he’s in the gym long after everyone’s cleared out, the lights half off, just the hum of the overheads and the dull thud of gloves hitting the bag. his knuckles are already split, tape coming loose, but he keeps going anyway like if he tires himself out enough, it’ll quiet the way he’s thinking about you.
it doesn’t.
every punch is heavier than the last, not even clean anymore. sloppy. distracted. because all he can picture is you, curled up in his bed, probably on his side, tucked into his sheets like you belong there more than he ever has. wearing one of his shirts.
he stops mid-swing.
just stands there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his jaw, staring at nothing.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand over his face.
he checks his phone. no new messages, but that doesn’t matter he already knows you’re asleep. you always are at this hour, all tucked in and waiting without even realizing it.
that soft, quiet life you live… it gets under his skin in a way nothing else does.
he pulls his gloves off with his teeth, rough and impatient. the drive home is fast. reckless. one hand on the wheel, the other tapping against it, restless, like he can’t get there quick enough.
and when he finally walks in, the whole place is quiet.
just like he knew it would be.
he doesn’t turn on any lights. doesn’t make a sound. just heads straight for the bedroom, heavy steps softening the closer he gets.
and there you are.
exactly how he pictured.
asleep in his bed, tangled in his sheets, face all relaxed and pretty.
he stands there for a second. just looking at you.
all that anger, all that noise.. it’s just gone.
“…there she is,” he murmurs, voice low, almost careful.
he strips down quick, tossing his things aside, then climbs into bed behind you, big arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him like it’s instinct. like he needs you there to settle.
his face presses into your neck, breathing you in slow.
“missed you,” he mumbles, half into your skin, already calmer, already softer.
and for the first time all night, he finally relaxes.
could you write a fic in which rafe takes care of overworked sick reader who hates being weak??
bf!rafe taking care of overworked!reader
rain taps softly against the windows of the cameron house, steady and annoying, like it’s trying to remind you how long you’ve been sitting at the desk.
your laptop screen blurs.
you blink hard. once. twice. so much so that your vision is literally sliding together into one huge blob.
syou press your fingers against your temples briefly before keep typing anyway.
you’re almost done. just a little more. if you stop now you’ll lose the rhythm and then tomorrow will be worse and-
"baby, youre still working?" says a soft, low voice by the doorway, hearing your gorgeous boyfriend rafe cameron sliding into the room. you dont turn though, which is exactly the problem.
there’s a pause. you can practically feel him staring. then his footsteps cross the room, sharp and clearly irritated in the way you know him so clearly you can literally sense it as he says, "it’s two in the morning."
"so?" your voice is sharper than you intend for it to be.
he crouches next to you, eyes soft as his hand rests on your thigh. "y/n, you've been at this since dinner."
"i’m fine."your fingers keep moving across the keyboard even though they feel clumsy and slow. between keeping your shit together and not losing your job versus making rafe upset for one night, you . . . unfortuantely choose the first option.
hes quiet, eyes seeing you in the way that only your boyfriend has ever been capable to do. he raises his hand to your forehead and yet you still dont tear your eyes away. you dont need to to know his reaction. "rafe -"
"jesus." he mutters. his palm stays there for another second, warm and solid, before he pulls back.
"you’re burning up."
"i’m not." you snap back, irritated.
"yes." he says flatly. "you are."
you try to wave him off. "it’s just a headache."
the words come out thinner than your will to live at the moment. he - ever the observant person - notices it. which is the problem, because he always does. "hey. baby, look at me."
you shake your head. “i’m good.”
a lie. you know it. he knows it.
your hand moves for the mouse but rafe reaches past you and closes the laptop in one smooth motion.
"rafe -"
"no." the word isn’t loud, but it’s final. and youre stubborn, but not stubborn enough to recongise the tone of finality.
you glare up at him, annoyed but mostly exhausted.
"i need to finish that."
"you need to not pass out at the desk."
"i’m not going to -"
your throat tightens mid sentence and you cough hard, the kind that rattles your chest.
his jaw clenches, eyes hardening in resolve.
rafe’s jaw clenches. "okay. that’s it."
before you can protest, his hands slide under your arms and he lifts you up out of the chair like you weigh nothing.
"rafe— what are you doing?"
"putting you to bed." he says gruffly.
"i can walk."
"sure you can."
he doesn’t put you down. instead he carries you down the hall and, already exhausted by just keeping your head up, you rest your temple by his shoulder.
safe.
he presses a soft, light kiss to your forehead.
"im not weak," you manage to say against his shirt defensively.
rafe snorts softly. "never said you were."
"youre treating me like it." but you dont have enough energy to fight him on it and even he knows it.
