Summary: after the first date with this 'perfect' guy, you head to his place for some mind-blowing sex. until...
Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, making out, talk of kinks, implied age gap (read at own caution
⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work pls
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You couldn’t help yourself.
The car ride over to his place was filled with sexual tension, that you and Drew knew couldn’t be ignored.
Once the elevator door closes, you throw yourself onto Drew, lips locking in with his, in urgency.
Drew, the blind date that your friend set you up with.
You expected it to be some loser, because she always fails at finding the right guy for you. But to your surprise, Drew turned out to be incredibly charming. Yes, he was a bit older. But…he certainly didn’t look his age.
The whole night, from the restaurant food, to the conversation topics, everything flowed perfectly. He was not only listening, but paying attention, and he had this kind of humor that fitted perfectly with yours.
Perfectly. Is there a word more perfect than perfect? Because that’s how the date went.
The date was perfect, which, was weird.
There must be a catch to a perfect first date, right? But so far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
His back hits the wall with a thud, your arms wrapping around his neck to press yourself closer to him.
You wanted him, and you showed him just that.
He gasps into your mouth, surprised, and it takes a few seconds for him to relax under your touch.
He kisses back, tender and slow compared to your desperate, passionate energy.
His lips are soft, but there's a certain intensity in how he deepens the kiss, allowing the moment to stretch, as if savoring each second.
His hands roam around your back, feeling the material of your dress, as his breath mingles with yours. You do the same, hands running through his hair, then the back of his neck, then massaging gently on his shoulders.
You can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm, as though he's slowly pulling you into his rhythm, balancing out the storm inside you with his quiet strength.
The elevator shakes quietly with each passing floor, and you could feel the hunger inside of you growing.
It’s frantic, untidy, with no real rhythm—but it's genuine, filled with an undeniable sense of longing.
Too into it, it takes a few seconds for you to reopen your eyes after Drew pulls away, his mesmerizing blue eyes staring down at you.
Still in each other’s arms, you mirror his expression, one of flushed cheeks, parted lips, and breathlessness.
Ding.
The elevator door opens, neither of you seems in a hurry to move, caught in the electricity of the connection you’ve just shared.
Ding.
Drew’s gaze never wavers from yours, and with a steady hand, he reaches out to stop the door from closing.
Your eyes flicker to his lips, and you close your eyes, ready to welcome the softness of his lips again.
Until, you hear a soft laugh escaping the air.
You peek, and see Drew’s smile, soft yet playful.
He leans in close to you, his nose ghostly brushing against yours.
“I don’t sleep- I don’t sleep on the first date.”
Ding.
You blink, the sudden shift in his tone pulling you back to reality.
His words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything feels like it just...paused. You try to mask the disappointment that settles in, but it’s clear on the frown that’s creeping up your face.
Then…why did he bring you back to his place?
Drew reaches for the button to keep the door from closing, his hand hovering just a bit longer than needed.
“But-“ his hand comes up, brushing the hair away from your neck, “I’ll do it- I’ll break the fucking- fucking rule.”
A giggle escapes you when he finishes his sentence, your shoulders relaxing as his lips graze the skin there.
It’s ticklish as he gently nibbles, lips traveling lower, lower, lower, ghosting over your cleavage.
You let out a soft moan, hands tugging on his tie to take it off.
...But it does the opposite.
As your fingers tug, the tie tightens around his neck, pulling him just out of the rhythm you two had been in.
Drew gasps, the sound surprising both of you, and he pulls away sharply, eyes wide for a moment as he catches his breath.
You’re pushed away, panic coursing through your veins, as you realized you’ve probably just frightened him and ruined the chances of getting laid.
“Shit- shit, I’m so sorry, shit-“
Ding.
Another reminder to get out the elevator.
“I’m sorry,” you say again, hopeless as you watch his hand instinctively go to his neck, loosening the fabric with a quick movement.
His eyes meet yours, and you prepare yourself for a deep scolding of some kind.
Then, the corner of his lips curl up, the wrinkles around his eyes appearing, “kinks on the first date?”
You freeze for just a second, processing his words, then, laughter bubbles up between you two. You can’t help but chuckle—though it’s more shy than confident, a bit of heat creeping into your cheeks.
Drew’s arm comes up to the elevator door, his body leaning against it as an indication for you to step out.
“I don’t know-“ you start, stepping out, feeling his presence behind you.
The door shuts with a soft ding, and his footsteps match the click of your heels as you walk down the hall. “-I don’t mind choking. You?”
