Watching as his head lolls to the side, you bounce lightly, using your hands to keep yourself from falling apart. He's stretching you so easily, each movement against his pelvis rubbing your clit with constant friction. Your head tilts back, breasts exposed as you bite on the fabric of your shirt.
Rafe can feel how wet you are, can hear each wet squish as your cunt clenches his entire length. His head is a fuzzy mess, better than any coke he's ever bought with his father's money. He can't believe he's ever enjoyed life without you.
His hands grab your hips, steadying them as his cock twitches and spurts cum deep into you. It gushes out around the base of his cock, filling you the way he's been imagining for days. Feeling how much he's spurting out, feeling the warmth of it all, causes another band in your stomach to snap. You milk every last drop, falling against his chest with a heavy sigh as your walls flutter around him. Rafe holds you close, gently fucking his cum into you while your pussy throbs and your breath hitches. Your body shakes, overwhelmed by his hold on you and the fullness in your cunt.
Rafe pulls himself out and gently eases you onto your side when you come down. Your eyes are closed, shirt riding up and your panties nowhere in sight. Thinking you're asleep, he pushes himself up and off the bed, walking on unsteady legs into your bathroom. For the first time in three days, he showers.
Topper thought it would be a good idea to throw Rafe a welcome party, but these things always get out of hand. There is always a fight, a bloody nose, a twisted ankle, but no one ever knows who it'll be. You're starting to wonder if people should place bets.
You're standing in Topper's kitchen watching as people snort lines on his mother's fine china. Music is blasting from the sound system incorporated into each room, the bass shaking the walls of his impressive home. The lights are dimmed, each room adorned with string lights you helped set up earlier that day.
Rafe watched you like a hawk as you and Topper set out snacks and blew balloons in Rafe's favorite colors. "It's not my fuckin' birthday," Rafe had grumbled.
Topper had smiled at him, tying a red balloon as you puffed air into a black one. "Hey man," Topper told him, "any excuse to party."
Anyone who knows Rafe by association shows up. Girls from high school, guys from the golf course, and people who know people filter through the front door with beer and vodka and pot. The house quickly fills up, people congregating in the living room on a makeshift dance floor. Crumbs litter the kitchen counter and you can't help but clean up discarded beer cans and empty cups. You like Topper's mom; she shouldn't come home from vacation to a pigsty.
Rafe and Topper had disappeared a while ago, feeling satisfied with themselves for suggesting coke without you picking up on their code. You had - you just don't care. Rafe is back and that's what matters. You'll play dumb and clean up after everyone until someone whisks you away to the dance floor, whether it's Rafe or Sara.
"Hey!" A male voice says behind you. Ignoring it, you figure it's someone calling out for another person in the crowded kitchen. You're picking up another half empty beer to toss away when JJ joins you at the kitchen island.
His appearance makes dread and intrigue bubble to the surface. Rafe still hadn't found out about his comment on your swimsuit days ago, or maybe he didn't give a shit. He's back and you're his. You didn't want him to disappear again.
"Oh," you say with a polite smile, "hi."
JJ pours himself a shot of tequila, filling the little glass to the brim before knocking it back. "You been okay?" He asks, pouring another and sliding the shot to you.
Taking it, you allow the jalapeño and agave tastes to burn down your throat. A memory of last night pops into your mind and you almost giggle. "You could say that." A few drinks have been through your system, making your cheeks flush more easily as you begin to talk.
JJ's eyebrows raise curiously. "Yeah? You're stress cleaning." A laugh bubbles up from his chest, deep and subtle as his eyes take in your little black dress. Your beauty has always been obvious, but JJ has to admit that he's become a little protective of you since the bonfire.
"Someone has to," you reply. Glancing at him, you pretend not to care about his sudden interest in you. Despite making a decent effort, your heartbeat gives away your fake nonchalance.
"No one has heard from you in a couple days," JJ points out. He takes the shot glass from your hand, fingers touching yours so briefly it almost doesn't count. The contact shouldn't make your cheeks burn, but it does - and he notices.
"I got a little sad when Rafe fell off the earth," you admit. If a little sad means ignoring every possibility he had overdosed and crying yourself to sleep at the lack of texts, then yeah. You got a little sad.
JJ's face falls as he gulps down another shot, the burn in his mouth doing little to stop his sarcasm. "He still treat you like a child?"
The question makes you flinch just enough for JJ to notice that, too. It makes his teeth clench, but he hides his anger with a forced smile.
"He treats me fine," you argue. Thinking back to how he ignored your want to not have sex last night makes your palms sweat, but you tell yourself you gave in once he'd actually started fucking you. It felt good despite your second purchase of the pill and a shower.
The blonde narrows his eyes, the blue looking almost black in the dim lighting. "Sometimes I don't think he does." His voice is deep yet soft, insistent but careful. He's been on the receiving end of this kind of conversation with John B. and Kie, so he knows what to say and how his words will effect you. He has to tread lightly. Who knows how good of a narcissist Rafe is?
"He doesn't hit me," you say, as if it's any better. You think about the night he held you so tight you bruised, how close he got to your face, and how easily he can ignore you until he decides it's enough.
"Whoo hoo," JJ replies in a monotone voice. "You don't need him, ya know." He steps closer to you, but far enough to feel the heat radiating off his chest and biceps without touching. You can smell the ocean in his hair, can see the freckles on his cheeks. It makes guilt twinge at you, especially when you take the bottle of tequila from the counter and sip from it. You're having thoughts Rafe would strangle you for thinking.
You should push him away from you and walk into the living room to find Sara, but you don't. A part of you needs to hear what he's saying, like you're grateful someone sees what you're in denial of. "I don't know what to do," you finally admit. "He's sweet when he wants to be." Saying the words out loud brings tears to your eyes that another mouthful of tequila takes care of. That familiar feeling of indifference bubbles up just as the alcohol hits your stomach.
"I can help you." JJ suggests as his eyes soften and he stops himself from reaching out to you. He takes the bottle from your grasp and sets it on the counter, his eyes pleading silently with yours for acceptance. He knows John B. would help, he knows Kie would understand, and that Sara knows her brother well enough to believe he's hurt you. He could fix this in a way he can't fix his relationship with his father.
Laughter and music flood the kitchen, amplified in your ears as blood rushes to them. There's a light in JJ's eyes that you hate recognizing. It's the way Rafe looked at you when he asked you to be his girlfriend.
