rafe really doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. especially since you’re complete opposites.

where he’s a walking red flag kook that’s always looking down on pogues and a wild party boy with a player reputation, you’re a pogue, and the embodiment of sunshine. innocent and sweet.

and not even his type.

despite hating pogues, though, and not being his type either, you’re an exception.

you’ve been the exception. even while being sarah’s best friend.

but, where to start, right? it’s complicated.

he loves you more than anything, but he can’t ignore his urges to kill — the power he gets from it is just something he can’t resist.

he can’t stop now.

and taking out lowlife pogues? yeah, he can’t stop.

but, the problem is, you don’t know. even with the fact that you literally have an apartment together and are in such a strong long-term relationship.

i guess he’s good at keeping you clueless. and it doesn’t help that you turn into a puddle of need and clinginess when he does anything — if he kisses you or touches you, or if he takes care of you when you’re having a shitty night or when you’re sick.

he’d do anything for you, which is why you’re an exception to his killing — he’d never harm you or let anyone else hurt you.

tonight’s just one of those nights where you’re completely unaware of his activities as he comes home from a rough night — you think it’s from a party, but really, it’s from stalking his latest victim and planning the kill.

first thing he does when he comes in is make his way to your shared bedroom.

the second he’s in the dark room, seeing you on your phone — of course, because that means you can’t get to damn sleep — he lets out a low chuckle and gets into bed with you.

he grabs the phone out of your phone easily and tosses it onto the nightstand, before his arms are immediately wrapping around you.

“how’s my sweet girl?” he murmurs softly, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek, immediately turning soft, rather than rough and grumpy, like he is with everyone else.