"i’m treating you like someone with a fever who refuses to admit it." he mutters under his breath, kicking the door open softly and walking you to the bed.
he pushes open the bedroom door with his foot and sets you carefully on the bed. the moment you sit, the dizziness crashes over you again. it must be evident because rafe's eyebrows raise up, "see?"
"i just needed to finish my work."
he crouches in front of you, elbows on his knees, looking up at you with that intense stare of his. "youve been deteoriating yourself al weak."
you shrug. "someone has to."
"not like this, baby."
you open your mouth to argue again but he presses the back of his fingers to your forehead once more. his expression tightens. "yeah, youre definetly sick."
"im fine." you insist.
rafe sighs, resting his head between your thighs and gazing back up at you. "your eyes are brimmed red, your temperature is abnormally high and you look like youre about to pass out. stay here."
before you can protest, he gets up and disappears out of the room. you debate following him but your limbs feel like they have a fridge on each individual one.
a minute later rafe comes back with a glass of water and some medicine. he holds them out expectantly. "take it."
you stare at the pills. "i dont need that."
"you have a fever." he says sharply.
"ill sleep it off."
"youre taking it."
"like fuck i am."
his tone gets even sharper. "dont argue with me when you cant even sit up."
"fine."
you take the pills with a small glare. rafe looks unbearably smug about it which causes you to hold eye contact as you down it. once you finish the water he sets the glass aside and pulls the blankets over you.
you immediately try to sit up again. "i should check my gm -"
"finish that word and ill delete your account." he mutters, firmly pushing you back against the pillows. "absoloutely not."
"rafe."
"sleep."
"i hate this." you whisper, half admission and half growl.
"i know." he murmurs softly, running a gentle hand through your hair and leaning over to kiss your forehead. "now sleep, my love. and dont even hesitate to ask for help next time. i dont want to see you like that ever again."
do not copy, translate or edit my work as your own nor feed it into anything for your amusement.
im so sorry for getting to this late, i was struggling for ideas but here it is! please feel free to send requests to me, i get back to them within a week at most.
summary: thursday nights are for rom coms, snacks, and your favorite boy. but when rafe doesn’t show up on time, you find him doing something completely unexpected.
genre: pure fluff, established relationship, college au
wc: ~1.3k
lovebug!reader masterlist
every thursday night at exactly seven o’clock, rafe cameron made his way across the hall to your dorm.
it was routine — one he’d never once broken.
you’d be sitting there on your bed in your strawberry-print pj set, a blanket folded neatly beside you, two mugs of hot chocolate on your desk (one always with extra marshmallows because he pretended not to like them, but you knew better). the movie would already be queued up — usually some cheesy rom com you loved — and rafe would roll his eyes before settling beside you, arm slung around your shoulders, whispering comments through the whole thing that made you laugh until your stomach hurt.
it was your favorite part of the week. his too.
so when seven o’clock came and went — no text, no knock on your door — you started to worry.
seven-thirty. still nothing.
by seven-forty-five, you were pacing.
rafe cameron was many things — cocky, careless, charming — but late? never with you.
you slipped your slippers on, grabbed your dorm key, and crossed the hall. his door looked the same as always — a few smudged handprints, a “kegs and eggs” flyer pinned sideways, and that little dent near the bottom from when wheezie slammed it shut too hard one weekend.
you knocked. once, twice.
nothing.
you frowned, tried the handle. unlocked. of course.
and there he was.
rafe cameron, your frat boy boyfriend who couldn’t focus longer than ten minutes on anything remotely academic… sitting at his desk. headphones on. completely zoned in.
his brows were drawn together, pencil tapping against the edge of his notebook as he stared at what looked like a half-finished worksheet.
he muttered something under his breath, sighed, then erased half the page.
you stood there for a second, blinking, because there was just something so funny and endearing about the sight of him — broad shoulders hunched over a math problem like the fate of the world depended on it.
quietly, you padded across the room until you stood behind him and gently tugged one of his headphones off.
he jumped, spinning in his chair, blue eyes wide until they softened.
“jesus, bug,” he breathed, exhaling a little laugh. “you tryna give me a heart attack?”
you tilted your head, smiling. “you’re late.”
rafe blinked, then glanced at the clock on his desk. “oh, shit. i— yeah. sorry.”
“thought maybe you got abducted by another frat,” you teased. “or kidnapped by the dean for crimes against time management.”
he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “nah, just… this assignment. business math or whatever. i’ve been trying to figure this thing out for like—” he checked his phone, “—an hour. it’s pathetic.”
you bit back a grin. “rafe cameron, doing homework voluntarily. wow, i should write this in my diary.”
