military!rafe x bratty!reader
the first thing she notices about him is that he watches her.
not in a weird way. not in a way that makes her uncomfortable. just… constant. like no matter where she is in the room, no matter who she’s talking to, she can feel it. heavy. focused. on her.
she’s halfway through laughing at something one of her friends said when she glances over her shoulder, and—there he is.
leaned back in his chair, arm slung over the back, beer untouched in his hand. he’s not talking to anyone. not really paying attention to anything either.
just her. she grins immediately, because of course he is.
“what?” she mouths across the table, tilting her head, a little teasing.
his jaw shifts. something small, almost like he’s fighting a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his mouth.
“come here,” he says, not loud, but she hears it anyway.
she always does. she makes a face at him, dramatic, dragging it out on purpose as she finishes her sentence, laughs a little louder than necessary, just to annoy him. she knows he hates that—hates when she pulls attention like that, hates when people look at her too long.
it’s fun. he doesn’t react. not really. just watches. that’s new.
usually by now he’d be giving her a look. sharp. warning. the kind that makes heat crawl up her spine because she knows exactly what it means—stop it or i will come get you myself.
but he doesn’t. he just sits there. waiting.
it should be nothing. it is nothing. she tells herself that as she finally pushes out of her chair, smoothing her skirt down like she didn’t just do all that on purpose, like she isn’t already smiling again as she makes her way over.
“you’re obsessed with me,” she says, dropping into his lap without asking, arms looping around his shoulders like it’s second nature. “it’s actually embarrassing.”
his hand comes up automatically, settling at her waist. firm. steady.
“yeah?” he says, low, eyes on her face. “that so?”
“mhm,” she hums, leaning in closer, like she’s about to tell him a secret. “everyone can tell.”
she expects it then. the reaction.
the little shift in his grip. the way his fingers tighten just enough to make her breath hitch. the quiet, possessive “is that right?” that always follows, like he’s already planning how to prove otherwise.
“i said, let them.” his thumb moves once against her side, slow, absent. “don’t care.”
it’s not what she expected. not bad. not wrong. just… off, in a way she can’t quite place. so she does what she always does when something feels off. she pushes.
“wow,” she says, leaning back a little to look at him properly, lips curling. “what happened to you being all—” she lowers her voice, mocking him lightly, “—don’t like people looking at you like that, baby?”
his expression doesn’t change much. maybe his jaw tightens a little. maybe.
“doesn’t seem like it,” she shoots back, poking at his chest. “you didn’t even glare at him.”
she rolls her eyes, dramatic. “the guy who’s been staring at me all night? keep up.”
his gaze flicks past her for half a second. dismissive, then back to her.
“mmm,” she hums, not letting it go, because why would she? “usually you’d be all weird about it.”
she snorts. “you’re a little weird.”
his hand tightens then. just slightly. enough to make her notice.
she smiles instantly, pleased with herself, leaning back into him again like she didn’t just poke at him on purpose.
“there you are,” she murmurs.
his fingers press into her side once, like a warning, but he doesn’t say anything else. just lets her settle, arm firm around her waist, holding her there like he always does.
she tells herself that as she plays with the chain around his neck, absent, mind drifting, attention slipping back to the noise of the party around them.
he’s quieter than usual, maybe.
a little less… reactive. but he’s here. he’s with her. his hand hasn’t left her waist once. so it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t.
she tips her head back to look at him again, grin softening into something sweeter this time.
“you missed me?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.
his eyes don’t leave her face. “yeah.” simple. easy. like always.
she leans in, presses a quick kiss to his mouth, soft and careless, like she’s done it a hundred times before. he kisses her back, just as quick, just as easy. but his hand doesn’t pull her any closer. and she doesn’t notice that yet.
she doesn’t let go of his hand the second they leave.
it’s subtle at first—just her fingers threading through his like it’s nothing, like it’s always been like this. she’s still buzzing from the night, from the warmth of him pressed against her, from the way he didn’t pull away when she leaned into him in front of everyone. it makes her a little braver than she should be, like she can get away with anything as long as she keeps looking at him like that. his hand closes around hers without hesitation.
“you’re quiet,” she says as they walk out into the cooler air, heels clicking against the pavement. “that’s suspicious.”
he glances down at her for a second. “i’m always quiet.”
“not like this,” she insists, swinging their hands a little as she walks backward in front of him for a moment, forcing him to slow down. “you’re doing the whole… brooding soldier thing.”
his mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but he doesn’t give her the full thing. “you say that like it’s a thing i turn on.”
“isn’t it?” she tilts her head, pretending to think. “you come back all mysterious and emotionally unavailable and suddenly you think you’re above me.” he stops walking. so she does too.
there’s a beat where she thinks she went too far, like maybe this is where he finally gives her that look. the one that shuts her up. but instead he just watches her, calm in a way that feels too steady for how she’s acting.
then he steps closer. “above you?” he repeats, quieter now.
she swallows, but she doesn’t back up. she never does. “yeah,” she says anyway, softer now too, because she can feel him closer, heat curling into her space. “you know. all serious. all—”
his hand comes up, not rough, just firm, thumb brushing under her chin so she looks at him properly.
“you talk too much,” he says, and there it was. the old version of him. she grins instantly.
“you missed me,” she says again, like it’s a fact she’s collecting proof for.
his eyes hold hers for a second longer than necessary. “yeah,” he admits again, like it’s still simple. like it’s still easy. it makes something warm twist in her chest. he doesn’t let go of her hand when they start walking again.
his place isn’t far, and she’s been there enough times that it doesn’t feel like a big deal anymore. still, there’s something about it tonight that feels different—the way the door clicks shut behind them, the way the silence settles in softer than outside, like the whole world got smaller the second it’s just them. she kicks off her shoes immediately.
“finally,” she sighs dramatically, flopping onto his couch like she owns it. “i can breathe.” he shuts the door, locks it, then looks over at her like she’s ridiculous.
“you were breathing fine five minutes ago.”
“you don’t know that,” she says, stretching out, arms above her head, like she’s testing the space for him. “you weren’t watching me that closely.”
he doesn’t answer that. just walks closer instead. she watches him like she always does when he gets like this—quiet, focused, like he’s deciding something without telling her what it is. it should make her nervous. it never does. he stops in front of her.
