❀ chapter 7: moving on in ❀
❀ pairing: mechanic!rafe x florist!reader
❀ warnings: fluff, fast moving relationships, kissing
the morning sunlight spills slow and syrupy through the curtains, casting lazy gold across the bed, across your bare shoulders, across the sheets tangled around your hips. everything smells like sleep and skin and him.
you wake up warm. stretched out on your stomach, cheeks still flushed, thighs sore in that good way, your body humming with leftover heat from the night before.
and rafe’s already awake.
he’s draped across you from behind, one arm wrapped under your ribs, the other slung heavy over your waist, fingers resting possessively on the curve of your hip. his chest is pressed to your back, slow breaths brushing against your neck, and his legs are tangled with yours like he never wants to let you move again.
he shifts just a little, grumbling something low and unintelligible, and then, he noses into your shoulder, kisses the top of your spine, and sighs like he’s never been more content in his life.
“you awake?” he murmurs, voice scratchy from sleep.
you nod into the pillow, voice muffled. “mmhm.”
his hand slides down, over your hip, to your ass. he gives it a lazy squeeze.
“good morning,” he says, grinning now, and you can hear it in his voice.
you huff a sleepy laugh, turning your head to peek at him over your shoulder.
“do you have to grab me first thing?”
he doesn’t even pretend to feel guilty.
“yeah,” he says easily, kneading your ass again, both palms now claiming their spot like he’s been waiting all night. “i do. this is mine now. i’m never gonna stop touching it.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re grinning too.
he hums, happy, and presses another kiss between your shoulder blades.
“you feel okay?” he asks after a moment, quieter.
you nod again, softer this time. “yeah. a little sore. but in the best way.”
his arm tightens around your middle. “good. i was worried i got carried away.”
he tenses, just for a second, until you add, “and i liked it.”
he groans, dramatic and wrecked, burying his face in your neck.
“you’re gonna kill me, bunny.”
you laugh and roll to your side so you can face him. he looks soft like this, sleepy and shirtless and all yours. his hair is messy and his eyes are still heavy, but there’s a slow, tender smile on his face that hasn’t left since last night.
you press your hand to his chest and lean in for a kiss.
“we should make breakfast,” you murmur against his mouth.
he groans again, but this time like you’ve suggested something impossible.
“we don’t have to,” you say with a smirk, sitting up and stretching, the sheets slipping down your back. “but i’m hungry. and you owe me pancakes.”
he props himself up on one elbow, eyes trailing down your back to your ass again.
“i owe you a lifetime of pancakes if you keep wearing nothing around my house.”
you shoot him a look over your shoulder. “then give me something to wear.”
he grins, climbs out of bed, completely naked, and rummages through a drawer until he tosses you a pair of his boxers and an old, oversized t-shirt.
you pull them on slowly, and rafe watches the whole process like it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen.
“jesus,” he mutters. “how do you look hotter in my clothes than i do?”
you roll your eyes and head for the kitchen, bare-legged and barefoot, and he follows a second later in just his boxers.
you start rummaging for ingredients, and rafe stays close, too close, hovering behind you like he can’t help it. his hands find your hips first, then slide down to your ass again.
“you’re really not gonna stop, huh?”
“not a chance,” he says, smiling against your neck. “i’m obsessed. sorry.”
you mix batter while he fries bacon. he stands behind you the whole time, occasionally kissing your shoulder or slipping a hand under your shirt just to touch your stomach. once, when you’re bent to reach a pan, he smacks your ass lightly and lets out a soft, reverent “fuck” like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
you eat at the kitchen counter, legs brushing under the stools, his fingers never really leaving your skin.
and after breakfast, when the dishes are done and you’re wiping syrup from your lip, he catches your face in his hand, tilts it toward him, and kisses you slow.
“we got the whole weekend,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek.
you nod. “what do you wanna do?”
his eyes flick to your mouth, then your shirt, then your thighs spilling soft and thick out of his boxers.
