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rafescoke · 2 years

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Drunk ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Someone who could take her away from all her problems.

Warnings: Pure fluff!

A/N: listen to apocalypse- cigarettes after sex to experience a better journey while you’re reading drunk!

oh my god i missed writing and everyone in this blog wtf but i’m so glad i’m back!! i’m so sorry if this wasn’t what everyone expected but i wasn’t feeling so great lately and all i need is some sweet rafe cameron where the reader and him isn’t in some kind of a toxic relationship

At first glance, Rafe was mesmerised by the sweet scent of the girl passing him to get to the other side of the club.

But he knew better than to approach her right away, because he was determined to make it right this time. He stared at her swaying body, (H/C) hair falling from her shoulder and dimples reflecting under the lights.

There was something about her.

“Birthday boy! You’re not supposed to be here alone!”

Rafe let his new college friend pull him to the secluded VIP corner, and his eyes quickly caught the figure of the girl from before.

What’s your name?

He sighed, allowing himself to be patted down on the seat all while thinking about all the unanswered questions toward her.

Passing the beers, Rafe laughed at some joke someone brought up. His head tilted to one side, exposing his long neck and he had the hesitant thought to down every drink on the table.

But he won’t. Not when he has a certain mission to get done tonight.

His head turned to the dancing floor, searching for the certain girl again, but she was nowhere to be found. Rafe frowned a little at this, but the expression quickly subdued when he realised how he didn’t even know her name, or how she looked like under the sun.

She might even have a boyfriend whom she loves.

“Gonna go smoke,” he said to no one in particular, standing up from his seat and walking toward the smoking area. The light breeze of NYC hit him squarely on his face, pushing away his blonde locks from his forehead and making his hair even more messier. He sighed when he noticed the lack of beanie in his pocket, which he usually brought with him anywhere.

I never caught your name, he thought, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He threw his head back against the brick walls, letting out the smoke and sucking in a new fresh air.

“I’ll be home soon, mother, please,” a voice called out, getting some attention from the other smokers, but not Rafe. He was staring at the orange light from the ceiling, thinking how it resembled a lot to the one outside of his favourite restaurant in Obx.

“Stop! You’re screaming at me for no reason,” the voice cried again, and there was a sound of a bag hitting the floor and heels clacking.

Rafe’s eyes turned to the commotion, and he was surprised to see the girl from before on all fours.

“Fuck,” she muttered, scrambling everywhere for her belongings now all over the ground. Her phone brightened not far from where she was, but her sight was slightly blurry so she fumbled for it.

Her mother’s angry voice could be heard from the small device, though she didn’t put it on speaker. She groaned, bringing the phone closer to her ear, “Mother, I’m going to end this call. Please, I’ll come back home, just—”

“And what is a pretty girl doing on the floor alone?”

Her eyes caught the sight of a tall guy, but she was used to this. She rolled her eyes, ending the call quickly and stuffing her phone into the small bag.

At least help me if you’re going to flirt, she thought, as she quickly gathered her cards and lipsticks.

“Not interested,” she mumbled, standing up slowly from the floor and feeling herself swaying to the side. The man laughed at this, and she felt so annoyed she could punch the shit out of the man.

“Come on, let me take you home.”

She felt a strong grip on her arms, and god, how could he touch her over her new Chanel dress?

She flinched at the touch, pulling a face, and swayed once again.

“I can help you, my car is just—”

“Babe, you’re not supposed to go out without me,” Rafe sighed, pulling the girl to his side and causing the unnamed girl to gasp at the sudden impact.

“Babe?” The man raised a brow, looking from the girl to Rafe, and back to the girl.

“I’m sorry, did she do anything?” Rafe faked surprise, and turned to the girl. “I told you not to drink so much.”

She opened her mouth, trying to shoot back something at how she doesn’t need this handsome guy’s help, but her body balance wasn’t on her side. She fell to Rafe’s side, causing him to quickly wrap his arms around her.

“My bad, bro, I’m sorry. I thought she needed help. You have to take care of your girlfriend, man, especially a pretty girl like her.”

Rafe could feel the bitter taste at the tip of his tongue; he wondered what would happen if he hadn’t come to the now lifeless girl.

He wished he could punch the man before him, but he too was slightly dizzy from all the booze that he knew he wouldn’t last long in a fight. He chose to be nice today, and gave the man his thanks.

“What’s your name?” Rafe asked, wrapping his arms around her waist gently so as to not make her so uncomfortable. She was already groaning, forehead damp and hands cold.

“(Y/N).”

“Where do you live?”

“Around here,” she whispered back, head against Rafe’s shoulder and eyes looking up to the tall buildings surrounding them.

“I need you to be more specific,” Rafe grunted, pulling her up slightly when he could feel her slipping, and groaned. “How much did you drink?”

“3 shots. Maybe 4. Maybe 15.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, stopping entirely in their tracks and turning to look at her. “Do you want me to catch you an Uber?”

She made a noise with her throat, to which Rafe had a sudden instinct to laugh, but decided against it. She didn’t answer, head still against his shoulder, and Rafe had no choice but to walk with her leeching off of him again.