"I don't know how much I'll let him get away with and that scares me," you admit. You feel awful saying this to JJ of all people. Not your best friend, your mom, a counselor. Seemingly overnight JJ has gotten involved, has become someone you rely on for clarity in a situation only he can understand. You're breaking JJ's heart. This girl he's only ever seen as another spoiled Kook in a world served to her on a silver platter, a girl whose life is complicated behind closed doors. You hide it well, but he understands better than anyone how to live a double life.
"If he ever lays his hands on you I'll kill him," JJ says, voice tense as he leans in close. You can smell the tequila on his breath, can feel the warmth of his body before it's gone in an instant.
Rafe had come downstairs, powder on his nose and Topper stumbling behind him as they search the house for you. He can see Sara and her friends dancing horribly in the living room, cups of liquor in their hands as some rap song blasts from the stereo system. He almost rushes over to tell them to leave when he spots you from the landing. Rage burns hot in his head, blood rushing to his face as he notices JJ too close to you once again. Topper sees you at the same time, jaw set as he finds his ex girlfriend and John B.
"These fuckin' Pogues just don't know when to quit," Rafe grumbles. He makes it across the house so quickly it feels like he's flying, the coke in his system begging him to move.
Rafe's hands on your arms are rough as he pulls you away, your unsteady feet tripping in your heels as you fall to the tiled floor. Rafe steps over you, sending his fist into JJ's face just as Topper joins him. The open glass door to the backyard is clear of people as Topper pushes JJ onto the patio, the blonde watching as your head cracks against the floor.
Pain shoots up the base of your skull, your vision flashing white as the sudden shift causes people to gasp. The music rages on, echoing in the back of your mind as your ears ring. You can see JJ stumbling around to stand, his friends already aware of his location since Sara spotted Rafe beelining it to the kitchen.
When Sara sees you on the floor she screams for her brother, her hands gentle where his weren't. She helps you up, asking if you're okay a million times as John B. and Pope push Rafe and Topper away. Kie is pulling at Topper's shirt, dragging him back inside as he tries to defend his actions.
Rafe picks you up off the floor, arguing with Sara about something you can't hear. You're too dizzy, alcohol and the impact sending pain across your temples. His grip on your arm is tight as he insists that he's got you. As Rafe drags you upstairs, you see JJ trying to push past his friends, but the crowd swallows them. His lip is bleeding again, your best friend is torn on who to help, but you disappear upstairs with Rafe.
Your feet struggle to grip the stairs as Rafe pushes you up them. His eyes are dark with possessiveness as anger radiates from him, a scowl on his lips as you helplessly traipse the steps. He pulls you into a bathroom and shuts the door, the music drowned out behind the wood as he eases you onto the edge of the tub. You hear JJ calling your name and want to stand up, want to leave the bathroom, but Rafe is blocking the door.
"Don't make this difficult," he orders.
Your hands shake as you bring them to the back of your head and look at your fingers. There's no blood and your vision clears, but the throbbing isn't subsiding as quickly as you'd like. You sway back against the shower curtain, the rings clinking as Rafe breathes in deeply. He stands against the locked door, arms crossed over his heaving chest.
"Why are you complicating things?" He demands an answer, not daring to step close to you despite the suffocating presence. The guest bathroom is small and you feel like the walls are closing in. Your shoulders tense as you glare at Rafe, the booze making you brave as you cling onto the edge of the tub.
"You're not doing this. Not when I came back for you." Rafe says as he reaches for your face. You lean away, stopped by his grip on your chin. Your heart thuds rapidly in your chest, nerves on fire as your stomach swells. You feel like you're going to be sick.
"My hero," you spit.
Rafe can't stop himself from reacting despite everything in his mind screaming at him to stop. He pushes you - hard - and sends you flying past the shower curtain and into the tub. Your head hits the wall of the shower as you slip into the tub, legs flying and knees hitting the edge before you pull them close to your chest. He stands over you, nose flaring as he breathes hard and his face turns red.
"I am your fucking hero," he says through clenched teeth. "I'm the man who will save you from a life of box wine and Xanax. Would you rather play Pogue with my fucking sister? You should be thanking me for even considering being in your life. I'm a fucking man, I step up. I'm in control."
His eyebrows are tensed together as he quietly berates you. Bass from the music can be heard through the door, but the blood rushing in your ears leaves you practically deaf. Your eyes are wide, taking in every throbbing vein in your boyfriend's face. He reaches for you and you try to crawl away, but your heels slip and the shower wall prevents you from moving. Rafe picks you up by your arms and you have no choice but to step over the tub edge, your body going limp as Rafe pushes you against the door.
His breath is on your face as he forces you to look at him, cheeks squished in his hand as tears sting your eyes.
Hey!! I don't mean to be impatient or anything, but just curious to know if you're working on part 4 of Devil On My Back?
I'm a huge fan, and I'm absolutely in LOVE with both stories so far and your writing.
Thank you! I'm currently working on part 4, but I'm a toddler mom and full time college student so I don't get much time to sit down and write. I work on it in bits. I'm about half way through part 4 and aiming for it to be out Monday.
Thank you for asking politely! I really appreciate your support 🩷
pairing: rafe cameron x female reader, eventual jj maybank x reader
summary: it was perfect - the Kook prince and Kildare’s crown jewel - until it wasn’t. Rafe was your first choice, but JJ is everything he’s not
warning: abusive relationship, cursing
word count: 4.4k
tags: @snowtargaryen, @yesshewrites1
a/n: plot suggestions welcome. thank you for all the love! every reblog and comment makes me smile and I love the feedback. yall are awesome
(pt. 02)
Rafe didn't stay the night at your house.
You told him your father is on a mean streak and that you don’t want to upset him, possibly getting your credit card frozen in the process.
Rafe understood, although he stayed until your father texted he was on the way home. You spent the entire night talking about how he was going to look for a therapist, how sorry he felt for hurting you, how it wouldn't happen again.
You want to believe him, but you're not holding your breath.
The morning after Rafe left is heavy with a decision you've yet to make. Part of you already knows where this is going if he doesn't get help.
You shower, checking the time as you rush to throw on some clothes. Your phone reads 9:45 and there is a text from Landscaping that tells you JJ is on the way. You try to remember how far JJ lives from you, but with the way you're moving to apply makeup and fix your appearance makes it difficult to calculate.
After calling the lead security guard, who is saved in your phone as 'Big Kahuna', you text JJ to tell him security has been notified. You say it in a more casual way, of course, but then you get in your head about how Rafe would interpret your message. Or texting JJ at all for that matter. It makes you text Rafe to remind him about your date with Sarah later. Maybe that will keep him away long enough for JJ to do his job without your boyfriend interfering.
