It’s So Cute That I Wanna Kms 🤞

The Gas Station

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pregnant!Reader

summary: Y/n is in her final trimester of her pregnancy and Rafe is eager to make sure the birth of his first baby goes smoothly, but thanks to Y/n's stubbornness they find themselves stuck in a pretty sticky situation with the last two people they expected.

a/n: So I watched "We Live In Time" yesterday and I loved the movie so much that I wanted to rewrite the childbirth scene from it cause it was my favourite! Rafe is so 'grumpy to everyone else but soft for her' core in this. Ps: I’ve never given birth so this might not be too accurate, don’t kill me

warnings: Spoilers for the 'we live in time' childbirth scene, mentions of contractions, labour, childbirth (pretty visual ig?), mentions of a zoot but no smoking, mentions of alcohol but no drinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The living room of the Chateau was warm and filled with the low hum of conversation. Sarah was sprawled on the floor, while Kiara leaned back against the couch, discussing the possibilities of the new Cameron baby being a boy or girl. Pope sat at the kitchen table, half-focused on whatever book he had cracked open, pen scribbling against the paper trying to figure out the probability the mathematical way, and Cleo lounged near the window, lazily watching the wind shift the trees outside as they all spoke to one another

Y/n was sitting on the couch opposite Sarah and Kiara, half-listening, half-focused on the cookie in her hand as her other one rubbed over her large, rounded belly. Sarah grinned as she caught Y/n eyeing the cookie. 

“What, are my cookies that good?”

Y/n opened her mouth to answer but suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand instinctively flew to her lower stomach, the cookie forgotten on the side of the couch.

Rafe, who had been leaning against the doorway, taking the time to admire the girl in her last couple of days of pregnancy, immediately straightened. His relaxed expression vanished. She had been persistent that she wanted to come and visit Sarah and the Pogue’s at the chateau, and as much as he protested, knowing the due date of their baby was any day now, she managed to sway him with those pleading eyes of hers and small pout, which he couldn’t seem to say no to.

“What’s wrong?” 

His voice softened, but there was a thread of tension running through it as he crossed the room in two quick steps. Y/n didn’t answer right away. She squeezed her eyes shut, shifting to the edge of the sofa and placing both hands on her belly. She took in a slow, shaky breath.

“I… think I’m having contractions.”

The room fell into a sudden, heavy silence as they all looked at eachother. 

Sarah blinked. “Wait, what? Like, actual contractions?”

Cleo sat up straighter, eyeing her. “No way sweet thing, maybe you just ate too many of them damn cookies huh?”

“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving. Right now.” 

Rafe’s face paled and he was already patting his pockets for the car keys, panic creeping into his voice as he grabbed the girl’s shoes from next to the door. Pope closed his book slowly, brows furrowed. 

“Hold on, how far apart are they? That matters, right?”

Kiara leaned forward, calm but attentive. “Yeah, how bad was that one? Like, on a scale of one to ‘get in the car’?”

Y/n exhaled slowly, leaning her head back. “It wasn’t that bad. Just… caught me off guard. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You just said you’re having contractions!”

Sarah gawked her eyes wide with disbelief. She had been buzzing with excitement ever since she found out she was going to be an aunt. The girl had been planning baby showers and picking out names for months, practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation that her brother was going to be a father, and that he’d changed so much since the couple had found out about their little angel. And now, that Y/n was in labour, and she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and sheer excitement.

“She said ‘think,’” Cleo corrected, smirking. “Key word, Sarah. Could just be gas, ya know?”

Y/n let out a weak laugh. “Thanks for that, Cleo.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. He crouched in front of her, eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress, “Y/n, we should go. The hospital’s all the way in Figure 8, and we’re in the Cut, that’s not a quick drive.”

Y/n shook her head, breathing steadily, she’d noticed how he’d been on edge for the past few weeks, his nerves fraying with every little thing. Rafe cared about her more than he ever thought possible- she was everything to him. The thought of losing her or their baby terrified him to his core, he couldn’t bear the thought of not being there for her, of not protecting the two most important people in his life.

 “Rafey, that was the first contraction, my waters not even broken yet. We have time.”

“No, we don’t,” he snapped, then caught himself and softened his tone, letting out a sigh, “I just… I don’t want to risk it, okay?”

Kiara, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression surprised to see the once frat boy asshole so attentive, leaned over to Sarah. 

“Is he always this dramatic?”

“Oh yeah, it's become a talent.”

Pope stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Look, if they’re still spaced out, you probably have hours. First babies take their time. But we should keep track.” As he looked around the kitchen drawers for something, cutlery clanged in them as he opened and shut the wooden furniture, finally fishing out an old plastic stopwatch.

Rafe shot him a glare, “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly betting on that.”

Y/n reached for Rafe’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Lets just sit here for a bit more please. If they get worse, we’ll go.”

