The second you showed up at his house, sobbing into his chest, a complete blubbering mess, Rafe knew it had something to do with your father.

Oh, how he despised your father. Always talking down to you and treating you as if you were never worthy, never enough. Fuck does he know about what you’re worth? The fucker never put in the time to know you. But Rafe knows you, knows exactly how much your worth, so he can fill that void that your father left in you. And he will, gladly, whenever you need.

He’d managed to sneak you past his parents and Sarah and Wheezie’s room without getting caught, and now you were sat in Rafe’s lap, sobbing into his chest as he runs a hand through your hair and tries to coax out a reason for the late night ’i need you’ text.

“Come on, baby,” He coos, rubbing your back, “Just tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart. I’ll make it better f’you.”