“what,” she says, smiling up at him, “are you gonna tell me to behave now?”
“no.” that makes her pause. just a little. then he leans down and kisses her.
it’s not gentle. not rough either. just certain. like he’s been thinking about it longer than she has. her hands go up automatically, grabbing at his shirt like she’s anchoring herself, and she makes a small sound into his mouth that she would absolutely deny if anyone ever heard it. he pulls her up without breaking it. she goes willingly.
her knees hit the couch, then she’s on her feet, then she’s closer—too close, always too close with him, like there’s no such thing as space that actually lasts between them. his hands are at her waist again, the same place they always end up, like it’s the only place he knows where to hold her properly.
“baby,” he murmurs against her mouth, and it’s quieter than everything else.
she laughs a little, breathless. “what?”
“i’m not.” he pulls back just enough to look at her. his thumb presses lightly into her side like he’s checking anyway. she hates that he’s right.
“it’s just you,” she says, like that explains everything. something shifts in his expression at that. something softer, but heavier too, like it lands somewhere deeper than she means it to.
she nods once, smaller now, less teasing. “yeah.” that’s all it takes.
he kisses her again, slower this time, and she melts into it like she’s been waiting for it without realizing. her hands move without thinking—shirt, shoulders, pulling him closer like she can’t get enough of the space he’s taking up, like she’s trying to make up for every moment he was gone without actually saying it out loud.
his grip tightens at her waist again, steadier now, more certain. “my love,” he says quietly, like it slips out before he can stop it.
she freezes for half a second. then she looks at him like she’s trying not to smile too hard. “you just said that on purpose.”
“no,” he says immediately, but there’s something in his eyes that gives him away.
she leans in again anyway, slower now, softer. “say it again then.”
his jaw tightens like he’s thinking about it too much.
then he doesn’t answer with words. he just kisses her deeper instead, and this time she doesn’t tease him for it. her hands slide up his neck, fingers in his hair, pulling him closer like she forgot how to breathe properly when he looks at her like that.
the couch shifts under them as he guides her back without breaking it, like he already knows where this is going, like he’s been here before even if they haven’t tonight. her heart is loud in her ears now, louder than anything else, and she laughs softly into his mouth like she can’t help it.
“you’re so bossy,” she whispers when she finally gets a second to breathe.
his forehead rests against hers for a moment.
she opens her mouth to argue.
doesn’t get the chance to finish.
he kisses her again, and everything after that starts to blur in the way it always does when it stops being about talking at all, and becomes something else entirely—
“rafey,” she breathes out a moan as he starts to rub her gently through her panties. “mm…g’me more.” she whispers, grinding down against his solid cock through his jeans.
he ignores her words, continuing to rub her clit. he doesn’t break the barrier between the cloth and his skin.
“baby, quit that.” he demands as she starts to whine and be more aggressive with her grinding, gently smacking her ass, making her yelp.
she grinds down roughly until he caves in and takes her lace panties off, throwing them to the side. he doesn’t waste time, sticking a finger between the wet folds and into her tight hole.
“oh, jesus, fuck!” she hisses, wrapping her arms around his neck and whimpering as he immediately puts in two more fingers, not bothering to stretch her out.
"you're doin' so good for me, honey, just a little bit more.” he coos into her ear as he starts to thrust his fingers faster.
she gasps and squirms, but he grabs her hips firmly. “no ma’am. stay still.” he murmurs gruffly.
“oh my god, rafe, ‘m gonna cum!” she cries, burying her head in the crook of his neck as she gets ready to cum, only for him to pull his fingers out.
“don’t you think i deserve to cum, too, sweet girl?” he asks as he takes his cock out of his pants, rubbing the tip against the lips of her pussy.
“y-you do.” she stutters a bit, arching her back so his tip would reach the hole of her cunt.
he leans down to kiss her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth. she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer.
he finally pushes his cock deep inside, burying himself in her hear.
“you feel that, baby?” he asks as she gasps. “its all for you, honey.”
she reaches up to tangle her hand in his hair, wrapping her legs around his torso as his hips snap forward. he reaches down to rub her clit in circles.
“oh..oh, rafe!” she cries out, tugging his hair and coming all over his shaft.
“thats it. milk me dry, sweetheart.” he groans as she clenches around him, and cums just from her little sounds and how tight she is.
after a moment of slow thrusts, he stops completely and pulls out, perfectly content. “you’re such a good girl, babe.”
“yea, whatever.” she says quietly, recovering from becoming undone so quickly.
his weight is still over her, one arm braced beside her head, the other resting low at her waist like it belongs there.
she’s smiling before she even realizes it.
“hi,” she murmurs, like they didn’t just do all that, like she’s starting over again.
his eyes flick over her face, slower this time. quieter.
she reaches up, pushing his hair back a little where it fell forward, fingers lingering longer than necessary. “you look at me like that again and i’m gonna think you’re obsessed.”
“you already think that.”
“because it’s true,” she hums, pleased with herself.
usually, this is where he’d say something back. something low, something that makes her feel it all over again. usually he leans into it, lets her drag it out, lets her keep going until it turns into something else.
he just watches her for a second longer.
then shifts slightly, not pulling away completely—just enough that the space between them isn’t suffocating anymore.
her hand slides down from his hair to his neck, thumb brushing there absentmindedly. “you’re quiet again.”
“tired,” he says, like it’s simple.
“mm. you weren’t tired five minutes ago.”
that almost gets a reaction.
his mouth twitches like he’s debating whether to respond, then he just exhales through his nose, glancing away for half a second like something else pulled his attention.
she follows it instinctively.
when she looks back at him, his expression is the same—but not really. something’s pulled tighter underneath it. more controlled.
she tilts her head, studying him now instead of teasing.
“you do that a lot,” she says.
“go somewhere else.” her fingers press lightly at his neck, bringing his attention back to her. “like you’re not here.”
he doesn’t answer right away
just looks at her again. steady. unreadable in a way he wasn’t earlier.
“i’m here,” he says finally.
“you are,” she agrees, softer now. “just not like… before.”
not uncomfortable. just… heavier than it should be.
so she does what she always does when things feel too serious.
she smiles, lighter, leaning up just enough to brush her mouth against his again, quick and playful. “it’s okay. i’ll fix it.”
his hand tightens slightly at her waist. “fix what?”
