OMG IM OBSESSED WITH YOUR NEW POST
Pls can you write something about being at a party with bsf!s1!rafe and him constantly staring and getting jealous of any other guy. I love your writing sm 💖
✮⋆˙ jealous s1!rafe can't seem to control the possessive feelings he has for his bestfriend!reader.
warnings — none, really! possessive and jealous bsf!s1!rafe. mentions of drinking.
cherie’s note — ilysm thank you for the request! so sorry it took me so long — been super swamped with irl stuff as of late. i hope you enjoy, cutie!
you didn't even like the guy that much.
he was cute enough, sure — tall, clean smile, backwards cap in that frat-boy kind of way — the kind of guy who had probably excelled in lacrosse in high school and still bragged about his winning goal. but he was charming in that performative, bro-ish way, leaning just a little too close when he talked, fingers brushing your wrist when he handed you his drink so you could "smell how strong it was."
you laughed at something he said — something that definitely wasn't that funny — and the sound came out louder than it should have, especially over the blaring music, and the thumping against the floor boards. a little forced, a little flirty. he grinned like he'd won something, stepping in close enough that his arm grazed your waist, thumb brushing the exposed skin near your hip as if it were casual.
you didn't notice it right away — but rafe did.
he saw everything from where he stood across the room, absentmindedly listening to topper and kelce argue over which preppy boat was superior, solo cup hanging loose in his hand. the flash of your smile. the way your body tipped toward the guy, even if it was just from the loud music, struggling to hear each other properly. the hand on your waist.
he took one, final slow slip from his cup, jaw flexing, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek as that familiar burn settled deep within his chest.
muttering something under his breath, he excused himself from conversation with his best friends.
the small, forced grin on your face faltered the minute you noticed rafe standing behind the boy, one hand on his shoulder as he effortlessly spun him around where he stood.
"yeah — nah. she's good," rafe said casually, stealing a lazy sip from his cup in that arrogant way you'd grown to recognize. his eyes flickered to the guy once, slow and dismissive. "find someone else to bother."
the guy gave a half-laugh, confused, but didn't push it. just held up his hands in surrender, and backed off.
you blinked up at rafe, startled, heart still skipping from how fast it all happened.
he didn't even look at you — not at first. he stood where the boy had been just seconds ago, taller, broader, his body cutting off the space around you like a wall. the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smoke of marijuana, and something faintly sharp — whatever cheap liquor had been in his cup — surrounded you now. familiar.
he took another sip, lips curling around the rim in that unbothered, cocky way he always did when he was pissed but pretending not to be.
"we're leaving," he said finally, voice low and flat.
your brows pinched. "what? why?" you shifted your weight, suddenly uncomfortable with his possessive tone.
you scoffed, "you can't just— rafe, i was talking—"
"yeah?" his brow ticked, voice all lazy venom. "looked like he was doing more than talking."
you swallowed — hard, dryly.
"don't argue," he spoke smoothly, not even lookin at you. his hand was already sliding around your wrist, firm and final. "let's go."
he didn't let go of your wrist until the cool-night breeze bit against your skin.
and when the front door slammed shut behind you, you weren't sure if you were more angry with him... or at yourself for always going. always listening.
