pairing ā bsf!rafe x fem!reader
summary ā rafe helps his best friend get ready for her first date!
contains ā friends to lovers, unrequited love, pining (so one-sided atm..), emotional constipation, jealousy, mild sexual content, angst IF YOU SQUINT (i feel bad for this lil guy)
cw ā suggestive themes, OOC rafe, language, drug references, not smut (sorry ā¹)
ā¦ a/n ā hiii, first fic iāve ever posted lowkey terrified LOL
rafeās quite OOC here (iām choosing to call it an AU š), so if youāre looking for canon-accurateā¦ this probably isnāt the one
i really tried not to give any appearance-defining characteristics to reader, purely for immersion. i find it annoying when readerās looks are described so specifically, sooo hereās me trying to accommodate! ā”
That pulled him out of his daze. Rafe Cameron had been exercising nonchalance for the pastā¦ 48 minutes, if heād counted correctly. Youād put him through the misery of rating your outfitsā Rafe thought that drowning himself in the ocean would be a better pass of time.
Butā¦ he dealt with it. For you. As you skipped out of your bathroom in what must have been the fourth outfit, a pink babydoll top and light wash denim shorts, a puff of air left his mouth.
Maybe it was the tiny heart pendant resting right above your cleavage. Maybe it was the way your ass looked in those shortsā¦ or on a lighter note? It couldāve been the sickly sweet smile on your face, the smile he wished he could be the reason for.
Nah. Ethan, the obnoxious 6ā5ā personal trainer had put that smile on your face when heād asked for your number and coffeeā¦ right in front of Rafe, last Friday. Outside a fucking Taco Bell. Who was Rafe, chopped liver?! He wasnāt jealous, oh no he wasnāt.
Justā¦ curious as to how Mr. Taco Bell got your number.
āYeahā¦ that oneās nice.ā
āYouāve said that about the last 3.ā
Rafe wanted to hang himself from your ceiling fan.
āYou gonna fuck him?ā
You paused in your tracks, turning to him with a frown and a raised brow that made him immediately want to shove his fist in his mouth for letting those words leak through.
āā¦Not on the first date.ā
Bullshit. You may not have wanted to fuck him, but Rafe knew his own species better than you did.
Personal trainer Ethan had ogled you with all the subtlety of a seagull eyeing someoneās lunch. Rafe dragged his hand down his face, sighing along with the motion before bringing his gaze back up to yours. His eyes wandered down your body again, his own lack of subtlety a testament to the irony of judging Ethan.
āYou borrowed the top from Sarah?ā
Your eyes lit up in that sparkly manner that heād always loved. Always adored. His sweet girlā¦ that wasnāt his. Not in the way he wanted, at least. Clasping your hands together, your eager nod was followed by:
āYeah!!! Itās cute, isnāt it?!ā
Cute. Cute didnāt even begin to cover it. Not when Rafe had to quietly grab a throw pillow off your bed, placing it over the situation developing in his jeans.
And so you did, the slow twirl of your figure making the top flare in its wake.
āYou think heāll like itā¦?ā
The uncertainty in your tone made his face fall slightly, part of himā no, all of himā wanted to take your face into his hands. Tell you that any guy lucky enough to take you out wouldāve already been halfway in love. Heād been in love for the last 4 years, for the love of God. He swallowed that feeling down, the taste on his tongue bitterā nodding a little too eagerly.
āYeah, ācourse he will.ā
His stomach churned with the reminder that it wasnāt him. Would it ever be him? In his 19 years of existence, Rafe had never been chosen. Not by Ward, not by Sarahā¦ not by you. Oh well, that was just his life. Probably. Your smile returned, eyes crinkling at the cornersā and his heart warmed just that tiny bit. A high far better than any heād found in a fistful of white powder.
Your phone buzzed across the room, pulling a flinch out of you and Rafe, his head snapping to the source of noise. His eyes followed your brisk steps to the device, watching you pluck it off the table and unlock it eagerly.
āHe just texted! He said heāll be here soon, eeeeee!ā
Rafe could throw up right on your bedroom floor this very second. He pushed down the bile clawing up his throat, leaning back onto his elbows and tipping his chin upwards in faux engagement.
āYou want me to leave soon, then?ā
The mere concept of another boy fucking you in this bed later tonight was enough for him to do 30 lines the moment he got home. Your little pout weakened his resolve nonetheless, the tiny bounce in your feet likening you to an excited kid. In his eyes, at least.
Your fingers fumbled through a drawer, pulling out a tiny tube of lip-gloss. His eyes traced your movements as you pulled the applicator out with a wet pop!ā slathering the glittery substance over your pursed lips in the mirror.
It was only when you turned around to show him that Rafe was reminded of how painfully hard he was getting, his traitorous mind immediately wandering to how your glossed lips would look wrapped around hisā
āI feel like this shadeās a little tooā¦ bright?ā
God, it was perfect. Right down to the T, you looked perfect. Why couldnāt you fucking see that?
āMatches the top. Looks good to me.ā
The apprehension stayed within the crease between your brows, arms crossing over your mid-section when you shot back:
āNo seriously, Rafe. Will he think I look pretty?ā
Rafe sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, your frown only serving to deepen the pit in his stomachā before pushing himself off his elbows, leaning closer into the cloud of vanilla body mist clinging to your skin.
āHe asked you on a date. Ya think he doesnāt think youāre gorgeous?ā
I was right fucking there and he still did, he almost wanted to add. But really, what was Rafe? A tall frat boy that followed you around like an eager puppy? He didnāt giveā¦ menacing boyfriend, did he? He couldnāt be something he wasnāt, he told himself. Ironic.
Your smile returned and Rafeās lips twitched upwards in turn, wanting to kiss the simper off your lipsā the thought shot dead when: Ping!
You looked back down at your phone, a tiny squeak leaving you when your eyes widened.
āā¦āOn my way gorgeousāā Ohmygod he called me gorgeous?! He hasnāt even seen my outfit yet! Rafeee, heās so sweet!ā
Sweet as grandmaās pie, he was. Rafe had heard enough recounts of your banter and playful exchanges with picture perfect Ethan to write a fucking novel. Heād have felt less inclined to guilt himself for wanting to swing at the guy, had he not just beenā¦ a guy. Your guy? No, not yet.
He chuckled at your elation, nodding along and rising to his feet, rubbing a hand along his thigh in a pathetic attempt at adjusting his crotch seamā sighing.
āIāll be off, then. Donāt wanna crash your date or nothinā.ā
Rafe needed to leave your house before he smothered himself with your pillows. He grabbed his keys off your vanity, only to turn and be met with the sight of your outstretched arms and grin.
He leaned down, arms wrapping around your waist in a gentle embrace. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, and wondered just for a moment what would happen if he pressed a kiss to the perfumed skin. Instead, he rubbed your back in small circles that always seemed to calm your nerves no matter the situation.
āYouāll be fine. He already thinks youāre great.ā
And so did Rafe, far more than Ethan ever could, or would. You giggled, and it felt like a noose around Rafeās heart.
āLove you, Rafe. Youāre the best friend ever.ā
āYou too, beautiful.ā
ā¦He meant that platonically. Pulling back from the embrace, Rafe patted your shoulder twice, offering a small smile and one last nod. An exchange of goodbyes found him leaving your room, walking down the stairs rather briskly. Your wave felt like the nail in the coffin as Rafe sat himself down in his driver's seat, letting out his first exhale of real breath since thatā¦ misery.
He tried his very best to ignore the manner in which his eyes started stinging, free hand firing up the truckās engine whilst avoiding any chance at looking back at your apartment.
Rafe would go home, and he would have a drink. Maybe go to bed after, he assured himself. He wouldnāt sit in silence and revel in the thought of Ethan lacing his fingers through yours. Ethan leaning in to kiss your cheek, or wipe pastry crumbs from the side of your lip with his thumb.
No, Rafe wouldnāt do that.
Some people got the girl. Rafe Cameron just drove the fuck home.