Rafe stared at her for a long moment, then let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But if anything changes, we’re out of here. No arguments.”

“No arguments.”

She responded as she smiled in agreement, leaning forward slightly to give the boy a quick peck on the lips. Reluctantly, Rafe sat beside her, shuffling so she rested against his side, his hand protectively resting on her belly, a place it had gotten used to resting on in the past few months. Sarah cleared her throat. 

“So… does this mean more cookies, or…?”

Y/n laughed out nodding her head with wide eyes and Cleo snorted at the girl's reaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room had grown quieter, but the tension clung to the air as Rafe stood by the window, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. His free hand raked over his short hair as he listened to the calm, too-casual voice on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t come in yet?” Rafe snapped, disbelief lacing his voice.

“She’s in labour!”

The nurse on the other end responded evenly, used to anxious fathers. “Sir, unless her contractions are between three to five minutes apart, there’s no point in coming now. First-time labours can take hours, sometimes longer. You’ll be more comfortable at home.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Do you know who I am?” his tone dropped, sharp and cold, “My family practically owns half this island, and you’re telling me to just sit around and wait?”

From the couch, Sarah groaned audibly and rolled her eyes.

“Oh my God.” 

She pushed off the armrest and stormed over, snatching the phone from Rafe’s hand before he could say another word and pressed it to her ear,

“Hi, sorry about him,” Sarah said sweetly into the phone, giving Rafe a sharp glare. “We’ll keep an eye on things and call if anything changes. Thanks for your help.”

She hung up and tossed the phone onto the table.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped. “Pulling the Cameron card on a nurse? What was that supposed to do- magically speed up labor?”

Rafe’s eyes flashed angrily as he looked down to his younger sister, his finger jabbing into his chest as he spoke, “I’m trying to make sure she’s safe, Sarah! We’re stuck in this shithole cause you've,” his raised his finger pointing it to his temple, “put some voodoo spell on her so she doesn't want to leave and no one seems to care!”

Cleo looked over from where she was sitting, flipping her pocket knife, her eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by his sudden bizarre speculation. Sarah crossed her arms. 

“Yelling at the hospital won’t fix that. You need to calm down before you stress her out even more.”

Rafe opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of the back door creaking open cut him off. Kiara stepped in, shaking off the light drizzle from outside, a bright blue yoga ball awkwardly tucked under her arm.

“Found it!” she grinned, holding it out like a trophy.

Y/n’s face lit up despite the discomfort. “Oh, thank God.”

Kiara rolled it over to her, and Y/n carefully shifted forward, accepting it gratefully.

“I heard these help,” Kiara said with a small smile.

Y/n slowly eased herself onto the ball, her hands holding onto Kiara’s outstretched ones in support before she sat down on the plastic sphere starting to gently bounce. A relieved sigh slipped from her lips.

“Oh wow… yeah, this is way better.”

Sarah smirked. “Look, see? This is called helping, Rafe.”

Cleo, still lounging by the window, spoke up. “Yeah man, maybe if you threaten the ball next it’ll really speed things up.”

Pope cracked a small smile from his spot at the table at the girl’s words. Rafe, still tense, exhaled sharply and dropped into a chair by the kitchen table, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes drifted to Y/n, watching her breathe easier with each bounce. As he watched her, he realised he seemed to be more stressed than she was, but was he in the wrong for that? He only wanted to make sure the mother of his child could have the most comfort possible. Without a word, he pushed up from his chair and slowly crossed the room. He crouched down in front of her, eyes locked on her face, his hands resting lightly on her knees.

“Baby… are you sure you want to stay here?” 

His voice was softer now, the edge gone, replaced by something fragile. Y/n blinked down at him, her breathing steady. She lifted one hand from her belly and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing along his skin which was still smooth from when he shaved before they left their home.

“Rafey, please relax, yeah?” she murmured, her other hand drifting to rest protectively over her bump. “We’re okay.”

The weight in his chest loosened just a little at the sound of her voice, but it didn’t disappear.

Rafe leaned in just a bit closer. “Okay, but when you start feeling off you tell me, yeah?”

Y/n gave him a playful eye roll, but her smile was soft. She leaned forward, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips once more, she knew he was on edge, but she just wanted peace for the last few hours it was going to be just the two of them.

“Yes, I promise.”

Rafe’s shoulders finally dropped as he let out a quiet breath, grounding himself in her touch. Behind them, Kiara exchanged a look with Sarah and smirked. 

“Well, that’s gross.”

Sarah laughed under her breath at her best friend's comments, shaking her head, but there was a warmth in her smile as she watched them. As much as she teased, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness for her brother. It was clear that Y/n had done something to him- something that had changed him for the better, something that made him softer, more present. Sarah could see it in the way he looked at her, how much he cared. It warmed her heart to know her brother had found someone who truly made him happy.