“you,” she says easily. “you’re being weird.”
that does it. not a full reaction—but enough. his jaw shifts. subtle. controlled. “i’m not being weird.”
“you are,” she insists, nudging his shoulder with hers. “you’re like—” she makes a vague motion with her hand, “—all serious. it’s annoying.”
“yeah?” his tone is still even. too even.
“yeah. i liked you better when you were obsessed with me.”
that pulls his eyes back to hers fully.
something flickers there. quick. hard to place.
she smiles immediately, satisfied. “good.”
but it doesn’t feel the same.
not because of what he said—but because of how he said it. like it costs him more now. like he’s choosing his words instead of just letting them happen.
she shifts under him slightly, pulling the throw blanket up without thinking, tucking it around herself as she settles back into the couch.
“stay,” she murmurs, softer now, reaching for him again like it’s automatic. “don’t go all quiet on me.”
then he lays back down beside her instead of over her this time, arm still coming around her, pulling her into his side.
she relaxes into it easily, head tucked against his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy patterns against his chest like she always does when she’s half-distracted, half-content.
“missed this,” she mumbles.
his arm tightens just slightly around her.
she smiles to herself, eyes closing for a second.
but after a moment, she tilts her head just enough to look up at him again.
“that,” she says, nudging him. “the my love thing.”
his expression stills. “why?”
“because i like it,” she says, like it’s obvious. “and you don’t say it enough.”
he looks at her for a long second. then away. “not a big deal.”
and this time, when the silence settles in, it doesn’t feel soft.
it feels like something she can’t quite reach.
the next morning, she wakes up to an empty bed.
it takes her a second to register it, still half asleep, face pressed into his pillow, arm stretched across where he should be. the sheets are still warm though, which makes her frown a little less, eyes barely opening as she shifts onto her back.
“rafe,” she mumbles, voice rough with sleep.
she blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling, then rolls over again like maybe he’ll just appear if she waits long enough. he doesn’t. her lips purse slightly.
“rude,” she mutters to herself, pushing herself up on her elbows, hair falling into her face. she glances around his room like he might be hiding in it, like this is some kind of game, but it’s quiet. too quiet.
then she remembers. gym. of course.
she flops back down for a second, dramatic, staring at the ceiling again like this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. then she sighs, long and exaggerated, and finally drags herself out of bed. his shirt is the first thing she grabs.
it’s half hanging off a chair, wrinkled, smelling like him, and she pulls it over her head without thinking, letting it fall down her thighs. she doesn’t bother with anything else, just tugs it into place and runs her fingers through her hair a few times, trying to make herself look less like she just woke up, even though she kind of likes that look on herself. he definitely does.
she glances at herself in the mirror briefly, tilts her head, then shrugs. good enough.
the hallway is quiet when she steps out, bare legs brushing against each other as she walks, still waking up fully. she’s smiling a little already though, because she knows exactly how this is going to go.
he’s going to act like he didn’t expect her. like he wasn’t thinking about her at all and she’s going to ruin that. the gym doors are glass, so she sees him before he sees her.
he’s on the far side, back to her, moving through a set like it’s routine, controlled, focused in that way he gets when he’s locked into something. there’s something about it that makes her pause for a second, just watching him.
he looks… good. different, a little, but good. she pushes the door open quietly anyway. he doesn’t notice right away. which is annoying.
so she leans against one of the machines, arms crossed loosely, watching him finish, letting the silence stretch just enough. then, sweetly, “you’re so annoying.”
he stops. not abruptly. just… stills for a second before setting the weight down properly, turning his head slightly like he already knows it’s her.
like this is normal. like he didn’t just leave her in his bed. she pushes off the machine, walking toward him slowly, eyes dragging over him in a way that’s not subtle at all.
“you left me,” she says, soft, accusing in a way that isn’t serious.
he watches her come closer, expression steady. “you were sleeping.”
“yeah,” she agrees, stopping right in front of him. “with you.”
“you looked comfortable.”
she tilts her head, unimpressed. “i would’ve been more comfortable if you were still there.”
his jaw shifts slightly at that, something flickering behind his eyes, but he doesn’t take the bait right away, so she steps closer until there’s barely any space between them, her hands coming up without asking, resting lightly against his chest like they always do.
“you didn’t even wake me up,” she adds, quieter now, like she’s actually a little offended.
“because,” he says, looking down at her, voice lower now, “you were sleeping.”
she narrows her eyes at him, then smiles, slow and teasing. “you’re lying.”
he exhales through his nose, like he’s already tired of her. “about what, baby?”
“you just didn’t want me distracting you,” she says, fingers pressing lightly into his chest, sliding a little like she’s proving her point. “which is rude, by the way. i’m very motivating.”
“i am,” she insists, stepping even closer, like that’s possible. “you just don’t have self control.”
that gets a reaction. small, but there.
his hand comes up, wrapping around her wrist, not stopping her, just holding it there.
“you came down here to start something?”
“no,” she says immediately, smiling up at him. “i came down here because you abandoned me.”
his grip tightens just slightly. “sometimes.”
she beams, clearly pleased with herself, then glances around the mostly empty gym before looking back at him again. “you missed me?”
he looks at her for a second longer than necessary. “you’ve been awake for ten minutes.”
he doesn’t right away. just studies her, thumb brushing once against her wrist, absent, like he’s thinking about it more than he should. “yeah,” he says finally. simple. easy.
it makes her soften immediately, even if she tries to hide it. “good,” she murmurs, stepping closer again, her other hand sliding up his arm, slow, like she’s not even thinking about it. “because i woke up and you weren’t there and it was kind of upsetting.”
he almost smiles at that. almost. she catches it anyway.
“there it is,” she says quietly, leaning in just enough that her voice drops with it. “i knew you weren’t that serious.”
“you are,” she insists, brushing her mouth just near his jaw, not quite a kiss. “it’s weird.”
his hand shifts from her wrist to her waist, steady, grounding. “you’re the weird one.”
she hums, pleased, leaning into him like she won. “i know.” for a second, it feels like everything settles back into place. easy. familiar.
she presses a quick kiss to his jaw, then pulls back just enough to look at him again, eyes bright, a little smug.
