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FIERY UNDERCURRENTS (pt.1?) — RAFAYEL

✧. ┊rafayel x reader ;; 4.2k+

✧. ┊warnings: 18+, minors (ages 17 and under) and ageless blogs do not (like, rb, follow, etc.) or you WILL be BLOCKED! afab + gn reader, physical descriptions matching the memory (skin that blushes/turns red, having bangs, hair long enough to brush and dry, etc.), suggestive and sexual tension but no actual smut (yet), basically a transcription of fiery undercurrents :)

✧. ┊a/n: if this does well and people want it then i will do a part 2 with the smut >:) ty aali and eden for betaing <33

To say your day started out as an utter disaster was an understatement. The start of a series of unfortunate events being sleeping through your alarm. One small accident set the tone for the rest of your grueling day, making it all go downhill from there. It was one thing after another all day long. Little instances that crept under your skin, digging deeper with each additional inconvenience as the hours passed. The icing on the cake? A sudden downpour of rain in the middle of your walk home.

Despite your best efforts, your clothing was drenched by the time you were able to take cover in the nearest café. You remember the way the rain on your skin sent a shiver down your spine when the cold air of the cafe hit you, only fueled by the way your sodden clothes clung to you uncomfortably. You had no choice but to either remain in the shelter of the cafe, albeit freezing with nowhere to sit unless you wanted to drench the furniture, or continue on your way home.

And you would have made a run for it, too. More than willing to brave the weather if it meant you could get home sooner rather than later and finally be done with this miserable day.

But, a familiar voice stopped you.

It was Rafayel who had come to your rescue. Without him, you would have trekked through the rain and the dark all the way back to your apartment. And though at the time you were willing to do so, you’re rather glad you didn’t need to.

It seemed like a small miracle when Rafayel appeared before you in the cafe. After the day you had, seeing someone familiar, especially him, was more than welcome.

He insisted on driving you home and following you inside your apartment, telling you all about how dangerous a floor can be when it gets slippery from the rain. And he wouldn’t dare risk your safety like that. Especially after hearing about your long day on the drive over from the cafe. You couldn’t take anymore tragedy!

Not that you minded, of course …

An hour later, you were freshly showered and changed into your pajamas for the night. You were just short of finishing drying off your hair with your towel when a knock sounded from the other side of your bathroom door. You tell Rafayel he can open it.

“Are you done showering?” He asks, pushing the door open. He leans against the door frame, shoving his hands in his pockets as he studies you. His eyes finally land on the side of your face after giving you a once over. “Your hair’s still wet.”

You look away from the fogged mirror to catch his gaze, dramatizing your movements to put emphasis on the towel currently scrunching your hair. “It’s still drying, dummy.” You smile.

“You already got wet in the rain, and now you’re not drying your hair properly.” he tsks, kicking off from the door frame and entering your bathroom. “You know, you’re asking to get sick.” He takes the towel from your hands despite your protests. “I guess I’ll be the one to take care of you.”

You give him an incredulous look despite the slight heat rising to your cheeks from his uncharacteristic words and softer tone. “And how are you gonna do that?” You tease.

“Here,” He pats the empty space on your bathroom counter, motioning for you to take a seat, “Let me dry your hair.”

You stare at him for a few seconds. You’re no stranger to Rafayel’s softer, more gentle moments … but it still catches you off guard every time it happens. He’s so different like this compared to his usual charismatic, if not bratty and pouty, self. He almost leaves you awestruck. Not that you didn’t love him like that, too. This … is just unexpected and not something you see every day.

You nod your head, unable to form any words as you do what he says.

He steps between your legs, unintentionally nudging them slightly wider to accommodate where he now stands. His eyes remain on yours despite your gaze averting from his once he steps in front of you, outstretching his hands to begin drying your hair with the towel in sections.

“If I hadn’t been in the cafe, were you planning to run all the way home like this?”

His words draw your eyes back to him, and luckily, his own are fixed on where he’s drying the first section of your hair.

“Maybe …”

A subtle smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Your eyes dart down at the motion before you snap your gaze away from him once again.

“Thankfully, I ran into you …” he says, creating another section of your hair and starting to dry that part. “You might not be so lucky next time.”

You remain quiet as he moves on to yet another section of your hair, moving the tiniest bit closer in order to reach the hair that’s further behind you. You let your eyes close, both terrified of looking up to see how much closer his face has gotten to you, and frankly, enjoying the feeling of him brushing your hair for you.

“Did you change your shampoo?” he asks, voice somehow softer than before in the quiet of your bathroom. “This fragrance … smells like a meadow blooming with daisies on a spring afternoon.”

You giggle softly at his prose of your new shampoo scent. Of course he could make something so ordinarily mundane sound more than exquisite. “If you like it so much, I’ll get some for you next time I’m at the store.”