You take a quick look around—okay, okay, his apartment’s not that bad. The place looks sleek, modern, and way nicer than you expected.
Great. The perfect date, the perfect guy, perfect apartment, what could go wrong with this?
You glance to your side, and a rush of butterflies hits you all at once—Drew’s already staring down at you.
You don’t know if it’s the look itself or the blueness of his eyes, but it’s definitely something.
You’re suddenly so aware of the words that just left your mouth; you’re playing a dangerous game right now.
He licks his lips, and you feel the brief touch of his hand on your lower back, “spitting."
Nasty. Yet, you’re down for it. Down for this perfect man right here.
You break eye contact, looking ahead of you as the two of you walked down the hall. And you don’t know why, but you’re intrigued to continue this conversation, “spanking.”
“Spanking? Receiving or…”
“Receiving,” you whisper, and then, he stops you at door 1104.
You lean against the wall, watching the way he reaches into his pocket. You bite your lip, excited and anxious about his next words.
Drew looks at you with that same smirk, a look that sends a wave of heat through you.
His eyes are unreadable for a moment, and then, he leans in.
Your breath hitches as he towers over you, caging you close to the wall.
Instinctively, you raise a hand, fingertips touching his loosened tie, then slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
His lips are dangerously close to yours, and you relax your eyes, ready for a much needed, heated kiss, something more passionate that the one in the elevator.
“Once I open the door…”
You hum, listening intently to Drew’s next words, voice now dropped to a low whisper.
“We’re doing it- doing it on the counter…”
One of his hands slip underneath your dress, gripping the flesh of your thigh.
A sharp breath escapes you, your back arching into him.
“Gonna rip this dress off of you,”
His words come to an abrupt stop as lips come crashing into yours, eagerly, as if he couldn’t wait another second.
You kiss him back immediately, your tongues mixing together once again.
The sound of the door unlocking cuts through the air, and before you can even process it, you're swept off your feet. His arms wrap around you with effortless strength, lifting you off the ground, your body pressed against his.
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you don’t dare to move away from his lips, too lost in the softness and wetness of them.
You’ve never found yourself to enjoy kissing that much, yet, making out with Drew was electrifying, both of you fighting for control.
The back of your thighs hit the cold kitchen counter, Drew’s hand forcing your legs apart.
He stands between them, multitasking himself as his lips trail down your neck, a hand massaging your tits, the other snaking it’s way to your panties.
You let out a soft groan as he bites down on your collarbone, your hands busy with his belt.
But just as his hand cups your pussy over your panties, his belt falling to the floor with a hard thud,
A high-pitched scream echoes through the space.
Both you and Drew’s movements come to a halt, and in a flash, he’s pushed himself away, and no man has ever got off of you any faster.
“Shit-“
Drew rubs his face, fixing his shirt quickly, his eyes darting to what’s behind you, panic written all over his face.
You’re still breathless, your mind hazy from your own horniness, but quickly the concern begins to creep in.
What the hell was that scream?
You push yourself off the counter, adjusting your dress, ready to ask him what’s going on, when-
“Ew, Dad! You bought a girl home?”
You turn your head sharply toward the source, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes lock onto the young girl standing in the doorway of one of the rooms.
She…she looks a bit like Drew-
Wait-
Dad???
The realization hits you like a ton of bricks as your eyes widen at her words. Drew is her dad? He’s a daddy? He- he has a daughter??
The room suddenly feels a lot smaller, and your stomach flips with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.
The ‘perfect’ guy has a daughter. Your perfect date,…is a dad.
And as if it wasn’t enough, a young boy walks out from another room.
You freeze, your heart pounding as he steps into view. Oh my god.
He looks just like Drew, but a younger, chubbier version.
"Why we screaming?” He asks, those familiar, piercing blue eyes glancing around, “Dad?”
The boy’s words hang in the air like a shot to your chest.
Should you leave? Leave, leave, leave! Your brain shouts at you.
“What- what are you doing here?” Drew finally speaks up, his voice having an edge of panic to it. He takes a step forward, and to your surprise, he steps in front of you, almost as if he’s shielding you from his kids.
Your heels allow you to peek over his shoulders, and you quietly stand behind him, unsure why you’re not bolting out the door.
"Mom dropped us off," the young girl says casually.
Mom???
Is he married? No way-
You glance down at his left hand; no ring. Yeah, you remembered there was no ring on his finger. Plus, he didn’t mention anything about a partner…or kids. So…is he divorced? Split up? What- what’s going on?
You could feel your brain frying as it scrambles to piece together the scene in front of you.