“next time,” she says, tugging lightly at his shirt, “you wake me up.”
his hand stays at her waist, firm.
“yeah,” she nods, like it’s obvious. “don’t leave me.”
his grip tightens just slightly, eyes on her face in a way that feels a little too focused for something so simple.
“you’ll be fine,” he says.
she rolls her eyes immediately, nudging him.
just looks at her for another second, then pulls her a little closer, hand still steady at her waist like he hasn’t decided to let go yet.
her roommate is already at her desk when she gets back, hunched over her laptop, glasses slipping down her nose, typing like the world is going to end if she stops.
she barely looks up when the door swings open.
“you’re late,” she says, flat.
“i was with him,” she answers just as flat, already kicking her shoes off and heading straight for her closet. “priorities.”
“you’re always with him.”
“because i like him,” she shoots back, like it’s obvious, pulling out two tops and holding them up in the mirror. “help me pick. i’m already behind.”
her roommate sighs, pushing her glasses up properly now, turning in her chair. “which party is this again?”
“mine,” she says, grinning a little. “obviously.”
“that doesn’t narrow it down.”
“the one tonight,” she laughs, tossing one of the tops onto her bed. “don’t be annoying.”
“i’m not being annoying, you just never tell me anything.”
“i tell you everything,” she insists, already halfway out of her shirt, not even caring. “you just don’t listen.”
“i listen,” her roommate says, watching her dig through her clothes. “you just talk in circles about him.”
“you do,” she says, matter-of-fact. “you either talk about how obsessed he is with you or how he’s being weird.”
she turns, pointing at her. “he has been weird.”
“you say that every week.”
“because he is every week,” she argues, grabbing a skirt this time and holding it up. “it’s like a cycle. he’s normal, then he gets all quiet and serious, and then he’s normal again. it’s annoying.”
“maybe he’s just… like that.”
“no,” she says immediately. “he wasn’t like that before.”
her roommate raises an eyebrow. “before what?”
“before,” she repeats, like that explains anything, turning back to the mirror. “this one? or this one?”
“second one,” her roommate says without hesitation.
“thank you,” she says, already pulling it on, satisfied.
there’s a second of quiet, just the sound of her moving around, grabbing her makeup bag, sitting on the edge of the bed.
then, softer, “you really like him, don’t you?”
she rolls her eyes, but there’s no bite to it.
she pauses, mascara wand hovering for a second.
then shrugs again, casual, like it doesn’t matter.
her roommate watches her for a second longer.
“i know,” she says, smiling a little to herself now, going back to her lashes. “he’s obsessed with me.”
“that’s not what i asked.”
she laughs, shaking her head. “you’re overthinking it.”
“you are,” she insists, standing up again, smoothing her outfit down. “we’re fine. he’s just… weird sometimes.”
her roommate doesn’t argue again. just watches her grab her phone, check herself one last time in the mirror, then turn toward the door. “don’t wait up,” she says, already halfway out.
the party is loud before she even gets inside.
music, voices, people packed together, the kind of energy that hits all at once and makes her grin immediately. this is her space. her people. her night. “there she is,” someone calls the second she walks in.
she doesn’t even know who it is, but she laughs anyway, already being pulled into it, into them, into everything. drinks get pushed into her hand. she doesn’t say no. she never does. time blurs fast after that.
music gets louder, or maybe she just stops noticing it. she’s dancing, laughing, talking to people she barely knows, people she does know, people who keep telling her she looks good tonight, and she soaks it up easily, like she always does.
someone spins her around, she nearly trips, laughs harder.
“careful,” a voice says, close to her ear.
“i’m fine,” she insists, even though she’s already grabbing onto someone else to steady herself.
her phone buzzes at some point.
she’s too busy, too warm, too light, too everything.
she doesn’t think about him.
not until much later, when the music starts to feel like too much and her head feels heavier than it should.
she says her goodbyes lazily, hugging people she probably won’t remember hugging, grabbing her phone and her things without really checking anything, and stumbles her way out into the cooler air.
her thoughts finally catching up to her a little, though they’re still fuzzy around the edges.
she fumbles with her keys at the door, drops them once, laughs at herself, then finally gets it open.
she doesn’t think anything of it at first.
just kicks her shoes off again, moving inside, already reaching to turn on the light when something makes her stop.
someone’s sitting on her bed.
he’s leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, staring at the floor like he hasn’t moved in a while.
that’s what makes her stomach drop a little.
she’s never seen him like that.
not when he thinks no one’s looking.
like he didn’t expect to be caught.
his expression shifts the second he sees her, something closing off, something familiar snapping back into place.
she watches him for a second.
then walks over slowly, quieter now, the haze from earlier fading just enough.
“what are you doing here,” she asks, softer.
“didn’t think i needed to.”
normally, she’d tease him for that.
she steps closer instead, stopping right in front of him, studying his face like she’s trying to catch what she saw before it disappeared.
she tilts her head slightly.
climbs into his lap like it’s second nature, like she always does, legs settling on either side of him, arms coming up around his shoulders without asking.
this time, she’s slower about it.
“tell me,” she murmurs, softer now, her voice right by his ear.
his hands come up automatically, resting at her waist, but there’s no pressure behind it yet. no grounding, no pulling her closer.
he looks at her properly now.
and there’s something there that she hasn’t seen before.
“one of my guys,” he says, voice quieter than usual. “he didn’t make it.”
her chest tightens immediately.
she blinks, trying to process it through the lingering fog in her head.
the word lands heavier than anything else.
for a second, she doesn’t know what to say.
she’s never seen him like this.
never seen him not know what to do with something.
so she does the only thing she can think of.
she leans in, pressing her face into the side of his neck, arms tightening around him, holding him there like that might help somehow.
“i’m sorry,” she whispers.
his grip on her waist finally tightens.
like he didn’t know he did until she did it.
just holds her there, quiet, the room settling around them in a way that feels completely different from earlier.
“i’m here,” she murmurs again, softer this time, like she’s trying to convince him of it. “okay?”
it’s never enough for her.
so she shifts, sliding off his lap just long enough to grab his hand, tugging at him lightly.