“everything,” he says, and he means it. “as long as it’s with you.”
and he’s already pulling you back toward the bedroom.
they head out late morning, after a second round of kisses and a long, lazy shower that mostly consisted of him washing you with both hands like he didn’t trust soap to do a good enough job on its own. now, the two of you are walking down the sidewalk, warm drinks in hand, the sky soft and overcast like the world’s been dialed down to match the calm buzz between your bodies.
you’re in those tight, high-waisted mom jeans he loves, he practically begged you to wear them, and a pale pink sweater, soft and slouchy, sleeves pulled down over your hands.
and rafe can’t. stop. touching you.
his white flannel is open over a faded tee, sleeves rolled up, jeans riding low on his hips. his hair’s a little messy, the way you left it after raking your fingers through it in the kitchen, and his grin hasn’t gone anywhere all morning.
his hand’s in your back pocket again, big palm pressing possessively over the curve of your ass like it belongs there, and it kinda does now.
he leans in close as you pause to look through a shop window, his voice low and smug in your ear.
“you know everyone can see how good this looks on you, right?”
you glance at him, confused. “the sweater?”
he smirks and gives your ass a squeeze, his fingers slipping a little deeper into your pocket.
you roll your eyes, but your cheeks go warm. “you’re incorrigible.”
he leans in and kisses your cheek. “and you’re mine.”
at the next shop, when you’re checking out with a little candle and a mug shaped like a mushroom, rafe slings an arm around your waist and grins at the cashier.
“she’s my girlfriend,” he says, out of nowhere. “isn’t she gorgeous?”
the cashier blinks, then smiles politely. “very.”
you shoot him a look once you’re outside. “you’re telling people now?”
“why wouldn’t i?” he asks, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i want everyone to know.”
you shake your head, trying not to smile too wide.
he smacks your ass as you cross the street. lightly, subtle, but definitely real. you spin around.
“what?” he says, all innocent. “no one saw.”
he’s lying. someone definitely saw. and you’re not even mad about it.
you stop for coffee next, and while you’re digging in your bag for your wallet, rafe tells the barista, “make hers extra sweet. it’s for my girl. she’s the one in pink, and she’s literally the love of my life.”
the barista looks like she’s trying not to melt. you look like you’re trying not to crawl under the counter.
you nudge him hard in the ribs when you sit down. “you’re embarrassing me.”
he grins, completely unbothered. “good. now you know how i feel every time you put on jeans like that and expect me to act normal in public.”
you sip your drink, trying not to smile.
he watches you with so much love in his eyes it makes your chest ache. like he can’t believe you’re his. like he wants to eat you alive and marry you in the same breath.
as you walk out of the café, he loops an arm over your shoulder and pulls you close.
a couple walking their dog passes by, and rafe doesn’t miss a beat.
“hey,” he says, pointing to you with a cocky little smile. “this is my girlfriend.”
they blink. “uh… congrats?”
you bury your face in his chest.
he’s just laughing now, loud and open, tugging you close again, his hand sneaking right back into your back pocket like it never left.
“get used to it, baby,” he murmurs against your hair. “i’m gonna be like this forever.”
you’re tucked into the little bench outside the café, legs crossed at the ankle, drink warm in your hands. rafe’s sitting beside you, thigh pressed to yours, his hand lazily rubbing up and down your back like he just needs to be touching you, even when there’s nothing to say.
the city moves around you, soft chatter, passing footsteps, the distant sound of someone tuning a guitar a few shops down, and rafe looks so content, sunk into the quiet like it’s something he’s been craving for a long time.
you both look up at the same time.
two girls are walking up the sidewalk, blinking like they can’t believe what they’re seeing. one’s maybe in high school, tall and all long limbs, clutching a giant iced coffee with both hands. the other’s older, maybe mid-twenties, sun-kissed and wide-eyed, her jaw hanging slightly open.
“wheeze?” rafe says, grinning as he stands up. “sarah?”
suddenly you’re watching a reunion unfold, wheezie launching herself into rafe’s arms, nearly spilling her drink down his back as she wraps him up tight.
“where the hell have you been?” sarah laughs, pulling him into a hug right after. “we haven’t seen you in forever!”
“been busy,” he says, grinning. “working. living. and…”
he turns, one arm still looped around sarah’s shoulders, and gestures toward you.
you stand up automatically, nervous and warm all over, but rafe’s eyes are soft when they meet yours, he’s proud, so clearly proud to be saying those words, and that settles something deep in your chest.
sarah’s eyes light up. wheezie gasps.
