Rafe X Reader Novels & Stories

Today’s the day. I sit up, blinking at the sunlight pouring in through the half-open blinds. Rafe’s room is packed up, a cardboard box labeled TROPHIES + RANDOM SHIT sits by the door, and his dresser drawers hang open, mostly empty. It feels wrong, like the room itself is bracing for the goodbye we’re both pretending isn’t coming. I pull on one of his T-shirts, feeling vulnerable and pathetic, and follow the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Rafe is standing at the stove, shirtless, flipping pancakes like a domestic god who doesn’t know his own biceps should be illegal.

He looked like what he was: a refugee from one war, drafted into another. He changed quickly into dark trousers and a simple black sweater from the closet. The clothes were expensive, unfamiliar, but they fit perfectly. Of course they did. Rafe’s efficiency was terrifying. He found the study down a wide, gallery-like hall lined with stark modern art. The door was ajar. Inside, Rafe was not behind the massive desk of black fossilized stone. He was standing before a large, interactive screen mounted on the wall, its glow painting his sharp features in cool light. Data streams, maps with glowing nodes, and financial charts scrolled in a silent, complex ballet.

I grimace, leaning back against Victor as I survey the variety of emotions that I see on everyone’s faces. Rafe looks just plain ill, leaning his head back against his headrest, gritting his teeth against the pain that runs through his body every time the packed van hits a bump or a pothole. His chest is wrapped tightly with bandages, the Beta medic recommending he be checked immediately for broken ribs. Next to him, Bridgette is anxious, worried, miserable. She stares at Rafe, eager to help his every need, but no knowing, precisely, how. My heart goes out to her, then. I wonder if Rafe chose her as his luna not only for her beauty and simplicity, but because he knew he could control her. As

Chapter 37 Laura's question brought everyone's attention to Rafe. Although Angelina appeared confused, Cohen seemed to understand Rafe. As being the king of all Alphas, Rafe certainly had some special powers. It was one of them that he could use his healing powers upon any person without being presence around that person. Rafe dodged her question, getting rid of Laura's arms, " Nothing! It's just a natural transformation.." Laura didn't believe his words. She insisted on hearing, pointing at the red blemishes stubbornly,

Elias said, already moving. "Get it." I turned to Rafe, who was standing slightly apart from his brothers, still holding the files, watching me with that steady unreadable expression. He was the least visibly injured — I could see that immediately... but he also had a laceration down one forearm where something had caught him, blood running down to his wrist. "Sit down," I said. "Now. Before you fall down." "I'm not going to fall down," he said. "I didn't say you were going to. I said sit before you do." I pointed at the low garden wall at the edge of the road. "Sit."

a plain, simple office. Still, I'm curious. I wander over to the bookshelves, surprised to see how many books Rafe has - he never struck me as much of a reader - but his collection is wide and varied. There's an entire shelf full of classic novels. Another of photography and art books. There's a section devoted to mechanical skills, another full of books on fitness, weight-training, and other similar pursuits. The more I look, the more interesting the books become - next to the atlases and travel guides are books on astronomy and space travel. Beside the books on filmmaking are biographies of famous people from all walks of life - not just Hollywood types but also philosophers, scientists, a

Rafa muttered. I rolled my eyes, but the truth was I liked this, the banter, the constant picking at each other. If I felt normal and safe, it was something that anchored me. Rafa shifted again, his fingers brushed my ankle before he pretended he wasn't doing it on purpose. I raised a brow. “Do you want something?” I asked. “For you to stop pretending to read.” “I am reading.” “Upside down?” Okay, he got me there. He reached out, plucked the book from my hands, and tossed it aside.

"So who's been with you lately? Rafe told me his alterego was getting stronger. He's worried that his alterego will hurt you while you're here, whereas he himself might be deactivated by his alterego. So Rafe asked me to watch over you. But I've got reports that Rafe is out of the country and you're doing well at home. I feel safe not to watch you too much when I'm busy with seminars." “I didn't know Rafe was worried about me like that. All this time I was with Xena. He does have a dark and evil personality. At first it was like that. But lately Xena's attitude has changed. I tried to love him and treat him more gently. You know that Rafe's dark side emerged because he experienced various ki

“There’s too much to lose.” She looks away, jaw working, but doesn’t argue. That silence from her is as close to trust as I’ll ever get again. Rafe steps out then—limping, bleeding, but standing. His shirt is dark with blood at the ribs, but he still smiles, cocky and venomous. His gun dangles in his hand like an extension of himself. The crowd parts for him, men watching, unsure if they’re following a king or a ghost. “Cruz Maddox,” he drawls, voice frayed but sharp. “Always dragging everyone into your tragedies. Woman. Child. Old friend with a knife fetish. You really don’t know when to stop.”

"Like me. Like Mouse. Like Ghost, though Ghost would punch me for saying so." I thought about this. "What about Jax?" Rafe paused. "Jax is different," he said. "Jax decided. From the beginning. He came here and he looked at what was here and he decided this was it, and then he built everything around that decision. He doesn't drift." "He doesn't seem like someone who drifts," I agreed. "No." Rafe was quiet for a moment. Then: "He fixed your bike." "I know."