frat!rafe and lovebug!reader getting matching piercings and rafe has to hold her hand cus he’s never gotten one before and doesn’t know what the pain is like (lovebug!reader has multiple piercings)
pairing: frat!rafe x lovebug!reader
summary: it all started because rafe cameron lost a bet.
genre: fluff, college au, soft chaos, established relationship
warnings: alcohol mention, tattoo needles, pure sweetness
an: i know it says piercings but i just couldn’t really see frat!rafe getting a piercing so i thought this would be cuter! sorry if it’s not what you hoped for 😖
lovebug!reader masterlist
it all started because rafe cameron lost a bet.
and not just any bet. no — this one was made at 1am, in your dorm room, while both of you were far too tipsy for your own good.
you were in what rafe liked to call your “lovebug form” — cheeks flushed from laughter, messy hair falling into your face, a half-empty bottle of cheap pink wine on your nightstand. rafe was sprawled out on your floor in his frat sweatshirt, absolutely sure he could beat you at anything.
“okay,” you slurred, eyes sparkling, “whoever can stand on one leg the longest wins.”
“and what do i get when i win?” he asked, that stupid confident grin on his face.
you thought for a second, then smirked. “if you lose, you get a matching tattoo. a ladybug. just like mine.”
rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “matching tattoos? bug, that’s permanent.”
“so is losing,” you teased, poking his chest.
he laughed, shaking his head. “fine. but if you lose, you’ve gotta wear that inflatable snoopy costume all day. to class. deal?”
you gasped dramatically. “deal.”
and that’s how it happened.
fifteen minutes later, the great one-leg challenge began. rafe cameron — six-foot-something, smug frat boy, annoyingly athletic — stood facing you, arms crossed, already looking way too confident.
“you’re going down, bug.”
“we’ll see about that,” you said, balancing carefully on one foot.
it started as a joke. you were both giggling, wobbling a little, trying to make the other laugh. but somehow, you stayed steady. focused. determined.
rafe lost his balance, stumbled, and landed squarely on the carpet.
you gasped, grinning triumphantly. “i win!”
rafe groaned, rubbing his elbow. “you cheated.”
“nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ “a deal’s a deal, cameron.”
which is how, an hour later, you found yourselves in a tattoo shop downtown — both still a little drunk, you in your oversized hoodie and slippers, rafe in his baseball cap pulled low, mumbling under his breath.
“i can’t believe i’m doing this,” he grumbled, sitting in the chair.
“you’re the one who agreed to it,” you said, trying (and failing) to hide your smile.
“because i didn’t think you’d win!” he shot back.
you shrugged, sliding closer to show the tattoo artist the tiny ladybug etched on your hip. “well, now you’ll have a reminder not to underestimate me.”
rafe looked at you, eyes softening despite his fake annoyance. “yeah, i’m definitely never doing that again.”
the artist did a quick stencil of the little ladybug on rafe’s forearm, right below his elbow. when the machine buzzed to life, rafe visibly tensed.
“you okay?” you asked, leaning over him.
“yeah,” he said quickly, though his jaw was tight. “just— didn’t think it’d be this loud.”
you smiled softly, taking his hand in yours. “want me to hold your hand?”
he gave you a look — all bravado and stubborn pride — but then his fingers curled around yours anyway.
so you held his hand, thumb tracing over his knuckles as the needle touched his skin. his grip tightened, just a little.
“ow,” he muttered. “does it— does it hurt that much for you too?”
“the first few seconds,” you said, leaning close enough for your nose to brush his jaw. “but you’re doing so good, baby.”
he exhaled, shoulders relaxing as you pressed soft kisses to his cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth.
“you’re distracting me,” he said quietly, but his voice was warm.
you kept whispering little things, tracing shapes on his arm while the tattoo artist worked. and when it was finally done, rafe blinked down at his skin, surprised.
it was perfect — small, simple, right above the vein of his wrist.
“shit,” he said softly. “it’s actually kinda… cute.”
you grinned. “say that again?”
“don’t push it,” he said, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at his mouth.
when you stepped outside into the cool night air, rafe wrapped his arm around you, hand brushing over the fresh tattoo.
“so now everyone’s gonna know,” he murmured.
you laughed, leaning into him. “oh, they already knew that.”
he kissed the top of your head. “yeah, but now it’s official.”
you smiled, glancing down at the matching little ladybugs — yours tucked just below your hipbone, his freshly inked into his skin.
it wasn’t about the bet anymore. it was about the way he looked at you — like you were the luckiest thing that ever landed in his life.