Ten o'clock rolls around by the time you get some food in your stomach. You eat in the backyard lounging on a pool chair, phone in hand as you try and calm your nerves. JJ has come over plenty of times and has never spoken to you if it wasn't sarcastic or if he didn't have to. Glass of water, equipment location, the occasional uppity remark - they've all been casual.
You can't stop thinking about how the bonfire has changed so many things about your relationship with Rafe, JJ, and even Sarah.
The warm sun on your skin and the salty air distracts you momentarily. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and jump when the wooden fence gate beside your house shuts. Spinning in your chair, you spot JJ in a muscle tee and cargo shorts, his lip scabbed over and a light bruise on his jaw.
"Didn't mean to scare you," he says with an awkward wave. He crosses the lawn to the shed to get your father's riding lawn mower. "Security still gave me a hard time," JJ adds as he types in the pin code to the shed.
Settling again, you pick up your phone to see if Rafe texted. You love him and have no intention of becoming the person he claims you could be, but JJ's presence makes you feel the way you did when Rafe first showed interest in you. Even before JJ considered you tolerable to be around, there was no doubt you found him attractive. Rafe's behavior is only pushing you further away no matter how much you love him, and you hate him for not being able to accept that.
"Are you doing okay?" You ask JJ as he pulls the lawn mower out. Objects clatter around its absence, gardening tools falling on one another as the blonde forces the shed doors shut.
He shrugs, swinging one leg over the mower's seat. "Nothin' I ain't used to," he says. JJ starts the lawn mower up and heads off across the vast expanse of green grass in your backyard. You watch him work, not completely oblivious as to what he's talking about. Everyone knew how Luke Maybank could be and it was only a matter of time before conclusions could be drawn about how he treated his son.
You think that's part of the reason why you're suddenly drawn to JJ. The worse Rafe got about the possibility of you cheating, the more comfortable he became about laying hands on you, that's when you started paying closer attention to JJ. Are the signs of abuse as evident on you as they are on him?
You watch JJ work, admiring the way his tan skin reflects golden beads of sunlight. His blonde hair curls along his forehead, tongue darting between his lips with concentration. JJ has perfected the art of landscaping, partially because it's his source of income and because of his prescription Adderall. He's sold the occasional little white pill to you during particularly challenging exams.
It's crazy to think about the insignificant moments you've had with JJ before Rafe became a major part of your life. Everything before your boyfriend seems so irrelevant except for the memories you have of JJ. His demeanor is different, his mannerisms around you metamorphosized. Had there been a clue as to his curiosity about you, or is he suddenly interested because Rafe has you?
JJ finishes the back and front yards in a couple hours. At one point you left to get ready for your date with Sarah, but go into your kitchen where JJ is getting a glass of water. His skin is damp with perspiration, muscle tee clinging to his chest as he chugs his water.
"How is my dad paying you?" You wonder, watching the way he moves so easily around your home. Knowing where JJ comes from, it's odd to see someone so sweaty and overworked standing in the kitchen your parents remodeled with money earned from stocks.
His eyes your denim shorts, your crop top, and the bruise on your wrist. You hesitate to cross your arms to hide it, but he's already seen it and you don't want to make it obvious. You already feel so guilty talking to him without Rafe present, and don't want to give any hints as to your boyfriend's recent behavior.
"Usually he Venmos me," JJ says. He sets his empty glass into the sink, jaw tight as he forces himself to remove his gaze from your bruise. JJ isn't dumb. He knows it wasn't there when he talked to you at the bonfire and the fact that it showed up overnight sets off alarms in his brain. He wants to ask you about it, wants to know if it was his fault, but he barely knows you. It's not a question one asks acquaintances.
"I can give you cash right now," you say as you dig your wallet from your crossbody bag. Rafe bought you a little black Prada bag for your birthday and you've used it ever since.
JJ waves his hand around dismissively. "No, it's okay. I'm not desperate."
"I know, but I'm here."
"Yeah, but I work for your dad, not you."
"Really, it's okay," you insist as you hand him two hundred dollars.
JJ stares at the money you've placed in his rough hands. They're so much different from Rafe's - more experienced and worn. JJ will probably have to do manual labor for the rest of his life, earning blisters and scars while Rafe climbs the cozy corporate ladder.
"This is too much," JJ says. You shut your purse, the button snapping as you shake your head.
"Consider us even." You smile at him, trying to apologize for your boyfriend in your own way.
"What?" JJ snickers. "Is this a bribe for last night?" His memory brings unwanted emotions to the surface. He doesn't know why he wanted your number, but seeing you without Rafe nearby was an open invitation. JJ is notorious for flirting with every girl he encounters, so why should you be any different? Usually when he fucks with Rafe it can be done by messing with you, but after seeing the way he treats you, it's become something more. It's like JJ can't help himself. He's got to figure you out.
"I don't need to bribe you," you say, glancing at your feet. "I guess I'm trying to say sorry."
"In the only way you know how," JJ teases. His words strike you, but you try your best to hide it as he realizes the weight of his words. "I'm kidding," he quickly adds.
You shrug your shoulders, suddenly feeling awkward as you consider leaving to meet Sarah early.
JJ sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the blonde curls sticking up in odd ways. Your eyes fall to his lips and to the cut near the corner. "I really didn't mean to piss Rafe off."
"Yes you did," you argue, suddenly feeling the need to be defensive. "What other reason would you talk to me for?" Spinning on your heels, you start for the front door before JJ grabs your elbow and spins you back around. You don't want to admit that his touch makes your stomach jolt as if speeding over a hill.
JJ forces himself to look at you, to attempt to read the mixed emotions in your eyes. There's more to you than he originally assumed and it drives him crazy. "You're too nice for Rafe," he says. The knowledge you both share about his behavior, each in your different way, leaves you wanting to dismiss the conversation entirely.
You pull your arm out of his gentle grasp, so unlike the way Rafe grabbed you like a madman. "You don't know anything about us," you counter. Turning to open the door, you unlock your car as JJ follows behind you.
"I think I have an idea," JJ scoffs. He watches as your fingers curl over your car door handle, pausing as you eye him in the reflection of the window.
"You don't know shit," you growl. JJ's nosiness pisses you off. The realization that he so easily noticed the shift in your relationship from just one encounter. It takes one to know one, even if JJ only suspects.
You climb into your car, starting the engine and ignoring the way JJ watches you empathetically. His eyes, which usually hold only mischief, soften as you drive off and leave him standing in your perfectly manicured lawn.