“come here,” she says, quieter now, gentler than she’s ever been with him.
lets her pull him up, lets her guide him the two steps to her bed like he’s not really thinking about it, like he’s just following because she asked.
she climbs on first, scooting back against the pillows, then looks at him expectantly.
he watches her for a second.
then climbs in beside her.
she doesn’t give him space to overthink it, immediately curling into his side, one leg thrown over his, arms wrapping around him again like she’s trying to keep him there.
this time, he pulls her in too.
his arm wraps around her, hand settling at her back, pressing her closer until she’s tucked right against him.
she relaxes into it instantly, cheek pressed to his chest, listening to his breathing, slower than hers, heavier.
“better?” she asks quietly.
he hums something that could be a yes.
she tilts her head up slightly, looking at him.
“you wanna talk about him?”
his eyes flick down to hers.
her fingers start moving against his shirt without thinking, tracing little patterns like she always does when she’s trying to calm herself down, or him, or both.
she shifts a little closer.
“you’re okay, right?” she asks, softer now, like she’s not sure she should.
he doesn’t answer right away.
she feels his chest rise under her cheek, then fall.
she pulls back just enough to look at him.
his jaw tightens slightly.
“yeah, i heard you,” she says, not backing off, not this time. “i just don’t believe you.”
and for a second, it feels like he’s about to say something real.
something she can actually hold onto.
but then it closes off again.
“it’s different,” he says instead.
“this,” he gestures vaguely, like he doesn’t even know how to explain it. “you don’t get it.”
she goes still for a second, her grip on him loosening just slightly.
he exhales, already looking away again.
“no,” she says, pushing herself up a little, eyes on him now. “don’t do that. you just said something and then—what am i not getting?”
he shakes his head once, like he doesn’t want to do this.
“it’s not something i can explain.”
“then try,” she insists, softer now, but there’s something under it. frustration, maybe. confusion. “i’m literally right here.”
“then why are you acting like i’m not?”
she stares at him for a second longer, waiting.
so she huffs softly, dropping her gaze, laying back down again but not as close this time. there’s still space between them now. not much, but enough that she notices.
“you’re being weird,” she mutters.
“you are,” she says, turning her head to look at him again. “i’m trying to be here for you and you’re just… shutting me out.”
“i’m not shutting you out.”
“then what are you doing?”
and that’s what gets her.
she stares at him for another second, then looks away, pulling the blanket up a little higher over herself.
“whatever,” she says quietly.
the word sits there between them.
doesn’t pull her back in right away.
just lies there, staring at the ceiling like he’s somewhere else again.
and for the first time since he walked in, she doesn’t reach for him either.
she just stays where she is
the next few days feel normal enough that she almost convinces herself she imagined it.
he texts her more again. shorter messages, but still. he calls her baby over the phone one night and it catches her off guard enough that she smiles at her wall like an idiot for five whole minutes afterward. he picks her up from class twice that week, one hand lazy on her thigh while he drives, listening to her ramble about some girl in her sorority she can’t stand.
it’s easier when she doesn’t push.
she starts realizing that.
when she lets him come to her, things feel okay again. not perfect, maybe, but familiar enough that she stops picking at it so much.
she’s sitting on his kitchen counter one night while he cooks something simple, legs swinging lightly against the cabinets, wearing one of his hoodies and tiny shorts underneath that he definitely noticed five minutes ago and pretended not to.
“you’re burning it,” she says, watching him stir something in a pan.
“that’s because you don’t know what garlic smells like.”
she gasps softly, offended. “wow.”
he glances at her finally, unimpressed. “you eat like a twelve year old.”
“and yet you’re still in love with me.”
his jaw shifts slightly at that.
still, this time, he answers.
she grins immediately, pleased, sliding off the counter before walking over to him. her arms wrap around his waist from behind, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades.
“that wasn’t very convincing.”
“good,” she hums. “because i’m adorable.”
he snorts softly under his breath.
it makes her smile against his back.
she squeezes him once before moving around to stand in front of him instead, hands sliding up his chest slowly.
“you saw me this morning.”
“that’s not what i asked.”
his eyes flick down to her.
it warms her immediately.
“see?” she says softly, smug again now. “you’re getting better.”
that makes something shift.
she feels it under her hands before she fully sees it, the way his shoulders tense slightly, the way his expression closes off for half a second too long.
“i was always normal,” he says.
she smiles lightly, pretending not to notice.
he goes back to cooking after that, quieter again, but not in the bad way. at least she tells herself it’s not the bad way.
later, they end up on the couch together, her sprawled across him while some movie plays in the background neither of them are really watching.
she’s mostly focused on bothering him.
“if you loved me,” she says seriously, tracing shapes against his arm, “you’d buy me that necklace i sent you.”
she gasps again. “it is not ugly.”
“you looked cheap when i met you and i still gave you a chance.”
his hand tightens once against her thigh.
that low warning tone that had been missing lately.
“or what?” she asks sweetly.
his eyes move to her finally, slower this time.
heat curls low in her stomach instantly.
she shifts on top of him slightly, leaning closer, pleased with herself for getting him to react again.
“missed that,” she murmurs.
“mhm.” she presses a quick kiss to his jaw. “you were being boring.”
his hand slides higher on her thigh automatically, firm enough to make her breath catch slightly.
“you kinda were,” she teases softly. “all quiet and moody.”
his fingers pause for half a second.
“thought you liked me quiet.”
he looks at her for a second after that.
something unreadable flickering there again.
she hates when he does that.
when he looks at her like he’s thinking something he won’t say out loud.
so she leans in before it can settle too much, kissing him first this time, slow and distracting on purpose.
he kisses her back immediately.
his hand sliding into her hair like muscle memory.
and for a little while, it feels easy again.
like maybe they figured it out.
like maybe she was overthinking everything after all.
until she pulls back eventually, smiling a little, still close enough to feel his breath against her mouth.
“you know what i realized?”
“you’re way nicer to me when i’m distracting you.”
his expression stills slightly.
“mhm.” she brushes her nose against his lightly, playful. “otherwise you start acting all weird and existential.”
just looks at her for a second too long again.
and this time, when he speaks, his voice is quieter.
“you think everything’s a joke.”
the smile slips from her face a little.
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
like he keeps saying things he doesn’t actually want her to hear.
she pulls back a little more now, studying his face.