“shut up,” he said, laughing softly. “i just… didn’t wanna show up if it wasn’t done. thought i’d knock it out quick.”
your heart softened immediately. the fact that he’d stayed behind, worried about keeping you waiting while he struggled through his work — it was honestly adorable.
“want some help?” you asked, stepping closer.
he looked up at you, skeptical. “you’re studying to be a vet, bug. pretty sure animal biology doesn’t cover business math.”
“yeah, but numbers are numbers,” you said, moving around to perch on the edge of his desk. “and besides, i have ladybug luck on my side.”
he rolled his eyes but grinned, handing you his notebook. “knock yourself out.”
you scanned the problem — a simple profit margin equation — and within a minute, you’d written out the correct answer in neat handwriting.
rafe blinked. “wait. that’s it?”
“mmhmm.”
he stared between you and the page, jaw slack. “you’re kidding. i’ve been sitting here for an hour trying to— okay, you’re actually kind of a genius.”
you giggled, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “not kind of.”
he smirked, tugging you down into his lap before you could move away. “alright, genius. maybe i should just have you do all my homework for me.”
“nice try,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. “you’re on your own next time, frat boy.”
“guess i’ll have to bribe you then,” he murmured, voice dropping. “extra movie snacks? foot rubs?”
“you drive a hard bargain,” you teased, pretending to think it over. “but… i think you owe me a movie night first.”
he groaned playfully but let you pull him up, the chair scraping the floor.
“c’mon,” you said, tugging his hand toward the door. “27 dresses isn’t gonna watch itself.”
“ugh. again?” he said, though his grin was already forming. “you just like watching me pretend i don’t like it.”
“pretend?” you echoed with a smirk.
by the time you were back in your dorm, rafe was settled against your headboard, arms around you, your head resting on his chest. the glow of the laptop screen lit up his face as the opening credits played.
and somewhere between your laughter, your half-finished hot chocolates, and rafe whispering that he actually thought the movie was “kinda good this time,” he realized maybe he didn’t mind learning a few new things after all — especially if they came from you.
summary: a drunken night out at the country club turns you into rafe’s flirty, feisty problem.
pairing: rafe x reader
cw: dramatic drunk reader, soft bf rafe, reader is a lightweight, morning-after hangover fluff, embarrassment, kissing, pet names, teasing, protective rafe
1.3k w
The country club patio always looked a little too polished, a little too perfect, with white umbrellas, clinking ice in expensive glasses, and the soft golf-cart hum in the background. But tonight it felt even brighter because you were perched sideways on Rafe’s lap in your tiny little sundress. You couldn't remember how many drinks you had, but you were already warm and giggly.
Rafe had his arm looped firmly around your waist, palm spread over your hip like he was making sure gravity didn’t steal you. “Baby,” he murmured into your shoulder, voice low, “that’s your third spritzer.”
“It tastes like fruit,” you insisted, leaning your whole body weight onto him. “You can’t get drunk off fruit.”
Kelce barked a laugh. “Oh my God, she’s gone.”
“I am not gone,” you announced, tossing your hair dramatically. “I am the opposite of gone. I am HERE.”
Topper raised his glass. “Honestly? That's real as fuck.”
You smiled triumphantly, then immediately grabbed Rafe by the jaw and kissed him. Not a polite kiss. A 'you're my entire universe, and I forgot we have an audience', kind of kiss. Your hand slid into his hair, your body pressed to his, and he made a low sound in his throat that definitely did not help the situation.
Kelce gagged. “Guys… please. I just wanted a chill night.”
Topper covered his face. “It’s like watching a… I don’t know… a music video they wouldn’t play on TV.”
You only kissed Rafe harder. Rafe finally pulled back, breath uneven, forehead against yours. He dragged your skirt back down over your thigh for what felt like the millionth time. “Princess,” he warned quietly, “chill.”
“But you taste—” you hiccuped, “—so good.”
Kelce threw his napkin. “I cannot do this sober.”
Rafe glared at him over your shoulder. “Then stop watching.”
You giggled, burying your face in Rafe’s neck, and he melted for a second, until you reached for your glass again. “Nope.” He caught it mid-air. “You’re done.” You pouted so dramatically that even Topper snorted.
“I hate you,” you grumbled.
Rafe kissed your cheek. “You absolutely do not.”
You huffed. Then grabbed the glass again and chugged the rest.
Kelce choked. “She’s feral.”
Rafe closed his eyes like he was asking the universe for strength. “That’s it. We’re leaving before someone asks us to sign a liability form.”
On the walk to the car, you clung to Rafe’s arm, stumbling only once, okay twice, but he scooped you close each time, steadying you with a warm hand on your lower back. “I love the country club,” you sighed dreamily.
“And the country club loves you,” he said, brushing hair from your face, “but baby, you’re two sips away from starting a revolution.”