It's a bright day as you navigate to The Wreck. You drive in silence, admiring how palm trees sway and seagulls fly overhead. The windows are up but you can smell the ocean through the air conditioning that's blasting you in the face. Your mind wanders as you spot the bruise on your wrist and feel the ache in your shoulders. JJ doesn't know anything, but you feel like he's able to read you like an open book. It's funny how a sudden event can shift the roles of people in your life. Although you don't know where it's going now, there's a storm brewing and you can sense it. The anxiety attaching itself to you isn't shaking, but becoming a permanent fixture to your existence.
You try to shake it off as you meet Sarah at her table. It's inside close to the windows overlooking the pier. You sit across from her, the look on your face immediately alerting her that something is wrong.
"What did Rafe do?" Sarah wonders, and her jumping to the conclusion that Rafe is the cause for your concern upsets you.
"Not Rafe," you say as you shake your head. "JJ keeps nagging me."
"When is JJ not nagging someone?"
Kiara Carrera is your waitress. She walks over with a notepad in her hand and a frown on her face. "What do you wanna drink?" She asks you.
Despite it being almost noon, you order a mimosa and thank her before she walks away.
Sarah watches Kiara go into the kitchen before her gaze falls back to you. "Did you talk to JJ about last night?" Sarah asks, eyelashes fluttering as the sun beams her in the eyes. She sits back in her chair, using the straw in her ice water to twirl the cubes around.
"Yeah," you huff. "I told him to stay out of my relationship too."
Was that what happened? You ask yourself. It's what you wanted to happen, but there was so much hidden behind your words with JJ. It's like you're both speaking a language with double meaning, what you're both trying to say just beneath the surface. He knows how Rafe treats you, and you know that he knows. It's a confusing cycle and you weren't sure when he started picking up on the change in your relationship. For someone so excitable he sure is observant.
"Was Rafe there?" Sarah questions, the look on her face as if she's hiding something. If he isn't at home then he's at Barry's, which explains why he hasn't been blowing up your phone since he left.
"No," you tell her.
"Are you guys okay?"
"Yeah," you lie. You guys definitely are not okay, but what are you supposed to tell her? 'Your brother laid his hands on me and the only way I got him to stop was to fuck him.' Yeah, that would go over well.
You don't bother looking over the menu, already having your meal picked out since you've frequented the restaurant so often. Rafe doesn't take you to The Wreck, having decided it's too podunk for his tastes. But Sarah and you visit the quaint establishment so often that Kiara's hatred for you has dissipated. Sarah dating John B. has also helped, not that you care either way. Rafe would never let you hang out with their entourage even if Sarah invites you to all the time.
"With Rafe," Sarah begins as she leans forward, "you just have to disengage. Let him rant and leave him alone."
"Why, so he can go into a spiral by himself?"
"Let him. Better than trying to calm him down. That takes forever."
Kiara returns with your mimosa and sets it on a napkin. "Thanks for reeling in your boyfriend last night," she says to you. "It could've gone a lot worse."
You're surprised by her extending an olive branch, but you suppose Sarah dating her best friend sort of entitles you to one.
"I'll try not to let it happen again," you say. It's an empty statement, however, given how Rafe and JJ's rivalry is growing more tense by the second.
"We do what we can," Kiars chuckles. Her comment brings a smile to your face, and when she asks what you want to eat you tell her the usual. She offers a genuine smile that makes you nauseous because you know your worlds are bound to collide. The other shoe always drops.
Your date with Sarah is cut short just after you eat. Your conversation steered away from the boys and you were just starting to enjoy yourself when Rafe texted:
I have a surprise for you. Come home
"Rafe wants to see me," you tell Sarah disappointedly. She frowns down at the check, not surprised by the sudden intrusion despite her brother being aware of your lunch. She doesn't say anything as she puts her card down. "I'll pay. Lunch was my idea," you argue.
Sarah shakes her head dismissively, waving her hand around to tell you to leave it. Kiara comes to collect payment and you both thank her. Sarah looks at you, sitting on her hands as the look of worry returns to her face. Her brother is so demanding, so needy for your time. She almost invites you out to John B.'s later, but remembers how pissed off he was that you left JJ before telling anyone what happened. She leaves the topic of payment alone, settling on the issue at hand now that Rafe beckoned you.
"You have bigger things to worry about," she says.
You text Rafe when you get home and he arrives not ten minutes later. When you open the front door, he's standing on your patio with a large white box that has a golden bow neatly wrapped around it. He's beaming at you in a way that makes your heart melt.
"What did you do?" You ask him with a smile. Rafe steps inside, his shoes clacking against the tile. He looks handsome in his black Polo, but he smells like cigarettes and it contradicts how sweet he's being. You know that Barry smokes, but you don't want to ruin the moment so you lead him up to your room.
"Just a little somethin' for my princess," Rafe says as you climb the stairs. His voice is soft, his eyes watching the way your legs move as you walk into your bedroom. He isn't aware of how you scan each surface as if proof of JJ's visit is plain as day. He never entered your room, but you're so scared of Rafe being aware of the other man simply existing near you.
When you're sure the blonde hasn't snuck into your walk-in closet, you finally turn to face Rafe. "What are you doing?" He chuckles, motioning to your bed. "Sit down, silly."
You obey, laughing nervously as you rub your palms against the fabric of your shorts. When Rafe hands you the box you thank him, pausing just as you go to unwrap the bow. Looking up at him, Rafe nods in permission, the grin on his face faltering with impatience.
After you discard the bow onto your carpet, excitement fills your heart at Rafe's generosity. He truly is sorry, you think as your hands pull apart the thin white paper that lays between you and your present.
It's a crimson A-line dress and, as you pull it out with a grin on your face, notice it would fall to your ankles. You can tell Rafe chose it because it shows off your neck (his favorite part to kiss), it's form fitting, and one of his favorite colors. Everything about it screams Rafe.
"I love it," you gasp. The price tag falls out from behind the thin sleeve and you slap the dress back into its box in disbelief. "You didn't have to buy this," you huff, feigning disapproval.
Rafe's smile widens as he squats down in front of you, the fabric of his black slacks making a sliding sound. He presses a kiss to your forehead and unties the price tag from the strap and pockets it. "Don't mind that," he urges. "You deserve the best."
Tears brim your eyes as you look at Rafe, taking in the softness of his features. He's admiring you like you breathed life into him, like he's worshipping you at an altar he built with his bare hands. "You can wear it for Midsummers," he suggests.
"That's not for another month!"
"We're prepared then."