“bunny?” sarah says, already grinning. “oh my god, you’re the girl. the one he wouldn’t shut up about for, like, weeks.”
“you’re so pretty,” wheezie blurts, stepping forward like she already wants to be best friends. “and i love your sweater. and your jeans. and your vibe.”
you laugh, flushing. “thank you. it’s really nice to meet you guys.”
rafe slides his hand back into your back pocket like it’s second nature, then bumps his shoulder against yours with a little smirk.
“they’re alright, huh?” he murmurs.
“we’re amazing,” sarah says, overhearing easily. “and it’s about time you brought someone around. i was starting to think you were secretly married to your toolbox.”
rafe rolls his eyes. “i was waiting for the right person. and now i’ve got her.”
you glance up at him, surprised by how easily he says it, how certain he sounds. sarah and wheezie both smile, like they see it too.
“you guys wanna sit?” rafe asks, motioning to the table.
“we’re meeting john b in, like, ten minutes,” sarah says, checking her phone. “but we just had to say hi.”
“and meet bunny,” wheezie adds.
you smile again, a little bashful.
“well,” sarah says, giving rafe a once-over, “you look happy. annoyingly so.”
“i am happy,” rafe says, grinning wide. “what, is that weird for me?”
“a little,” wheezie says. “but in a good way.”
they hug again, quick and tight, and rafe kisses both their foreheads before they go.
as they walk off, wheezie turns around and waves dramatically.
“bye, bunny! you’re so cute! marry him!”
you blink, startled, but rafe just grins and shrugs like yeah, that’s the plan.
you sit back down together, your hand slipping into his this time.
“so,” you say, trying not to laugh, “they seem sweet.”
“they’re nuts,” he says fondly. “but they mean well. and they’re gonna love you. already do, probably.”
he looks at you for a long second after that, like he’s soaking it all in.
then his hand slides right back into your back pocket.
“let’s walk some more,” he says. “i wanna show you off.”
the boutique is bright and airy, tucked into a corner of the block with wide windows and a little bell that jingles when you walk in. everything inside is soft pastels and linen curtains, a dreamy little spot filled with floral prints and flowing fabrics, the kind of place that smells like peonies and vanilla sugar.
rafe holds the door open for you and follows close behind, one hand drifting to the small of your back, fingers brushing under the hem of your sweater like he just can’t help himself.
“look at all this,” you whisper, already wandering toward a rack of sundresses. they’re all light and feminine, fluttery sleeves and delicate ties, some patterned, some simple and soft.
rafe stays right behind you, his eyes warm and completely full of you.
“you’d look so good in every single one of these,” he murmurs, tugging a pink floral one from the rack and holding it up in front of you. “this one. this is so you.”
you laugh, cheeks already warm, but he’s not joking. not even close. you glance back and he’s got that same look on his face, the one like he’s seeing a miracle.
“go try it on,” he says. “and that white one next to it. and the green one. and, actually, just, here.” he starts grabbing more. cute little babydoll tops, high-waisted skirts, a couple crop tops that look soft as clouds. “you’re getting all of these.”
you stare at him. “rafe, ”
“i’m serious.” he leans in close, voice low and sweet against your ear. “wanna spoil you. wanna see you in all these pretty things. you like ‘em, right?”
you nod, already clutching a growing pile to your chest.
“then that’s all that matters.”
he walks with you to the fitting room, hands full of more options than you know what to do with. jeans that hug your hips, shorts he keeps mumbling about being “unfair,” a tiny floral bralette that makes him stop and stare for a second too long when he finds it near the front of the shop.
and tucked behind it, barely visible, is a soft pink lingerie set. lacy, sheer in places, with little bows on the straps and delicate scalloped trim.
you pause. hold it up. your heart does something strange and fluttery.
rafe’s already next to you again, voice a little huskier now. “that one. definitely that one.”
you look up at him, teasing. “you just want an excuse to stare at my tits.”
he shrugs, entirely unapologetic. “i always want an excuse to stare at your tits.”
you roll your eyes, laughing under your breath, but the look in his eyes is deeper than just lust. it’s adoration. awe. like he still can’t believe you’re his.
