Hbd - Tumblr Posts
Another sexy man's birthday
This specific pic of Jinyoung makes me feral
1994.09.22
Again and Again
pairing - est!relationship jun x reader genre - fluff w a bit of angst word count - 358 warnings - just reader being exhausted / workplace problems synopsis - It's the small things he does. a/n - hbd to my pookie wookie!!!! my dearest darling <3
You and Jun are lying on the couch, you don't really pay attention to the show that is currently playing on the tv. Jun doesn't too, he never does because he's too busy looking at you. And its when you meet his eyes that he tries to not-so-subtly direct his gaze back to the TV screen. You smile at his antics.
After a few hours, you end up subconsciously-ing tracing random figures into his bicep and he doesn't pay that much mind until he does.
"Honey you just traced "help" onto my arm," he jokes only to be met with your unfocused expression. Your clearly thinking about something, something that is distracting you from him.
"Oh? It's nothing..." you snap back into reality before your mind can wander again.
"You sure? You can always tell me anything." He questions genuinely trying to prod at your problem without being too pushy. He knew that you tended to close yourself off whenever problems arised.
"I.. it's just, work has been so hard junnie." You complain letting out a defeated sigh. It's in that sigh that he hears your pure unfiltered exhaustion, you almost fooled him with how well you were hiding it these past weeks.
He looks at you with a genuine expression. "Mind telling me what happened during work?"
"It's my boss, he's asking me to do unpaid over time. Company's low on staff or some-" You mumble before he shushes you, a finger now resting on your lips.
"Did you try talking to him about how unfair it is? I mean it's his fault for not having enough money to hire more people," He begins slowly but he stops after seeing your tired expression.
"Okay okay, I'll talk to your boss about it, is that better?" He suggests before you shut him down instantly with an almost-aggressive head shake.
"Fine fine, I'll write you an email for you to send to him. No physical contact, is that okay?" He confirms with you, before you give him a hesitant nod of your head.
It's that small action that makes you fall in love with your boyfriend again and again.
ADDICSVT 2024
Him.
pairing - mafia au! hoshi x reader genre - angst angst angst angst word count - wip warnings - blood, murder, guns, killing, death synopsis - "I trusted you. You shouldn't have." a/n - SHIBALLLL 😈😈 hbd to this man 😭😭🙏🙏
"Agent y/n."
"Agent kwon."
"It was nice working with you." He says and gives you a smug smirk. Your confused, you just finished a mission and he began to act so weird. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your chest, blood starts to pour out staining the cement crimson. You immediately fall to your knees, only to be met up from above with his sadistic smile.
"W-what" Is all that leaves your lips. You feel shocked, no, more than shocked. He.. Your mission partner of 1 year had shot you.
"I thought you would figure out my true intentions with your intellect, but I guess I'm wrong." He smirks bending to your level as you shoot him a venomous stare. He had.. betrayed you.
"All those missions meant nothing to you? All those politicians we killed together?" You spit out, hot blood rushing through you, your eyes brimming with burning tears. A knot grows in your throat, making it impossible for you to express the extent of his betrayal.
"I never thought you were the one for sappy bullshit." He remarks and you want to slap him hard. An unfiltered rage, a rage that leads one to murder. But you can't, the bleeding doesn't stop it further leads you to your demise.
"I.. I trusted you." You muttered, at this point you couldn't control your tears anymore letting them fall, hitting the hard concrete.
"Well, you shouldn't have." He laughed heartlessly before walking away. Leaving you to your inevitable death.
So.. this is how nearing death feels like? You've killed hundreds of people in your lifetime but this is how it feels to be the one getting killed. For the first time your the prey. And.. as your nearing the end of your life, you feel somewhat peaceful as if all the rage dissolved. Your back meets the cold concrete as you sigh, eyes meeting the stars. A cold gust of wind blows and you laugh weakly. You find solace in your ending moments. The moment before you meet your doomed fate.
FLASHBACK
"Why do you keep fighting?" Hoshi your annoying mission partner asked, taking a seat on the unwashed couch in the gym.
"If I don't fight I'm weak." You replied, hands balled into fists as you punched the punching bag for the 30th time.
"That's a basic reason, I thought you were going to say some cool shit." He jokes and you let out a dry laugh.
"Damn you kwon.." You curse him, voice weak and unsteady. The question lingers in your mind, "why do you keep fighting?" You hate to admit it but since he asked, you had been thinking about it. And now when your inches away from deaths cold embrace you find your answer.