Rafe didn’t hear the girls giggling as his focus was completely on Y/n, “Alright,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her knee before standing. 

“Just… don’t scare me like that again.”

Y/n smiled, leaning back and resuming her gentle bounce on the yoga ball hands circling her bump again.

“No promises.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours had passed the sky outside the windows now dark, the streetlamps having switched on which caused an orange glow around the island, but time seemed to stretch as the intensity of Y/n’s contractions grew. The living room was dim, the rain outside tapping softly on the windows, the air thick with anticipation.

Y/n was on her knees, her body leaning against the couch for support. Her face clearly reflected her discomfort, lips pressed together in effort as she rocked back and forth slowly, trying to breathe through the latest wave of pain. Rafe kneeled beside her, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other resting on her arm. His voice was low, soothing, a steady presence as he spoke to her.

“Is it passing?”

Y/n groaned softly, her breath hitching before she let out a quiet whine, barely audible. 

“Yeah… it’s passing.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he kept his hand on her back, massaging in slow circles, his eyes never leaving her face. He looked up to Pope, who was standing near the window, timing her contractions with the stopwatch hanging loosely around his neck.

Pope glanced at the timer, then back at Rafe. “Okay, that’s about ten minutes apart now, but getting closer.”

Rafe’s gaze shifted back to Y/n, his concern deepening. He rubbed her back a little harder, as if that would somehow ease her discomfort, “Sweet girl,” he murmured gently, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear. 

“I think we should get going now, hmm? The hospital’s still a bit of a drive.”

Y/n, in a small haze of pain, didn’t answer immediately. She just rested her head against her arms on the couch, humming out in agreement. Her nod was slow, but definite.

“Mmhm… yeah, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice small and weary.

Rafe exhaled, relief flooding through him but mixing with the urgency that had been building in his chest. He helped her slowly rise, supporting her as she stood, her legs somewhat unsteady beneath her.

“Alright, that's it”

As Rafe helped Y/n slowly stand, Sarah came rushing down the stairs, her face flushed from the hurry. Cleo was right behind her, holding a bag in one hand and a frantic expression on her face.

“Rafe!” Sarah called out, her voice breathless. “We got the bag Y/n left last time.”

She handed it over to Rafe, but before he could take it, Cleo swiped it from her hands with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“Let the man take her to the car,” Cleo said, “I got this.”

Cleo gave Rafe a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to Y/n. “You’re good, girl. Just focus on not giving birth in here, aight?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, despite the tension in the air. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice calm and steady. Rafe shot Cleo a grateful look, still holding Y/n’s arm as she stood by herself, steady on her feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, before turning back to Y/n. “Okay, baby, let’s get you to the car. You sure you’re alright to walk?”

Y/n gave him a sideways glance, rolling her eyes a little. “I’m fine, Rafe, really.”

But before they could make it to the door, Kiara popped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and determination. “Wait, wait, don’t leave without me I want to say goodbye!”

Sarah quickly followed behind, carrying a jacket for Y/n, while Pope grabbed his keys, shaking his head in amusement. The group swarmed around Y/n, helping her navigate the small space. It was a chaotic rush of arms and voices as everyone tried to keep the situation under control- except for Y/n, who was walking at a steady pace, looking far calmer than anyone else in the room. It was amusing, watching everyone fuss over her, she couldn't wait till the baby was here and they’d have all their aunts and uncles fussing at their every cry.

“I swear, I’m fine,” she said again, giving Rafe a teasing smile as she walked on her own. “I’ve got this.”

Rafe’s eyes were glued to her, his brow furrowed in concern, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he followed her toward the door.

“Alright, if you say so,” he muttered, his voice low but full of warmth.

The car was already parked outside, the engine running, the group had gathered around the car, each of them offering their well-wishes as Y/n leaned against the car door, not wanting to get in till Rafe came out. He’d gone back in to the bathroom and Sarah had scolded him for being an ‘unprofessional dad-to-be’ which he told her to ‘fuck off’. Sarah called out, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Good luck, Y/n! Let us know when Baby Cameron gets here!” 

“You got this,” Kiara added, offering a smile. “Call us if you need anything- I mean we can’t give birth but you know….”

Cleo, arms crossed and leaning against the car, smirked. “Don’t be taking forever, yeah? I wanna meet the little Poguette!”

“Poguette? We don’t know the gender yet” Pope asked as he turned to the girl eyebrows drawn down into a small confused frown

“Don’t worry- auntie Cleo’s got a feeling” She responded with a wide smile as she winked to Y/n causing her to giggle.

“I think you mean Kookette not Poguette” 

Rafe spoke up as he appeared back from the house helping the girl into her seat. Y/n, sitting in the car, gave them all a tired but genuine smile, her face a little flushed from the effort. “I’ll do my best. Don’t worry, you’ll all get your chance to meet Baby Cameron soon.”

