Okay… i have a few angsty and fluffy ideas but im gonna send them separately so here’s the first one 😭
Someone flirts with her and nerd rafe pretends not to care but absolutely does and he doesn’t know what to do in the situation!
𓏲𝄢 -- he's not jealous, he's just observing
pairing : nerd!rafe x popular!reader
a/n : whoever sent me around 7 requests, I love you and thank you for getting me out of this slump. I am going to slowly write again and try and get back into the habit but not go haywire and write every night. First fic back. Enjoy!!
you’ve been dating rafe cameron for 9 months.
nine months of study dates that turn into you stealing his hoodies.
nine months of him pretending not to melt every time you kiss his cheek in public.
nine months of everyone being very confused about how the most popular girl in school ended up with the quiet nerd in the back of AP calc.
he still sits in the back.
you just sit in his lap now.
today, though, you’re standing by the bleachers after school, waiting for him to finish arguing with a teacher about a test question. you’re scrolling on your phone when someone steps into your space.
connor. varsity soccer. charming in a rehearsed way.
“hey,” he says, leaning casually against the railing. “you going to the bonfire tonight?”
you smile politely. “maybe.”
across the courtyard, rafe exits the building.
he understands that attractive people receive social attention at statistically higher rates. you are attractive. therefore—
connor laughs at something you say.
he adjusts his glasses. they’re not crooked.
he tells himself to keep walking. you will catch up to him.
connor leans a little closer.
you don’t move away immediately — because you’re nice. because you don’t like making scenes. because you’re you.
and rafe absolutely does care.
his stomach twists in a way that feels embarrassingly primal. he hates it. he prides himself on being logical. composed.
connor reaches out like he’s going to brush something off your shoulder.
rafe is moving before he consciously decides to.
“hi,baby" he says when he reaches you.
you look up and your entire face lights up.
and rafe notices that too.
“hi,” you say, soft and warm and entirely different from the tone you were using two seconds ago.
connor glances between you. “we were just talking about tonight.”
“were you?” rafe replies evenly.
he slips his hand around your waist.
you lean into him automatically
"yeah,” connor says. “i was telling her she should come hang out with us.”
you blink up at him slightly.
connor scoffs. “and you know that how?”
rafe looks at you for half a second — like he’s checking.
then he looks back at connor.
"because she hates bonfires.”
“she doesn’t like the smoke,” rafe continues, voice steady. “it gets in her hair, and she complains about it for two days. she brings dry shampoo in her bag ‘just in case.’
your poor, brilliant, socially-awkward boyfriend is trying so hard not to look like he’s jealous.
“she also pretends she likes loud parties, but she leaves early every time. usually around nine thirty. she says she’s ‘tired,’ but really she just doesn’t like when it gets too crowded.”
rafe’s grip on your waist tightens just slightly.
“and she doesn’t eat the food at bonfires because she thinks it tastes like lighter fluid.”
“you’ve literally never stayed at one longer than forty minutes,” he finishes calmly. “so statistically, the probability of you going tonight is extremely low.”
connor looks mildly annoyed but shrugs. “whatever. your loss.”
and just like that, he walks off.
rafe doesn’t relax immediately.
his hand is still on your waist. his shoulders still stiff.
you tilt your head up at him.
“what was that?” you murmur.
he exhales through his nose. “you didn’t look like you wanted to go.”
“he was standing too close.”
his jaw works like he’s debating something internally.
“you don’t have to entertain people like that,” he says quietly. “you can just tell them no.”
“i just—” he hesitates. “i don’t like when they look at you like that.”
just insecurity wrapped in logic.
you reach up and gently push his glasses up his nose.
“how were they looking at me?”
“like you’re… available,” he mutters.
you laugh softly. not mocking. affectionate.
“i’m aware you could date someone more socially aligned with your… status,” he continues, slipping into analytical mode when he’s uncomfortable. “and statistically speaking, it would make more sense.”
both hands on his cheeks.
"i am dating someone socially aligned with my status,” you say firmly. “he’s just also really good at physics.”
“and for the record,” you interrupt, stepping closer, “i don’t want connor. i don’t want bonfires. i don’t want varsity boys who smell like body spray.”
his hands tentatively settle on your hips.
his throat moves when he swallows
"you don’t have to pretend not to care,” you add gently.
“it’s okay if you get jealous.”
“i don’t get jealous,” he says automatically.
"…i experience mild territorial impulses.”
you laugh so hard you nearly fold in half.
and that — that right there — is why he’s obsessed with you.
because you’re glowing and warm and entirely his, and you’re laughing at his stupid phrasing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
he pulls you in fully this time, arms secure around you.“you’re my girlfriend,” he mutters into your hair, softer now. “i’m allowed to care."
you wrap your arms around his neck.
“good,” you whisper. “because i like when you do.”
and as you stand there tangled together, rafe finally relaxes.
but at the end of the day?
you’re the one choosing to study on a friday.