"Mom dropped you off?" Drew asks, his voice tight with confusion and frustration.
He steps out of the kitchen, moving in front of his daughter and son, his posture rigid, his eyes searching them both for some kind of explanation.
You’re left speechless, frozen in place, your mind still whirling with questions. You feel dizzy, almost disconnected from the scene unfolding before you.
What happened to…ripping your dress off?
What happened to…doing it on the counter?
“Yeah- a few minutes ago,” his son answers.
You watch Drew, your breath catching for a moment.
He pokes his tongue against his cheek, a small, subtle movement, his eyes sharpening as he looks down at his kids. “Alright- um-“ Drew runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. His voice stutters out, “Give me a minute, okay?”
His kids exchange skeptical looks, then their eyes shift to you standing awkwardly in the kitchen.
His daughter, with a knowing look, crosses her arms and says, “just not on the counter, please.”
Flush creeps on your cheeks, and you wished there was a hole to dig yourself into.
A low chuckle escapes Drew, one that tells you he’s not surprised by his daughter’s attitude. The sound is almost amused, but there’s a hint of exhaustion in it, too.
"Get out of here, jeez,” he mutters, shaking his head as he waves them off, clearly over the whole thing.
His daughter rolls her eyes dramatically, but without saying another word, she turns, her brother trailing behind her, still casting curious glances your way.
As they disappear into their own bedrooms, the tension is slightly lifted, but only, replaced with awkward silence.
The huge elephant sits in the room; what now?
You both stand there, unsure of how to break the stillness.
Drew rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit, his eyes darting from the floor to you.
You, who hasn’t moved in that short five minutes, fidget with your hands.
"Look, I—“
"Hey, so I’m just—“
You both speak at the same time, your voices tripping over one another.
Awkward chuckles stubbles out of you, and you place a hand over your mouth, signaling for him to start.
“I- uh, wasn’t suppose to have them till tomorrow.”
You bite down on your lip, pushing your panicked thoughts aside to listen.
Drew walks over, and stands on the other side of the kitchen counter. His blue eyes meet yours, and there’s a quiet intensity in his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on.
He opens his mouth, but no words come out at first. His jaw clenches, his brow furrowing as he tries to figure out what to say.
“…but uh, yeah, that was, my kids,” his voice is barely above a whisper now.
You look away from him, your gaze dropping to your hands, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “They’re lovely,” you say, trying to lighten the awkwardness of the moment, though your mind is swirling with questions.
Why didn’t he mention this? At any point tonight? Why didn’t your friend—who set up this date—say anything about him having kids?
Your smile falters just a little, as the questions gnaw at you.
And he seems to read your mind- or, your body language.
“I should’ve told you, earlier in the night.”
You raise your eyebrows in a 'yeah, you should’ve' way, your shoulders slouching slightly as you exhale, “not even after I told you I liked kids?” you mention, recalling that part during dinner.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm, a soft vibration that catches you off guard, pulling your attention back to him.
“Did you like those brats, then?” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. You can’t help but notice the way he looks at you—half-serious, half-amused—like he’s testing how you’ll respond.
“Clearly got it from their daddy,” you joke, laughing softly afterward.
Drew raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, clearly pleased by your retort. “Oh? Daddy kink?”
“Oh- god no,” you immediately say, and that earns a laugh from Drew.
As you watch his smile, listening to the sound of his laugh, you can’t help but wonder, what’s it like going out with someone’s daddy?
A…really hot one.
Aw, fuck, that’s weird.
Well… the fact that you’re still standing here and not sprinting off, says a lot.
Before you can add anything more, Drew checks his watch, his expression shifting slightly. His eyes meet yours, and there’s a touch of apology in them.
“Y’know, if the kids weren’t here…”
He walks around the counter, stepping beside you, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “you’d definitely be screaming into my pillows right now."
You immediately feel your face heat up, biting your lip to hold back the sudden rush of nervousness. Gosh, he’s good….probably why he has two kids.
You shake your head lightly, almost as if to shake those thoughts off, and then you manage to say, “Your original plan, right?”
Drew’s lips twitch into a half-smile, his eyes still locked on you, but there’s something deeper behind them now. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low, the implication clear, “the original plan.”
The words hang in the air, but then you quickly break eye contact, your voice a little shaky as you respond.
"But uh— I should get going.”
He steps forward, a sudden urgency in his voice as he says, “Wait, lemme drive you—”
“No, I got it,” you interrupt, voice steady.