Rafe was about to close the door when she paused.

“Wait!”

The group froze, and all eyes snapped toward her, panic flashing in their faces for a brief second.

“Is everything okay? Are you—?” Sarah started, her tone suddenly worried.

Y/n looked up at her friends, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Biting her bottom lip gently before she spoke out, 

“Are there any of those cookies left?”

The entire group stared at her for a beat, then burst into laughter, the tension breaking in an instant. Kiara snorted. “Nope, you ate them all, girl, not a crumb left.”

Y/n’s face dropped in exaggerated disappointment. “Aw, man… they were so good.”

Rafe, who had just started to walk around the front of the car, stopped and turned back to her with a grin. “Come on, baby. You’ll get your cookies in the hospital. I promise.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.”

Y/n sighed softly, leaning back into her seat with a deep breath. Kiara leaned in the window, shaking her head but grinning. “You’re gonna eat cookies while in labor…?”

“Hey, it’s what I want.”

Rafe sighed, shaking his head at the girl, but he couldn’t hide the fond smile that crept onto his face as he finally closed the door. He muttered, half to himself, as he walked around to the driver’s side. “We’re getting you to the hospital, cookies or not.”

The group waved them off, still laughing and calling out their goodbyes, as Rafe got in the car. Y/n smiled at the familiar faces outside the window before the car pulled away, heading toward the hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive from the Cut to Figure 8 was a blur. Rafe’s focus was entirely on the road, but his eyes kept flicking over to Y/n, every so often. She was gripping the handle on the roof of the car, her knuckles white as the pain of her contractions began to intensify. Rafe’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers gently squeezing as he glanced at her.

“How we doing baby?” 

He asked softly, though he could already see the tightness in her jaw, the way she was trying to breathe through the pain. Y/n groaned lowly, her grip on the car handle tightening as her breath hitched. 

“Mmm, not great…” 

She muttered, her voice strained. Her back arched slightly as another wave of pain hit, and her hand shifted to rest protectively on her belly. Rafe’s heart ached for her, but he kept his voice steady, trying to keep her calm.

“Breathe, baby. Yeah? Just like we practiced in the classes.” 

His voice was gentle, encouraging, though it wasn’t lost on him how much harder it was for her now. Y/n nodded slightly, her eyes squeezing shut as she focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her whole body rocked with the rhythm, but it didn’t stop the groans slipping out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Good—”

“Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Her voice was sharp despite the pain, and Rafe froze for a moment, blinking in surprise at her words but he couldn't help but accept them with a nod. She was the one in labour not him. Y/n’s hand pressed harder against her bump as she groaned, her head resting back against the seat, her body arching slightly in response to the contraction.

She wasn’t having it.

Rafe couldn’t help but smile slightly at her attitude, but it was tender as he spoke, “Okay, okay,” he muttered, his hand still gently on her thigh. “I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes on the road driving carefully, now that he had precious cargo in his car, but they would flicker occasionally to Y/n in the passenger’s seat. Always watching, always waiting, as they pushed forward toward the hospital. The pain was coming in waves now, each one crashing over her with more intensity than the last. Y/n’s body was tense, and her breathing was shallow, but she still managed to mutter through the strain, 

“Sorry… just hurts…”

Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he leaned forward, his eyes focused on the road, but Y/n could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles went white around the wheel.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, baby,” Rafe said softly, his voice tight.

Y/n turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his for a split second. He looked anxious, his focus split between her and the road ahead. The tightness in his posture didn’t escape her, and she could see how much he was trying to hold it together. With a small, reassuring smile, Y/n placed her hand over his, which was still resting on her thigh. The touch was gentle but firm, 

“Ready to meet Baby Cameron?” 

She mumbled, her voice soft but sincere, trying to ease some of the stress in the car. Rafe’s breath hitched at the mention of their baby, and he glanced down at their hands, a small smile crossing his face. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m so lucky that you’re the mother of my child Y/n… I love you.”

She squeezed his hand back, her eyes softening as she leaned back against the seat. Her breath was steadier now, a calmness settling in her chest as she gave him a small, exhausted smile.

“I love you, too, Rafey,” she whispered back.

—

The car crawled forward for a few agonizing seconds before the engine came to a halt once more. Rafe slammed his hand against the horn in frustration, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness of the traffic. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his jaw clenched tight.

“Fuck.” 

He muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of why the cars ahead weren’t moving. Y/n, breath coming in heavy bursts now, groaned quietly beside him, trying to steady herself as another wave of pain rolled through her. 

“Rafe…”

“I know, baby, I know,” he spoke out to her, his voice tight with frustration. “No one’s fucking moving.”

She turned her head slowly, her hand resting on her belly as she let out another shaky breath. She could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way his shoulders were hunched in that familiar way he got when he was stressed.