You put the box beside you on the bed and take his face in your hands. Pressing your lips to his, you melt at how gently he grabs your hands and kisses you back. You pull away and give a half-smile, the weight of the fight, the sex, and the violence still a burden on you, but it’s quickly being replaced by something better. Something more hopeful.
Rafe's eyes soften as he watches your fingers trace the fabric. "Thank you," you murmur, the words feeling too small for a gift that costs over a thousand dollars.
He stands and leans back against the wall beside your closet, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. "I just wanted to make things right." He shrugs, but you know him well enough to know it’s more than that.
You nod, smiling at him. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a truce, like you're moving past whatever is wrong with Rafe. For a second everything feels like it used to again, like back when he pined after you and enjoyed the chase. But then the ringing of your phone breaks the moment.
You reach for it, glancing at the screen. It’s your dad. You hesitate. "It's my dad," you mutter, unsure how to even start with the mess of everything. Your father is coming home soon, catching a flight from whatever business meeting he attended. Neither of your parents were home when it happened, but you feel like you're trying to hide something from them still. The fact that no one in Rafe's home heard anything - or chose to - still surprises you.
"Put it on speaker," Rafe says, voice casual but with a tone you can’t quite place.
You look at him, noticing the way Rafe is watching you like he’s waiting for something to slip, and it makes you feel uneasy. He's going to try and figure out if you confided in your father, but you're not dumb. Of course you didn't. He would kill Rafe for hurting you and then kill Ward for raising him.
With a deep breath, you swipe to answer and press the speaker button. "Hey dad," you say, trying to sound more at ease than you feel.
"Hey, sweetheart," your dad’s voice comes through, warm but a little distracted. "How’s everything going?"
You exchange a quick glance with Rafe, who gives you a small, unreadable smile. He leans in, still watching you intently like he’s studying every word.
"It’s good," you answer, swallowing. "Just hanging out."
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, a muttering of men in suits and city commotion. "Good. Just wanted to check in, let you know I'll be home late tonight. JJ told me you gave him money for the lawn?"
Your stomach drops. It’s a casual question, but the timing of Rafe standing before you makes it more of a trigger. His bangs fall over his forehead, shielding the way he's watching you so intently. You're scared to look at him, not wanting to read the betrayal he sees in something so trivial.
"Yeah," you say quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. "I gave it to him earlier. Don’t worry."
Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, like a bird of prey locking on to a little, defenseless mouse. It’s subtle, but it’s there. You feel the sharp change of his joy to resentment, a stark contrast of emotion that leaves your mouth dry.
Your dad hums on the other end of the line. "I told you I’d pay him, kiddo."
You feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze now, like a pressure on your skin. You shift uncomfortably. "Your money is my money. I took care of it," you say, trying to ease the tension your father is unaware of. The joke reminds you of your life before Rafe started hurting you - emotionally at least. How carefree and materialistic you were.
Rafe folds his arms across his chest. "I'm sure you did," His snarky comment is too quiet for your father to hear, but the bite beneath it is unmistakable.
You ignore him, trying to stay focused on your dad. "It’s all good. Don’t worry about it."
There’s a pause, and then your dad's voice comes back with a bit of a sigh. "Alright. Just wanted to make sure. Let me call you back later. It's a bitch getting a cab in this city."
"Okay, dad. Love you." You try to end it quickly, but your mind is spinning.
"I love you too," your dad responds, and then the line goes quiet as you hang up.
The second the call ends, Rafe is on his feet, pacing in the large space of your room. His jaw is tight, a hand running through his hair in frustration. "JJ was here?" He asks harshly, but a laugh of disbelief falls from his mouth. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
You remain sitting, not wanting to crowd him as you feel your heartbeat quicken. "Rafe, he was only here to take care of the yard." You don't want to sound dismissive of his worries, but how many times must you do this song and dance?
"And you didn't bother letting me know. Even after what that asshole said last night." His voice is low now, sharp. "Even after what we did. What does that say about me?"
You feel the heat rise in your chest, a spark of bravery igniting. "It’s not about you! And we didn't do anything, Rafe. You did!" you snap before you can stop yourself. "I don't need you to monitor me!"
Rafe freezes, eyes darkening. "You're always trying to handle everything alone, acting like you don’t need me."
You blink, the sting of his words sharper than you expected. For a moment, neither of you speak and the quiet presses down on you both.
Rafe’s shoulders sag slightly, but the anger doesn’t leave his voice. "You need me. I need you." He points at his chest, tapping at it to emphasize the importance of what he's saying. He needs you to understand that you're with him by choice, that your loyalty to him should never falter. You should never get the chance to choose differently.
"Hiding things from me doesn't make this easier," he continues.
"Doesn't make what easier?" You ask, voice quiet as you take a deep breath to steady your heartbeat.
"Not wanting to hurt you."
You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you sit there, unsure if you’re angry or terrified with how he spins things out of control and reels you back in again. You'd like to think he's trying, that he's attempting to rein in that part of him that punches people without thinking and smashes his fists through walls. He can be so sweet sometimes and yet...
"Fuck you."
The words tumble out of your mouth so quickly you almost don't realize you said them. The way Rafe's eyes widen in shock makes you instantly nauseous.
"I'm sorry," you say immediately. You don't want to get up, don't want to set him off and get too close. Rafe steps closer to where you're sitting but doesn't get within arms reach. "Baby, I'm sorry." You say it in a pleading way, not wanting to ruin the gift but also wanting to stand up for yourself.
Rafe reaches a hand out to you, but when you lean away from him, the bed creaking beneath your weight, he curls his fingers into a fist. You flinch as he turns and forces his knuckles against the threshold of your bedroom door.
Rafe keeps his hand there, biting his lip and twisting his fist into the wood. It burns, but it's better than hurting you. He promised he wouldn't and he wants to do better. He needs to.
"I love you," he says before throwing the door open and leaving you alone.
pairing: rafe cameron x female reader, eventual jj maybank x reader
summary: it was perfect - the Kook prince and Kildare’s crown jewel - until it wasn’t. Rafe was your first choice, but JJ is everything he’s not
warning: abusive relationship, cursing
word count: 4.4k
tags: @snowtargaryen, @yesshewrites1
a/n: plot suggestions welcome. thank you for all the love! every reblog and comment makes me smile and I love the feedback. yall are awesome
Rafe didn't stay the night at your house.
You told him your father is on a mean streak and that you don’t want to upset him, possibly getting your credit card frozen in the process.
Rafe understood, although he stayed until your father texted he was on the way home. You spent the entire night talking about how he was going to look for a therapist, how sorry he felt for hurting you, how it wouldn't happen again.
