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martyrbat · 1 year

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favorite things - batman: legends of the dark knight #79

[ID: The cover for the above mentioned comic. In it, Batman is framed to be in the center of a wreath as he screams in agony. Surrounding him is fire. Following it is the subtitle page where we see the story's name (Favorite Things) and the creative team that created the story. It's shown with a peek of Gotham's horizon; where snow is elegantly falling in front of towering golden skyscrapers and tall, blue buildings. It settles on the rooftops of the last layer of the city, which consists of older buildings and water towers. A single gargoyle stretches into the panel in front of them all. END ID]

entire comic with ID below cut!

We fall with the snow, bearing witness to several vertical panels of random Gothamites that are outside on this frigid night. An older man clenches his newspaper in shock. A young couple drops the toys they just bought in fright, staring at an approaching golden light. In an alleyway, we see a cat jumping to a new trash lid to get away from what disturbed its rest – a peek of the corrupt far in the background. A young child with their mother points excitedly as their mother is still turnt away.

Finally, we see the cause for such reactions – the speeding, iconically sculpted car that's swerving between traffic effortlessly: the Batmobile!

Bruce Wayne, dressed as Batman, speaks into the extended microphone that's built into the car. He asks, “How's the party, Alfred? Anyone ask why I disappeared?” Alfred Pennyworth is shown talking into a revolving phone, smiling with slight amusement as well-dressed people dance and socialize joyfully in the background. Alfred reports back, “I told them you had urgent business upstairs, Master Bruce.” Bruce asks, “blonde or brunette?” Alfred answers, “Blonde, sir – I gather ‘gentlemen’ prefer them.”

However Bruce is unable to keep his own masquerade, his facade falling instantly. He rhetorically questions, “How could this happen, Alfred? I can't believe it.” Alfred gazes at an overhead window, the glass still shattered from an earlier event. He bon mots, “I'm afraid burglary is not an uncommon problem in Gotham City, Master Bruce. Even with our security. Perhaps we should invest in a large dog with a taste for the criminal classes.” Bruce remains unamused as he presses down even more on the gas pedal. He argues, “This is no joking matter. You know what they took. And you know why I have to get it back.”

He eventually enters a club just to immediately intimidate the party-goers. Underneath the sharp eye of the pink neon lights and glistening disco ball, he threatens, “I've already been to several clubs in Gotham tonight – you may have heard the ambulances. Save yourself some grief. Hand over Eddie Mulligan.” The crowd stares on until Eddie pops out! He announces, “Hi, Bats! Lookin' for me, big guy?”

Batman quips back, “Let's step into your office, Mulligan!” while throwing him through the door for the filthy restroom. He snarls at the two men still at the urinal to leave now as Eddie pleads for them to not leave him with Batman. They leave anyways as Batman yanks Eddie into a dirty stall.

Batman holds him by the collar and his head, forcing his head to hover over a toilet that has surely broken multiple sanitation regulations. He warns, “Talk to me, Eddie! Half of Gotham’s low lives come to you to celebrate a score. I’m after a gang who specialize in robbing big houses. Fill in the blanks or you and that drug store in your jacket are down the toilet.” Eddie swears, “I don’t know nothin', man. On my mother’s life–”

Batman calls out his lie as he shoves his head into the toilet’s bowl. “Your mother died when you were four, Mulligan – try again!” He lifts Eddie’s head, who still insists that he doesn’t know anything. Deciding the waste of time isn’t worth losing the convict’s trail; the Dark Knight storms out of the restroom, leaving the now dirty man on the even dirtier floor as he still murmurs his swears that he doesn’t know who's to blame for the robberies.

Fire blazes around a black bat emblem. We pull from it, revealing the incendiary weapon set to destroy a museum. Police Captain Jim Gordon murmurs, “Madness. Fire-bombing a museum… to call attention to this.” He asks if there's any witnesses to the accompanying cop. He answers, “A woman thought she saw a couple of Joy Boys running away from the blast.”

Gordon turns from the roaring flames and questions, “Joy Boys?” The cop explains, “Weird kid gang, Captain… Crazy about the Joker. Like to show how they hate the Batman, pullin' stunts like this. Or maybe they’re just celebratin' the season. Christmas comin' an' all…” Gordon mutters, “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any sicker. Madness.”

