Dog Days Are Over

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

(Austin by Dasha) applied to reader x Rafe

Why do I see it?

(Coming soon)

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

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

Word count; 1.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was you, not Barry.

You were a distraction, to him and Barry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was enough to inspire good behavior.

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

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

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

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

A winter recital

(Rafe Christmas special)

Posting tomorrow

A/n hopefully you enjoy it and happy holiday🎄

in the meantime

Ft OBX and the Bahamas finest

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

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

And Papa Heyward was the best

The Winter Recital

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

Warnings; fluff?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was frustrating as it was flattering.

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

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

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

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

"Under the mistletoe, remember?"

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

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

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

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

Pogue!gf!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he serious about that? If so, why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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