You want to believe him, but you're not holding your breath.
The morning after Rafe left is heavy with a decision you've yet to make. Part of you already knows where this is going if he doesn't get help.
You shower, checking the time as you rush to throw on some clothes. Your phone reads 9:45 and there is a text from Landscaping that tells you JJ is on the way. You try to remember how far JJ lives from you, but with the way you're moving to apply makeup and fix your appearance makes it difficult to calculate.
After calling the lead security guard, who is saved in your phone as 'Big Kahuna', you text JJ to tell him security has been notified. You say it in a more casual way, of course, but then you get in your head about how Rafe would interpret your message. Or texting JJ at all for that matter. It makes you text Rafe to remind him about your date with Sarah later. Maybe that will keep him away long enough for JJ to do his job without your boyfriend interfering.
Ten o'clock rolls around by the time you get some food in your stomach. You eat in the backyard lounging on a pool chair, phone in hand as you try and calm your nerves. JJ has come over plenty of times and has never spoken to you if it wasn't sarcastic or if he didn't have to. Glass of water, equipment location, the occasional uppity remark - they've all been casual.
You can't stop thinking about how the bonfire has changed so many things about your relationship with Rafe, JJ, and even Sarah.
The warm sun on your skin and the salty air distracts you momentarily. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and jump when the wooden fence gate beside your house shuts. Spinning in your chair, you spot JJ in a muscle tee and cargo shorts, his lip scabbed over and a light bruise on his jaw.
"Didn't mean to scare you," he says with an awkward wave. He crosses the lawn to the shed to get your father's riding lawn mower. "Security still gave me a hard time," JJ adds as he types in the pin code to the shed.
Settling again, you pick up your phone to see if Rafe texted. You love him and have no intention of becoming the person he claims you could be, but JJ's presence makes you feel the way you did when Rafe first showed interest in you. Even before JJ considered you tolerable to be around, there was no doubt you found him attractive. Rafe's behavior is only pushing you further away no matter how much you love him, and you hate him for not being able to accept that.
"Are you doing okay?" You ask JJ as he pulls the lawn mower out. Objects clatter around its absence, gardening tools falling on one another as the blonde forces the shed doors shut.
He shrugs, swinging one leg over the mower's seat. "Nothin' I ain't used to," he says. JJ starts the lawn mower up and heads off across the vast expanse of green grass in your backyard. You watch him work, not completely oblivious as to what he's talking about. Everyone knew how Luke Maybank could be and it was only a matter of time before conclusions could be drawn about how he treated his son.
You think that's part of the reason why you're suddenly drawn to JJ. The worse Rafe got about the possibility of you cheating, the more comfortable he became about laying hands on you, that's when you started paying closer attention to JJ. Are the signs of abuse as evident on you as they are on him?
You watch JJ work, admiring the way his tan skin reflects golden beads of sunlight. His blonde hair curls along his forehead, tongue darting between his lips with concentration. JJ has perfected the art of landscaping, partially because it's his source of income and because of his prescription Adderall. He's sold the occasional little white pill to you during particularly challenging exams.
It's crazy to think about the insignificant moments you've had with JJ before Rafe became a major part of your life. Everything before your boyfriend seems so irrelevant except for the memories you have of JJ. His demeanor is different, his mannerisms around you metamorphosized. Had there been a clue as to his curiosity about you, or is he suddenly interested because Rafe has you?
JJ finishes the back and front yards in a couple hours. At one point you left to get ready for your date with Sarah, but go into your kitchen where JJ is getting a glass of water. His skin is damp with perspiration, muscle tee clinging to his chest as he chugs his water.
"How is my dad paying you?" You wonder, watching the way he moves so easily around your home. Knowing where JJ comes from, it's odd to see someone so sweaty and overworked standing in the kitchen your parents remodeled with money earned from stocks.
His eyes your denim shorts, your crop top, and the bruise on your wrist. You hesitate to cross your arms to hide it, but he's already seen it and you don't want to make it obvious. You already feel so guilty talking to him without Rafe present, and don't want to give any hints as to your boyfriend's recent behavior.
"Usually he Venmos me," JJ says. He sets his empty glass into the sink, jaw tight as he forces himself to remove his gaze from your bruise. JJ isn't dumb. He knows it wasn't there when he talked to you at the bonfire and the fact that it showed up overnight sets off alarms in his brain. He wants to ask you about it, wants to know if it was his fault, but he barely knows you. It's not a question one asks acquaintances.
"I can give you cash right now," you say as you dig your wallet from your crossbody bag. Rafe bought you a little black Prada bag for your birthday and you've used it ever since.
JJ waves his hand around dismissively. "No, it's okay. I'm not desperate."
"I know, but I'm here."
"Yeah, but I work for your dad, not you."
"Really, it's okay," you insist as you hand him two hundred dollars.
JJ stares at the money you've placed in his rough hands. They're so much different from Rafe's - more experienced and worn. JJ will probably have to do manual labor for the rest of his life, earning blisters and scars while Rafe climbs the cozy corporate ladder.
"This is too much," JJ says. You shut your purse, the button snapping as you shake your head.
"Consider us even." You smile at him, trying to apologize for your boyfriend in your own way.
"What?" JJ snickers. "Is this a bribe for last night?" His memory brings unwanted emotions to the surface. He doesn't know why he wanted your number, but seeing you without Rafe nearby was an open invitation. JJ is notorious for flirting with every girl he encounters, so why should you be any different? Usually when he fucks with Rafe it can be done by messing with you, but after seeing the way he treats you, it's become something more. It's like JJ can't help himself. He's got to figure you out.
"I don't need to bribe you," you say, glancing at your feet. "I guess I'm trying to say sorry."
"In the only way you know how," JJ teases. His words strike you, but you try your best to hide it as he realizes the weight of his words. "I'm kidding," he quickly adds.
You shrug your shoulders, suddenly feeling awkward as you consider leaving to meet Sarah early.
JJ sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the blonde curls sticking up in odd ways. Your eyes fall to his lips and to the cut near the corner. "I really didn't mean to piss Rafe off."
"Yes you did," you argue, suddenly feeling the need to be defensive. "What other reason would you talk to me for?" Spinning on your heels, you start for the front door before JJ grabs your elbow and spins you back around. You don't want to admit that his touch makes your stomach jolt as if speeding over a hill.
JJ forces himself to look at you, to attempt to read the mixed emotions in your eyes. There's more to you than he originally assumed and it drives him crazy. "You're too nice for Rafe," he says. The knowledge you both share about his behavior, each in your different way, leaves you wanting to dismiss the conversation entirely.