He’s quiet for a heartbeat, then in that same soft, low voice, he says, “Let me smell it again.”

There’s a fraction of a moment where you wonder why you can hear the sound of his inhale so vividly before your body goes rigid and your eyes snap open as his hot breath fans across your ear. You suck in a breath, unconsciously pulling away from him slightly as your head reels at his proximity and the heat radiating from him that transfers to you, crawling at an achingly slow pace up your neck.

“... Did my breath tickle your ear?” His voice is almost a whisper now as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. You do your best to school your expression back to one of nonchalance despite the growing hammering of your heart in your chest. Despite your efforts, he seems to pick up on the way you lean away from him and the sudden change in your posture. “Am I too close?”

Even with him no longer being next to your ear, and it being more faint, you can still hear and feel his breath as it now mixes with yours. You slowly inhale, trying to quell the heat rising inside of you. Your voice is just barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

“Then … I’ll back up a bit.” Your eyes remain locked on him, entranced despite the feeling creeping up inside you to look away. “How about now?” he asks once he’s backed up some, but not far enough back to how he was standing previously.

You shake your head, willing every part of you to keep your eyes on his and away from where they seek to look, watching his parted lips as you still listen to the faint rise and fall of his breath.

His eyes narrow slightly and that subtle smirk returns to his lips. His voice is full of amusement. “Am I still too close?” Before you get the chance to answer, he switches his stance to be leaning in on the other side of your head from where he originally smelled your hair. And inadvertently moved a fraction back closer to you. “What about from this side? Am I still too close?”

You don’t even dignify him with an answer, not that you trust yourself to vocally respond to him now anyway, not with the way your body and face feel like they’re going to catch fire any minute now. You simply turn your head the other direction as a way to get back at his teasing and to hide your flustered state.

A finger gently hooks under your chin, turning your head back around until you’re face to face once again. “You’re being pretty shy.” He strokes your chin with his thumb, eyes following the movement before returning to your gaze. “I think this distance is perfect.”

The feeling of his thumb brushing over your chin and trailing to your jaw is too much for you. You fight off a shiver as you make to pull away from his grip but before you can get too far he lets go of your chin. “Hey, I’m not done.” he murmurs sternly, “ Don’t move.”

Thankfully, that is the last of the teasing while he finishes drying your hair. The silence and time it takes for him to finish is enough to help reduce your flustered state and the subtle tension in the room. Yet, neither fully disappears.

He puts the towel aside as he speaks. “Are we good now? Let me check.”

He starts feeling your still damp, but no longer soaked, hair with his hands, running some strands through his fingers. The action is enough for that quelled heat inside of you to begin sparking back to life. You put a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him back so you can hop off the counter. “I think it’s dry now, Raf.”

His free hand comes to cover yours, keeping your palm pressed against his chest as he continues inspecting your hair, not budging from his spot. “Who says it’s dry?” His hand untangles from your hair and moves to brush back a portion of your bangs. “Look, your bangs…” Admittedly, your bangs still stick slightly to your forehead, not that you really care if they do or not. His hand trails to your ears that are still wet from the damp hair draped over them. He skims his fingertips over the shell of your ear, making your breath hitch. “Your ears…” His fingers run through your hair once again, his eyes drifting down to the skin of your neck that is now exposed from his movements. His eyes lock back on yours. “Are all wet.”

You nearly choke at his words. At any other time you would not bat an eye at what he said. But now, with him so close and his eyes fixated solely on you, and the heat radiating off him, fueling your own…your mind begins to wander.

His words snap you out of your thoughts. “Want me to help you blow-dry your hair?”

Your eyes come into focus. “Uh … sure.”

You turn your head, ready to point to which cabinet you keep your blow-dryer in when Rafayel leans forward and begins to softly blow on your hair. The action makes you giggle albeit the lingering tension in your body. “Really?”

Some of his usual goofiness shines through, even through his softer attitude. “I never said I’d use a blow dryer.” He smiles cheekily.

You roll your eyes and point to the cabinet with the hair-dryer as a wave of fondness settles in your chest, dulling but also mixing in with the warmth spread throughout your body. You turn your head to come nearly cheek to cheek with him, feeling less nervous than before but still equally as flustered. You swallow, forcing yourself to stay in this close proximity to him and take in his scent, much like he did to you earlier.

“Is this how you’re gonna get your revenge?” he asks, voice once again becoming but a mere whisper. “By breathing on my neck?” You smile and move even closer, purposely fanning your breath on the side of his neck and ear. “Returning the favor, huh? Then…” He brushes your hair aside, leaving your throat and the side of your neck exposed to him. Your breath hitches the moment you feel his snake across your skin, sending a shiver and liquid heat down your spine.

“Rafayel,” you say, hoping it comes out like the warning you force it to be instead of the soft plea you almost let out.

