Touch Starved Rafe Getting The Hug Hes So Desperately Needed All His Life

touch starved rafe getting the hug he’s so desperately needed all his life <3 a rafe cameron x reader blurb <3 inspired by this bot by the one and only @pearlzier ! <3 cw: minimal swearing, mentions of blood, rafe being anxious, hurt/comfort, intentional use of lower case

“oh man…” rafe breathes out, his steps unstable with blood covering his hands and tear stains on his face as he practically stumbles inside your room.

“I’m… I’m so fucked man… so so fucked…” he mumbles, his words rushed and frantic. you rush to your feet after getting up from the bed, watching how he nervously paces in your room, his fingers slipping into his curtain bangs and pulling on the roots aggressively.

“somethin’s… somethin’s seriously wrong with me and…” he hiccups, his gaze fixed on the floor of your room as he continues to pace, and you watch him with bated breath, your hand gripping on the edge of your bed to keep yourself supported as you watched him with wide, nervous eyes, “and I don’t know what to fuckin’ do…”

you let out a shaky breath, a breath only audible to your ears as you continue to watch his nervous pacing. in your time of knowing rafe, you’ve never seen him so… fidget-y. you can see how he keeps on reaching for his nails to chew on them, his other hand nervously rolling a certain patch of the hem of his shirt over and over again between his index finger and his thumb.

almost suddenly, he quits with the pacing. he stands there still in the middle of your room, his back towards you. he quits with the fidgeting too, his both hands now resting on his sides, the blood on his knuckles now starting to dry up, and you can see how subtly he is flexing his fingers.

a moment of silence passes over you two. you take in a deep breath and it lodges in your throat as you start to take small, silent steps to him. you stand behind him, so close that with a soft nudge to the back of your head, your nose will press into his back. slowly, you bring your hand up, and as if he’s the most delicate porcelain doll on this planet, you place your hand on his back.

his back immediately flexes, and you hear him take a sharp intake of breath. your hand doesn’t move, your fingertips just gently pressing into the cotton of his shirt. a moment passes over you two in complete silence, and when rafe doesn’t say anything to you, you take it as a small sign and press your fingers firmer into his back.

you start to softly glide your fingertips over his back in an up and down periodic motion, and you hear rafe letting out a strangled exhale. your eyes flicker over his shoulders and you see them relax ever so subtly, the tense posture of them slowly withering away.

you continue with the soft motions of your fingers and rest your forehead against his shoulder blade, taking in a deep breath. your other hand curls around his fingers and you ever so carefully intertwine your fingers with his, not caring if any blood from his hand gets onto yours.

“rafe…” you whisper into the still air of your room. your voice reverberates in rafe’s ears, and he lets out a soft hum.

“turn around please…” you murmur, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. he obliges, slowly turning around and you lift your head up from his shoulder blade. he looks in your eyes through his own bloodshot ones, and at that moment you know you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than tears in rafe’s eyes.

you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a warm embrace. for the first few seconds, rafe is stiff. really stiff. it’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do. but you know you’re supposed to give it time. you gave it time and he was okay with you softly rubbing his back, he’s going to be okay with this too.

and okay he is.

his arms wrap around your waist and his face buries into your neck. his grip tightens, as if he’s afraid he’ll let go and you will disappear into thin air. he lets out deep, shaky exhales against the skin of your neck, as if trying so desperately hard to keep himself in control.

“i’m here for you…” you whisper softly, your fingers playing gently with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

those words… those simple words seem to set off something in him nothing ever has.

tears start streaming down his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t let them restrict in any way possible. he lets the tears fall, years and years of anxiety, the pain of not being enough, the tiredness of working too hard to prove himself all falling down to this exact moment; the moment where he lets his walls crumble down.

sobs erupt out from his dry throat and he slowly slides down on his knees in front of you, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips as he nuzzles his face into your stomach, crying his eyes out into the fabric of your shirt.

you feel your heart ache at the sight, him hanging onto you so desperately, and you try to comfort him by threading your fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

it’s as if you can see the remains of his crumbled walls around his knees. you can see how he’s completely let himself go, how he’s letting his most vulnerable state come out, how he’s trusting you deeply.

now it’s up to you and only you to help him clear the rubble of the old walls and build new ones, ones which allow him to trust and be trusted, ones which allow him to love and be loved, ones which allow him to appreciate and be appreciated.