You pull your arm out of his gentle grasp, so unlike the way Rafe grabbed you like a madman. "You don't know anything about us," you counter. Turning to open the door, you unlock your car as JJ follows behind you.
"I think I have an idea," JJ scoffs. He watches as your fingers curl over your car door handle, pausing as you eye him in the reflection of the window.
"You don't know shit," you growl. JJ's nosiness pisses you off. The realization that he so easily noticed the shift in your relationship from just one encounter. It takes one to know one, even if JJ only suspects.
You climb into your car, starting the engine and ignoring the way JJ watches you empathetically. His eyes, which usually hold only mischief, soften as you drive off and leave him standing in your perfectly manicured lawn.
It's a bright day as you navigate to The Wreck. You drive in silence, admiring how palm trees sway and seagulls fly overhead. The windows are up but you can smell the ocean through the air conditioning that's blasting you in the face. Your mind wanders as you spot the bruise on your wrist and feel the ache in your shoulders. JJ doesn't know anything, but you feel like he's able to read you like an open book. It's funny how a sudden event can shift the roles of people in your life. Although you don't know where it's going now, there's a storm brewing and you can sense it. The anxiety attaching itself to you isn't shaking, but becoming a permanent fixture to your existence.
You try to shake it off as you meet Sarah at her table. It's inside close to the windows overlooking the pier. You sit across from her, the look on your face immediately alerting her that something is wrong.
"What did Rafe do?" Sarah wonders, and her jumping to the conclusion that Rafe is the cause for your concern upsets you.
"Not Rafe," you say as you shake your head. "JJ keeps nagging me."
"When is JJ not nagging someone?"
Kiara Carrera is your waitress. She walks over with a notepad in her hand and a frown on her face. "What do you wanna drink?" She asks you.
Despite it being almost noon, you order a mimosa and thank her before she walks away.
Sarah watches Kiara go into the kitchen before her gaze falls back to you. "Did you talk to JJ about last night?" Sarah asks, eyelashes fluttering as the sun beams her in the eyes. She sits back in her chair, using the straw in her ice water to twirl the cubes around.
"Yeah," you huff. "I told him to stay out of my relationship too."
Was that what happened? You ask yourself. It's what you wanted to happen, but there was so much hidden behind your words with JJ. It's like you're both speaking a language with double meaning, what you're both trying to say just beneath the surface. He knows how Rafe treats you, and you know that he knows. It's a confusing cycle and you weren't sure when he started picking up on the change in your relationship. For someone so excitable he sure is observant.
"Was Rafe there?" Sarah questions, the look on her face as if she's hiding something. If he isn't at home then he's at Barry's, which explains why he hasn't been blowing up your phone since he left.
"No," you tell her.
"Are you guys okay?"
"Yeah," you lie. You guys definitely are not okay, but what are you supposed to tell her? 'Your brother laid his hands on me and the only way I got him to stop was to fuck him.' Yeah, that would go over well.
You don't bother looking over the menu, already having your meal picked out since you've frequented the restaurant so often. Rafe doesn't take you to The Wreck, having decided it's too podunk for his tastes. But Sarah and you visit the quaint establishment so often that Kiara's hatred for you has dissipated. Sarah dating John B. has also helped, not that you care either way. Rafe would never let you hang out with their entourage even if Sarah invites you to all the time.
"With Rafe," Sarah begins as she leans forward, "you just have to disengage. Let him rant and leave him alone."
"Why, so he can go into a spiral by himself?"
"Let him. Better than trying to calm him down. That takes forever."
Kiara returns with your mimosa and sets it on a napkin. "Thanks for reeling in your boyfriend last night," she says to you. "It could've gone a lot worse."
You're surprised by her extending an olive branch, but you suppose Sarah dating her best friend sort of entitles you to one.
"I'll try not to let it happen again," you say. It's an empty statement, however, given how Rafe and JJ's rivalry is growing more tense by the second.
"We do what we can," Kiars chuckles. Her comment brings a smile to your face, and when she asks what you want to eat you tell her the usual. She offers a genuine smile that makes you nauseous because you know your worlds are bound to collide. The other shoe always drops.
Your date with Sarah is cut short just after you eat. Your conversation steered away from the boys and you were just starting to enjoy yourself when Rafe texted:
I have a surprise for you. Come home
"Rafe wants to see me," you tell Sarah disappointedly. She frowns down at the check, not surprised by the sudden intrusion despite her brother being aware of your lunch. She doesn't say anything as she puts her card down. "I'll pay. Lunch was my idea," you argue.
Sarah shakes her head dismissively, waving her hand around to tell you to leave it. Kiara comes to collect payment and you both thank her. Sarah looks at you, sitting on her hands as the look of worry returns to her face. Her brother is so demanding, so needy for your time. She almost invites you out to John B.'s later, but remembers how pissed off he was that you left JJ before telling anyone what happened. She leaves the topic of payment alone, settling on the issue at hand now that Rafe beckoned you.
"You have bigger things to worry about," she says.
You text Rafe when you get home and he arrives not ten minutes later. When you open the front door, he's standing on your patio with a large white box that has a golden bow neatly wrapped around it. He's beaming at you in a way that makes your heart melt.
"What did you do?" You ask him with a smile. Rafe steps inside, his shoes clacking against the tile. He looks handsome in his black Polo, but he smells like cigarettes and it contradicts how sweet he's being. You know that Barry smokes, but you don't want to ruin the moment so you lead him up to your room.
"Just a little somethin' for my princess," Rafe says as you climb the stairs. His voice is soft, his eyes watching the way your legs move as you walk into your bedroom. He isn't aware of how you scan each surface as if proof of JJ's visit is plain as day. He never entered your room, but you're so scared of Rafe being aware of the other man simply existing near you.
When you're sure the blonde hasn't snuck into your walk-in closet, you finally turn to face Rafe. "What are you doing?" He chuckles, motioning to your bed. "Sit down, silly."
You obey, laughing nervously as you rub your palms against the fabric of your shorts. When Rafe hands you the box you thank him, pausing just as you go to unwrap the bow. Looking up at him, Rafe nods in permission, the grin on his face faltering with impatience.
After you discard the bow onto your carpet, excitement fills your heart at Rafe's generosity. He truly is sorry, you think as your hands pull apart the thin white paper that lays between you and your present.
It's a crimson A-line dress and, as you pull it out with a grin on your face, notice it would fall to your ankles. You can tell Rafe chose it because it shows off your neck (his favorite part to kiss), it's form fitting, and one of his favorite colors. Everything about it screams Rafe.