Topper ran ahead to open the door. “She’d do it, and we’d follow,” he said proudly.
Kelce: “You two would burn it down and blame the weather.”
You pointed at them. “STOP encouraging me.”
Rafe gave them a death glare over your head. “She doesn’t need help being chaotic.”
You stuck your tongue out at him.
He kissed the tip of it. “See? Exhibit A.”
Back at the house, Rafe barely made it three steps inside before you reached up, grabbed both straps of your dress, and yanked. “It’s itchy,” you complained, trying to wriggle out of it. “I hate clothes. They’re stupid. So confining”
Topper froze mid-step.
Kelce actually dropped his keys.
“OH— okay,” Kelce blurted, turning around so fast he smacked into the wall. “Nope. Not doing this. Not losing my club membership over this.”
Rafe reacted instantly, grabbing your wrists gently but firmly. “Baby. No. Absolutely not.”
“But it’s itchy,” you whined louder, trying to wriggle again.
“I know,” he said, guiding your hands down, “but you can’t just undress in the foyer.”
“Why not?” you demanded, outraged.
Kelce, facing the wall: “Because I’d like to keep my eyesight.”
Topper: “It’s the foyer! The echo in here makes this worse!”
You made a miserable little sound and let your head fall against Rafe’s chest. “Rafe,” you mumbled, “I wanna be comfy.” His expression softened instantly.
“I know, baby. And you will be.” He hooked one arm under your legs and lifted you effortlessly. “But not with an audience.”
Kelce saluted blindly. “Respect.”
Topper covered his eyes. “Godspeed, brother.”
Rafe carried you toward the stairs, your arms looped around his neck, your legs swinging slightly. “You’re so bossy,” you muttered.
“And you’re seconds from giving the whole neighborhood a free show,” he countered. “Which I’m not sharing, thanks.”
You huffed, snuggling closer. “You love me.”
Rafe kissed your forehead, soft and certain. “More than anything.” He nudged your bedroom door open with his foot, carried you inside, and the world went warm and quiet behind it.
--
The sunlight creeping through the blinds was rude. Too bright, too direct, too… loud for your poor sensitive state. Your skull throbbed. Your mouth tasted like regret. And something citrusy.
You groaned and rolled over straight into a warm chest. Rafe stroked your cheek instantly, already awake, already watching you with that soft, annoyingly perfect morning face. “Hi, princess,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “How we feeling?”
You buried your face in his shirt. “Dead. Kill me.”
He laughed quietly, the sound vibrating under your ear. “No can do. You’ve got a very long day of recovery and humiliation ahead.”
You froze. “…Humiliation?”
Rafe kissed the top of your head, trying to soothe you already.
“Don’t panic.”
Which, of course, made you panic.
“Rafe.” You lifted your head slowly. “What did I do?”
He tried so hard not to smile. But it crept in anyway, tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Well,” he started, brushing your hair off your forehead like you were fragile, “you were… expressive.”
You squinted. “What does expressive mean?”
“It means,” he said patiently, “that you got very cuddly. Very… attached.”
“That’s normal.”
“And very vocal.”
“Rafe.”
“And you may or may not have told everyone at the country club patio that my face was ‘a national treasure.’”
You slapped a hand over your mouth. “No, I did not—”
“You absolutely did.” He nodded solemnly. “Stood on my foot for height, cupped my cheeks, and declared it.”
You dropped back onto the pillow and groaned into it. “I can’t go back there.”
“Oh, that’s just the beginning.”
“RAFE.”
He smoothed your hair again, giving you the softest little smile. “At one point, you told Topper you weren’t afraid to fight him if he tried to take me from you.”
You stared at him. “…Why would Topper take you?”
“That’s what Kelce asked.”
You closed your eyes. “I’m never drinking again.”
Rafe kissed your temple. “You say that every time.”
You shoved a hand weakly into his chest. “Don’t tease me. I’m fragile.”
“I know, baby,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “That’s why I got you advil and water, and made you toast and fruit. And I already started the coffee.”
You blinked. “…You did?”
He nodded. “You also tried to take your dress off in the foyer in front of my friends.”
Your eyes snapped open. “WHAT?!”
He held up a finger. “To be fair, you said it was itchy.”
“Oh my God,” you whispered, horrified.
Rafe cupped your face gently. “Relax. I stopped you. Topper and Kelce didn’t see anything.”
You slumped into his palm. “I want to bury myself alive.”
“Nah,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose. “I love you too much.” You whined miserably and hid under the blanket. He lifted the blanket edge and kissed your forehead through it. “Baby…”
“No.”
He chuckled. “C’mon. Let me take care of you. Shower, food, cuddles… and maybe later I’ll let you know what else you did.”
