"stupid thing" - bf!rafe x reader
summary. reader is stressed, but rafe doesn’t like it
You’re doing it again.
That "stupid little thing". The one he hates.
Rafe watches you from the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. You’re sitting on the edge of the couch, hunched forward, your fingers moving frantically — picking at the skin around your nails, digging your thumb into your palm, pressing your nails in so deep it might leave marks.
He sighs. Loud. Annoyed.
“Seriously? Again with that stupid thing?”
You flinch at the sound of his voice, but you don’t stop. Your breathing gets shaky.
He’s across the room in three steps.
“Stop,” he snaps, reaching for your hands. You try to pull back, ashamed, but he doesn’t let you. His grip isn’t rough — not really. Just firm enough to get your attention.
“Look at your hands,” he mutters, holding them up. “You’re tearing yourself apart, babe.”
Your head stays down. You can't meet his eyes. You hate that he has to see you like this — raw and small and ugly, caught in a loop your brain won't let you break.
He exhales through his nose, clearly frustrated. But when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. Lower.
“I told you,” he says. “You don’t have to do this anymore. You don’t need to hurt yourself when shit gets heavy.”
You whisper, “I can’t help it.”
That makes something flicker in his expression. Pain, maybe. Or guilt. Like it kills him to know that this is how you’ve been coping — long before him, long before you ever had someone to catch you mid-fall.
He kneels down in front of you, still holding your hands. His thumbs brush over the sore, raw spots on your fingers. He frowns.
“You’re not alone anymore, alright?” he mutters. “You’ve got me now. You panic, you stress, you overthink — fine. I can handle all that. But this?” He lifts your hand again. “This has gotta stop. You’re too good for that.”
Your eyes blur, and you hate that, too. But he sees it. Of course he does.
“Hey,” he says, voice dropping soft. “Come here.”
He pulls you into his arms, strong and steady, one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head like he’s trying to shield you from the world. Or maybe from yourself.
“I got you, okay?” he whispers. “So quit doing that stupid thing. I’m right here.”
And for once, just for a moment, you believe him.