“try it on for me,” he murmurs, stepping back to let you take the pile into the fitting room. “and if you like it, i’m buying it.”
you duck into the little booth, heart pounding, hands shaking just a little as you shimmy out of your sweater and jeans. everything in here feels like too much and not enough, too intimate, too sweet, too real.
you try on the pink set last.
and when you step out, shy and flushed, rafe is sitting on the little bench just across the hall, his elbows on his knees like he’s trying to be casual. but the moment he sees you, he goes still. eyes wide. jaw slack.
he stands up so slow it’s like he doesn’t want to spook you.
“baby…” he exhales, stepping closer. his hand lifts like he’s about to reach for you, but he stops himself just shy of touching. “you, you look like a fucking dream.”
you bite your lip, arms folding loosely over your middle. “you really like it?”
“i love it,” he says, voice thick. “i love you in it. it’s sweet, and soft, and sexy as hell. like it was made for you.”
he finally steps in, fingers ghosting over the edge of the fabric where it hugs your hips. he looks like he’s in a daze.
“can’t wait to see you in this again,” he whispers. “but more than that… can’t wait to see you wearing it around the house. for me.”
“i’ll take it,” he says before you can even speak. “and everything else. go change back, baby. i’m spoiling you today.”
you laugh as you duck back into the fitting room, heart so full you don’t even know how you’re standing.
when you come back out, dressed again, cheeks still warm, rafe’s already waiting at the register, wallet out, chatting up the cashier like it’s the best day of his life.
“see this girl right here?” he says, turning to grin at you. “she’s mine.”
the cashier smiles politely, but rafe doesn’t even notice. he’s too busy looking at you like you hung the damn moon.
they walk slow on the way back, hands clasped, shopping bags swinging gently between them. the afternoon sun spills golden across the sidewalk, warm and soft as it filters through the trees lining the street. everything smells faintly like coffee and grass and the perfume of late summer blooms.
rafe’s thumb strokes gently over your knuckles, and his voice is soft when he breaks the quiet.
“you got real quiet back there.”
you shrug a little, eyes on the sidewalk. “just thinking.”
he looks over at you, watching your profile like he already knows something’s weighing heavy on your heart. “what about?”
you hesitate, then sigh. “work. it’s… not great right now.”
his brows draw together, concerned. “what’s going on?”
you pause, choosing your words carefully. “my manager’s been different lately. cold. nitpicky. and a few of the newer girls… i don’t know. it just feels like i’m being pushed out. i love it there, you know? i love the flowers. the quiet. making things pretty. but… i don’t think they’re gonna keep me much longer.”
his jaw tenses. not in anger, just in that quiet, protective way he always gets when something’s hurting you and he can’t fix it fast enough.
“and if they let me go,” you continue, voice smaller now, “i won’t be able to pay rent. i barely make enough as it is.”
he stops walking, just for a moment, pulling you gently to a halt with him. his fingers slide from your hand to your waist, warm and grounding.
“hey,” he says, voice steady, eyes locked on yours. “you listen to me, bunny.”
you blink up at him, heart thudding.
“i don’t care what happens with that job. you’re not alone, okay? you have me.” he cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin like he needs you to feel what he’s saying. “and having me means you have a place to stay. no questions. no pressure. just… come home with me if it comes to that. you’d never have to worry about rent again.”
your throat tightens. “rafe, ”
“nah,” he says softly, but firm. “we’ve already talked about this, haven’t we? the kind of life we want? i want to take care of you. always have.”
you nod, biting your lip, eyes shiny.
“i’m serious,” he continues. “i don’t need you to carry everything alone. i like being the one who works and makes the money. and i love the idea of coming home and knowing you’re safe and cared for. that’s all i want.”
you look away for a second, blinking fast. “i just… i like working. not just for the money. i like the flowers. being around all of that beauty.”
he leans in and kisses your forehead, soft and slow.
“then we’ll make sure you still have that,” he murmurs. “you always say you’ve wanted a garden, right?”
“then we’ll build one,” he says. “in the backyard. full of everything you love, roses, lilacs, tulips, whatever you want. you can grow your own flowers. cut them fresh every morning, fill the house with them.”
your lips curve into a soft smile.