"I love it," you gasp. The price tag falls out from behind the thin sleeve and you slap the dress back into its box in disbelief. "You didn't have to buy this," you huff, feigning disapproval.
Rafe's smile widens as he squats down in front of you, the fabric of his black slacks making a sliding sound. He presses a kiss to your forehead and unties the price tag from the strap and pockets it. "Don't mind that," he urges. "You deserve the best."
Tears brim your eyes as you look at Rafe, taking in the softness of his features. He's admiring you like you breathed life into him, like he's worshipping you at an altar he built with his bare hands. "You can wear it for Midsummers," he suggests.
"That's not for another month!"
"We're prepared then."
You put the box beside you on the bed and take his face in your hands. Pressing your lips to his, you melt at how gently he grabs your hands and kisses you back. You pull away and give a half-smile, the weight of the fight, the sex, and the violence still a burden on you, but it’s quickly being replaced by something better. Something more hopeful.
Rafe's eyes soften as he watches your fingers trace the fabric. "Thank you," you murmur, the words feeling too small for a gift that costs over a thousand dollars.
He stands and leans back against the wall beside your closet, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. "I just wanted to make things right." He shrugs, but you know him well enough to know it’s more than that.
You nod, smiling at him. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a truce, like you're moving past whatever is wrong with Rafe. For a second everything feels like it used to again, like back when he pined after you and enjoyed the chase. But then the ringing of your phone breaks the moment.
You reach for it, glancing at the screen. It’s your dad. You hesitate. "It's my dad," you mutter, unsure how to even start with the mess of everything. Your father is coming home soon, catching a flight from whatever business meeting he attended. Neither of your parents were home when it happened, but you feel like you're trying to hide something from them still. The fact that no one in Rafe's home heard anything - or chose to - still surprises you.
"Put it on speaker," Rafe says, voice casual but with a tone you can’t quite place.
You look at him, noticing the way Rafe is watching you like he’s waiting for something to slip, and it makes you feel uneasy. He's going to try and figure out if you confided in your father, but you're not dumb. Of course you didn't. He would kill Rafe for hurting you and then kill Ward for raising him.
With a deep breath, you swipe to answer and press the speaker button. "Hey dad," you say, trying to sound more at ease than you feel.
"Hey, sweetheart," your dad’s voice comes through, warm but a little distracted. "How’s everything going?"
You exchange a quick glance with Rafe, who gives you a small, unreadable smile. He leans in, still watching you intently like he’s studying every word.
"It’s good," you answer, swallowing. "Just hanging out."
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, a muttering of men in suits and city commotion. "Good. Just wanted to check in, let you know I'll be home late tonight. JJ told me you gave him money for the lawn?"
Your stomach drops. It’s a casual question, but the timing of Rafe standing before you makes it more of a trigger. His bangs fall over his forehead, shielding the way he's watching you so intently. You're scared to look at him, not wanting to read the betrayal he sees in something so trivial.
"Yeah," you say quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. "I gave it to him earlier. Don’t worry."
Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, like a bird of prey locking on to a little, defenseless mouse. It’s subtle, but it’s there. You feel the sharp change of his joy to resentment, a stark contrast of emotion that leaves your mouth dry.
Your dad hums on the other end of the line. "I told you I’d pay him, kiddo."
You feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze now, like a pressure on your skin. You shift uncomfortably. "Your money is my money. I took care of it," you say, trying to ease the tension your father is unaware of. The joke reminds you of your life before Rafe started hurting you - emotionally at least. How carefree and materialistic you were.
Rafe folds his arms across his chest. "I'm sure you did," His snarky comment is too quiet for your father to hear, but the bite beneath it is unmistakable.
You ignore him, trying to stay focused on your dad. "It’s all good. Don’t worry about it."
There’s a pause, and then your dad's voice comes back with a bit of a sigh. "Alright. Just wanted to make sure. Let me call you back later. It's a bitch getting a cab in this city."
"Okay, dad. Love you." You try to end it quickly, but your mind is spinning.
"I love you too," your dad responds, and then the line goes quiet as you hang up.
The second the call ends, Rafe is on his feet, pacing in the large space of your room. His jaw is tight, a hand running through his hair in frustration. "JJ was here?" He asks harshly, but a laugh of disbelief falls from his mouth. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
You remain sitting, not wanting to crowd him as you feel your heartbeat quicken. "Rafe, he was only here to take care of the yard." You don't want to sound dismissive of his worries, but how many times must you do this song and dance?
"And you didn't bother letting me know. Even after what that asshole said last night." His voice is low now, sharp. "Even after what we did. What does that say about me?"
You feel the heat rise in your chest, a spark of bravery igniting. "It’s not about you! And we didn't do anything, Rafe. You did!" you snap before you can stop yourself. "I don't need you to monitor me!"
Rafe freezes, eyes darkening. "You're always trying to handle everything alone, acting like you don’t need me."
You blink, the sting of his words sharper than you expected. For a moment, neither of you speak and the quiet presses down on you both.
Rafe’s shoulders sag slightly, but the anger doesn’t leave his voice. "You need me. I need you." He points at his chest, tapping at it to emphasize the importance of what he's saying. He needs you to understand that you're with him by choice, that your loyalty to him should never falter. You should never get the chance to choose differently.
"Hiding things from me doesn't make this easier," he continues.
"Doesn't make what easier?" You ask, voice quiet as you take a deep breath to steady your heartbeat.
"Not wanting to hurt you."
You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you sit there, unsure if you’re angry or terrified with how he spins things out of control and reels you back in again. You'd like to think he's trying, that he's attempting to rein in that part of him that punches people without thinking and smashes his fists through walls. He can be so sweet sometimes and yet...
"Fuck you."
The words tumble out of your mouth so quickly you almost don't realize you said them. The way Rafe's eyes widen in shock makes you instantly nauseous.
"I'm sorry," you say immediately. You don't want to get up, don't want to set him off and get too close. Rafe steps closer to where you're sitting but doesn't get within arms reach. "Baby, I'm sorry." You say it in a pleading way, not wanting to ruin the gift but also wanting to stand up for yourself.
Rafe reaches a hand out to you, but when you lean away from him, the bed creaking beneath your weight, he curls his fingers into a fist. You flinch as he turns and forces his knuckles against the threshold of your bedroom door.
Rafe keeps his hand there, biting his lip and twisting his fist into the wood. It burns, but it's better than hurting you. He promised he wouldn't and he wants to do better. He needs to.
"I love you," he says before throwing the door open and leaving you alone.