Snow continues to fall outside a building, glowing signs advertising an adult-only cabaret named ‘Eye Spy’ and the promise of a live stage show inside. A middle-aged blind woman is shown in a brown, thin jacket over a semi-sheer cover that's attached to her short, pink dress. She climbs into a taxi's backseat as the driver teases, “Nice flowers, Tabitha. Got a secret admirer?” She laughs at her friend and tells him, “Hahaha! Not for a long time, Arnie. These're from the Batman. Had them delivered after my show.” He recoils at the revelation! “He's real?! What's he after?” She coyly smiles and dips her nose to the bouquet of red roses. She reminds him, “I got no eyes but I got good ears, Arnie. Batman wants to know what I've heard about these organized break-ins at all the city's plush mansions.” Arnie scoffs, “Typical. Superheroes always look out for the rich g–”

The start of his unimpressed rant is interrupted by a Joy Boy slamming his hand against the window! He and the rest of the Joy Boys have a mask on of the Joker's grinning face and purple jacket with green pants to mimic the villain's suit. He demands for Arnie to get out of the car as more of the posse circle the car. Arnie flees, leaving Tabitha to the mercy of the gang! She calls for him before suddenly being jerked out of the vehicle! She asks in a panic, “Who are you? What have you done to Arnie?” The leader of the gang speaks, “Good evening, madame. I can’t help noticing you’re blind. Never mind, my dear –”. One of the men holding her suddenly punches her, causing her to collapse! The man continues, “there are some things in life it’s best not to see.”

Batman drops down promptly, sending the abusers down into the snow as he lands on them! He growls, “And one has just dropped in on you. Joy Boys… Your choice of role models stinks!” He decks another member as Tabitha asks repeatedly what’s happening. The leader taunts, “You won’t catch me, Bat-slime! I’ve got the fastest legs in Gotham City!” Batman speaks into a hidden voice commander and calls for the Batmobile before muttering the three magic words: finish the job!

The criminal is caught in the glaring headlights of the Batmobile before it automatically drives! The man lets out a blood curdling scream. Batman reassures Tabitha as he helps her up from the snow, “Scared senseless more than hurt. The car caught him at a glancing angle. Let's see if we can salvage any of your flowers.” He cordially keeps an arm wrapped around her upper back and tucks a red rose gently in her blonde hair. “There's one. Pretty as a picture.” She looks up, revealing her bruising eye. She asks, “D-do I really still look pretty, Batman? After all these years?” He smiles down at her. “More than pretty, Tabitha. You look beautiful…” He starts guiding her away from the scene of the attack as he softly prompts her to tell him what she knows about the break-ins.

Afterwards, Bruce is back in the Batmobile as he reports back, “I've got a name, Alfred. Not much else. The outfit's called ‘the Chessmen’. Their leader calls himself ‘King’, apparently.” Alfred comments, “Really? A bit obvious, wouldn't you say, sir?” Bruce snaps, “Everything about them is obvious… except where they are now, dammit!”

Alfred continues ironing Bruce's cape in the Batcave as he calmly notes, “You sound a little erratic, Master Bruce. Might I inquire when you last slept?” He dismisses his surrogate father's concern, promising, “I had a nap, old friend. I feel fine.” But Alfred presses, “Tell the truth and shame the devil!” Finally, Bruce reluctantly confesses, “Two or three days ago. You know I can't sleep, Alfred. Not 'til I get it back.”

He swings onto the roof of GCPD headquarters, where Jim Gordon is already waiting for him next to the Bat-Signal. Gordon informs, “We got an anonymous call. A direct lead to the gang who robbed half the town's mansions.” Batman exclaims, “The Chessmen! Where–?” Gordon sighs. “It's gotten… Complicated. The chief saw headlines. Insisted on a swat team. They messed up. What should have been a simple raid has ended as a hostage situation – Dammit! If he'd left it to my men or you…” Batman at once leaps off the building, having all the information he needs. His cape flares out as he vows, “Leave it to me now, Jim.”

At the scene, we see the SWAT team waiting outside in utility body armour and holding assault rifles. The chief speaks into a megaphone, “Listen up, Chessmen! This is Chief Yeats! Release my two officers and we can negotiate a deal!” The leader of the Chessmen, King, is standing in the window with a handgun pointed at a cop's head. He has the design of the king chess piece tattooed on his forehead and a purple mohawk. He shouts back, “No deals, pig! Take one more step and I blow a hole in this babe's head! I mean it, Yeats! We already wasted her partner!” The second cop lays dead at his feet.

One of the Chessmen with a rook tattoo apprehensively expresses, “This is too much, King. I thought we said no one was gonna get hurt.” King demands, “Shut up, Rook! Do what I say or we're dead men!" A voice from above booms, “You're worse than that – You're mine!” Suddenly Batman drops down while throwing a smoke bomb! He moves in stealth, avoiding the blind, erratic shooting from the panicked men that's trying to kill him and knocking them all unconscious as they scream, “He's on his own–!” “Rush him!” “Can't see him! Where'd he go?” “Over there!” “Blow his head off, Bishop!” He cries out, “He's moving too fast! Like an animal! A damn ani– ungh!” The Caped Crusader takes him down.

The smoke starts to clear, revealing that Batman is the only other man standing as King holds the hostage in front of him. He warns, “Stay back, Batman! We just wanted to rip off some rich guys! Give ourselves a little Christmas present! We didn’t want anyone to get hurt!” Batman growls, “Tell that to the officer down,” as he opens a small department on his belt and clicks a mysterious button.