“Rafe, please… just relax,” 

She said softly, though she was struggling to keep her own calm with each passing minute. It was no use because he could barely sit still anymore. Without another word, he threw the door open, slamming it behind him, and stepped out into the stagnant heat of the afternoon. Y/n’s eyes followed him through the windshield as he walked down the line of cars, frustration written in his tense shoulders. The bridge conjoining The Cut to Figure 8 stretched ahead, a long line of unmoving vehicles in both directions, but it seemed like nothing was happening. No one was getting anywhere.

Rafe walked halfway down the bridge, his eyes scanning the cars as he tried to figure out what was going on. He stopped beside a car with a window rolled down, the driver staring out at the traffic in the same defeated way everyone else was. Rafe stepped closer, his voice terse as he addressed the guy. 

“What’s going on up there?”

The guy glanced at him, his face creased with annoyance. “Accident upfront and tree fell in the back. Gonna be stuck here for a while, man.”

Rafe let out a low curse, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck.”

He stood there for a second, staring at the endless line of cars, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. They were stuck. Stuck in the one place they couldn’t afford to be, halfway in the middle of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, Rafe turned around and started walking back toward the car. The frustration was palpable in every step, but it didn’t touch his determination. Rafe opened the door to the car, his eyes already scanning the area as he made his way back toward Y/n. But the moment his gaze landed on the seat next to him, his heart skipped a beat.

She wasn’t there.

His mind raced as he blinked, looking around the car in confusion. He slammed the door shut, his breath quickening as he jogged over to the other side of the vehicle, checking the backseat and the floor. Where the hell could she have gone? His pulse started to race- this wasn’t happening.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice frantic.

He spun around, looking down the bridge, feeling the panic rise in his chest. She couldn’t have just disappeared, she’s literally a nine month pregnant woman, she wasn’t easy to lose. His eyes locked on a figure at the end of the bridge, and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

There she was.

Y/n was standing at the far side of the bridge, her body leaning slightly against the wall, one hand resting gently on her bump. She looked serene in a way, her posture relaxed even in the midst of the chaos, but Rafe could see the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way she was swaying lightly from side to side. The air around him seemed to still as he watched her, his thoughts spiraling, but then he broke into a jog, moving toward her with urgency.

“Y/n!” 

He called out again, his voice rough. She didn’t seem to hear him at first, or maybe she was just focused on the feeling of her own body, her eyes unfocused as she rubbed her belly in slow, soothing circles, looking down at her hand. Rafe’s steps quickened, and when he reached her side, he gently cupped her arm, his fingers warm against her skin.

“You can’t just run off like that! Are you crazy?” 

His voice was sharp, but underneath it, the worry was clear. He wanted to scold her for being out of the car, but the relief flooding him kept him from doing anything but reaching for her. Y/n raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his scolding, as she gently rubbed her belly. 

“I just wanted some air, Rafey,” she replied with a calmness that made Rafe’s frustration falter for a second.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, shaking his head. His shoulders dropped in exasperation as he sighed. “I—I don’t know what I’d do- what if I lost you huh?”

She smiled at his concern, “I'm nine months pregnant and in labour, I doubt I would’ve gotten very far Rafe.” A soft, reassuring smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, that helped calm some of the nerves still buzzing in his chest.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the car,” 

He said, his voice softer now, his hand gently brushing the hair away from her face as he guided her back, but as they started walking back toward the car, Y/n’s eyes drifted behind him, catching something in the distance. Rafe looked over his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Y/n’s gaze lingered on the gas station behind them, her fingers lightly playing with his as she spoke. 

“Really want some cookies right now…” 

She said, her voice full of that playful lilt. Rafe blinked, taking a moment to process what she was saying before he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you serious right now?”

Y/n looked at him with a sweet, innocent expression. “Mmhmm.”

Rafe stared at her for a long moment, torn between disbelief and the need to smile. He glanced at the car, then at the standstill traffic behind him, a long sigh leaving his lips as the realization set in.

“Please?” 

Y/n added, her voice soft but pleading, her hand still holding his with that familiar touch which guided his palm to rest it against her baby bump which made it hard for him to say no. Rafe’s lips curled into a reluctant smile. 

“C’mon then,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock defeat. “Let’s just be quick, aight?”

And just like that, they veered off toward the gas station, Y/n’s determination to get her cookies almost making Rafe forget about the fact she was in labour, if it wasn’t for her groan every couple of minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door of the gas station swung open, the little golden bell above it ringing as soon as they stepped inside, Y/n’s breathing hitched. Rafe was right behind her, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, ready to support her. Yet the moment the door closed behind them, Y/n groaned loudly, the contraction hitting her with full force. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and her hand instinctively went to her belly. A few people in the gas station glanced over, some in surprise, others in concern, but Rafe barely noticed them as he leaned closer to her, his voice low and calm.