Him.
#HBD #생파 #Thx #beautifulNight #Sydney #sydneylife (at Heritage Bar & Restaurant)
#HBD #YEONJIDAY #beauties #Sydney #sydneylife #birthdayparty #heart #하트뿅뿅 (Barangaroo에서)
+ Happy I.N Day (つ✧ω✧)つ🦊🧡🥖🔥✨
Bringing back the world wide shoulders of our World wide handsome
Happiest Birthday to my dear WorldWideHandsome Seokjin
(2023) Come back to BTS and ARMY safe and secure
Happy Sunoo day! 🥳🎉
FUCK YES WAITING FOR THIS W SNACKS N ALL 🗣🗣🍿
hey gorgeous love this series sm every single part has managed to make me cry 😭 just wondering when the next part will be out 💗
hi babe!! aw thank you so much 🥺💘 i will prob be able to post the next part within an hour 🥰
oh….my…..god……😧 gang what help send help this chapter has me feeling the 5 stages of grief.
home before dark (part seven)
pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader
rating mature 18+
summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.
content warnings stalker ex, violence, smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent
» masterlist
· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·
Rafe feels like he’s come undone. The string that just barely keeps him composed has unravelled. There’s no use in trying to tie it back together. Not when you’re holding him like this.
You’re standing in your bathroom as he cries into your shoulder, your breaths intertwined. His knees are weakening and it’s getting harder to hold his weight as he leans on you.
Your arms are loosely encircled around his neck and you collect every bit of strength you have in you to hold him up. You can feel the moisture from his tears dampening the fabric of your shirt, hear the gasps of breath spilling from his mouth. You can’t help but cry with him.
When you slowly glide a hand up the back of Rafe’s head, stroking his hair, he cries harder, his body thrown off center even further after being touched so gently. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you in closer.
Rafe’s chest is burning, his hand still aching from nearly punching the life out of your ex-boyfriend. His legs are giving out and he realizes just how much he’s bearing down on you.
“Shit,” he grumbles, angry at himself for hurting you. “Sorry.” He straightens, pulling back just a bit, your cheeks touching.
“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice sounds just as fragile as the atmosphere between you. You’ve never wanted to take care of someone more than you do right now. “Let’s go to my room.”
You keep all the lights off as you pace upstairs. When you reach your room, Rafe sits on the edge of your bed, sniffling.
You watch his darkened figure angrily swipe at his tears. You settle beside him, your heart stinging, the side of your thigh pressed against his.
“I…” Rafe’s voice is hoarse. His heart is racing. He’s failing at choking down his sobs. “I can’t stop.”
“You don’t have to stop,” you say. You watch him helplessly, eager to do whatever you can to ease his pain, to make him more comfortable.
You wipe one of your own tears away and rest your hand on his shuddering back, feeling how damp the cotton of his shirt is, surely from sweat.
You can’t get how he looked leaning over Ty out of your mind, the way he struck him over and over. When his friends pushed him up against the wall, he looked so angry and lost.
“Are your pajamas in the other room?” you ask.
Rafe nods. You rush away towards the guest room.
He feels completely powerless to his own body. He’s lost every bit of composure he thought he had. He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, sitting in your room, crying this hard in front of you.
He should’ve known being around you long enough would wear him down. His mother may be gone, but the weight of losing her never will be, and every time he looks into your eyes or feels your skin on his, he remembers that he’s carrying that weight everywhere he goes.
When he’s in this state, he takes whatever he can get his hands on to get wasted enough to forget. But he doesn’t have anything to numb his agony.
You return holding Rafe’s sweats and t-shirt and see him hunched over your bed, his head in his hands. You sit next to him again, his clothes bunched up against your chest. His breaths are short and uneven.
“I can help you get changed,” you say, words faltering between your tears. “And I can ramble or I can be quiet or whatever you need to fall asleep.”
Your chest aches even more at the desperation in your own voice. It reminds you of being ten years old, standing at Rafe’s bedroom door, offering to do anything just to carry a piece of his pain for him.
He rejected you then. He’s rejected you a thousand times since. But tonight, he lowers his hands from his face and turns his head just enough to catch your gaze.
“Okay,” he murmurs, throat thick with tears.
He remains sitting as you stand and lean over him to bunch the bottom of his shirt in your hands.