Suddenly, screeching fills the air before a frenzy of bats burst into the building! King releases the hostage as he immediately gets swarmed by the bats. He screams, “Get them off me! I can’t stand– AAAA! Please! For the love of god! Get them off me!” The bats eventually flee, leaving King on his knees and the reveal that Batman and the hostage are nowhere to be found. He stammers out for his already defeated backup. “Ch-Chessmen? Where are you, Chessmen? K-King under attack.”

Batman suddenly appears, making the obvious pun in his triumphant, “Checkmate, King!” He continues to be unfunny as he shouts, “Game over!" and punches the man, knocking him back on the ground. Batman stands towering over the defeated criminal as he finally gets to demand, “I'm out of patience, King. The loot. Where is it stashed? Talk.”

The bellicostic police chief leads the SWAT men up to where the hostage situation was taking place, warning them to be very careful. They finally reach the floor and burst through the door, announcing, “Police! Freeze!” But to their dismay, they see the five Chessmen tied up on the floor as King hangs upside down above them. Chief Yeats yells, “The damn bat! That damn bat beat us again.”

One of the SWAT officers points out a note attached to King. It reads: ‘Act like a police chief, not a publicity hound, Yeats… or I'll have to act. I won't always have more urgent business like tonight. B.’ — The chief warns the men, “You didn't see this… Get me? But… uh… tell any news teams to throw focus on… uh… the heroic officer-hostages… Hey… It's the holidays, right?”

We join a single father sitting in a squalid apartment with his two little boys. The children sit on the floor in front of a plugged in space heater as they watch a small television that’s sitting on top of a cardboard box. A clothesline hangs over their head as the despondent man sits in front of the window, somberly waiting for the Dark Knight's arrival. Without turning, he addresses Batman. “I knew you’d come. I’ve been waiting here for two days. Thank god it’s over.” The children turn with a shout, pointing at Batman before running to be held by their father.

Batman asks, “You’ve been holding stolen goods. Where are they?” The man answers, “I already gave them back, Batman. Honest.” Batman queries, “You gave them back?” The father bows his head as he confesses, “Yeah. I was paid to stash them until the heat cooled off. But… I couldn’t keep those things. They didn’t belong to me. Don’t throw me in jail, Batman. It was me who tipped off the cops. It was me who told Gordon where they could find the Chessmen.”

Batman gently questions, “Any particular reason?” as the man starts to weep. “I'm not a thief, Batman. I just needed some money to feed my kids. Please, Batman! Please don't throw me in jail! The kids need me, Batman! Little boys shouldn't be left on their own.” The children start to cry and stare up at the Dark Knight as he looks at the cordolium scene. He agrees, “Okay. Just don't do it again.” And with a swoosh of his cape, he's out the door. The father looks up in shock at his agreement but the only evidence of Batman's presence being a roll of hundred dollar bills that's now sitting on top of the table.

At the Wayne Manor, we're in a child's bedroom. Dolls are perched serenely upon a chair. A toy house that'll never become a home lays next to a small rocking horse who's riding days are long gone. In the center of the room is a circular train track, where Bruce Wayne sits in thought. Still half dressed in his costume, he stares at a bright toy train. Alfred softly approaches. “I see you managed to recover it, Master.” Bruce murmurs, “My favorite thing. The last thing they ever gave me, Alfred. The last present from my mother and father… and I almost lost it.”

Alfred reassures him, “Not to worry, Sir. It's safe and sound in your old bedroom now.” Bruce continues to look at the little train. “You're right, old friend. Right as always.” Alfred gently prompts, “It's getting late, Master Bruce. Almost dawn. Time for bed, I think.” Bruce shifts to his knees, finally prying his eyes away from the toy and the memories it holds to look at his lifelong friend. He quietly agrees. “Yes, Alfred. Time for bed.”

We end on a distant view of the Wayne Manor, the ombré pink and purple sky casting a light on the pure white snow. A promise of peace after a restless, cold night.

END ID]

#hiiii i have covid and am trying to not die as i have my own holiday trauma so this is rly late #but i know youll cope and not complain bc its just a comic and u guys are better than that :) (<- said threateningly)#but !!! finally !!!#i feel like the last two pages are very known (and ill be posting them separately because yknow) but i wanted to id the context :)#i would love to crack bruces pretty little skull open like its a geode rock and look at the crystal that is his fucked up brain <3 #lemme know how you like this format btw ! did it few panels at a time instead of one by one because the layout is very different than #older comics :) i aimed for scene/tone shift instead and what had the best flow while not being too congested and confusing in text !!#transcrypts #<- also while ur here (hi!) maybe check out this tag for other full comic/story ID's i done :)#c: batman: legends of the dark knight | i: 79 #crypt's panels #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #posts from the crypt

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zyafics · 11 days

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omg hi!! hope ur doing well i love ur writing btw, (play fake is one of my fav fics ive EVER read!!)

