rafe cameron tumblr imagines

only you (continuation of same person, same mistake)

It's nearly 3 am when he shows up at your house, mind all over the place, and parks in your driveway. He knows your parents won't be mad seeing his truck— they can't help but love him. He slams the driver's door shut and jogs around to the backyard, breathless in the cooler night air. The grassy shore two hundred or so yards from your house ripples with the harsh wind of early summer storms, and he wipes a hand at his forehead. It's still hot.

Rounding the corner, he sees the metal basin that curves around one of your basement bedroom windows, and drops down onto the gravel that lies at the bottom.

You barely register the sound, fast asleep in your bed when he glances in at the dark room.

He digs around for a second in the gravel and finds the familiar curve of the window key and quickly unlocks the latch. Throwing it back down, he uses his arms to push up on the handle and slide it far enough so that he can crawl in.

You turn onto your back in your bed, and he nearly smiles at how you look. So calm, yet so stressed with your eyebrows drawn. But Rafe just hops into your air conditioned room clumsily, shoes quiet on the carpet, and nearly tips over into your desk. He turns to the window and closes it quietly.

He takes a moment to listen for any movement in the house. He knows your parent's go to bed before midnight, so they're sound asleep—he's mainly worried about your brother. He was such a cock block in highschool.

You move in the sheets again and his attention is drawn back to you. You're so peaceful. Oh, well.

"Y/N," he whispers, and reaches to shake your leg. You lick your lips and burrow deeper into your pillow. "Y/N!" He raises his voice, glancing at your locked door.

"Hm," is all that comes from your mouth, and your eyelids twitch.

"Fuck," he curses to himself. Fine. Grabbing one of your ankles, he drags you to the foot of the bed.

"Hey!" You croak, startled awake, and blink furiously around. "Oh." You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. There's a handsome man at the foot of your bed.

"Hey," he says, looking down at you, and his hand finds your shoulder. You're dressed in soft shorts and a skimpy tank top in an effort to remain cool in this summer heat—it makes his heart thump against the wall of his chest.

"Why're you here?" You ask, voice still groggy, and your skin erupts in goosebumps where his fingers move.

"I told you I'd come today."

"Yeah, during the daytime." Your eyebrows draw together and you push up onto a hand. "Not in the middle of the night."

"Do you want me to leave?" His eyes stare down at yours. You look over him, liking the way those jeans and flannel shirt look on him. The crickets chirp outside, and you hear a branch moved by wind brush the side of your house. His hand migrates and a thumb rubs at the skin of your stomach, nudging the hem of your tank top up.

"No," you finally settle on, and he steps closer to the bed.

"Okay," he murmurs, and dips. Your lips connect, soft against soft, and you shiver. He smells like the sun and that car freshener he keeps in the glove compartment. His hands find your hair, cradling your head, and your body prickles at the touch. It's so late, and he's so warm— you just melt into him. You grip at the sides of his shirt and fall back onto your bed, taking him with you.

He grunts, pulling away from your mouth for a second, and follows you up the bed as you move closer to the headboard. He looks huge like this.

Your legs come together.