You pull the fabric up over his torso and he lifts his long arms for you. Your eyes are better adjusted to the dark now, allowing you to see the way his chest is rising and falling as he breathes through his cries.
In any other scenario, undressing him like this would feel suggestive, but the intimacy between you is innocent. You’re helping a friend in pain. At least, you hope he considers you a friend now.
The cotton of his pajama shirt is soft between your fingers as you draw it over his head. He finds the strength to pull his arms through the sleeves and then shuffles to unbutton his jeans. You help him take his jeans off and replace them with his sweatpants.
Rafe still doesn’t get why you think he deserves your unconditional kindness. But then he remembers what you said downstairs. You said he’s good. When was the last time someone called him good?
It’s been years since he thought something positive about himself. But maybe you’re right. Maybe whatever good you see in him really is there.
He pushes himself up to his feet to brush his teeth in the bathroom down the hall and you quickly change into your pajamas in the dark and get ready for bed.
When Rafe comes back into your room, his strides are slow and his shoulders are hunched as he settles into your bed.
“Do you need ice for your hand?” you whisper. “Or some water?”
“No,” he responds. He shifts, head resting on your pillow, and swallows hard, never having had a harder time saying what he wants before now. “Just… come to bed.”
It’s jarring. The same man who’s spent years averting his gaze the second you walked into a room, who found the quickest way to end every conversation you tried to start, doesn’t want to be apart from you for even a minute.
You sink into the mattress next to him, bodies turned towards each other. His breaths continue to hitch with his cries. It’s like he’s letting out all the tears that he’s repressed tonight.
You find his hand and stroke it gently, fingers running over his swollen knuckles.
One of the last times someone tried to help Rafe was when the paramedics arrived on the side of the freeway. They were asking him if anything hurts. If he could slowly get out of the car.
The rain was falling from the dark sky in hard, heavy drops and he had to shout for them to hear him. He kept telling them to check on his mom. They told him someone was already with her. He told them they should all be checking up on her and not him because he was fine but she wasn’t breathing.
“What are you thinking?” you ask. After a moment, he answers.
“It never gets easier,” Rafe says, his tone teetering on whimpering. His grief is still eating him alive. It never stopped.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, your tears hot against your cheeks. “Did you… ever get any help? Anyone to talk to?”
“No. At the beginning…” His mind flashes through how much the therapist he saw after it happened reminded him of his mother. Since he was ten, all he’s done is run from every reminder. “No. I couldn’t.”
You inch closer to him, holding his hand tighter, your legs tangling together.
“How about your family?” you ask.
Rafe can’t do this.
“Distract me,” he whispers. “Please distract me.”
You scramble to find something, anything to talk about. You think back to the start of the summer and the hopes you had before your ex started tormenting you both in and out of your relationship.
“I haven’t been off the island as much as I’d like to,” you begin. You press your hand against his chest to feel his heart, gauging if your words are helping. “I was thinking to go into the mainland some more this summer.“
You start to talk about how you’ve daydreamed about seeing what kinds of things the world has to offer across the water.
Rafe shuts his eyes, letting your sweet voice permeate the air, filling him with a quiet warmth like it always does.
You chase away the demons when you speak to him like this. You short-circuit the painful thoughts that rush through his head. You blur the terrifying images he sees. And it’s so much better than any drug he could ever take.
Slowly, you feel the pounding in his chest recede into softer, further apart thumps. His breaths are still sharp, but his sobs aren’t as hard. You comforted him like this when you were kids and it grants you a sense of pride that you can still soothe him.
Minute after minute, Rafe’s crying loses its intensity, and finally, he dozes off with your hand pressed against his sternum.
Your eyes gently flutter shut. The sound of his deep breathing alleviates you after what may have been one of the worst days you’ve ever had. You fall asleep feeling the pulse of a boy who lost his innocence too soon.
Rafe can’t remember the last time he slept so deeply. He drifts into consciousness feeling rested for the first time in ages.
You’re facing him, your hand cupped around his, his knuckles up to your lips as you sleep. He watches you in awe.
At some point in the night, he remembers shuffling awake and feeling your lips press against his sore hand, kissing him and calming him in your dazed state.
Rafe looks at the way your eyelashes curl over your closed eyelids. You were so patient with him, letting him cry as hard and as long as he needed to.