“maybe i’ll learn to press them,” you whisper. “make little keepsakes.”
his grin grows. “see? already sounds like a dream.”
you lean into his side as you start walking again, the weight in your chest lifting, replaced by something warm and steady.
“you’d really be okay with that?” you ask. “me not working?”
he snorts. “baby, the thought of you at home wearing my shirts, barefoot in the kitchen or out in the garden? yeah. i’d be very okay with that.”
you laugh, cheeks flushing as he slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in close.
“besides,” he adds, nuzzling into your hair, “you working was always a bonus. not a requirement. you being happy? that’s what matters.”
and as the two of you stroll through town, your bags full of soft pink things, your heart a little lighter, you start to believe him. maybe losing your job wouldn’t be the end. maybe it’s just the start of something even better.
they get home just as the sun starts to dip behind the trees, golden light casting long shadows across the porch. the air is still warm, humming with cicadas, and your arms are full of pastel shopping bags when you go to open the front door.
you shift one of them to your hip and reach for the handle, but rafe is already behind you, keys in hand and brow furrowed.
“bunny,” he says, stepping up close behind you. “what did i say?”
you glance over your shoulder. “what?”
he doesn’t even open the door yet. just sets a hand on your lower back and leans in until his voice is right by your ear.
“i told you i’d carry everything,” he murmurs. “you’ve done enough today. spoiling you means you don’t lift a damn finger.”
you blink, caught a little off guard, stomach flipping at the firmness in his tone. not harsh, not scolding. just sure. just steady. he takes the bags from your hands one by one, stacking them in the crook of his arm with easy strength, like it’s nothing. like he wants to.
“go inside,” he says, nodding toward the door once he unlocks it. “change into something comfy. one of my shirts. leave the rest to me.”
your cheeks heat, heart fluttering. “okay.”
you walk inside, a little dazed, your steps slower than usual. not because you’re tired, because something about the way he told you what to do, so calm and gentle and certain, did something to you.
you don’t usually like being fussed over. not in a way that makes you feel small.
this is him holding doors open. taking the bags. pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you slip past him. telling you what he wants and expecting you to listen.
it doesn’t make you feel small.
you head down the hall and pull off your jeans and sweater, folding them neatly before digging through the laundry basket for one of his old shirts. it’s the gray one, soft and worn and oversized, the collar stretched a little from use. you tug it on, no bra, nothing underneath but panties, and the fabric falls almost to your knees. it smells like him.
you hear him moving around out front, doors opening and closing as he brings in the rest of your haul. his boots thud against the hardwood when he comes inside, and your heart skips when you hear the low sound of him humming under his breath.
you pad barefoot out to the kitchen, still wearing his shirt, and find him setting the last bag down on the counter. he glances up, and freezes.
“jesus,” he mutters, his eyes dragging over you slowly. “you tryna kill me?”
you smile, shy but glowing. “you told me to change.”
he walks toward you, his hands already reaching, sliding over your hips as he pulls you in.
“you listened,” he murmurs, clearly pleased. “god, baby. i like you like this.”
you feel yourself melt, leaning into him as he ducks to kiss you, slow and sweet, like he has nowhere else to be. his hands settle on your lower back, fingers curling lightly in the hem of his shirt.
you whisper into his mouth, “i think i like it too.”
“yeah,” you nod. “being told what to do. being taken care of. i didn’t know it could feel like this.”
he presses his forehead to yours, grinning.
“it feels like this because it’s me,” he says, voice warm and quiet. “and because it’s you. you’re not a burden, bunny. you’re mine. and i want to take care of you.”
your throat tightens, eyes stinging for a second, but the feeling that rises next is soft and full and so steady.
you nod, kissing him again, slower this time.
he pulls away first, just enough to murmur, “go sit on the couch, baby. i’ll make us something to drink, then i wanna go through everything we bought and see how cute you’ll look in all of it.”
you hesitate, just a second, then smile, all soft and trusting.
“okay,” you whisper. and for once, it’s easy to let someone else take the reins. especially when it’s him.
they don’t have much on the tv, just some old cooking show reruns humming soft in the background, the kind with a warm narrator’s voice and gentle chopping sounds, but you’re not really watching it.
you’re curled up in rafe’s lap, your knees tucked beside his thigh, your cheek resting against his shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. he smells like sun and cedar and grocery store soap, and his hands keep moving, one stroking lazily up and down your back, the other trailing circles over your hip like he can’t help himself.