could u do a fic where rafe and reader are like best friends, and they’ve always both kinda liked each other but they dont really act upon it, until rafe gets a buzzcut and reader starts acting like real shy and clumsy around him bcs she’s shocked abt how he could get even MORE attractive, and then he gets linda confused so he asks her why she’s acting so different and then she tells him? make it as smutty and fluffy as u want! 🫶🫶

first off, ily 🥹 and omg, YES!! i've been thinking about this ever since i got your req in my inbox, so here's my very earnest attempt at doing it justice 🩷

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x bsf!female reader

content (5.3k words) 18+, fluff, smut, soft!rafe to reader only, protected p in v, f receiving oral, lots of banter!, nicknames used: baby and wildflower. — reader type kook, spontaneous, loves adventure, hates silence, loves noises, doesn't exactly like her reality, and friends with topper and kelce, but is only close to rafe!

dedication to @mintforadollar for helping me with the nickname and for @erwinsvow for her lovely fic, which i drew inspiration from and i've been obsessing over for the past two weeks <3

lıllılı Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

"I want to run away."

It takes a moment for Rafe to register your confession and his response is a drowsy laugh. "Buy a guy dinner first."

You let out a groan, slumping against your wrinkled sheets and abundant pillows spread across your bed. "I'm being serious, Rafe. I'm tired of this house. It's too empty and quiet. I can't stand it. At night, I think I can hear my skin buzzing."

Rafe is accustomed to your sporadic calls regarding whatever issues you had with the world. Last week, it was about the insufficient amount of family portraits that frame the halls of your mansion.

"Maybe you just need to change your sheets."

"Stop!" You chastise. Rafe chokes up with another beat of laughter, low and rich with the deep timbre of his voice. The sound temporarily draws you away from your rant, igniting a small ember in your stomach. You brush away those tingly thoughts. "You're not listening to me."

"I think I'm listening to you perfectly fine, wildflower." He reassures, the solemnity of his tone takes you off the edge. Rafe shuffles on the other line, moving to a sitting position against his headboard. "What do you want? Do you want me to come pick you up?"

You cower from his offer, tucking one of your pillows under your chin. "You don't have to..."

"Don't get all shy with me now. You can't act this way when you're waking me up in the dead of night to report about your getaway plans."

"I feel bad."

Rafe sighs, getting off his bed. He knows the outcome of this conversation and rather prepares himself for the short drive. "I'm heading over."

"I could walk."

"It's freezing outside."

"Your house is down the block. I can survive."

"I'm already out the door. Just stay put." Rafe announces and before he's about to disconnect the call, he adds. "I'm serious."

He arrives in record time. Honking his truck with no regards for the nearby neighbors and you pad downstairs with a bag, descending down the driveway to the passenger side of his truck. A little shiver travels down your spine at the cool North Carolina weather.

"God, what did I tell you?" He scolds, noticing your lack of outwear, and reaches for the blanket in the backseats he keeps just for you. He throws it at your face, suffocating your air with a fluffy white fleece. You roll your eyes, covering your shoulders with it as Rafe reverses. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thought I'm supposed to buy you a meal first."

He doesn't bother entertaining your retort with a glance and flicks the side of your head with his fingers. You giggle. "We're not running away."

"Who said you're included in this adventure? I remember it being a one-person job."

Rafe scoffs. "You can't run away. You'd miss me too much."

"No, you'd miss me too much." You tease back, watching his lips pull to an upward curve at your words. It makes your heart flutters, knowing you always manage to get this side of Rafe. To the rest of Outer Banks, Rafe is seen as a precarious, self-absorbed playboy, but to you, he's your best friend.

And a little more.

The truck parks on the roadside of Tannyhill, the silhouettes of the estate surrounded by shadowy oak trees and a deep reflection of the moon on their waterfront view. Rafe doesn't make a move to leave, nor turn off the engine, before he turns to you.

"You okay?" He asks gravely, all humor stripped off his handsome features. You feel the air of your lungs stolen, at the amount of attention he's paying you, and the atmospheric change turns you to a bashful version of yourself.

"Fine." You answer, looking to your lap. "You know..."

Despite your house being a near-identical model to Rafe's, you hate yours. It's nothing about the architecture but rather the emptiness of the hallways. The cold floors sweep with minimalist decors. The echoes in the chambers where you can hear every little whirl in the air conditioner and creaks in the pipes. You'd rather be at Tannyhill.

Rafe doesn't say anything for the next few moments, observing you, before conceding a sigh. "Tell you what. I'll take you out on the Druthers tomorrow. We'll go bright and early, sail out for a couple of hours, watch the sunrise and it'll be something."

You lift your head, eyes lit up. "Is this our escape?"

"We gotta come back, though."

You frown but the offer remains enticing. It's better than nothing.

"Okay, deal." You nod, holding out your pinkie finger. Rafe scoffs at your gesture, but nonetheless, returns it. "Don't look so glum. You get to hang out with me."

"You do realize we have about three hours of sleep?"

You glance at the clock on his dashboard. He's right. But, you don't want to hold it off till another day. "I can go by myself. Just give me the keys for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes, as if he would even consider that suggestion, and shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"Aren't you afraid you won't get your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up and get in the house."