Can he actually do this? Can he have you in his life in a real capacity, instead of just inside this arrangement to keep you safe? Can he let you in while keeping something so painful from you?
You still don’t know the whole of it. He never wants you to. He’s not sure what to do, so he slowly shifts out of your soft bed.
It’s a few minutes past nine when you make your way downstairs. Rafe is sitting in the front room. You had hoped he’d stay in bed with you this time.
“What time are you meeting the lawyer today?” he asks once he sees you.
“Ten.”
“I’m going with you,” he says. He told you he wouldn’t leave your side and he’s not breaking his promise.
You nod, staring at him. It feels like there’s distance between you again. Does he regret last night?
“How are you?” you ask quietly, leaning against the wall.
Rafe’s eyes flit to you. When he sees the sorrow in your expression, he tells you the good instead of the bad.
“Had a good sleep,” he tells you. He looks away again. “Thanks for…”
“Of course,” you say once you realize he won’t finish his sentence. “Any time.”
Rafe rubs his knees, his hands running over the denim of his jeans, remembering how you took them off for him last night. It’s embarrassing to think about how he broke down in front of you.
“I need to go home,” he says, “to shower and get some clean clothes. I’ll come back.”
You watch him leave and you lock the door behind him. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable after everything last night. You try not to let it get to you. But it gets to you. Because it’s Rafe and his effect on you has always been to impossible to avoid.
You arrive at the lawyer’s office in your car with Rafe in the driver’s seat. You asked not to take his bike simply because driving out in the open like that was daunting. Your nerves are sitting heavy in your stomach. It still feels unbelievable that Ty has gone so far that you had to get the law involved.
Rafe asks you if you want him in the office with you. You do.
You settle across the desk of the kind-faced lawyer, your hands clasped tightly together. She tells you how sorry she is about your circumstances and that your court date has been set for a week from today.
She explains the process of getting a permanent protective order and goes through the evidence you have. Rafe looks over at you every so often, his chest pinching from how worried you look.
“Do you have any questions?” she says.
“The police told me that if he violates the order, I should report it,” you say. “Is there someone on the case I can call? Or should I go to the station? Or the courthouse?”
She shakes her head in disappointment, looking genuinely sympathetic of your situation.
“What happened?” she asks. “I can relay it to the police. You don’t have to worry about going to them. I’m here to make this easier for you.”
“Thank you,” you say. “He ran up to me last night, yelling about how I went to the cops. I think he was going to…” You look at Rafe, your lips twisting. “I think he was going to hurt me but my friend stopped him.”
You wonder if friend is a generous title for what Rafe is to you. Or maybe not generous enough.
“He knew you went to the police last night?” she says. “I called them before our meeting. Your ex-boyfriend was informed of the temporary order this morning.”
Your body flushes. Ty didn’t know about the court order last night. But he knew you went to the police.
“He was probably following me yesterday and watched me go to the police station,” you realize, eyes darting to Rafe again. “I didn’t… I didn’t see him. Did you?”
“No,” he says. He was extra vigilant yesterday. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“The parking lot wasn’t that full,” you stammer. “I didn’t notice a car following us or anything. How did…”
It hits you. Maybe he hasn’t been tailing you like you thought. Maybe he’s had another way to know where you were without having to be there.
“What if he’s… tracking me somehow?” you ask the lawyer. “That’s illegal, right?”
“Yes,” she tells you. “He’d be criminally charged.”
You look down at your lap. Just like yesterday, fear makes you feel like you’re leaving your own body.
You pull your phone out of your pocket. It’s the only thing you have with you constantly. He could’ve put something in it. You stare at it in your shaking hand.
But why did you find footprints in front of your house a few nights ago when a tracking device would have told him that you were at a party down the street? What reason would he have to be creeping around your empty home?
Unless it isn’t in your phone. It has to be in something else you own. Your mind is racing. Your car was parked in front of your home that night. You walked to the party. Maybe Ty thought you skipped out on it. That you were home alone.
The footprints never made sense. Until now.
“Could it be somewhere in my car?” you ask her.
You struggle to keep your composure as the lawyer talks you through what would happen if they find something and link it to him. Depending on the judge, it could mean jail time.
You thank the lawyer when you leave, taking her advice to drive your car to the police station and have an officer search it.
It all happens so fast. You watch two cops inspect your car. You hear one of them mumble “I think I found something” to his coworker. Your stomach drops.