You peeked out suspiciously. “There’s more?”
“So much more.”
You groaned. He kissed your cheek.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, brushing your hair back again. “You were ridiculous… but cute. And mine. And I’ll take care of you all day.” You tugged him back under the blanket with you, face burning. He wrapped you up instantly, a blanket inside a blanket.
“You still love me?” you mumbled.
He smiled into your hair. “More today than yesterday.”
she walked like sin on satin heels.
bubblegum gloss, glitter on her lids, and that tiny pink mini barely covering her ass.
everything about her said trouble, but rafe? he was the kind of boy who begged for it.
she twirled her gum around her finger like it was a cigarette and rafe cameron swore she was made in a lab. a doll. a daydream. a walking heart attack in heels that clicked when she walked toward him, always toward him.
“hi baby,” she purred, soft and sweet like cotton candy melting on the tongue.
he was leaning against his truck, hands shoved in his pockets, but the second she got close, all that fake nonchalance went out the window. she was wearing his varsity jacket over her outfit. god, she looked like a fantasy — his fantasy.
“you wearin’ that just to kill me?” he asked, voice low, gravelly, eyes drinking her in like she was his favorite kind of poison.
“no,” she said, giggling. “but if i did, would you die happy?”
rafe smirked, stepped forward, cupped her cheeks in those big, rough hands and tilted her head back like she was something precious. “i’d die fuckin’ euphoric, princess.”
she gasped all dramatic, plush lips parted like she was in one of those old romance films. “you’re soooo obsessed with me.”
“can you blame me?” he murmured, eyes flicking down to her lips. “look at you. you’re like... the end of the world.”
she blinked up at him, lashes thick and fake and flirty. “i don’t even know what that means.”
he laughed. soft. stupid. completely enchanted. “means you’d be the last thing i’d wanna see before the apocalypse.”
she tilted her head, letting that process with her glossed-up, bubble-brain pout. then she grinned like sunshine. “aww, baby, that’s soooo sweet.”
rafe kissed her like a man possessed. slow and messy and full of hunger. her gum got caught between their tongues, but she didn’t care. she moaned into it, fingers tangled in his golden hair, hips bumping into his, all heat and perfume and pink-sugar chaos.
he pressed her up against the truck door, his jacket falling off her shoulders, but she didn’t fix it. just kept looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
“you smell like strawberries,” he muttered, burying his nose in her neck. “you’re gonna ruin me.”
“duh,” she said, giggling. “that’s, like, the plan.”
he groaned, head thudding against her shoulder. “you have no idea what you do to me.”
she bit her lip. “i do. that’s why i wear the little skirts.”
he looked down at her legs — long, smooth, tan, perfect — and nearly whined. she hooked one over his thigh, pouting up at him.
“you gonna take me to the diner or just keep kissing me till i’m dizzy?”
“both,” he said, without a beat. “diner first. dizzy later. maybe both at once.”
the neon motel sign flickered outside like a dirty promise.
room 7 smelled like smoke and lemon cleaner, but rafe couldn’t care less.
not with her sitting on the edge of the bed in her thigh-high socks and panties, reapplying her gloss like they weren’t about to ruin the room.
“you look like a dream,” he muttered, kicking off his boots.
“i am a dream,” she said, smacking her lips. “and you’re so lucky i picked you to have me.”
“i’d thank god if i thought he had anything to do with it,” he murmured, crawling between her legs. “but i know you’re way too good for heaven.”
she giggled, squealed when he grabbed her thighs and dragged her closer.
“careful! i just did my nails.”
“then you better hold onto the headboard, baby,” he growled, yanking her panties down with his teeth, “cause i’m about to make you forget your name.”
she gasped, tossed her head back, eyes all heavy-lidded and pretty while he buried his face between her thighs. one hand in his hair, the other clawing at the sheets, high-pitched moans falling from her lips like a pop song stuck on repeat.
“rafe— ohmygod, rafe—”
he hummed against her, grinning, totally feral. “say it again.”
“rafe,” she whined, “baby, baby, please.”
he pulled back just long enough to look up at her, lips shiny with her gloss and her. “you look so fuckin’ pretty like this. all messy for me.”
she blinked down at him, face flushed, hair a mess, and god, he wanted to take a picture. frame it. tattoo it on his chest.
“come here,” she whispered.
he climbed up over her, hand slipping under her bra, squeezing just to make her gasp. she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she owned him — which she did.
he slid in slow, thick and deep, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths.
