#loved 💓anon I hope you love this one because it just spilled outta me

[erwinsvow]

Orrr shy reader dying of embarrassment (but not really) when rafe has a jealousy fit

- 💓

you paw at your boyfriend's arm, trying to pull him away. your face is flushed with heat at the scene in front of you—rafe pushing some random boy at the party against the closest surface, slamming his head onto a table and holding him down. there’s a crowd forming, which makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry on the floor, because there’s nothing worse than crowds.

you stand corrected, because you’re realizing there is something worse—rafe getting angry at some stranger for talking to you and choking him out. 

it’s a little silly of you, to completely ignore what everyone had been telling you about rafe, but you had done it anyways. all the talk about his temper and aggression had been easily forgotten when he treated you so sweetly—attending to your every need, changing the way he talked to make sure he didn’t spook you into thinking he was upset, being incredibly understanding when you froze up or started crying. 

the rafe others talked about was exactly that—just for others, never for you.

“y’like botherin’ innocent girls? huh?” you squirm at the sight of the boy in pain as rafe presses his head down, bending his arm behind his back. the boy tries to stay something back, but all that comes out is tortured noises. “i should break your arm. that’ll be a lesson.”

it’s all too much for you—yes, the boy wouldn’t leave you alone while rafe went to get you a drink. yes, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not even i have a boyfriend, told to him while staring at your shoes. you still don’t think he deserves this, because he’s in a lot of pain, and your boyfriend is the one causing it.

“rafe, c’mon,” you plead again, pressing your hand to his back, trying to pull him away. your soft grip does nothing. “please, rafe, i wanna go, i don’t like this-” 

rafe loosens his grip on the stranger’s arm, letting it fall. he picks him up by the back of his shirt, pulling him to look at you. you take a step back automatically, getting frightened, but rafe nods at you to come closer. 

“s’your lucky day, asshole. my girl doesn’t like fights. tell ‘er sorry..” the boy mumbles something but rafe shakes him again, until the boy looks at you and sputters out an apology. he lets him fall back, and guides you away. you notice all the people staring, the boy probably staring daggers at rafe. you want to look back—go back and apologize yourself to everyone, even to the boy bothering you, like you’re used to doing—but rafe grips your waist tight and doesn’t even let you turn your head. 

back in his truck, you’re all shaky breaths and watery eyes. he thinks that would have made him mad once upon a time. not now.

“c’mon, stop cryin’. what’s wrong?” he sounds gentle, and you almost forget what he just did.

“y-you scared me. it was scary.”

“you got nothing to be scared of.” he doesn’t sound upset with you, but you still worry that he is, with the way your shoulders are still quivering. he knows you, knows how your little brain spins when you’re afraid he’s getting mad. “you’re my girl, i have to protect you, okay? that’s my job. just doing my job.” 

you look up at him with your wet eyes, holding eye contact for longer than you usually can, before looking back at your lap, playing with your hands.

“thank you. m’sorry, rafe.” rafe puts his hand on your chin and uses it to tilt your head up, until the two of you are looking at each other again.

“why’re you sayin’ sorry?” 

“because…if he hadn’t talked to me nothing would have happened. and i feel terrible. and your knuckles probably hurt, now.” he holds back a laugh as best as he can, but you still notice it. 

“none of that was your fault. stop apologizin’ for shit you didn’t do. my knuckles are fine.” he wipes a spilled tear away from your cheek. “m’not gonna let someone treat you like that. even if you don’t care. i fuckin’ care. got it?”

“got it,” you murmur back, looking up at him with big, hazy eyes. you don’t think you were ever upset at rafe, just upset that it was even happening. but now, in the comfort and safety of his truck, you take in the meaning of his words—how much he’d do for you, how much he cares, how you don’t have to feel bad about it. “can i come back home with you?”

“sure, kid. wanna watch a movie?”

“no, i wanna make it up to you.”