Rafe is standing next to you the entire time and when he sees the small, white box dropped into a plastic evidence bag, he has to step away for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose in anger and disbelief.
There was nothing, nothing you could have done to deserve any of the shit this creep put you through. Learning that he was aware of your every move for who knows how long makes Rafe’s skin crawl. Beating the shit out of him last night wasn’t enough.
You’re silent when you leave the station. Rafe keeps looking over at you as he grips the steering wheel.
You’re gazing ahead, your stare distant, your body curled like you’re trying to make yourself smaller so nobody can see you.
He’s livid that the cops didn’t think to investigate further. You had to come to the conclusion yourself that your ex was tracking you.
“It’s their job to figure this kind of shit out, but you had to do it for them,” he mutters angrily. “And they seriously told him to stay away from you just this morning?”
“Yeah,” you say flatly. You’re in a fugue state. Your heart is racing. It’s hard to breathe. Your skin feels cold.
“Did you eat?” Rafe says.
You shake your head no.
“You need to eat.”
“So do you.”
“Don’t worry about me right now,” he says with a huff.
“I’m always going to worry about you,” you say absentmindedly. Your words are so simple, but they make his stomach go numb.
You approach a red light. Rafe taps his thumb against the wheel. He needs to make things better.
“We’ll pick some food up, alright?” he says.
You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When you see you missed a call from your dad, it’s what pulls you back into reality.
“I have to call my dad back,” you mumble. You rub your forehead in frustration. You can understand why Rafe always wants to be distracted. It’s so much easier than dealing with a scary, painful reality.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” he asks.
You almost tell him he doesn’t have to. But he knows he doesn’t. Finally, you accept that Rafe isn’t just looking out for you only because he feels like he needs to. He wants to.
“He’s not going to believe that we’re…” you trail off.
In this second, Rafe decides having you in his life is worth reliving any echos of the past. He’ll just bury the truth deep enough that he’ll forget it exists. He can do it.
“Friends again?” he says.
You meet his eyes and when your lips pull into a small smile, so do his. You don’t have to wonder if he’s still stuck in the idea that this will only be temporary anymore. It’s a ray of light in the darkness that’s become your life.
A car honks impatiently behind you and Rafe looks ahead to see that the light turned green. At the same moment he groans “shut up” to them, you mutter “relax”, and you both chuckle at your shared frustration.
Rafe pays for the takeout and when you arrive home, you sit at the kitchen island together to eat. You don’t have much of an appetite, but you take as many bites of your lunch as you can to gain the courage to call your dad.
“I think I can do it,” you say, picking up your phone. Rafe nods and watches you with softened eyes as you put the phone on speaker. After a few rings, your father answers.
“Hi,” you say. You take a deep breath. “First of all, I’m safe, so you don’t need to worry. But I ended things with Ty after you left and he’s been taking the break-up really badly. I… had to get a restraining order yesterday. I know it sounds crazy-“
“What? Are you alright?” your father asks.
“I am.” Your eyes meet Rafe’s. “I found a lawyer. And Rafe’s been helping me through all of it. I’m with him right now.”
“Cameron?”
“Yes,” you say. You’re not sure what your dad may say about who he knows to be your estranged childhood friend, so you rush to your next sentence. “Can you come home?”
“Of course. I just told your mom to start looking for flights,” he responds. “Are you… a restraining order? How - what has Ty been doing?”
You suddenly don’t feel as capable to speak as you did minutes ago. Retelling it yet again feels agonizing. You look at Rafe in desperation. He holds his hand out to you and you pass him your phone.
You watch as Rafe speaks to your father, addressing him as sir, reassuring him that you’re not alone or hurt. He walks back and forth through your kitchen as he speaks.
You watch his tall figure pace in front of you. He has the sense to give your dad a watered down version of the past few days. He mentions how Ty has tried to get into contact with you and the tracker the cops found, but he leaves out things like last night’s fight.
“Thank you for looking out for her,” your dad eventually says with a worried sigh. Rafe’s eyes find yours.
“It’s no problem,” he responds.
After your father says the earliest flight they could find would have them arrive home at eleven p.m. tomorrow, he tries to reassure you, telling you it’ll all be fine.
You hang up and go back to trying to eat. Rafe sits beside you.
Curiosity starts to prick at Rafe. If you’re really going to be friends again, he’ll see your parents around more often. Your dad sounded appreciative on the phone, but maybe he was just being polite. He’s not so sure they like him.