“Let’s grab your cookies and go, baby,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear.

Y/n barely registered his words, still trying to push through the pain, her face scrunching in discomfort as she stepped forwards towards the sweet treat aisle. She let out another soft, pained groan as she leaned against the shelf, her hand gripping the cool metal for support.

She scanned the shelves in front of her, her eyes landing on a pack of cookies, double chocolate-chip. They weren’t Sarah’s but she guessed they would have to do. She grabbed one, then another right next to it, her body rocking slightly as she breathed heavily through the contraction.

Rafe stood behind her, watching in a mix of concern and frustration, trying to hold everything together while his brain screamed that they needed to hurry. He sighed quietly, trying to hold his patience as he watched whilst she picked up random things off the shelves- gatorade, crisps… a microwavable hot-dog for one? He furrowed his eyebrows at the girl as she shoved them all into his arms, groaning in distress, was she planning on having a picnic in the hospital?

“Is that good now?” 

Rafe asked quietly, glancing at her with a raised brow as he balanced the pile of items in his arms. Y/n didn’t even look up at him. She was bent over slightly, both hands gripping onto the handles of the fridge, her body still rocking gently as the contraction slowly passed. She nodded, the sound of her breath steadying now. 

“Mmhmm,” 

She mumbled, barely able to focus on anything other than the sharp ache she was still feeling.

“Jesus,” 

Rafe muttered under his breath, his frustration mixing with disbelief at the bizarre situation, as he moved toward the counter to pay. He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes flicking from Y/n to the Rolex on his wrist. The seconds were ticking by, and every minute felt like an eternity. He glanced over his shoulder at the long queue in front of him, a subtle frown on his face. He hated waiting, but he hated even more that they were stuck in this gas station in the first place. Y/n was still by the fridge, her back slightly arched as she leaned against it, trying to breathe through the pain of another contraction. Her groan echoed loudly through the small shop, and Rafe felt his stomach tighten.

“Oh my Gooooooooddddd-”

The people in line ahead of him turned around at the sound, their eyes narrowing as they glanced in the direction Y/n was. Rafe clenched his jaw, his grip on the products in his arms tightening as he fought to keep his composure. Another loud groan broke through the silence, and Rafe’s patience snapped. He shot a look at the guy in front of him who seemed somewhat disturbed by the sound, his teeth gritting as he tried to stay calm but his irritation bubbled over, and he shot at him quickly, his voice sharp.

“She’s pregnant, okay?” 

He snapped, his gaze hardening. The man blinked, taken aback by the harshness in Rafe’s voice. The rest of the people in line seemed to take a step back, all of them suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation. Rafe was breathing heavily now, his mind racing as the seconds dragged on, but he couldn’t look away from Y/n. She was still by the fridge, still gripped by the pain of the contractions, but somehow, there was a calmness in her, even in the middle of everything, and she was now once again rocking softly back and forth. He exhaled, trying to push down the anger and frustration bubbling up inside.

The man in front of Rafe raised his hands in surrender, his face showing quick understanding. Without another word, he grabbed his items from the counter and muttered a hurried, “Sorry,” as he quickly walked past Rafe, giving him space. Rafe, barely noticing the man’s retreat, threw the items he was holding down onto the counter with a frustrated sigh. His eyes immediately darted back to Y/n, his head swiveling as he tried to spot her over the shelves. The moment he looked away from the counter, though, a voice interrupted his frantic search.

“Rafe?”

Rafe froze. He knew that voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, but of course, he did anyway. There, standing a few feet away, was John B. He groaned inwardly. How much worse could this get? He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Pogue.” The name slipped from his lips, a reflexive reaction to the guy who always seemed to be around just when Rafe didn’t need him. John B gave him a tight-lipped smile, clearly trying to keep the peace, but Rafe could see the faint annoyance in his eyes.

“You need a bag?” 

John B asked, trying to be helpful, but Rafe wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Uh, yeah,” 

Rafe replied absently, barely glancing at John B as he spoke. His focus was entirely on trying to spot Y/n. His hands clenched the card in his hand as he tried to spot her around the shelves, his eyes scanning every inch of the small store. He didn’t even wait for John B to reply as his feet moved instinctively, carrying him away from the counter. He walked quickly down the aisles, his breath shallow as he called out her name, his voice strained with the urgency and stress building inside him.

“Y/n?”

His eyes darted from side to side, but there was no sign of her. He rounded the corner to another aisle, his heart starting to race as panic set in. He called out again, his voice louder this time. 

“Y/n?!”

But there was still no response. Rafe felt the irritation crawling up his spine, seriously? Not again.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, his words laced with frustration as he threw a glance back at the counter. He felt like the whole world was working against him right now. Rafe’s eyes flicked back to John B, ready to ask if he’d seen Y/n, but then something caught his attention. The door near the counter, with a small blue sign W/C, was just slightly cracked open- it was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. He shot a quick glance at John B, his jaw tightening. 