“you comfy?” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple.
you hum, eyes closed. “mmhm. too comfy.”
“good.” he presses a kiss there, just under your hairline. “i like you like this.”
you pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers idly tracing the buttons on his flannel. “can i tell you something?”
you take a breath. “i think i’m gonna quit.”
his brows lift a little, but he doesn’t say anything yet.
you keep going. “i just… i know it’s coming anyway. i can feel it. the weird energy. the way they’ve been cutting my hours. and i don’t want to sit around waiting for them to decide when it happens. i wanna be the one to walk away.”
rafe’s face softens. he shifts just a little so he can cradle your cheek in one hand.
you nod. “yeah. i’ve been thinking about it since earlier. and if you really mean it, what you said about me staying here, then i want to.”
his thumb brushes your cheek. “i meant every word.”
you smile, small but certain. “okay then.”
he grins, wide and sweet and boyish, like you just made his entire month. “you’re really gonna stay here with me? full-time?”
“guess you’re stuck with me now,” you tease, nudging your nose against his.
“good.” he kisses you, quick and smiling. “finally.”
you settle back down against his chest, and he keeps petting your back, voice low and thoughtful.
“we’ll make it work, bunny. you’ll be here when i get home, and i’ll take care of everything else. bills, groceries, whatever. all you have to worry about is what makes you happy.”
you nod against him. “i’ve been thinking about the garden.”
his chest lifts with a slow breath. “yeah?”
“i wanna plant one in the backyard. nothing big, just… some flowers i love. the ones from the shop. dahlias, peonies, lilacs maybe. maybe some wildflowers too. something messy and soft.”
he smiles again, and you feel it against your forehead. “you can have the whole yard if you want. i’ll help you dig the beds.”
“and i could keep the house nice. make little lunches for you to take to work. laundry, cleaning… i actually like that stuff.”
rafe groans, dropping his head back against the couch dramatically. “jesus, baby, you’re gonna kill me. you know that? you’re my actual dream girl.”
you laugh and kiss his jaw, and his arms tighten around you.
“i’ve never wanted anything more,” he says, quieter now, voice low and warm against your hair. “you. here. in my shirt. in our house. waiting for me.”
your heart swells, full and slow and heavy in the best way. you don’t say anything for a while. just listen to the soft TV and his heartbeat under your cheek and the creak of the couch as he shifts to hold you closer.
eventually you murmur, “maybe tomorrow we can start mapping out where the garden will go.”
he nods, stroking his fingers through your hair. “anything you want, bunny. this whole place is yours now too.”
and you believe him. more than you’ve believed anything in a long, long time.
yeah. it’s fast. dizzying, even, when you stop to think about it.
but right now, you’re tucked into rafe’s lap, warm and soft and wrapped up in his arms like you belong there, like you’ve always belonged there. like your body remembers something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.
“this is fast, huh,” you murmur, fingers drawing slow circles on his chest.
rafe doesn’t flinch or pull back. doesn’t joke or change the subject.
he just nods, slow and steady, brushing your hair behind your ear. “yeah. it is.”
you tilt your head to look up at him, brows pinched just a little. “do you think it’s too fast?”
he huffs out a breath that’s not quite a laugh and cradles your face like he can’t believe he gets to hold it. “nah, baby. not if it feels like this.”
your throat gets tight. because yeah. it does feel like this. like the kind of story you used to daydream about, the kind people used to tell back when things were simple. when love was all that mattered.
you lean your head on his shoulder, voice barely above a whisper. “you know… people used to do this all the time. fall in love quick. get married after a week. a month. when it felt right.”
he hums, rubbing your thigh in lazy little sweeps, eyes still on the tv but not really watching it. “yeah. back when people weren’t afraid of it. when love meant something you didn’t second guess.”
you smile, small and soft. “i always liked that. always wanted that.”
his hand stills for a second, like he’s really listening now.
“yeah?” he says, a little rougher. a little lower.
you nod against him. “i used to feel kind of… dumb for it. like i was too romantic. too old-fashioned or something.”