“god,” he hissed, “you’re so— tight— fuck—”
“told you i was a dream,” she whispered, biting his lip. “don’t wake up, baby.”
he laughed. “never could.”
they moved together like it was choreography. like a vintage tape left on repeat — her moaning his name, rafe whispering mine, mine, mine in her ear, her pink nails scratching down his back, her lips parted just enough to look obscene.
when she came, it was loud and pretty and perfect.
when he did, he swore he saw stars.
after, she laid on his chest, tracing hearts on his skin.
“you’re, like, so obsessed with me,” she mumbled, yawning.
“you don’t even know the half of it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.
and when she fell asleep, lips parted, cheeks pink, hair a mess, rafe just stared at her like she was everything.
because to him?
she was.
and he'd burn the world down just to keep her soft and spoiled and smiling like that.
I need more fluff from unspoken claim pls and thank uuuu 🙂↔️
unspoken claim
rafe x childhood friend!reader
| summary | you flip through an old photo book with rafe
warnings: none, just fluff!
a/n: ngl i love writing angst but im a sucker for soft rafe and reader <3
masterlist
⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°
The rain drummed softly against the windows, casting a gentle rhythm throughout the room. The sky outside was a washed-out gray, the kind of color that made everything feel slower, softer. You were curled up on Rafe’s bed, your legs tucked beneath you, flipping through an old photo album you had found buried in his closet. The worn leather cover smelled faintly of dust and nostalgia.
Rafe sat beside you, propped up against the headboard, his hair still damp from the quick sprint you had made from the truck to the house. The storm had rolled in fast, catching you both in the downpour before you could make it inside. Now, wrapped in one of his old sweatshirts, your bare legs stretched over the soft fabric of his comforter, you felt completely at home.
“Damn,” you murmured, fingers tracing over a picture of the two of you at a beach bonfire, years ago. Your cheeks were flushed in the dim light of the flames, your smile wide as you leaned into Rafe’s side. He had his arm around you, a bottle in his free hand, mid-laugh at something Topper had probably said.
“Look at us,” you mused, grinning. “So young, so full of life.”
Rafe snorted, leaning closer to see. “That was, what, two years ago?”
“Exactly,” you sighed dramatically. “I was in my prime.”
He scoffed, reaching around you to flip the page. “Yeah, okay. If that was your prime, what does that make now?”
You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Eh. I peaked.”
Rafe huffed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against him. “Shut up. You’re still just as annoying.”
You giggled, tilting your head back against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him at your back. His arms caged you in, his chin nudging against your temple as he glanced down at the album.
Your fingers skimmed over another picture—one of you in Rafe’s hoodie, grinning ear to ear as you sat on the hood of his truck. Your hair was damp, the sun setting behind you in streaks of orange and pink.
“That’s my sweatshirt,” he pointed out.
You smirked. “Oh, you mean the one I stole?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, squeezing your waist. “Never saw that one again.”
You turned another page, eyes lighting up at the next photo. It was from when you were kids, maybe eight or nine, playing in the backyard. Your arms were crossed, a dramatic pout on your face while Rafe stood behind you, laughing. You had no idea what you had been mad about, but it must’ve been serious at the time.
“Oh my God,” you laughed, nudging Rafe’s ribs. “You were always such a bully.”
“You were a brat,” he countered. “Still are.”
You gasped, feigning offense, but he just smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“I was adorable,” you said. “And you were obsessed with me.”
Rafe scoffed. “Obsessed?”
“Uh, yeah.” You pointed to another picture—one where he was blatantly holding your hand at some birthday party, looking like he’d fight anyone who got too close. “Look at that. You were like my little bodyguard.”
His fingers flexed on your waist. “Nothing’s changed.”
You grinned, warmth blooming in your chest. “Nope.”
Flipping another page, you gasped dramatically, pointing at an old photo of you and Topper, both grinning as he carried you on his back at some party while Rafe stood off to the side, clearly unhappy. “Oh, look at this one! Topper used to be my favorite.”
Rafe immediately went stiff behind you. “Excuse me?”
You bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter as you felt his grip tighten slightly. “Yeah, he was so sweet to me. Always let me sit on his shoulders and gave me piggyback rides.”
Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, because he had a death wish.”
You giggled, turning your head to glance at him. “Oh, come on. You weren’t jealous, were you?”
His jaw tensed. “Jealous of Topper? Please.”
You turned fully in his arms, grinning. “So you wouldn’t mind if I say he was cuter than you back then?”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he pulled you flush against him, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Keep lying and see what happens.”
You laughed, nudging your nose against his cheek. “Relax, Rafe. You were always my favorite.”
He let out a breath, still pretending to sulk. “Damn right.”
You turned the page again, finding a group picture of all of you at the beach—Topper, Kelce, Sarah—everyone looking sun-kissed and happy. Your smile softened.
“I miss that,” you murmured. “All of us together like that.”