You laugh and hop out of his truck. When you enter through his bedroom, you throw your bag to a random corner and stroll over to his closet in search for one of Rafe's tees to sleep in.

When you settle on something, you strip out of your clothes—in the middle of his bedroom, just as Rafe enters—and exchange it for his shirt. He had little regard for your act, having grown accustomed to you changing in front of him and vice versa.

All Rafe does is pull off his own shirt, because he likes to sleep naked, and turns back to you. Unlike him, you're never going to get used to seeing him naked—the defined muscles of his chest, the toned planes of his abs, all those hours spent at the gym are clearly not wasted.

You flush, realizing you're ogling him longer than appropriate, and lift your gaze to find a smirk curving his lips. "Oh, shut it," you push his shoulders, causing him to laugh. He takes the opportunity to capture your hand, pulling the both of you onto his mattress, and you yelp.

Rafe changes your position so you're facing him, an arm sprawls over your waist, and there's about a couple of inches of space between the two of you. Here, in the low streams of the moonlight glistening through the veiled curtains and the faint aroma of his cologne on his pillows, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You say nothing. He says nothing, You stare into his cerulean eyes, knowing all this little emotions you're feeling all over—the light pricks on your skin where he touches you, the lapse in your breathing from how attentive he is, and the sharp incline of your heart rate pulsing through your veins—is because of him.

His voice is low when he says, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

You couldn't find it in you to answer. You just nod.

Rafe swallows hard, not having the ability to string together the next sentence. Instead, all he does is nod along, leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead, before falling asleep.

The next morning, just an hour before the sunrise, Rafe and you head to the ports to board the Druthers. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, you were giddily and strumming with high energy. He holds out his hand to guide you up the stairs, afraid your enthusiasm would cause you to miss a step.

When the Druthers is far enough from shore, it pulls to a halt, gently bobbing on the ocean waves of the tame morning. You settle on the deck and Rafe slides into the spot next to you. Here, you have the perfect view of the sun slowly rising from the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of red, orange and yellow.

You're grinning. You're feeling much better, especially after your melodramatic episode. Your head rests on Rafe's chest, observing the skyline until the sun reaches its acme, while he watches you. Something about you, happy, content, and with him brings a warmth no one can replicate.

"We have to go swimming." You announce suddenly, twisting your head to look at him with excitement bubbling on your features, doe eyes pleading with a want.

His expression is flat, trying to contain his emotions. "It's seven in the morning."

"So? When has that stopped me before?"

"It's freezing cold."

"That's your excuse for everything." You scoff, before tilting your head in a challenge. "Are you scared of a little water, Rafe Cameron?"

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something about the way you talk to him, he would never allow from anyone else. It's just you. He had to look away, pretending to shake his head from the idea but knowing, at the end, he lost.

With a long dip into the ocean, you swim around the Druthers with light splashes thrown in his face, causing Rafe to chase after you for your little stunt. When the pair of you returned to the boat, dripping wet on the floor deck, laughter exchanging at the break of dawn.

"You cheated!" You accuse, grinning.

"I did not. You're just slow."

When you change out of your bikini and Rafe changes out of his swim trunks, you return to the cockpit where Rafe dons a new attire: khaki pants, a polo shirt, and his backward baseball cap. The air shifts, a more solemn expression on his face.

"You had enough now, wildflower?" He tips his head to your direction, as you approach him. "Ready to return back to the real world?"

You groan. "What's so special about that place?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he declares, "but I have a couple of errands I have to run today. I have to get back, but I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"Hm." You consider your satisfaction. Standing before Rafe, you watch as his lips curl in amusement at the way you're mauling through the finer details. The itinerary of your day and whether it was enough. When your eyes lock with his, you offer him a sweet smile, albeit a little reluctant.

"What?"

You don't answer him, reaching for his hat and taking it off his head, before plopping it over your own as a keepsake souvenir. "Now, I am."

—

After spending your afternoon with Topper and Kelce at the Country Club, distracting them from their tee time with your commentary about their swings, Rafe finally arrives to join you.

But it's different.

When Rafe said he had a couple of errands to run, you didn't ask for their specifics. He just said he'll join you later and you were content with that assumption.

You should've prepared yourself.

Rafe got a new haircut; a buzz that took away his dirty blond locks and a clean fade on the sides. For some reason, it makes your heart accelerate. Your breath shortens. Rafe has always been attractive before but now, you couldn't even look at him.

When he tries to approach you in greeting, you dip out of the way and return to Topper and Kelce. However, in the middle of your path, you nearly tripped over some hazardously-abandoned golf club one of the boys threw out, but Rafe caught you. A hand on your elbow, his brows drawn together in concern.

"You good?" He asks. You can't help but let your eyes stray up to his hairline, finding it voided of the curtain bangs it previously occupies and the strands you like to mess with. Your gaze instantly drops to the ground.

"I'm–I'm fine." You stutter, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassing fact that you couldn't even make a clean getaway. Rafe helps you find your balance and you slip out of his grasp as you excuse yourself back to the other Kooks.

That's how the rest of the evening went. Through another round of golf and a dinner at the restaurant inside the Country Club, you try to ignore Rafe to the best of your abilities. It was a difficult task but a necessary one. Your emotions were fuzzy and harder to control. You couldn't even look at your best friend without flushing or revealing everything on your face.

You thought you could wait it out till you get home.

"Come on, wildflower." Rafe grabs your wrist, just as you're about to join Topper in his car, and you turn to face his contempt expression. Annoyance written over his features. "I'm driving you home."

"No, it's fine. Top said he can give me a ride—"

"We live nearby each other. There's no point for Top to do all that. Right?" Rafe cuts a hard look to the blond in the driver seat, to whom easily backs off with two hands raised in surrender. Coward. Rafe turns back to you. "Let's go."

You end up in the passenger seat of his truck. On the long drive back to Figure Eight, you were uncharacteristically quiet. Often, you would fidget with the stereo, messing with Rafe's presets on country and rap stations, to which he always has to swat your hands away. Today, you sat obediently in your seat, hands tucked between your thighs, looking anywhere but Rafe.

"You're not going to listen to music?" He asks, trying to cut the silence. You shake your head.

"I'm not feeling it."

You try to count the seconds. You try to distract yourself by looking out the window and listening to the chirps of crickets coming out, but all you can focus on is the sound of yours and Rafe's breathing. The acute awareness of something in the air. The amount of space between the two of you. The way something deep in you changed about him.

It isn't his fault. Whatsoever. It's all yours. All those times spent at Tannyhill, stealing his shirts to wear to sleep, cuddling up in his bed after sneaking out of your estate, running around with Rafe doing god-knows-what. You developed something for him. A crush. An inkling.

You always told yourself you could control it. It's natural for best friends to like each other at one point. It'll fade away eventually.

But, unfortunately for you, that isn't the case. it got worse. It grew more desperate. With each inching territory into something else means a larger consequence it can have on your friendship.

You can't lose him.

"Hey." Rafe calls out, his voice softens considerably from the aggression he used with Topper a while back. You don't turn to face him, despite that being his sole objective, and you respond back with a light hum. "Am I driving you home or Tannyhill?"

To you, those are the same things. Home is where Tannyhill is, where Rafe is. But, you knew what he was referring to.

"Tannyhill." You answer in a chipped tone. "I forgot my bag."

"Of course, you did." He teases, trying to break the tension with some lightheartedness. It doesn't work. You don't answer, too lost in resisting the urge to look at him.

Rafe sighs when you refuse to acknowledge him and turns back to the road. That's when you spare a glance from the corner of your peripheral; just a small peek.

And there he is: Rafe with the fresh shave that is such a strange yet welcomed sight. It brings out a clearer definition of his handsome features, the planes of his sharp profile, the cut of his jawline and the wrinkles around his eyes you always adore. It's too much for you.

You can't let him know that.

He's your best friend.

When he reaches Tannyhill, you leap out of the moving vehicle and race up the porch. You take the hidden key from under the mat and turn the lock, slipping into the familiar foyer and up the large stairwell.

Racing against an internal clock, once you enter the bedroom, you search for your bag, but you can't seem to pinpoint its location. When you manage to miraculously find it underneath the covers, you throw it over your shoulders and sprint to the exit.

Only for Rafe to block it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, his brows furrowed together as he examines you. You quickly drop your gaze to the ground, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the marble.

"I just..." You stammer for an excuse. "I just got to get home."

"Why? You hate your house."

"I don't hate it." You lie. The conversation tips into an awkward tension—the exact thing you were trying to avoid. You think you need to spend a day, or two, or a whole week, to collect yourself and force yourself back to normal. Back to when you can look at him without revealing everything on your face.

"God, what is it? You don't like it?" Rafe laughs with an ounce of nervousness and the sound takes you back. You look up, finding him running a hand over his buzzcut. "It's my hair, isn't it?"

He didn't know why he decided to buzz it off. He just did. He didn't care if his father didn't approve or if Wheezie would make fun of him for the sudden change in appearance. That didn't matter to him.

But your opinions did.

"What?" Your lips part. Were you that obvious? "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. This entire evening, you've barely looked at me."

He's right.

"I was busy."

"Playing golf with Top? You hate that shit." He retorts, dropping his hand to his side, clenching them into whiten knuckles. "And when we were at the restaurant. You were sitting with Kelce. Why the fuck were you sitting with him instead of me?"

You swallow hard. Your throat is tightening with all the words you can't reveal.

"Maybe I just want to change it up. I am friends with them too—"

"But you're my friend first."

You scoff. "Possessive much?"

"Very." He answers nonchalantly. Your heart skips a beat. He can't say that; it's not fair. "And knowing you for so long, I know what you're telling me is complete and total bullshit."

His hand slides under your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his, and you can't help but feel your walls crumbling. You're afraid. You're so afraid.