He’s a bit taken back by it, but he nods slowly, "Okay... okay, well, at least let me walk you downstairs.”
You shake your head quickly, “no- no.”
“C’mon, please, y/n.”
It’s the way he says your name—gentle, coaxing—that makes your heart race again, and you couldn’t help it, “fine.”
His blue eyes light up instantly, that spark of relief and something else flickering across his face.
Drew steps aside, opening the door for you, leaning against it.
You could feel him staring down at you when you passed by him.
And as you walk down the hallway with him, you find yourself lost for words.
You’re still fixated on the fact that your perfect date is a dad.
With two kids.
Fuck.
Did that make him even more perfect? Or the opposite?
You…you really don’t know.
“You, you okay?” Drew asks, his voice full of concern.
“Yeah- yeah, I’m fine.”
He presses the button once you reach the elevator door, and you can’t help but feel self-conscious as the two of you wait for it to arrive.
You keep your eyes focused on the top screen, watching the floor the elevator is currently on.
Then, you feel a heavy fabric drape onto your shoulders, and when you turn toward Drew, your hands brushing against the cloth, you realize he's given you his suit jacket.
“Oh—thanks,” you say, surprised. You can’t quite tell if it’s the warmth of the jacket or the gesture itself that’s making your heart race again.
Drew smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes appearing again.
Ding.
You step in the elevator with Drew.
Ding.
He presses the button for the first floor, his shoulder brushing against yours as you stand close to him.
You can’t help but glance at him, at the side of his face, your mind flooding with the memories of a few minutes ago, of making out in this exact elevator.
But with the way he keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, eyes staring ahead, that controlled stillness about him, you realize he's not going to make a move.
He’s not gonna initiate another kiss in the elevator.
A kiss that might escalate to a full blown make-out session.
A make-out session that might be better than the last one you shared-
“Mph!”
Drew suddenly turns around, hands cupping your face as his lips crash into yours.
You stumble slightly, the jacket falling off your shoulders as you melt into him, letting instincts take over.
He kisses you, as if your lips are what keeps him alive.
You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling against him as you savor the way his lips taste. Sweet, soft, and intoxicating, things you wouldn’t expect a first date to taste like.
Let alone, a dad.
Your tongue sloppily thrusts into his, while you find his growing rougher by the second.
Shit, he’s a good kisser.
Ding.
The elevator door opens, and a soft gasp is heard.
You furrow your eyebrows, pulling away from Drew.
Behind him, you see an elderly woman, her hands gripping a bag of groceries, her eyes wide in surprise.
Great. The second- third person to catch you making out with Drew.
He follows your gaze, turning his head. His shoulders drop when he sees the elderly woman, and you quickly pull his hands off your face.
“Hi,” you whisper to her, before rushing past her, mostly due to embarrassment.
“Hi, uh, hey, Ms Jones,” you hear Drew call out, his voice slightly hushed.
Upon hearing footsteps following behind you, you slow down, trying to steady your breath.
“That was Ms Jones,” Drew whispers to you, and then, you feel the same fabric drape over your shoulders again. He steps a little closer, his voice low, “yeah- sorry about that.”
“About what?”
“That- uh, that,” his eyes flicker to your lips again.
“That kiss?”
The building’s front door opens by itself, and you step out, pulling out your phone to call an Uber.
“No- the interruptions.”
Interruptions. Plural.
A smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone, fingers coming to a halt.
“I told you, my original plan.”
An Uber coming your way, just around the corner.
You look up, meeting his blue eyes that seem to reflect every thought he has, raw and unguarded.
“I know,” you tell him, before adding, “besides, you’ve got my number.”
He chuckles, “yeah, I- I do.”
“So do the plan next time.”
“I know- I’ll definitely…definitely do you next time.”
You look away, a bit shy under the intensity of his eyes and words.
“So call me,” you say, looking ahead, and you hear a chuckle from him.
“I will.”
“You will?”
“Yeah. Will…will you answer?”
“Depends. Will you be alone?”
“Of course,” he says, his voice a little quieter now.
Then, the headlights of a car approach, and you start to shrug off his jacket, but he stops you.
“Keep it,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Gives me a reason to see you again.”
“You need a reason to see me?” you ask, teasingly with your eyebrows raised.
“...No,” he chuckles, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
You laugh, but you keep the jacket on.
“Call me,” you whisper again, as he opens the car door.
His hand hovers over the top of the car as you settle in, and he leans down, his face inches from yours.
“I don’t know… isn’t there a rule to wait three days?”