“Do your parents ever ask about me?” Rafe asks.
“They used to,” you say. “But I asked them to stop a long time ago.”
His eyes remain focused on you. He’s waiting for details.
“I just said we grew apart,” you add. “I didn’t want to tell them you wouldn’t talk to me.”
Rafe looks away in shame. The fact that you haven’t told them what really happened reminds him of what he heard the day you were in Sarah’s room. You never let anyone say anything bad about him. She always knew you liked him.
Rafe’s heart-rate quickens at the idea of you having those kinds of feelings for him. While his sister probably only said that because she’s under the impression you’re dating, the thought of you feeling the same thrill he does when you touch won’t leave his head.
It feels good to imagine you liking him like that. And he’s used to chasing whatever feels good, so he’ll allow himself to feed the delusion.
“I’ll be different,” Rafe says. “I won’t act like that anymore.”
You smile. Things don’t feel as cold as before. Not even close.
“Good,” you say. “I don’t know how we can be friends if you do.”
Rafe’s dimples dip into his cheeks when he smirks, relieved but not surprised that you’re being so compassionate.
The sight of his smile makes your problems feel a hundred times lighter.
After the takeout containers are empty and in the trash, Rafe cocks his head as he looks at you, more nervous that he thought he’d be to propose this.
“You said you wanted to get off the island,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” you say with a laugh.
“Now.”
You recognize Rafe’s family’s boat bobbing in the gentle water when you reach the docks after a quick drive to the marina. The afternoon sun is hidden by clouds, adding gusts to the warm summer air.
Rafe is quick getting the boat ready for departure. You sit on the bench behind the helm, watching him start the boat and navigate into the dark blue sea.
After a few minutes of quiet, the only sound being the rippling water and humming motor, you stand beside Rafe, seeing the coast in the far distance.
“We don’t have to dock anywhere if you’re cool with that,” you tell him. “Honestly, it feels really good to be out here.”
“You don’t want to go to the mainland?”
“No,” you tell him, an uncontrollable smile on your face. “This is better.“
You step out to the bow, leaning over the point of the boat. Rafe can’t keep his eyes off of you as you stand ahead of him. In this moment, finally, he’s not in the past. He’s living in the here and now.
You look back at him every so often, the smile on your face so beautifully genuine that it makes him swear he’ll do whatever it takes for you to smile like that as much as possible.
It’s nearing sunset when you get back to the docks. It feels so easy to be with Rafe. It’s like you’re kids again, no discomfort or sorrow or anger between you, just two souls that don’t need to second-guess if the other wants to be there.
“I’m exhausted,” you say as you both enter your house.
“From what?” Rafe teases, watching you reset the security system as he shuts the door. “I drove the whole time.”
“Does it have to be a competition of who’s more tired?”
“Yeah. It does,” he responds, stepping close to you as you punch in the numbers.
“You really haven’t changed at all,” you say with a happy shake of your head, turning to face him.
“What’s that mean?” Rafe asks, his tone low and amused.
“It means you always wanted to win at everything.” You cross your arms and tilt your chin to look up at him, taking in the way his windswept hair has fallen over his forehead. You want to brush it back.
“What’s so bad about that?”
“It’s just an observation.”
“What else have you observed?” Rafe asks.
He lifts his arm to lean against the wall, tilted over you. Your eyes drag over the planes of his handsome face, wondering if it’s just you that feels like you’ve been angling towards flirting with each other all day.
“About you?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says, squinting in a self-assured way.
Just a few nights ago, it still felt odd having him in your home, standing right here, but now, it feels natural. Rafe slipped back into your life, nearly effortlessly. You’re sure it’s because you’ve always held a place for him in it in case he ever wanted to come back.
“You’re just as protective as you were then,” you say. “No. More protective, actually.”
You don’t think the Rafe you knew before the accident would have ever resorted to violence. But you don’t tell him that.
“You’re honest,” you say, a grin on your face. “And fun. And I think you have a ridiculously strong sense of responsibility. How am I doing?”
Rafe looks down, his tongue jutting beneath his cheek as he huffs a chuckle.
“Only for you,” he says solemnly.
“What?”
“I only feel a sense of responsibility for you,” he says. He gazes at you again. “Before you came asking for help, I really didn’t give a shit about anything.”
You almost have to steady yourself. Your playful smile drops, your lips parted even though you can’t think of anything to say.