“no, seriously. what does that mean?”
he shakes his head once, eyes already moving away from hers.
and the way he says it makes something small tighten in her chest. “no, rafe,” she says immediately, pulling back fully now. “what the fuck does that mean?”
his jaw tightens. “nothing.”
“stop saying that.” her voice sharpens before she can help it. “you keep saying shit and then acting like i’m crazy for asking what you mean.”
“because you drag everything out.”
“because you never explain anything.”
he exhales slowly through his nose, leaning back against the couch like he’s already exhausted by this conversation. “not everything needs to turn into a discussion.”
“yeah, well, when my boyfriend starts talking in riddles every five seconds, i’m gonna ask questions.”
“you’re proving my point.”
his eyes flick toward her again, colder now. more guarded.
“that you don’t take anything seriously.”
her expression changes instantly. “excuse me?”
“everything’s a joke to you,” he says, calmer than her somehow, which only makes it worse. “everything gets laughed off or teased or turned into something else.”
“oh my god,” she scoffs, sitting up straighter. “because i’m trying to make you feel better?”
“that’s not what you’re doing.”
he looks at her for a second too long before answering, “avoiding it.”
that lands harder than she expects.
she laughs once, disbelieving. “you literally won’t talk to me.”
“because you don’t get it.”
“stop saying that!” she snaps now, frustration finally bleeding through fully. “what the fuck is there to get, rafe? seriously? you act like i’m stupid every time i ask you something.”
“i don’t think you’re stupid.”
he rubs a hand over his face briefly, like he’s trying to keep himself under control. “you live in this fucking bubble,” he says finally, voice lower now. “school, parties, your friends, stupid little arguments that don’t matter. you think all of this is supposed to stay light all the time because that’s what you’re used to.”
she goes still. just for a second. then her eyes narrow.
“no, you’re talking down to me.”
his jaw flexes hard at that. “i’m not talking down to you.”
“you basically just called my life stupid.”
“yeah, different from yours,” she shoots back. “you act like because you’re older and miserable and emotionally constipated now, suddenly i’m childish for not acting the same.”
his eyes harden immediately. “watch your mouth.”
“don’t start that shit with me right now.”
“why?” she challenges, voice sharper now. “because i’m not sitting here nodding along while you act like you’re above me?”
“that’s not what this is.”
he stands up suddenly, the movement quick enough to make her blink.
“you wanna know what it is?” he asks, looking down at her now. “it’s exhausting trying to talk to someone who turns everything into a fucking joke because they don’t wanna deal with anything real.”
her mouth falls open slightly. “that’s so unfair.”
“yes!” she stands too now, staring up at him. “i’ve been trying to be there for you all week and you keep shutting me out, but somehow i’m the problem because i don’t sit around brooding like you?”
“because you don’t say anything!”
“because you don’t hear me when i do.”
they’re too close now, and she doesn’t even realize it happened.
his voice is low, rougher now, and her chest is rising too fast, anger and something else twisting together so tightly she can’t separate them anymore.
“you know what your problem is?” she says, staring right up at him. “you think just because you’ve seen worse things than me, you get to decide my feelings don’t matter.”
his eyes flash. “i never said that.”
“you act like everything’s about you.”
she laughs sharply. “oh, fuck you.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“every time something gets uncomfortable, you lash out.”
“because you’re being an asshole!”
his hand suddenly braces against the back of the couch beside her head. not aggressive. just there. pinning her attention completely.
“and every time you don’t know what to say,” he says quietly, “you start acting bratty because it’s easier than actually talking.”
her breath catches slightly.
damn him for that. because he’s right, and they both know it. she hates that he can still do this, still look at her like that even when she’s pissed at him, like he sees straight through her.
“you’re unbelievable,” she mutters, but it comes out weaker now.
his eyes drop to her mouth for half a second, then back up.
there’s still anger there. still tension.
but it’s changing now, twisting into something hotter, heavier, the space between them suddenly feeling way too small. she should step back. she doesn’t. neither does he.
“you piss me off so bad sometimes,” she says quietly.
his hand tightens slightly against the couch. “you don’t make it easy.”
“you think you’re so much smarter than me.”
“don’t baby me right now.” that almost sounds like a warning when he repeats it.
heat crawls up her spine instantly. she hates that too. hates that her body reacts to him even now, even like this.
his other hand finds her waist slowly, steady and warm through the thin fabric of his shirt she’s still wearing. “you done yelling at me?” he asks quietly.
“doesn’t sound very convincing.”
she glares at him. he looks at her mouth again.
and that’s it. that’s the thing that snaps whatever was left holding the argument together. she kisses him first. hard. angry enough that their teeth nearly knock together.
he reacts immediately, hand tightening at her waist as he pulls her flush against him, the kiss turning rough almost instantly, all heat and frustration and too much feeling shoved into one thing.
she makes a small sound against his mouth when he pushes her back against the couch again, and he swallows it immediately, kissing her deeper like he’s trying to shut both of them up at once.
his hand slides up her side. hers tangle into his shirt. everything feels too hot all at once, anger melting into something dizzy and reckless and familiar.
“you’re so fucking difficult,” he mutters against her mouth.
“you love it,” she shoots back breathlessly.
then suddenly he’s pulling her fully into his lap, her breath catching as his mouth moves to her jaw, her neck, and right above her tits.
she doesn’t waste a second and strips of her clothes.
he looks her over, his eyes full of love of lust. rafe latches his mouth around her hard nipple, making her gasp and wrap her around around his neck.
she moans as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive pebble, “rafe…want your cock.”
he immediately pulls out his hard member and slams into her, releasing her nipple and kissing her.
she tugs at his hair while whining. rafe thrusts faster and harder by the second, overstimulating her while also rubbing her clit with his free thumb.
she cries out and cums, him following in lead. he softens inside of her and kisses the corner of her mouth.
over the next few days, she avoids him so completely it starts feeling ridiculous.
not intentional at first.
the first day, she just doesn’t answer because she’s still angry. her chest still burns every time she replays the argument in her head, every time she remembers the way he looked at her while saying it, calm and sharp at the same time, like he’d already decided she wouldn’t understand him before she even opened her mouth.
the second day, avoiding him becomes easier.
because now she knows he’s looking for her.
she spots his truck outside one of her lecture halls that afternoon and immediately turns around so fast she nearly walks straight into someone behind her.