You roll your eyes, your own lips betraying you as you smile, reaching to close the door.
But then, he catches your hand, holding it for a second before saying, “it’s a promise.”
He lets go and closes the car door, stepping back. But he doesn’t break eye contact, holding it through the window.
You wave goodbye, and so does he, his smile lingering just a little longer.
The car starts to drive off, and even as it gets further away, you keep looking back, seeing Drew standing there, watching you go.
And when he gradually fades into the distance, you sit back, your hands coming up to touch your lips.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
This could either go perfectly right, or leave you a crumbling mess.
Well, you might have to decide about that on the second date.
… Or when he calls.
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word count: 3.8k
࣪𖤐 a/n: hello??? i actually got very shy writing this, dad!drew is my fav T_ T
plus, this brown suit lives in my mind rent free
and yes, this piece might be a bit cringe but i like it, sue me
he slams the car door like it personally pissed him off. no hello. no compliment. just the growl of the engine and his jaw clenched like he’s grinding diamonds between his teeth.
you, perched pretty in the passenger seat in a soft pastel pink set and glossy lips, blink at him.
“hi to you too,” you say gently, trying to keep it light, even as your eye twitches.
he doesn’t look at you. just mutters, “seatbelt.”
you click it in, still hopeful. “well, this is cozy... i missed your grumpy radio silence.”
“jesus,” he mutters under his breath.
your lips press into a thin line. okay. asshole.
you try again a few minutes later. “so… where are we going? you didn’t say.”
“does it fucking matter?” he bites out.
your hand curls into a fist in your lap, voice wobbling just slightly. “i was just asking.”
silence.
he drums his fingers against the wheel like it annoys him just to have hands. takes a turn too fast. your perfume fills the car and he doesn’t say a damn word about it, even though he always notices. always makes some cocky remark like, “perfume’s doing all that manipulative shit again...” not today.
you stay quiet the rest of the ride, stomach tight, heart sinking.
୨♡୧
at his place, you follow him in like a damn ghost — still trying. you sit on the edge of the bed while he yanks off his hoodie and flings it across the room.
“you’ve been quiet,” he says suddenly.
you blink. “you’ve been mean.”
he looks at you. “i’ve had a shit day, y/n.”
“i know,” you say, voice soft but starting to sting. “and i’ve been nothing but sweet to you. but you don’t get to treat me like shit just because you’re in a mood.”
he rolls his eyes. “jesus, everything with you is a thing.”
your jaw drops slightly. “excuse me?!”
“you always need a reaction. a compliment. a fucking thank-you. you can’t just exist without needing attention every second.”
that’s it.
you stand up fast, voice sharp and shaking. “well sorry for expecting a little effort from my boyfriend. and you know what? i do need attention. i’m prissy and i’m spoiled and you fucking knew that when you begged for me in the first place!”
rafe doesn’t move. his arms cross, eyes narrow, mouth tight — like he’s daring you to keep going. but he doesn’t say what he should’ve.
you grab your purse off the dresser, chest heaving. “i’m going home.”
but before you can reach the door, his voice, quiet and rough, cuts through the tension.
“don’t go.”
you turn halfway, arms folded across your chest like armor. “why not? so you can keep snapping at me for breathing?”
he looks at you. the gloss on your lips. your perfectly styled hair. the way your stupid little floral cardigan slips off one shoulder like it’s trying to break him.
he steps forward and grabs your wrist, not rough, but firm.
“i had a bad day,” he says again, a little softer this time. “but you’re the only part of it that wasn’t completely fucked.”
you blink.
you exhale shakily, stepping into him, pressing your forehead against his chest. “you suck,” you whisper.
he smirks slightly, finally wrapping his arms around you. “yeah. i know.”
i wanna be s1 rafe cameron’s bratty and pouty girlfriend !!!!! i wanna complain about everything, and get scolded by him not even three seconds later, in front of everyone.
he’d probably say something like “learn some manners, you’re bein’ so disrespectful, god. i could think you’re a pogue or something with the way you’re talking to me,” and then you’d instantly listen and go back to pouting in his side, being quiet and respectful like he wants.
rafe paces. back and forth. hand running through his hair, jaw tight, eyes sharp with something between frustration and disbelief.
‘you want to stop?’ his voice is even, but there’s an edge to it.
you nod, arms crossed over your chest. ‘yeah.’
‘why?’ his head tilts, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for an answer that actually makes sense to him.
‘i don’t like what this is turning me into,’ you say, voice steady. ‘it’s not who i am. and i don’t want it to be.’
he exhales sharply, turning on his heel and pacing again. ‘where is this coming from?’
‘i’m not blaming you for anything, rafe.’ you sigh, feeling the weight of this conversation sink into your bones. ‘i just realized i don’t want to be another girl in your rotation.’
he stops mid-step, turning to face you. ‘rotation?’
you hold his gaze. ‘you know what i mean.’
his jaw tenses. ‘you knew what this was,’ he says, voice low, careful.
‘i did,’ you agree. ‘and now i know i don’t want it.’
he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. ‘i thought everything was fine.’
‘it was,’ you admit. ‘but i’m a ‘girlfriend’ kind of girl, rafe. i have boyfriends, not fuck buddies.’
rafe lets out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. he starts pacing again, steps restless, like he needs to move or he’ll explode.
then, from outside, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.
‘rafe! come on, man, we’re waiting!’ topper, followed by laughter and girls’ voices, high and sweet.
your stomach turns, but you don’t react. instead, you nod toward the door.
‘you should go,’ you say softly.
a pause, a sharp inhale. his jaw clenches. ‘we’re not done.’
‘i said what i needed to say.’ you swallow the lump in your throat. ‘you have girls waiting for you.’
he stops pacing. his expression hardens. ‘you think that’s what this is about?’
‘i think it doesn’t matter,’ you answer. ‘because you’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t owe me anything.’
his hands curl into fists at his sides. ‘you’re doing that thing again.’
‘what thing?’
‘acting like you don’t care.’
you inhale sharply. ‘i do care, rafe. that’s the problem.’
something flickers in his expression. for the first time, he looks uncertain. like this wasn’t supposed to happen. like he never considered the possibility of you walking away.
he starts pacing again, steps quicker now, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘so what? you’re just done?’
you nod. ‘yeah.’
he stops. looks at you. then, after a beat, he says, ‘fine.’
you hesitate. ‘fine, what?’
‘i’ll be your boyfriend.’
you blink, caught off guard. ‘what?’
‘you want a relationship?’ he shrugs, like it’s the easiest fix in the world. ‘done.’
‘that’s not how this works.’
‘why not?’ his voice is sharper now, defensive. ‘you said you don’t want to be just another girl— fine. be my girlfriend.’
you shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping. ‘jesus, rafe.’
‘what?’
‘you don’t even want to be my boyfriend. you just don’t want to see me with someone else.’
his jaw tightens, and for the first time, he stops pacing. stands still.
‘you can’t just decide to be in a relationship because you don’t like the idea of losing me,’ you say, voice softer now. ‘that’s not love, rafe. that’s possession.’
his lips part slightly, but no words come out.
‘you don’t know how to do this,’ you continue gently. ‘how to be with someone in a way that isn’t just about control.’
he exhales, slow and deep, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he looks away for a moment. when he meets your gaze again, there’s something different there. hesitation, sure. but also something you weren’t expecting.
fear.
‘i don’t want to lose you,’ he admits, voice quiet now.
your breath catches. ‘then be better.’
rafe swallows. ‘tell me how.’
‘you already know how,’ you whisper. ‘you just have to choose it.’
the silence stretches between you again, but this time, it’s different.
it’s not heavy. it’s hopeful.
then, from outside, topper calls out again. ‘rafe! you coming or what?’
rafe doesn’t even look toward the door.
‘nah,’ he calls back, eyes still locked on yours. ‘i’m good.’
your heart was about to try to break out from behind your ribs.
his gaze softens. ‘stay?’
you hesitate. ‘rafe—’
he shakes his head, stepping closer. ‘if i say i can do this, then i can do this.’
you search his face for the lie, the excuse, the escape route he’s bound to take. but there isn’t one.
he raised your hands to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of your fingers in turn. your thumb, your index finger, your middle finger, your ring finger, finally your pinky, and then, your gaze caught the black cross that rested on the centre of his chest.
you wonder if his heart beats steadily.
his lips twitch, just slightly, into the kind of smirk that used to make you roll your eyes. ‘i’ll be the last boyfriend you’ll have,’ he murmurs. ‘you’ll see.’
your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not with dread.
‘okay,’ you whisper.
he grins, triumphant. ‘yeah?’
you exhale, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself.
now just imagine rafe (or drew) giving you this look when you give him attitude or said something you absolutely should not have in front of friends and he’s looking at you like this, trying so hard not to bend you over and spank you so fucking hard right then and there. no, alas, he will have to settle for pounding you into the mattress later.
baratheonpilled
dailybridgerton
titsay
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