You stand in the moment together, facing each other, eyes locked.
A few nights ago, he snapped at you, saying that you don’t know him. But you think you do. Because the way he’s staring right now, almost slack-jawed, looks like he’s looking into a mirror for the first time.
You’re frozen, but if he makes a move, even leans forward an inch, you know you’d close the distance.
He doesn’t, though. So, you step back.
“I need to shower,” you say with a short laugh. “I smell like the sea. Do you wanna have dinner after?”
Rafe nods, offering you a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
You replay the day in your head as you shower. Mostly, you replay the moments you caught Rafe looking at you. You knew you always had love for him in your heart, and over these past few days, you can’t deny that it’s grown stronger.
And you wonder, and hope, that maybe the friends thing isn’t an official title. Because you want more.
You change into fresh clothes in your bedroom and head out into the hallway. When you round the corner, Rafe is coming up the last few steps of the staircase.
“Hi,” you say, approaching him to stand only a foot away for him. You place your hand on the bannister, mostly just to have something to do while your stomach flutters.
He stares down at you, the smell of your shampoo now committed to his memory. He’s been overthinking downstairs, aimlessly striding around, unsure if you feel the pull between you too, but so damn willing to take the risk.
Maybe you’ll shoot him down. But not knowing for sure actually hurts at this point.
“What?” you ask with a smile. “You okay?”
Rafe’s eyes search your face.
“I…” he begins. Rafe steps forward, mainly to see if you tense up and move away. But you don’t. “I can’t stop thinking about…”
“About what?”
“When we kissed the other night.”
The air goes thick, your throat suddenly dry. You remember how intoxicating it was kissing him. How it was just a tactic to chase away his friends. How hard it was accepting that it was all for show.
“I have to know,” he rasps. “Did you feel anything or was it just me?”
Your eyes fall to his lips. You’ve gotten used to things not feeling real by now, but not in a good way. This is like you’re living in a dream.
“It wasn’t just you,” you find the courage to say.
It’s all Rafe needs to hear. He leans forward. His lips brush against yours. Your breath catches.
You’re floating in the feeling of him on the cusp of kissing you. Finally, he closes what little distance remains, capturing your lips softly, gently, alleviating the years of pain you both held for so long in a way words never can.
His mouth is hot, his hands skimming over your hips as your lips weave together. Your heart pounds even faster when you feel his tongue dip into your mouth, running over yours.
You pull him in closer by his shoulders, impatient. Rafe can’t stop his groan when he feels your torso curve against his. He needs this. He needs you. A fire in him has been set alight and he’ll go as far as you’ll let him.
“Can we go to your room?” he mumbles, his nose nudging yours, the weight of his words not missed by either of you.
“Yes,” you whisper. You begin to step backwards, pulling him with you.
You settle on your bed, the hallway light spilling into the room, and lie on your back as he hovers on top of you.
Your kisses are growing deeper and hungrier. Rafe can’t believe this is happening. He feels nothing but fortunate right now, and he hasn’t felt like luck has ever been on his side.
He dips to kiss your neck and you run your hands through his soft hair, realizing your breaths have become short and eager. It feels so right to have him on top of you like this.
Rafe’s lips are soft as he trails kisses over your skin. Your arms hook around his body, drawing him in closer, allowing you to feel him growing under his jeans.
He stills for a moment in case it’s too much for you, but you roll your hips beneath him, and the fact that you want him as badly as he wants you makes sparks erupt through him.
One arm holds him up while the other moves over your side, fingers hooking below the hem of your shirt.
“Is this okay?” he huffs against your neck as he starts to drag his hand up under your shirt. You nod and your skin blooms in goosebumps when he reaches your chest, gently palming you.
He sharply inhales as he feels over your bra, starting to rock against you.
“Am I going too fast?” Rafe whispers. He couldn’t forgive himself if he made you uncomfortable, even for a second.
“No,” you say. “Don’t stop.”
His lips find yours again as he caresses you. Your hand trails down his firm body and when you close your fingers around his length over his jeans, he kisses you harder.
“How’s this?” you ask when you pull back, starting to stroke him slowly.
“Fuck,” Rafe says shakily. “That’s good.”
He captures your lips in his again as you touch each other so tenderly, both your chests heaving.
You feel his hand drag down your stomach and rest on your inner thigh, gently squeezing. The anticipation, the thirst you feel for him is overpowering.