"Come on, wildflower." He murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. "Tell me the truth."

You have always been able to do that. In ways. When Rafe asks something of you, you're always able to tell him straight. It's one of the qualities he likes about you. Now is the first time you're going against your nature. Because it's too close, too real, that it can change everything.

Your throat grows dry and you lick your bottom lip, causing Rafe to glance down.

"I..." You begin, trying to string together a coherent sentence that won't damage everything. He raises a brow, waiting. "Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you."

You close your eyes after the confession. Your heart is in his hands.

All the air in the room stills, as if the air conditioner turns off and you're all left with a tense, palpable silence. You can't bear it. At least, at your house, you can blast your speakers on full-volume to create some level of noise and block it out. Here, all you can hear is the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"Say something." You urge.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you too."

Your heart drops. You think he doesn't understand. He thinks you can't stand him physically, especially after his haircut, and this is a similar sentiment shared by him about you.

He doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh."

You open your eyes, trying hard not to cry. You can feel them swelling with hot tears but you blink fast, trying to not let Rafe see.

He immediately recognizes the look, drawing back his hand. That’s not what he meant. "Don't cry."

You're not doing a good job at hiding anything today. "No, it's okay," you say with a crack voice, "you don't have to—"

"No, fuck," he swears, "what I mean is that, sometimes, when you look at me, I just—" He couldn't explain himself, not in time, not in the way he wants, that he covers your eyes, flooding your vision with darkness and heightening every other sense.

Rafe releases a deep exhale, collecting himself. "Those eyes..." He mumbles, the resonance of his voice so close, it's as if he's right beside you. You feel his breathing fanning against the curve of your neck, raising goosebumps. "They drive me fucking insane."

Then, he kisses your neck.

The act jolts you by surprise.

"Everything about you drives me insane." He confesses against your heated skin, the vibration of his words sending straight tingles through your body. "I can't go a day without thinking about you. About wanting you."

Not just as a best friend, but as a whole. Everything about you he needs. In his life; forever. Sometimes, he can't believe you exist.

You're overwhelmed with all these new emotions. Your heart is swelling. "Rafe..."

"You're my best friend, right?" He muses, delivering kisses up the column of your throat to the underside of your jaw, and making his way closer to your lips. "But you're also the only one for me."

Before he gets to your mouth, you grab his wrist, the one holding you blindfolded. He stops in place—afraid this is your time to reject him.

"Rafe." You breathe out. "Can I see you?"

He slowly removes his hand, allowing your vision to flood back with his presence. This time, the sight of Rafe doesn't push you into overdrive. There's a new sense of clarity and calm, an elated comfort you don't share with anyone else.

You take your time drinking him in. From his face, to his lips, to the fresh haircut you're feeling entirely too grateful for. You do it all without fear.

"What?" He demands, his insecurities skyrocketing through the roof. "Don't like it?"

"I love you."

His heart lunges in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming from your lips. When it completely registers that this is not some sweet, wet dream he's going to wake up from, his hands reach forward to cup either side of your face and he finally kisses you.

His force pushes you back against his bed and you land on the mattress with a soft thump. You laugh into his mouth and Rafe grins against your lips.

"Eager, much?"

"I wanted to hear you say that for so long." He admits, his hand travels down your waist to grab your hips and pull you closer. Rafe deepens the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you're making, until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

You can't believe this is happening.

"I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Yeah? You wanna know what else I'm good at?"

Your eyes drop to his pants, seeing the subtle outline of his erection straining against his zipper, and he chuckles lowly. "You want it tonight?"

You nod timidly. Your eyes dropping to your lap again, but this time, Rafe doesn't allow you to do such things.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "Don't do that, baby. You know how I feel about you getting shy from asking what you want. Use your words."

The new nickname is making you lightheaded. You can't believe this is real. "I want you, Rafe."

Sweetest goddamn words he ever heard.

He tips his head to your clothes. "Take it off."

"You first."

He laughs at your competitiveness, always trying to challenge him, but he doesn't resist. He pushes himself off the mattress, pulling off his shirt and removing his pants. All that is left is his boxer-briefs, which reveals the outline of his bulge. "Your turn."

You take off your shirt and your shorts and decide, last minute, to go the extra mile and unclasp your bra too. It falls over your shoulders and you throw it out onto the floor.

Rafe takes his time, staring at your tits. He has seen you naked before, the consequence of your intimate relationship that pushes the boundaries into blurred lines and the inevitable collision of morning showers in his ensuite and drunken exchanges after parties.

But this time, it's different. This time, it's a sight that's intentional—just for him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

You gawk at him, the words send a thrill down your spine. "Do you know how long I waited for this?" You gesture back to him, at his naked frame, and he smirks.

"You got an eyeful last night."

"Oh, shut up," you use your leg to kick him, but Rafe catches your ankle in the process. Your eyes widen as he uses the opportunity to spread your legs apart, sinking between your thighs. His gaze finds your soaked panties.