Rafe was quiet for a moment before he tightened his arms around you, resting his lips against your shoulder. “We’ll make more memories like that.”
You turned your head slightly, catching the sincerity in his voice. Your heart swelled.
“I know,” you whispered, settling back against him as the rain continued to fall outside, the soft hum of nostalgia filling the space between you.
part 1. part 2. part 3. here's part 4 (or whatever part this is to you, depending on how much you've read). i just couldn't help myself :)
❝ it's true, swear, scouts honor
you knew what you wanted and,
boy, you got her ❞
pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader
context: after a fallout at the boneyard with jj and kie, you agree to a date with rafe.
words: 1.9k+
warnings: jealous!jj, mean!jj (kind of), so so SO fluffy.
"look, i know it's kinda sudden, a'ight?" rafe glances over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. "and you don't have to answer right now. just think about it."
when you and jj broke up, the last thing you would've guessed to happen next was getting into a friends-with-benefits situation with rafe cameron. now, you were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck after he just defended you to your ex-boyfriend and asked you out on a date.
was it too soon? probably. could you really see it working? maybe. did you want to go? yes—as crazy as that sounded.
you turn your head towards him and shake your head. "i don't have to think about it."
a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, but he fights it, just in case you said no. "you don't?"
"let's do it."
"yeah?" a chuckle falls from his lips, his smile widening.
"yeah," you nod, as he pulls the car to a stop in front of your family's house on the cut. you lean in to place a kiss on his cheek, making them turn the lightest shade of crimson, before opening your door to hop out. "come pick me up at noon tomorrow."
—
"fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk!" you slam your closet door close, just as your older brother peeks in to see where all the commotion was coming from.
"the hell's the matter with you?" he eyes you carefully, leaning against the doorway, sipping on a can of soda.
you ignore him and begin pacing around the room, tossing clothes from your dresser onto the bed. "what the fuck am i suppose to wear?" you lay out one casual outfit—a crochet top and dark-washed shorts—and one fancier outfit—a short, white floral sundress with pink flowers.
"since when do you care what you wear?" your brother walks into your room and looks at the clothes laid out on your bed.
"since i'm going on a date," you say, nibbling on your thumb, as your eyes shifted back and forth between the two outfits.
"jj's taking you out?" he asks, looking at you, clearly caught by surprise.
jj was never really the "date" type—not that you minded. while the two of you would spend time together all the time, you'd mostly do it with the rest of the pogues. either that, or you'd hang out in your room or the chateau.
"no," you shake your head. "we broke up."
"so who you goin' out with then?"
you pick up the dress from the bed, and hold it out in front of you, while turning to look into your full-length mirror. "...rafe cameron."
your brother almost chokes on his soda as he snaps his head towards you. "rafe cameron? you're goin' out with a kook?"
"is it really that much of a surprise?" you raise a brow and look at him through the mirror.
"nah," he shakes his head and shrugs. "just didn't think kook was your style."
"well i appreciate your insight, y/b/n, but it's time to go," you turn to shoo him out of the room and push him out your door.
"hey, could you—" before he could even finish his sentence, you slam the door in his face and return to getting dressed.
while you didn't clear up with rafe exactly what this date would entail, you figured it’d be better to play it safe than be sorry—he was a kook, after all—so you took off your robe and slipped into your mini sundress, before sitting at your desk to crimp your hair and scatter little braids around your head and do your makeup.
after doing so, your phone dings with a text from him, as you slip on some flat sandals.
rafe: downstairs, your brother let me in.
giving yourself one more glance at the mirror to fix your necklaces, you run your hands through your hair and spray on some perfume, before scurrying out your bedroom door and down the hall to greet rafe sitting in the living room with your brother sitting across from him.
"so what are you intentions with my little sister?" your brother asks, just in time for you to intervene.
"oh my god, y/b/n," you say, as rafe stands to greet you. "hey."
you walk over to him and he squeezes you to his side. "hey, doll."
"where we headed?" you asked, noticing him in a salmon colored polo shirt—which somewhat matched the color of the flowers on your dress—and light grey shorts.
"a little change of plans, actually," he tells you. "i gotta go to this brunch at the club cause my dad's getting some award. you don't mind, do you?"
"we can totally leave any time you want," he adds, when a look of apprehension crosses your face.
you slowly nod, your eyes meeting his. "okay."
"yeah?" a small smile forms on his lips when you agree.
"yeah, let's go," you nod again, before turning to pull him towards the door.
"don't bring her back too late!" your brother jokingly calls after the two of you, as you walk out the front door.
"you're not dad!" you yell back, closing the door behind you.