Back in Obx, he never had a problem with helping Sarah or maybe Topper getting into the car while they were drunk. Maybe it’s the fact that he wasn’t as gentle with them as he was with (Y/N), but it was taking him forever to place the girl in his Mercedes.

When she was finally secured in the seat next to him, head against the window and mouth slightly open, Rafe had no choice but to drive her back to his apartment.

He couldn’t believe that his birthday night would end just like this; with a drunk girl by his side, and his muscles aching hungrily from having to carry her all the way from the club.

The traffic light turned red, and he took the chance to glance at the sleeping girl beside him.

Her chest heaved peacefully, lipstick smudged, eyeshadow still glimmering.

Pretty.

. . .

When (Y/N) woke up the next morning, she was surprised to have the smell of omelette wafting into her nostrils. Her bedroom changed too, because it wasn’t her pink greeting her back.

“What the fuck?” She shuddered, bringing the comforter to her chin. Her bedsheet was different too, it was no longer the flowery pattern her mother bought for her in Italy but rather a dull grey.

Oh my god. No way.

With all her might, she looked under the covers, only to find herself still in yesterday’s night clothes. She sighed in relief, but her whereabouts still left a nervous feeling inside her.

She wrecked her brain, trying to find an answer to all the questions in her brain, and groaned.

The huge window overlooking NYC was pattered with rain, and (Y/N) sighed when she noticed that she was in the upper east side of NYC, just close to where her home is.

“Good morning,” a voice greeted her, and she yelped before bringing the comforter around her again, as if shielding her from whoever this man is.

Handsome, man.

His brown locks were dishevelled, and he was wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt from some kind of a surfing competition back in 2015.

“We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he answered, confirming her thoughts, and she glared at him as he placed a tray with a plate of poached eggs, toast, omelette and baked beans on the bed.

So inviting.

“You were drunk, and I was just helping you.”

His face was sincere, but one thing that (Y/N) believes in was all men are liars.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Her hands reached for the toast, and her mouth was filled with the savoury taste of butter as she munched on the breakfast.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be outside when you’re ready to come out.”

Why was he treating her so well?

He left her alone in this gigantic room overlooking the city, and she rested her back against the headboard of his bed.

As she was enjoying the free breakfast, her phone rang somewhere near her and she scrambled for her bag.

Fuck.

“Mom—”

“I know I can never trust you to be in a big city like New York, (Y/N),” her mother’s voice rang, and she bit her lips.

“You just missed your first breakfast with the CEOs of your dad’s company, (Y/N), Jesus Christ,” she screamed, “And you’re probably somewhere out there with some guy who doesn’t even know your name!”

Her breath hitched, and she could feel her hot tears slowly streaming in her eyes.

“I hope you’re happy being the disappointment of the family.”

The call ended right then, and she felt so angry and disgusted she could throw all the breakfast and the drinks she had up.

Of course it’s business over her first. Her own mother didn’t even ask if she was okay.

She met the nice guy again, now in the living room, and she guessed he could see her red eyes and nose as he quickly backed away to give her space.

Thank god.

“You’re okay?” he asked, still keeping his distance.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” she smiled weakly. “I’ll head out. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything.”

Rafe quickly held out to her, “I can take you home. If you want.”

“Are you sure?” She raised a brow, “I don’t want to make anything hard for you.”

“I’m free today. I’ll be happy to send you home.”

She could remember the scent of his car from the night before now, but she was still very weary of the man. The ride to her home was silent, and she wished he would have turned the radio on so the atmosphere would be less awkward.

When the Mercedes parked right before her home, they sat in the warm silence for a few more seconds.

“I never catch your name.”

Rafe turned to look at her, “It’s Rafe.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s nothing, really,” he smiled.

So they sat staring at each other again, and Rafe felt the longing feeling to reach out to her, to ask for her contact details and to ask her out for a coffee the next day, but he couldn’t.

To (Y/N), Rafe was the perfect embodiment of a boyfriend. So handsome, so gentle, so perfect.

Ask me on a date, she thought.

She pulled the door open, letting the cold weather of NYC in mid February engulf them as she pulled the cardigan around her tighter.

“Wait—” Rafe reached out across the seat for her wrist, and she gasped. “Would you like to go for a coffee with me?”

She smiled.

“It depends. Are you married?”

“With three kids,” Rafe smiled back, and his heart warmed. “Are you?”

“With two kids.”

“Sweet. Now we have five.”

(Y/N) laughed genuinely, liking how his humour matched hers, and closed the door before he could tease anything back.

The sound of a door opening and closing brought her attention once more, and soon enough the scent of the handsome man stood beside her.

“You forgot to leave your number in my phone.”

“You know where I live,” she nudged her shoulder to the grand estate in front of her. “Do you still need my number?”

Rafe grinned, “I’ll see you soon, (Y/N).”

As she walked back to the door, she could feel his stare at her back. She felt nervous, so giddy, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Someone to take her mind off her problems. Someone who doesn’t need to know about her family troubles or anything that deemed her as fucked up.

Someone like Rafe.

. . .

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