He lingers for a few seconds, but he eventually pulls his head back with a soft, amused grin. “All right all right, I’ll stop teasing you.” He steps back from the counter and between your legs, letting cold air come between you. You inwardly grimace at the feeling. “Stay right there,” he taps your knee, “I’ll get a blow-dryer.”

A smile tugs at your lips as you watch him fish out your old blow-dryer from under your bathroom sink. He plugs it in and steps back between your legs as he turns the blow-dryer on. Using one hand to separate any tangles, the other begins to dry your hair one section at a time.

“How is it?” he asks after a minute. You see a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips and instantly understand.

“Better.”

“It’s better?” His gaze lands on your own, eyes slightly narrowed but his smirk still remains. “Are you serious? This little thing is better than me?” You bite your lip to keep from giggling– and to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay– and nod your head. “Do you want me to try again?” His voice once again drops to a whisper as he leans in close to you. He points the hair dryer away as he blows on the hair right above your ear, hitting some of your flushed and sensitive skin in the process. The same heat from before rises to the surface, warming your skin. Your hands grip the edge of the counter. “How come your ears are red? Do you have a fever?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” you huff, mostly in deflection to avoid thinking about how close he is yet again.

“Let me feel your forehead.” He brushes your bangs aside before pressing the back of his

hand against your forehead. You look up at him, your gaze lingering on his lips when your gaze travels up his face. You watch as he stands there, thinking quietly to himself. He eventually pulls his hand away. “I can’t tell with my hand.” He shakes his head, giving you a small, faux frown. “Guess I have to use my forehead.”

His hands land on either side of yours as he leans in, gently resting his forehead against yours. The familiar sound of his breath plays in the air and you grip the counter harder.

“Hmm..” he hums, forehead still pressed against yours. He takes a breath. “The temperature seems normal.” he says as he pulls his head back to take you in properly again. His hands remain where they are, allowing him to casually lean toward you in his stance. His eyes scan your face. “ But your cheeks are a bright scarlet.”

One of your hands releases its grip from the counter's edge, accidentally brushing the side of his as you reach up to feel the warmth of your cheeks.

You see his gaze land on the side of your head. “Your ears are even more red.” One of his hands comes to brush against the shell of your ear, soft and delicate. “You’re hot enough to be an electric heater. It must be nice to hold you when it’s cold outside.”

His words make you flush even further. The hand that was cupping your cheek swats his away from you. But his opposite hand reaches for your other ear. “Funny.”

He ignores your words, still focused on you and the heat you emit. “My hands are warm after touching your ears.” he says, finally ceasing his touch on your ears.

Your eyes narrow as your heart thrums in your chest, pumping more blood and heat all over your body. Your hand grips the counter ledge impossibly harder. “It’s your fault.” You manage to speak.

“It’s my fault?” You give him a curt nod. “What did I do?”

You keep your eyes narrowed as you stare at him, knowing that some deep and fragile part of you will crack wide open if you feel the touch of his bare skin even one more time. “You know.”

His head tilts to the side. “Now you’re glaring at me…” You expect him to pout, especially with the way his voice softens. But his expression stays the same, leaving only his eyes to reveal the unfamiliar glint in them. A glint that matches the warm feeling sitting low in your chest. “If you keep looking at me like that,” he leans in, hovering his face a few mere centimeters from your own, “I won’t show you any mercy.”

You swallow. Your voice nearly trembles. “What are you going to do?” You attempt to challenge, but the hardness of your expression begins to fade away with each passing second.

“What am I going to do?” he whispers, tasting your words on his tongue. He makes them sound sickeningly sweet, yet voracious. “Close your eyes.”

You hesitate, scanning both of his eyes for any hint of what he could be planning. But you find nothing. You swallow and let your eyelids slowly fall shut. With your lack of vision, now every one of your senses seems to be heightened by tenfold. From the heat warming your neck and cheeks, to the sound of his breath growing louder as he inches closer to you, everything is so much. Yet, not enough. Your fingers itch to reach for him despite your body staying locked in your rigid position, waiting.

One of his hands gently cups your cheek. You fight against leaning into it. “You’re so nervous…” he whispers. His other hand brushes against your hair. “There’s some fluff in your hair. Probably from the towel.” You feel his breath hit your cheek as he leans closer to you, inspecting the piece of fluff. He picks at it. “I’ll take it off for you.”

His thumb grazes over your cheek and jaw. Even that slight touch is enough to have you dangerously keening for more. It takes everything in you to pull away from his touch. “Raf …” you sigh, nearly opening your eyes.

“Why are you upset?” His hand finds its way back to the side of your face, cradling your jaw so you won’t slip away so easily again.

The hold he has on you eases something in you. You let out a shaky breath. “What are you doing?”