—
the minute you enter a banquet hall at the country club, decked out with several round tables and decorations, full of kooks dressed in designer sundresses and polos, it dawns on you just how different your worlds are.
rafe was the kook king. these fancy brunches were a part of his weekly routine, while the fanciest place you'd ever been was the diner your parents took you to on your trip to new york a month ago.
"you ok?" rafe's hand snakes around the small of your back and he leans into you when he notices you glancing around, your fingers fiddling with each other. "hey," his finger comes under your chin to make you face him. "don't fret, a'ight? they'll love you."
they? who the fuck is they?
"top, kelce," rafe calls out to two of his friends, both of whom are dressed just like him, as he leads you to their table, which also sat two other girls—who you recognized to be rafe's sisters. "this is y/n."
"topper," the blond one holds out a hand to you, and the dark skinned one does too. "kelce."
"y/n," you shake both their hands, as rafe pulls out a chair for you to sit down. "it's nice to meet y'all."
"oh my god," the young girl seated next to sarah widens her eyes at you from across the table. "you're that girl rafe's been sneaking in and out of the house at night!"
"wheeze," sarah throws her a look, before smiling at you. "sorry about her, she has no filter. i'm sarah."
"yeah, i know," you nod at her. "kiara's talked about you."
"oh," the smile on her face drops a little. "you're friends with kie?"
"not anymore," you shake your head, and sarah's smile returns. "we were, but… she's showed her true colors." you reach for the glass of water in front of you and take a sip.
"tell me about it," sarah scoffs. "i had to learn that the hard way."
you continue making small talk with sarah, realizing she wasn't half the bitch kiara made her out to be, while rafe's hand rested on your thigh, as he talked to kelce and topper.
"drinks?" you hear a familiar drawl behind you, and find jj standing over you with a platter of mimosas, dressed like a waiter. "y/n?"
a smirk comes across rafe's lips as he turns his head, eyes shifting between the two of you. "hey, man. just one for my girl."
jj's clicks his tongue, as rafe smiles at you and gives your thigh a squeeze, but does his job, and leans down to hold the platter out to you.
"thanks," you avoid eye contact with him as you grab a drink from the platter, and are thankful when sarah calls on him from across the table.
"i'll take one too," she says and jj rounds the table to allow her to grab a drink, his disappointed eyes meeting yours.
a part of you felt bad—it had only been about a month—but then again, he moved on while you two were still together. so was there really a reason for you to feel guilty? you were just doing what he did—but better. at least you waited until the relationship ended.
"i'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," you whisper to rafe, who gave you a small nod.
"why?" he asked, concern falling over his features. "you okay?"
"yeah," you assure him. "i just gotta pee. i'll be back."
—
by the time you got back from the bathroom, applause was erupting around the room, as rafe, sarah, and wheezie joined their dad on stage with their stepmom.
a smile came across your face as his eyes met yours from across the room and you leaned an elbow on the counter of the bar beside you.
"can't believe you stooped this low," jj comes up beside you, placing the platter down on the bar and downing one of the drinks himself.
"no," you turn your head to look at him and shake your head when rafe becomes occupied taking pictures with his family. "we're not doing this here."
you head out of the room, and he follows. "why? scared your new kook friends are gonna realize you're not one of them? i mean, seriously, y/n— how far are you willing to take this? just to-"
you snap your head towards him. "just to what, jj?"
"to spite me," he says. "i mean, have you looked in the mirror lately?" he motions a hand at your dress. "you're dressed like them, you're eating brunch with them, you're with him—this isn't you!"
"no," you hold a finger up to him. "i am exactly who i've always been. you just don't know how i look when i'm not in love with you."
a scoff leaves his mouth. "so our relationship really meant that little to you, huh?"
was he for real?
you narrow your eyes and shook your head. "no. you don't get to use that against me. you meant the world to me, jj. you were the one who screwed shit up the second you decided to sleep with kie. you are not turning this on me."
"oh my god, would you get over it?" he asked, clearly frustrated. "you slept with rafe cameron, y/n! we're even."
"even?" you spat. "after you betrayed me? broke my trust? my heart? oh, you have no idea just how even it's about to be."
"the hell's going on out here?" rafe joins you and jj outside the banquet hall, immediately coming to your side, a hand on your lower back. "is he bothering you?"
"no," you shake your head. "jj's shift just ended. he was about to go."
rafe shifts his eyes between the two of you, you and jj's eyes focused on each other.
your ex-boyfriend scoffs and shakes his head, but walks away, taking rafe by surprise.
"you wanna tell me what that was all about?" he looks at you, after watching jj leave.
"nothing to tell," you shrug with a smile, tilting your head up at him. "you wanna head back inside?"
"you wanna stay?"
"yeah," you nod, snaking your arm around his back. "i do."
part 5.
i love soft rafe almost as much as i love canon rafe tbh.