His thumb traces across your panties, drawing out your wetness against the fabric and collecting your arousal. You whimper, aching into his touch.

"Rafe, please." You beg. His eyes lifts to find yours in a self-satisfied grin. He loves knowing you're this desperate for him, only him, that his fingers hook under the band of your panties.

"Lift your hips for me." He commands and you obey. He pulls off your panties and hauls you to the ledge of his bed. With that, his fingers caress your wet slit, drawing out a low moan from you. "Fuck."

He has imagined that sound a thousand times over, but it's incomparable to the real thing. To know you're feeling this way because of him. He feels himself growing harder, straining against the thin fabric and begging to be inside of you.

But he wants to pleasure you first.

Rafe lowers himself and covers your clit with his mouth. He proceeds to suck, his fingers grazing your entrance before plunging a thick digit inside.

You tip your head against the mattress, reveling in the feel of his tongue against your swollen nub, the way he thrusts into you with a steady pace and the additive finger. Your legs drape over his shoulders, closing him in.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet," Rafe mumbles against you, the vibration of his words stirring something inside of you. "I can't believe I haven't been tasting you every single fucking night."

You draw out with a breathy moan, feeling yourself clench at his words. "We have all the time now."

"I bet I can make you come on my face fast, though."

You don't get a chance to entertain the response before Rafe sucks harder, pumping inside of you with a determined speed that causes you to arch off the mattress and claw at his sheets.

"Shit," you whimper, squeezing your thighs together at the intense pleasure, forcing Rafe to use his free hand to push your legs apart. You feel your climax rapidly approaching. "Oh, god, oh, god."

You come on his face, as promised, and you slump back against the bed, catching your breath. Rafe removes his hand from your cunt, the emptiness causes a little whine.

"What?" He looks at you.

"Nothing," you mumble, "I just want you inside me."

He laughs. "God, you're needy," he teases, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, you'll get it soon."

He goes to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Just as he's about to tear it open, he glances down at you, extending the small square. "Want to do it?"

You nod, pushing yourself upright and taking it from his hands. You rip it open, as Rafe removes his boxers, and his cock springs free, red and swollen with a bit of precum. You smile, glancing up at him with your doe eyes. "Is that because of me?"

"Shut up."

You giggle, rolling the latex over his length, taking your time to admire his size. He's big and perfect, the tip of his cock dripping with his precum that you almost wish you could take him inside your mouth instead. However, despite the recent orgasm, your body wants him inside.

"Lay back." He commands thickly. "Spread your legs."

You do as he says, throbbing from the control he has in the room. Rafe sinks his knees into his mattress, approaching you as he pushes your thighs apart and lines his tip against your entrance, causing your breath to shorten.

"Come on, wildflower, breathe with me."

You nod shakily, closing your eyes for a moment to inhale a calming breath before he plunges deep inside you, filling you to the hilt. A gasp escapes you, his girth stretching you out, but it soon fades into a pleasure unlike any others.

"God, you feel good," he mumbles, lowering himself to your mouth and capturing your lips into a hot kiss. Your hand drapes over his shoulders as he begins to thrust inside of you. "Too fucking good."

You feel perfect. All of this is too perfect. The way you press against him, your fingernails scraping his back, the way your pussy grips him with the ideal amount of pressure, and the way your lips sync with his as if you were made for him.

The air fills with your whimpers and mewls, increasing in volume with each thrusts that enters and leaves you, while Rafe is heaving in breathy grunts and moans. He pushes your legs back, forcing the new position to grant him deeper access into your sweet cunt.

He's hitting new spots you didn't know were possible. It's making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cries coming out with desperate pleas, that he had to cover your mouth with his to swallow all the noises.

When you feel yourself reaching a familiar high, the buzz tingling between your legs, you grip his shoulders tight. Rafe feels your walls fluttering around him, and he quickened his pace, sweat breaking across his forehead.

Your breath is heavy, your heart is racing, and as you ascend into your peak, you moan out Rafe's name with such euphoric satisfaction, he comes with you, emptying into the condom.

When he finishes, he falls into the space next to you. His breathing is rough, trying to catch his own breath, that you can't help but turn your gaze to his, examining him under this new light.

Rafe catches you staring, the way your eyes lift to his hairline, and he reassures with a soft brush against your jaw. "It'll grow back, I promise."

"it's not that." You declare, dropping your gaze down to his face. You still can't believe the embarrassment you still feel by how attractive he is. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Why else would I hide from you?"

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer to him until you're skin-to-skin, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"You couldn't tell me the whole time?" He mumbles, kissing your nose. You giggle.

"If I did, we wouldn't be here having sex."

He takes a moment to consider your words, before finding some merit in them. "Fair." He declares, just as his eyes find yours again. This time, he can look at you, knowing you're his. "I guess next time I get a new haircut, I can propose, huh?"

Your heart drops. Your smile fades from surprise. "What?"

He laughs at your expression. "You think I'm letting you go after this? It's either us or nothing."

Maybe reality isn’t too bad.

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