There’s a thick silence hanging in the air for a few moments. The only sounds heard being that of your shared breathing. “I’m not someone who takes advantage of others…” he says, pressing closer to you. You feel his front press softly against your torso, your chest. The tip of his nose brushes against yours and his breath mixes with yours. “But there are times when … I can’t help myself.”

Soft, warm lips press against yours. His free hand moves to cradle your neck, keeping you in place for him. You’re just about to lean into the kiss when he pulls away all too soon.

Your eyes open, blinking as you take in the sight of him so close. Your eyes drop down to his lips, already missing their warmth. Your own feel so cold in contrast to the heat scorching your cheeks and neck.

“Your face is so red now.” His thumb runs over your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“It’s your fault.”

“Mmm, it is my fault this time. I agree.” His thumb sweeps downward, coming to rest against your bottom lip. His gaze follows the movement. “How can I make it up to you?” His eyes darken slightly as he runs the pad of his thumb across your lips. He starts to lean in, slowly, intentionally.

“Why don’t I …” His thumb gives way just enough to fit his lips. Your eyes flutter shut when his mouth slots against yours, meeting in a kiss. “...Make it up to you like this, yeah?” His breath tickles your lips as he whispers against them, before leaning back in once again.

His lips mold perfectly to yours. You finally allow your hands to leave their spots on the counters edge in favor of touching him. Your fingers thread through his hair as his body pushes against yours, just enough so his front is pressed against yours. The heat from his body and kiss snakes around you, easing your muscles and stilling your thoughts, except for those about the feel of his lips against yours, before slithering down your spine and pooling in your core.

The kiss is lazy and warm, and everything you didn’t know you needed. His tongue poking at your bottom lip draws a gasp from you. Or maybe it was a moan. You’re not quite sure, but either way you happily accept his silent request and part your lips for him. A shiver threatens to run down your spine when his tongue delicately slips into your mouth, just past your lips. Then again, deeper. His tongue barely brushes yours; a tease.

He pulls away.

The hands in his hair don’t let him get too far away–not that he’d want to be. Your eyes open to see him already looking at you. His pupils are slightly dilated and eyelids droopy. You’re sure you don’t look much different.

His gaze now rests upon you, scanning every inch of your face. You have half the mind to try and mask your expression, surely revealing the burning desire for him that’s finally coaxed to the surface, laid bare for him to see. His thumb resuming its place on your bottom lip makes that fragment of thought vanish, leaving behind that ceaseless craving.

Head cocking to the side, he watches you become pliant in his hands. You don’t move aside from parting your lips when his thumb presses down on the fat of your lip, opening your mouth just wide enough to slip past its barrier. The moment your tongue darts out to meet his thumb, it hooks over your teeth, pulling you back up to his face. “If that’s not enough …” His mouth replaces his thumb, immediately slipping his tongue between your parted lips.

A moan breaks free from the depths of your throat when his tongue meets yours. It’s instantly swallowed by his hungry mouth, pulling back just enough to meet yours again and again.

One of his hands wraps around you, splaying his palm against the small of your back and pulling every part of you flush against him. Your arms drape over his shoulders, surrendering yourself to his grip on you, keeping you exactly where you both wish to be.

Even when his lips part from yours, he keeps you in place. You can feel the push and pull of your chests as you catch your breath, desperately trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. His forehead rests against your own. “How about now?” he asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You can’t answer him. Not like this.

Your hands move to grip his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you and keeping him within reach as if he’d ever dream of pulling away. You tilt your head up, ghosting your lips over his, hinting.

The corner of his lips curls up ever so slightly. “Are you tired? Do you want me to stop?” Even though you know it’s meant to be a tease, letting you know he’s acutely aware of your current state, you also know it’s his own way of checking in on you. It makes your heart melt as much as it pushes all your buttons that it was intended to.

“Yeah, Raf. I want you to stop.” you tease back, clearly lying through your teeth. Even the slight tremble of your voice juxtaposes your words. One of your hands traces over his collarbone.

His smirk grows, matching the teasing behind your words by tenfold. “But look, your hair …” His head leans back enough to look between your eyes and the strand of hair he just tucked away behind your ear. “It’s still wet.” You swallow. “You can’t sleep yet.”

“Why not?”

“Otherwise, you’ll get a headache the next day.” He shakes his head, giving you a faux frown. “It won’t be a pleasant experience.” His hand drops down and rests on your knee, inching ever so slightly further up your thigh. You absentmindedly hum in response, no longer able to pretend to care about whatever excuse is coming out of his mouth. You both know where this is going anyway and you don’t have it in you to wait much longer. Not with him so close and looking at you like that.

“That’s why,” He brings his lips back in front of yours, barely grazing them, “before your hair completely dries …” Before his lips finally connect to yours once again, he says, “I won’t let you sleep.”

#✧ ₊˚੭ — fic recs #rafayel x reader #smirks because i saw this first #😼😼#delicious stuff

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