“you’re not,” he says quickly, shifting so he can see your face again. “bunny, you’re not. i swear to god, i’ve been waiting my whole life for someone who wants that too.”
your breath catches. he sees it, leans in, presses his forehead to yours.
“you wanna know something?” he whispers, voice soft and serious. “i was thinkin’ about it earlier. like… this could really be it for me. you could be it. i already feel it in my gut.”
your whole body goes warm. your heart hammers so hard you’re sure he can feel it.
he nods, eyes on yours. “yeah. and i don’t care if it’s only been a few weeks. i’d marry you tomorrow if you let me.”
you don’t laugh. don’t even smile.
you just stare at him, wide-eyed, a little breathless, heart racing for a whole new reason now.
and then you whisper, “what if i said yes?”
his mouth drops open just a little. his grip on your waist tightens.
“baby,” he breathes. “don’t play with me.”
you shake your head, serious. “i’m not. i meant it. this is all i’ve ever wanted. someone to love me like this. to build a life with. something real. forever. and if you feel the same way…”
“i do,” he says, instantly, gripping your face with both hands. “i do. you’re it for me, bunny. i swear. and if you wanna go fast, we’ll go fast. i don’t care what anyone thinks. i’ll buy you a ring tomorrow. hell, tonight.”
you laugh through a sudden rush of tears, cupping his cheeks, and god, he looks so happy it makes your chest ache.
“okay,” you whisper, voice trembling. “okay.”
he kisses you hard, full of heat and promise and something wild and real, and when he pulls back, he’s grinning like a man who just won everything he’s ever wanted.
“you’re mine now,” he says, almost in awe. “my girl. my baby. forever.”
you nod, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
“yours,” you whisper. “completely.”
and you mean it. with everything you’ve got.
later that night, everything feels quieter. softer.
the tv is off. the lights are low. you’re curled into rafe’s chest, legs tangled, his shirt hanging off your shoulders and brushing the tops of your thighs. he’s warm and still just a little damp from the shower, his skin clean and smelling like cedar and soap, his chest bare, boxers riding low on his hips.
his hand’s resting on your lower back, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes. your face is tucked under his jaw, and the steady thump of his heartbeat is enough to lull you halfway to sleep.
but then his voice comes, low and thoughtful in the quiet.
“you sure this is what you want?”
your breath catches. not because you’re surprised, but because you know exactly what he means.
you pull back just a little, enough to look up at him in the dim light. his brows are soft, his lips parted like he’s been chewing on the question for hours. there’s no doubt in his eyes. just concern. just care.
“you mean… all of it?” you ask gently.
he nods once. “yeah. the ring. the wedding. staying home. us doing this fast. for real.”
you pause, letting your fingers slide over the center of his chest, right where his heart lives. it’s still beating steady. still beating for you.
“i do,” you whisper. “i want all of it.”
his arm tightens around you, jaw clenching just slightly like he’s trying not to feel too much too fast.
“i know it’s fast,” you go on, your voice quiet but sure. “but it doesn’t feel fast. it feels like… like we just knew. like our hearts decided before our heads even caught up.”
rafe lets out a slow breath, and then he kisses your forehead, long and deep.
“mine did,” he says. “the second you smiled at me.”
you nuzzle into his chest again, smile tucked against his skin.
“you still want me home every day?” you murmur. “making the house nice, taking care of things, maybe starting that flower garden?”
he groans softly, dragging his hand down to cup the curve of your hip.
“baby, i need it. i think about it all the time now. coming home to you in one of my shirts, barefoot and soft, something good cooking, flowers on the table. your voice greeting me at the door.”
you hum, heart warm and full. “and kids?”
he grins into your hair. “as many as you want. i’ll give you everything, bunny. i want that life. old school. simple. real. you and me, building it together.”
your eyes sting a little, but you’re not sad. not even close.
you press your lips to his chest, right where his heart is, and whisper, “i want it too. all of it. the house, the babies, the ring. i wanna be yours forever.”
rafe exhales like he’s been holding his breath all day, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.
“then we’ll do it,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “we’ll do it all, baby. i’ll make you my wife.”
you smile against his skin, letting yourself sink into the moment, into him.