“shit,” she mutters, grabbing onto the wall.
“you okay?” a guy from her class asks, confused.
“perfect,” she says quickly, already walking the other direction.
her heart pounds the entire way across campus.
she doesn’t even fully understand why she’s doing this.
it’s not like they broke up.
they’ve argued before. constantly, actually. little arguments, bigger ones, dramatic ones that ended with her storming off and him dragging her back by the waist ten minutes later because neither of them could stay mad long enough to make it matter.
but this one feels different.
he just looked at her like she was exhausting him.
like loving her was starting to feel harder than it used to.
and maybe that isn’t what he meant.
by the third day, her phone is full of missed calls.
she stares at the notifications from across the room while her roommate types away at her desk like none of this is happening.
“you know,” her roommate says eventually, without looking up, “at some point, this stops being avoidance and starts becoming psychological warfare.”
she’s sprawled face-down across her bed, one arm hanging off the side dramatically.
“right. and i’m not failing calculus.”
she groans into her pillow.
“like… really pissed me off.”
“yes,” her roommate says dryly. “i gathered that from the fact you almost had a breakdown because he viewed your instagram story.”
she lifts her head immediately. “i did not almost have a breakdown.”
“you stared at the ceiling for twenty minutes afterward.”
her roommate finally looks over at her then, expression unimpressed.
she immediately drops her face back into the pillow.
“you literally sleep in his shirts when you’re mad at him.”
she rolls onto her back dramatically this time, glaring at the ceiling.
she misses him so much it’s actually embarrassing.
she misses stupid things too, which makes it worse.
the weight of his hand on her thigh while he drives.
the way he always reaches for her absentmindedly when they’re sitting together, like touching her became instinct somewhere along the way.
his voice when he’s tired.
the way he says “baby” when he’s annoyed with her.
hates that she can still feel him everywhere even when she’s actively trying not to.
her phone buzzes again on the nightstand.
she already knows who it is before she even checks.
you gonna keep running from me?
her stomach twists instantly.
another text comes before she can stop staring at the first.
she locks her phone immediately.
then unlocks it thirty seconds later.
stares at the messages again.
maybe stop acting like an asshole then
maybe i don’t want to talk to you right now?
instead, she throws the phone across the bed with a frustrated sound.
“what did he say now?” her roommate asks.
“that sounded aggressive for nothing.”
she sits up finally, pushing her hair out of her face.
“he keeps acting like i’m the one being unreasonable.”
“are you being unreasonable?”
her roommate shrugs. “just asking.”
“he basically called me immature.”
“did he say those exact words?”
because now that she’s trying to explain it out loud, it sounds stupid he didn’t actually say her life was meaningless. he didn’t actually say she was shallow. he just made her feel that way. and somehow that’s worse.
“forget it,” she mutters, getting off the bed. “i’m going out tonight.”
her roommate watches her carefully. “with who?”
“to have fun or to make him mad?”
she pauses halfway through pulling open her closet then scoffs.
her roommate doesn’t say anything, which is annoying, because somehow silence feels more judgmental.
the party that night is packed before she even gets there. music shaking the walls, girls crowded together in bathrooms, people spilling drinks already and yelling over each other like nobody has classes tomorrow. normally, this is easy for her.
normal. she’s good at this. good at being loud and wanted and glowing under attention. but tonight it feels slightly off, like she’s forcing herself back into a version of normal she can’t fully reach anymore.
she lets herself get pulled into dancing almost immediately, laughing when someone nearly falls into her.
“there she is!” one of her friends yells, grabbing her hand. “you disappeared all week.”
“i was busy,” she lies easily.
she rolls her eyes instantly. “he’s thirty, relax.”
“exactly,” her friend laughs.
usually she’d defend him faster
tonight she just shrugs and takes another sip of her drink.
her phone buzzes in her purse.
her stomach drops instantly. another message appears underneath before she can even breathe properly.
heat floods her chest immediately. she hates how two words from him can still do that. hates how guilty she suddenly feels even though she technically hasn’t done anything wrong.
“you okay?” the guy asks.
“mhm,” she lies. but her chest feels tight now. too tight. the rest of the party blurs after that. she keeps catching herself checking the door. checking her phone.
wondering if he’s actually angry or just hurt.
and the second thought makes her feel infinitely worse. because she knows him. knows how rarely he asks for things emotionally. so if he’s been texting her this much, calling her this much…
he probably really wanted her to answer. that realization follows her all the way back to her dorm.
the hallway is quiet when she finally stumbles upstairs hours later, heels dangling from her fingers, makeup slightly smudged from the heat of the party. she’s exhausted. tipsy enough that her thoughts feel slower now.
she pushes open the dorm door carefully, expecting darkness. instead, the lamp beside her bed is on and he’s sitting there.
her breath catches immediately.
he’s leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely together like he’s been sitting there awhile.
he looks up the second she walks in, and suddenly every ounce of alcohol in her system disappears because he looks tired. not angry. not cold. just tired.
his eyes move over her slowly, taking in the outfit, the heels in her hand, the smudged makeup, then back to her face.
“you ignored me,” he says quietly, and somehow that hurts worse than yelling ever could.
she stares at him from the doorway for a second too long, heart still pounding from the surprise of seeing him there.
“how did you even get in?”
of course she did. she drops her heels by the door a little harder than necessary, suddenly irritated again, all the guilt from earlier twisting into something defensive.
“you can’t just sit in my room waiting for me.”
his expression barely changes.
“i’ve been calling you for three days.”
“and i clearly didn’t answer.”
“yeah,” he says, jaw tightening slightly. “i noticed.”
she looks away first, which annoys her, because she’s still mad at him. she came into this room determined to stay mad at him.
but seeing him sitting there like that, tired and quiet and looking at her like he hasn’t slept properly in days, makes it harder.
“you could’ve texted me you were coming,” she mutters instead, crossing her arms tightly over herself.
he exhales through his nose slowly, leaning back against the chair now. “that’s what i thought.”
something about his tone makes irritation spark hot in her chest again. “don’t do that.”
“talk to me like i’m a child.”
his brows pull together immediately. “i’m not talking to you like a child.”
“because i asked why you ignored me?”
“because you keep acting like i’m insane for being upset with you.”
“i never said you were insane.”