You arch your back, inviting him to touch you where you need him most. When his palm grazes between your legs, the feeling makes him twitch in your hand.
He brushes against you with languid, sweet movements, kissing your lips over and over again. Slowly, his fingers go to the band of your pants.
“Yes,” you whisper before he can even ask.
When Rafe feels you completely, no barrier in the way, it’s like he’s drunk. Moans spill from your mouth as he caresses you, his fingertips moving with gentle glides. Everything about you is perfect, down to the sounds of pleasure you make.
You shift to unbutton his jeans and pull down his zipper, feeling him buck up against you. You finally wrap your hand around him and he groans.
You kiss each other over and over, lips moving eagerly while your hands move slowly. When you start to stroke him faster, he follows your pace.
You’re panting into each other’s mouths now and you finally let go, writhing beneath him as you meet your peak. Rafe is shuddering seconds later, euphoric in the climax you’ve given him.
You’re blissed out, skin covered in sweat as you lie next to him. You feel so weak and tired and happy, resting your head on his shoulder.
You wake up in darkness. You search for him next to you, but he’s gone.
When you go downstairs, you find Rafe sitting in the kitchen. Your eyes meet and you smile, albeit a little nervously about what just happened upstairs, about how you took your friendship to a new level you can’t come back down from.
“Another observation I’ve made,” you start to joke, “you always leave me to wake up alone. How long was I asleep?”
He cracks a smile, but you can see it’s disingenuous.
“Sorry,” he says. “Not long.”
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“Yeah,” Rafe responds. The faraway look in his eyes tells you otherwise. You come closer, standing across from where he’s sitting.
“What is it? Tell me.”
“I can’t.” Rafe shakes his head. It’ll reopen a wound in him and cut open a new one in you. He should never tell you.
But your words from earlier ring in his head. You called him honest. And he’s not. He’s a liar. And now he’s derailing.
“Do you…” you begin. “Should we not have done that? Do you regret it?”
“No,” he answers quickly.
“Then, what is it?”
“Don’t…” Rafe looks away. “Don’t push. Please.”
Normally, you wouldn’t. You never have. But you feel painfully vulnerable. What you just shared was so meaningful. At least, to you it was. Why is he closed off again? Why do you deserve this?
“What’d I do?” you ask, your voice starting to tremble.
Rafe stands from his seat, raking his hand through his hair. He was sure he was strong enough to repress this. He’s always been an expert at escaping reality.
But being around you weakens him. He’s starting to panic, starting to feel his blood go hot.
Giving into his physical impulses upstairs made him lose any power he had left. He’s in love with you. He knows that for a fact. But how can you love someone while you also blame them for the worst thing that ever happened to you?
“I… I can’t,” he whispers.
“You can’t what?” you ask. “What’s wrong?”
“I never… I can’t tell you.” Rafe’s breaths get shallower. “I can’t tell you.”
You step in front of him, your hands softly resting on his chest.
“You can tell me anything,” you say.
“We can’t do this,” Rafe mutters.
“What do you mean?” you ask. Your heart breaks all over again. “Don’t go back to treating me like this. Please.”
“We can’t do this,” he repeats.
He’s losing it. He can’t leave the house. He’s here to keep you safe. But he doubts he could even drive right now if he had the opportunity. And he has no substances running through his veins, dampening the pain.
He has nothing.
“Why?” you ask, dread filling you, tears starting to form. “Why? Whatever it is, we can talk about it and fix it.”
“You can’t fix this.”
“Why?”
“Because it already happened.”
“What are you talking about?” Your tone is frantic now.
“It already happened!” he shouts.
Rafe’s stomach twists with self-hatred when he sees you falter, your eyes widening with shock. He startled you. He’s scaring you, just like your ex does.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. His hands find your face, his thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. “Let’s forget it, okay? Let’s have some dinner and forget it.”
But you’re already crying.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“What already happened?” you ask. You’re not sure if it’s just anxiety crawling up your body or a painful sense of intuition. But something tells you that whatever he has to say will shatter you.
“Rafe,” you say. “Please tell me.”
He drops his hands. You’re begging now. He’s infuriated that he couldn’t just keep it together. The loss, the heartbreak, the regret fills him all at once.
“We were…” He looks away. He can’t bear to see your face when he says it. “We were in the car because of you.”
(to be continued)
if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘
