raefluv

[raefluv]

੭୧ ⋆｡ bsf!rafe see's your scars

It’s well past midnight, the kind of hour that feels a little outside of time. Your room is dark except for the soft golden spill of your bedside lamp, and Rafe is here again—spread out on your bed like he belongs there, like he always has.

You’re curled up with your legs tucked beneath you, a book balanced loosely in your hands, though you haven’t read a single word in the last ten minutes. Rafe's lying on his stomach beside you, face half-buried in your pillow, his arm slung across your lap. His other hand dangles off the edge of the bed, fingers twitching slightly like he’s dreaming even though he’s awake.

The silence is warm. Heavy in a good way. The kind of quiet that doesn’t press, doesn’t ask you to fill it. His thumb brushes over your knee. Then a little higher. You tense before you can stop it.

His touch pauses. Then slowly continues, brushing over a cluster of scars just above the curve of your thigh. those soft silvery streaks you’ve spent years hiding beneath longer shorts and self-deprecation.

❝What’s this?❞ he murmurs, voice hushed, like the question itself might break something. You pull the blanket up instinctively, heart skipping. ❝It’s nothing. Ugly, I know.❞ He exhales sharply, but not in frustration. In disbelief. Rafe shifts to sit up, leaning on one elbow, his eyes dark and unreadable in the low light. His hand finds yours, his thumb brushing slowly over the back of it.

❝You think anything about you could be ugly?❞ His voice is low, a little hoarse, like it caught on something in his throat. ❝You know how many times I look at you and forget to breathe?❞ You try to look away, but he catches your chin with his fingers. Gently. Always gently.

Then he dips his head and kisses the inside of your thigh, right where your scars bloom like faded lightning. Another kiss. And another. Soft as moth wings. ❝You’re not broken.❞

❝You’re not too much.❞

❝You’re not a mistake.❞

Each whisper is matched with another kiss, his mouth reverent, like he’s learning a language only you speak. Like your skin is holy. And all at once your throat aches. You’re not crying, but you could. If he asked. If he said your name just once more like that.

He lies back down eventually, cheek against your stomach now, arms looped lazily around your waist. He exhales into your shirt, grounding himself in you like you’re the only thing that makes sense. ❝You don’t ever have to hide from me, okay?❞ he murmurs.

Your fingers slip into his hair, slow and absent. Your heart feels too big, too swollen in your chest. Outside, the sky is navy and velvet. Inside, he breathes you back into softness. You don’t know what this is between you and Rafe—not really. But his weight against you, the way he touches you like you’re fragile and valuable all at once, makes you feel like maybe being loved by him wouldn’t be so impossible after all.

taglist ୧ ˚.

@raefluv . . . 2025 do not copy or take inspiration from my works

[raefluv]

੭୧ ⋆｡ bsf!rafe see's your scars

It’s well past midnight, the kind of hour that feels a little outside of time. Your room is dark except for the soft golden spill of your bedside lamp, and Rafe is here again—spread out on your bed like he belongs there, like he always has.

You’re curled up with your legs tucked beneath you, a book balanced loosely in your hands, though you haven’t read a single word in the last ten minutes. Rafe's lying on his stomach beside you, face half-buried in your pillow, his arm slung across your lap. His other hand dangles off the edge of the bed, fingers twitching slightly like he’s dreaming even though he’s awake.

The silence is warm. Heavy in a good way. The kind of quiet that doesn’t press, doesn’t ask you to fill it. His thumb brushes over your knee. Then a little higher. You tense before you can stop it.

His touch pauses. Then slowly continues, brushing over a cluster of scars just above the curve of your thigh. those soft silvery streaks you’ve spent years hiding beneath longer shorts and self-deprecation.

❝What’s this?❞ he murmurs, voice hushed, like the question itself might break something. You pull the blanket up instinctively, heart skipping. ❝It’s nothing. Ugly, I know.❞ He exhales sharply, but not in frustration. In disbelief. Rafe shifts to sit up, leaning on one elbow, his eyes dark and unreadable in the low light. His hand finds yours, his thumb brushing slowly over the back of it.

❝You think anything about you could be ugly?❞ His voice is low, a little hoarse, like it caught on something in his throat. ❝You know how many times I look at you and forget to breathe?❞ You try to look away, but he catches your chin with his fingers. Gently. Always gently.

Then he dips his head and kisses the inside of your thigh, right where your scars bloom like faded lightning. Another kiss. And another. Soft as moth wings. ❝You’re not broken.❞

❝You’re not too much.❞

❝You’re not a mistake.❞

Each whisper is matched with another kiss, his mouth reverent, like he’s learning a language only you speak. Like your skin is holy. And all at once your throat aches. You’re not crying, but you could. If he asked. If he said your name just once more like that.

He lies back down eventually, cheek against your stomach now, arms looped lazily around your waist. He exhales into your shirt, grounding himself in you like you’re the only thing that makes sense. ❝You don’t ever have to hide from me, okay?❞ he murmurs.

Your fingers slip into his hair, slow and absent. Your heart feels too big, too swollen in your chest. Outside, the sky is navy and velvet. Inside, he breathes you back into softness. You don’t know what this is between you and Rafe—not really. But his weight against you, the way he touches you like you’re fragile and valuable all at once, makes you feel like maybe being loved by him wouldn’t be so impossible after all.

taglist ୧ ˚.

@raefluv . . . 2025 do not copy or take inspiration from my works