“Put my stuff to the side,” 

Rafe said, his tone clipped, he once again didn’t wait for an answer, already moving toward the bathroom door. The women’s, men’s, and disabled toilets were all closed, but Rafe stepped closer to the disabled bathroom, he placed his ear against the door, trying to hear anything over the noise in the gas station.

It was then he heard it- a soft groan, followed by heavy breathing.

A slight whine escaped the other side of the door, and his pulse raced. Without thinking, he knocked gently against it, his voice low but full of urgency. 

“Baby?”

A faint voice from within answered, weak but clear.

“Yeah?”

Rafe let out a relieved breath, his forehead resting briefly against the door, relief slowly hitting him. For a moment, he just stood there, collecting himself before he pulled back, his hand still gripping the handle of the door but it didn’t move. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, but he needed to stay calm- for her- well maybe for himself too.

“Are you okay?” 

He asked, his voice soft but still edged with concern.There was a pause before her voice came through, strained but almost casual. 

“Um…yeah?”

“What do you mean, um?”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at her response. Another groan came from the other side of the door, followed by a sigh. 

“Well, I… uh, I thought I needed to use the toilet, but now that I’m in here… I think I need to push.”

“NO!”

Rafe’s eyes widened, and before he could even think, he blurted out the word. His hands raked over his hair, the panic setting in as his mind raced. 

“Baby, no- no, don’t push, okay? Please. I need you to open the door.”

He could hear her groaning again, and the sound made his chest tighten, “Y/n, I need you to open the door, okay? So we can go to the hospital. Are you listening to me, baby?” 

His voice cracked with desperation as he waited for her response. Rafe took a step back from the door, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. His mind was spinning in panic, but he was doing his best to keep it together. Another groan came from the other side of the door, louder this time, and Rafe’s chest tightened.

“Rafe, I can’t… I can’t open the door,” her voice cracked, strained. “I need to push.”

His breath hitched, and he placed a hand against the door, his grip tightening. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.” His voice was soft but desperate.

 “I’m gonna come in, yeah?”

There was a brief silence before her voice came through again, strained but barely audible. 

“Yeah.”

The word was cut off by another loud groan, and the sound sent a jolt of panic through Rafe’s veins. Rafe’s patience snapped. Without a second thought, he barreled back to the counter, his voice urgent as he slammed his palm onto the surface.

“I need the key to the toilets Y/n is stuck in the disabled one.” 

His words came out in a rush, and John B didn’t hesitate. His brows furrowed in concern, and he quickly reached under the counter, pulling out multiple sets of keys before he found the right one. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.” 

He gripped them in his hand as he looked at Rafe, he’s never seen the brunette so worried. “Sorry,” John B muttered to the guy on the other side of the counter as he quickly stood up, walking around the register. Rafe was ready to go straight back to Y/n when suddenly, John B called out.

“JJ!”

Rafe froze for a split second. Not him too. He shook his head in disbelief. What had he done to deserve this? He knew he had been a dick to so many people, for so many years, but was this really the punishment he deserved. JJ, the last person Rafe wanted to deal with, sauntered up to the counter with his signature blonde hair and cocky grin, with a zoot tucked behind his ear. 

“Sup?” he asked, sounding entirely too carefree for the situation.

“Need you to take over the counter for a bit,” 

John B said, his voice tight with urgency. JJ nodded lazily, unconcerned, “Mkay, my man,” he said, easily slipping into the role. John B turned back to Rafe, and the Cameron boy grabbed his arm.

 “Let’s go.”

They both moved toward the corridor with all the bathrooms, John B crouched in front of the disabled toilet door, the key in his hand as he started to unlock it. Rafe stood by him, his muscles tense, feeling like he could finally somewhat breathe again now that they were this close. They were about to get Y/n out, and finally going to leave this godforsaken place.

“Don’t worry, man,” John B said, trying to reassure him as he worked the key into the lock. “We’re gonna get her out of there.”

But then, there was a loud snapping sound. Both of them froze.

Rafe’s stomach dropped. 

“What? What is it?” 

His voice was sharp, fear creeping in. John B hesitated, his face a mixture of guilt and disbelief. “Well… um… the key broke.”

Rafe blinked in stunned silence. “What? Speak up!”

John B looked back at him, the words tumbling out quickly. “The key broke.”

Rafe’s frustration hit a boiling point, his voice cracking with anger as he slammed his hand against the wall angrily. 

“What the fuck do you mean, you broke the key?!”

“I’m sorry! It was an accident, alright?” John B’s hands shot up in defense.

Rafe’s eyes went wide. “How the hell do you fuck up opening a door? Are you fucking serious right now!?”