— —

I’m trying my hardest to get back into a proper writing flow, so for now, I hope you enjoy this blurb <3 this is something I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time 💗

LOST BOY

the water rushes over your feet, waves picking up a little.

you feel a splash on your ankle but don't move—the silence and moonlight on the dock is much preferable to the party on the boat occurring about fifty feet away.

you had to get out before you lost the last of your sanity, finding it slowly slipping away as your friends got drunker and the friends-of-friends got more unbearable. so, your solution was a few minutes of peace on the dock.

you look up and around at the other empty boats filling the marina. some are recognizable—like the lavish yachts of filthy rich parents. others, not so much, like the one docked right next to you.

you take it in, a fancy boat by anyone's standards, white surface almost glowing in the moonlight. it looked empty, and you're glad for it, because you're too comfortable to move and your feet are wet.

you keep staring, craning your neck and tilting your head to see if there's any name, or any indication of who it belongs to, when you see it. in pretty dark script, so faint you have to squint to make it out.

lost boy

"oh," you say, with the word coming out before you can think about it. "how sad."

and it is sad—makes you sad just to think about it, though you're not too sure why. all the other boats have silly names, names in ode to their owners or the weather or inside jokes no one else will ever understand.

this feels different, you think, staring at the boat you don't recognize and the name that's eliciting a reaction from you. your mind wanders, like always—who is the boy and why is he lost—when a sound from behind you snaps you out of it.

"you say somethin'?" rafe asks, and the voice sounds so close that you whip your head around to stare behind you, a little alarmed.

"oh, i-no. no, sorry. is this your boat? i'll move-"

"s'okay, kid."

you calm down a little realizing it's just rafe—sarah's older brother. though you don't talk to her anymore and haven't seen him in a while, you recognize him, shoulders sinking with a little relief that it's not some drunk idiot's boat you're next to. it must be rafe's.

he walks up to the stern but doesn't get on, rather looking down at you. you're sure you look dumb—party dress a little disheveled, your heels resting next to you while you're still ankle-deep in the water. you're not drunk but you're not sober either, and it's good that you're not, because you have the ability to look back up at rafe.

the eye contact goes on for a bit. caving, you look away back out at water and then the party boat across the dock.

"are you coming from the party too?" you don't think he is, you're sure you would have seen him. at the minimum, would have heard about it with the way the other girls chase after him. you say it just because you want to say something, keep the conversation going.

"nah, no. just came to get something." you're looking at your feet, but he's looking at you. "what was that you said? earlier?"

"nothing," you say, after a brief pause. you don't want to tell him you think his boat has a sad name—the last thing you want is to make him feel bad or try to explain your thinking process, both of which might haunt you.

before you can keep thinking about it, rafe comes and takes a seat next to you on the pier. you laugh, watching him take off his shoes so his feet can join yours in the water. the confidence—or at least, some courage disguised under the alcohol, rushes back.

"i said it was sad." you turn to look at rafe, a little surprised when he's already looking your way. "your-your boat's name. it made me sad."

"yeah?" you nod, trying your hardest to keep the eye contact. "and why's that, kid?"

"i don't know. just did. it sounds lonely, doesn't it?"

"yeah. maybe." you finally tear your eyes away, staring up at the moon. it feels odd to be sitting here having this conversation with someone you hardly know. stupidly, you think it feels intimate.

"are you lonely, rafe?" you ask it to the sky, wondering if you're prepared for the answer. he's silent for a while, and you wonder if you should have just stayed quiet.

"i don't know. guess so."

"fitting name then." you pause, looking at him again. your breath catches for a moment—he looks different suddenly, even more handsome than a few minutes ago, you think stupidly.

"what about you, kid? you lonely?" you nod at him again, smiling softly.

"but i still think you should change the name. there's no use in being lonely," you say, not sure where exactly you're getting the words from. "it's the one thing you can change."

"yeah, i think you're right."

you stay like that for a few moments, until someone at the end of the dock gets your attention, yelling your name. your friends call you back, and you realize you've been here for a while, trying to shake the water from your feet before bringing them back to the dock.

you don't say anything, but then you don't have to, with rafe talking the moment you try to get up. he stands, offering you a hand to get up and then picking up your heels, handing them to your by the straps. you accept them with another smile.

"well, i'll see you around."