“you don’t have to say it outright, rafe.”
he goes quiet at that. not calm quiet. the dangerous kind.
she recognizes it instantly. normally she’d back off a little here. tease him, soften it, crawl into his lap and distract both of them before it got too serious. but she’s too hurt now. too angry.
“you disappeared,” he says finally, voice lower now. “what was i supposed to think?”
“i don’t know,” she laughs sharply. “maybe that i didn’t wanna talk to you?”
his jaw flexes hard. “that’s not how relationships work.”
“oh, and what? yours are all healthy and functional?”
that lands. she sees it immediately. but instead of apologizing, she keeps going because she’s frustrated and tired and emotional and he keeps looking at her like she’s something fragile he doesn’t know how to hold anymore.
“you don’t get to show up in my room acting hurt when you’re the one who started this.”
his eyes narrow slightly. “started what?”
“this whole thing!” she gestures wildly between them. “you acting like i’m immature because i don’t process things the same way you do.”
“that is not what i said.”
“no,” he says sharply now, standing up suddenly. “it’s what you heard.” the room goes still.
her chest tightens immediately. because that’s the problem, isn’t it? she doesn’t even know anymore if she’s angry at what he said or angry at how deeply it got under her skin. “you think i don’t take anything seriously,” she says quieter now.
his expression shifts slightly. “i think you avoid things.”
he drags a hand over his face, frustration finally cracking through properly now.
“why are you acting like i’m attacking you?”
she stares at him. actually stares. “because every time i try to be there for you, you push me away.”
“yes it is!” she snaps. “you shut down and then act irritated when i can’t magically read your mind.”
“because not everything can be fixed with jokes and sex and pretending everything’s okay!” the words hit the room hard.
silence drops immediately after. her face changes instantly, hurt flashing across it so quickly he notices before she can hide it. “wow.”
“that’s not what i meant.”
“no?” she laughs once, but it sounds awful. “because it sounded pretty fucking clear to me.”
“don’t call me that right now.”
his mouth shuts immediately. and somehow that hurts too.
she turns away from him first, blinking hard as she grabs randomly at things on her desk just to have something to do with her hands. “you know what the worst part is?” she says quietly. “i actually tried.”
he watches her carefully now. “i know you did.”
“no, i don’t think you do.” she laughs again softly, shaking her head. “i tried so hard to understand you lately and every single time i got close, you made me feel stupid for it.”
“i never wanted you to feel stupid.”
“well, congratulations.” he takes a step toward her. she steps back immediately. that stops him cold.
and suddenly the room feels too small for both of them. her eyes are glossy now. she hates that. hates crying in front of people, especially him. “you know what?” she says, voice shaking slightly despite how hard she’s trying to control it. “maybe you’re right.”
his brows pull together. “about what?”
“about us being different.”
something flickers across his face immediately. “don’t do that.”
“this.” his voice lowers dangerously. “don’t start talking like it’s over because we had one bad fight.”
she laughs weakly. “one?”
“no, seriously,” she cuts him off. “when’s the last time we actually talked without it turning into this?”
he doesn’t answer right away, which is answer enough.
her chest physically aches now, because she loves him. that’s the horrible part. she loves him so much she kept convincing herself this weird distance between them was temporary. something she could fix if she just loved him correctly enough.
but now she’s looking at him and realizing maybe she can’t. maybe he came back different in ways she doesn’t understand. maybe she stayed the same in ways that make him resent her for it. “i don’t wanna do this anymore,” she says finally.
his face goes completely still. “what?”
the second the word leaves his mouth, she nearly takes it back. because he looks genuinely caught off guard. like he thought they were just fighting. like this possibility never even crossed his mind, and somehow that makes it worse. her throat tightens painfully. “i can’t keep feeling like this,” she whispers.
“like i’m too much for you.”
his expression changes immediately. anger disappearing so fast it almost looks painful. “you are not too much for me.”
“you think i’m childish,” she says, tears finally slipping down now despite how much she hates it. “you think i don’t understand anything real and honestly? maybe you’re right. maybe i don’t fit into your life anymore.”
“don’t say that.” his voice sounds rough now. desperate, almost.
she hates that too because part of her wants to run to him immediately, but she can’t do this anymore. can’t keep feeling him slowly pulling away while pretending everything’s fine. “i think we should break up.” silence. actual silence.
she starts crying harder immediately because the worst part is she doesn’t know if she does. but she says it anyway. “i do.”
he looks away first this time. and somehow that hurts more than anything else tonight. his jaw works slightly like he’s trying not to say something he’ll regret. then finally he nods once. small. tight. “okay.” she wasn’t expecting that. not really.
she thought he’d fight harder. and the fact he doesn’t makes something inside her crack open completely. he grabs his keys from her desk slowly, movements controlled in that way he gets when he’s holding himself together by force. then he heads for the door. just like that.
he pauses when he gets to the door, turning to look at her. “i leave in two weeks.”
the room goes cold. she stares at him. “what?”
his eyes stay on hers now. steady. empty. “deployment came through yesterday.”
her breath catches so hard it physically hurts.“you’re lying.”
everything inside her drops instantly. every bit of anger. every bit of pride. gone. “why didn’t you tell me?”
“when exactly was i supposed to?”
tears blur her vision immediately.
but he shakes his head once.
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @lcversvoid @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @cokewithcameron @drewrry @harubunnyy @lifeonawhim @ar1ynx @tottassss @nessasmultiverseoflove @camerxnlove @mochibunnyyyy @starkeysfile @rosiecherie @faiux @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @angelicameron @p34rlzzz @maximumstructurearchivist @seraphiccrafe @graciegibsonn @obxobsessedbitch1 @dabishou @corallandtragedy3 @dxphhnnee @angxls @l1ttlebones @kavycakes @drewsbby @ghosttinvs @fiercetigerpoison @friedvoidstrawberry @ssugartalkin @whimsygayho @bonni-98 @sex-the1975 @juulsie @estrellabeatriz15 @heavenstolemyheart @baeeyar @lostinisara @outersbanksgirly @marsisonmarsrn
a/n: this is 11,026 words. it took me over two weeks to write and i really would appreciate if you reblog if you enjoyed❤️ this is also my first time making a super long tumblr fic so i hope its not super bad😭
tangentwithtanner
2087
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