"yeah." i hope so. "bye, rafe." you take a few steps away, hesitating again before you're too far. turning back, you see he's still looking at you walk away. "let me know. we could be lonely together."

you hear him laugh, scattering back to your friends. that night you go home thinking about rafe and the sad name and how you felt better in thirty minutes with him than two hours in party with all your friends.

a couple days later you end up back at the marina, walking around in the morning light trying to find where you had been sitting with rafe. you look around again, trying to find the lost boy but not succeeding, until you finally recognize the boat, though it has a different name painted on now, in pretty loopy letters replacing the name you had thought was so sad.

your name.

rafe cameron deserved soft love.

soft love meant peppering kisses on his face, and grazing his bangs out of his face, sometimes telling him how luck you were that he was here with you.

soft love meant getting him his favorite snacks, and letting him choose the movie. letting him into your heart, and cuddling up to him, as you slobbered all over his sweatshirt, his rough hands coddling your small body.

soft love. meant laughing at him, teasing him so much until that grumpy look on his face disappeared, and all that was left was a sparkle that you wanted to store in your ribcage before it all went away.

soft love meant wearing a little necklace that had a 'r,' on it, and letting your manicured hand touch upon it, and letting him kiss you so hard that you saw stars, telling him, swearing to him that you were all his.

soft love was telling rafe that he was your favorite, even as he told you to shut up at night, you would continue to whisper sweet things into his ear. his lean body would be soft in yours, as if the compliments did have an effect.

soft love meant making origami for him, little paper cranes that he would carry around everywhere he went. rafe's truck had a pink adorned crane, and stuffing his office with so many cranes that was the only thing he saw.

soft love meant letting him kiss the creases on your fingers after they were so sore from making the origami. it was pouting, and asking him to kiss away all of your paper cuts. it meant giggling as very serious tough rafe cameron complied to your every wish.

soft love meant talking to him in his worst, when his hands shook and he could barely hold himself together, his words slurring, and his body leaning into yours. it meant wiping away his tears, and telling him he was allowed to cry.

soft love meant you loved him through the bad and good. it meant letting him shatter in your hands, as you told him everything was going to be okay.

soft love meant buying him flowers, even as he told you to quit it. 'i'm a man, that's what men do,' and letting him know that he deserved flowers no matter the day, and that although he didn't agree-he was getting them.

soft love meant blabbering to him at night, as he listened to your yapping, your soft body molded into his as if that was the only way it was supposed to be. he was the thorn in your side, and your sun in the sky.

soft love meant bringing him lunch when he forgot, knowing that he was hungry while you danced up in a sundress, and telling him that no matter the time, the day, you would never forget him.

soft love was what rafe cameron deserved.

You were watching Daryl across the fire, enjoying the fish the two of you had caught only a couple hours before. You felt something bursting up within you. Night had fallen and with it your level of anxiety rose. Past happenings surged forward in your mind. The darkness seemed to move closer.

“Hmm?” Daryl hummed, noticing perhaps a shadow coming over your features.

You licked your lips and paused thoughtfully. “I was just thinking… how is it you’re never scared?”

Daryl gulped and shook his head. “Who says I ain’t?”

You considered this for a moment. “But you always seem so fearless.”

“Seem and are are two different things,” he drawled. “I ain’t fearless. But ’m more afraid of somethin’ bad happenin’ to—to somebody I care ‘bout,” he said, catching himself before he’d simply said “you.”

Prompt: “How is it you’re never scared?”

Rick was at the wheel, Aaron in the front passenger seat, and you found yourself sitting in the back next to a concerned Daryl. He kept glancing sideways at you as if he was expecting you to pass out again.

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Just exhausted now. Really,” you said in an undertone.

He looked skeptical. “Yer pretty beat up… we’ll have Denise look ya over when we get back.”

You couldn’t help yawning and you scooted over closer to him in the back seat and rested your head on his shoulder. Your eyes closed.

Daryl found himself frozen. “I ain’t a damn pillow, ya know,” he drawled softly in your ear, but you could hear a smile in his voice, and he didn’t move an inch.

“Mmm,” you sighed, settling in more securely against him. “Sure you are…”

“Well, if it helps ya get some rest, I guess I can allow it for a little while.” There was a beat of silence. “Ya scared me, ya know…”

Your eyes opened and you glanced up at him, your cheek still resting against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t yer fault. Just—I dun want anything to happen to ya.”

You looped your arm through his and closed your eyes again. “It won’t. Not with you around.”

Prompt: “I’m not a damn pillow.” / “Mmm, sure you are.”

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."