Before John B could answer, they both heard a loud voice from the other side of the room. “Heyyy, what’s going on here? What’s all the yelling for?” Rafe’s head snapped toward the voice. He could feel his blood boil. Of course. It was JJ. Of course it was. John B rolled his eyes. 

“Y/n’s stuck in the toilet, and I broke the key-”

Then, a loud, strained groan from the other side of the door cut him off. Y/n’s voice echoed out, desperate and pained. 

“Fuuuucckkkk,”

Rafe slammed his hand against the door, his voice softer but filled with worry. “Baby, you okay?” There was a brief pause before she answered. 

“Yeah, just… fuuuuuuck…”

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, running his hands through his hair, trying to keep it together. John B glanced at him. 

“What was that?”

Rafe’s breath quickened, his anxiety rising again as he looked down to the door handle of the door, the snapped metal now lodging into the keyhole. 

“She’s in labor.”

JJ blinked, processing that. “What  the  fuck?”

“And now she’s fucking stuck in there… because of you!” Rafe growled, his eyes narrowing in fury. “I swear to god-”

But before Rafe could say anything more, JJ was already moving. He pushed past both of them, walking straight up to the door. Rafe stared at him, scoffing in disbelief. JJ turned to face the door, knuckles knocking against the wood in a rhythmic pattern. He called out, looking toward the door,

“Hey sunshine,” 

“JJ?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” JJ answered as he pulled his cap off and readjusted his hair, putting it back on backwards. “I need you to take a step away from the door.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rafe’s confusion was evident, his brow furrowed. JJ didn’t respond. He kicked the door hard, and the force of it echoed in the space, making Rafe’s heart skip a beat as he realised what the boy was trying to do.

“Wait!”

He called out as he rushed forward, his voice frantic as he called out to Y/n.

“Y/n, I need you to step back from the door, yeah?”

“I just told her that.” 

JJ spoke back to the boy, hands out in the air in confusion at his actions. Rafe rolled his eye’s as he spoke back so Y/n couldn’t hear, 

“She’s a stubborn pregnant woman, obviously she’s not going to listen to you.” 

JJ gave him a look before shrugging his shoulders, “touché.” From the other side, her breath was labored, each inhale shaky. “Ughh… okay,” she responded weakly, and there was a faint sound of movement behind the door.

“Have you done that for me, Y/n?” 

Rafe’s voice was strained, as if he was holding onto his patience by a thread. Another soft “yeah” came from her, and he stepped back, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Without saying another word, Rafe squared his shoulders. The frustration of the past few minutes boiled over. He looked at the door one last time and, without hesitation, launched his foot into it with everything he had. The sound of his kick reverberated through the small space, but the door didn’t budge. John B stepped forward, shaking his head in skepticism, but nevertheless he kicked the door next, his hit less forceful than Rafe’s but still forcefull. 

Nothing.

JJ followed suit, throwing his foot at the door, his kick full of impatience. 

Still nothing.

Rafe watched them, frustration building in his chest. “Get out of my way,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Without another word, he ripped his jacket off in a quick motion, tossing it aside as he stepped forward with sheer determination. This time, he didn’t just kick. He slammed his foot into the door again and again, each strike more powerful than the last, the force of his anger and desperation driving him. Finally, with one last powerful kick, the door swung open, the sound echoing loudly in the small hallways to the toilets. 

Rafe rushed in, his breath still heavy from the effort of kicking the door in. His eyes darted across the cramped space until he found Y/n. She was sitting there, slumped against the toilet, arm supporting herself on the sink next to her as she sat leant over, her face flushed with sweat, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Sweet girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands instinctively cupped her cheeks, his fingers trembling slightly. 

“Are you okay? C’mon, let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?”

Y/n’s eyes were wide, and her grip tightened around his wrist. “I can’t… I can’t, Rafe,” she gasped, her voice a strained, breathless whimper. 

“I need to push, Rafe… I can’t—” 

The words trailed off as another wave of contraction hit her, causing her body to tense up. Rafe’s heart dropped in his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d promised her he’d make sure everything was smooth, that she’d be in a safe, controlled place when the baby came. This definitely wasn’t how he’d envisioned the birth of his first child to happen.

“Okay, it’s okay-” 

He whispered, his hand brushing the small strands of damp hair away from her flushed, sweaty face. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile, even though inside, panic clawed at him. 

“-I’m here now, yeah? C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”

And as he gently helped her try to shift, he held her gaze, his own filled with worry and tenderness. He wasn’t sure how things would play out from here, but he knew one thing- he was going to make it work. 

The moment John B and JJ stepped through the door coming back from locking up the door of the small gas station shop, they froze. Their eyes locked on Y/n, who was still leaning against the sink, her breathing ragged and uneven, sweat dripping down her face. JJ’s eyes widened in realization, his mouth falling open.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. 

“This is like for real- she’s in labor… like it’s legit-”

Rafe didn’t even look at them as he snapped into action, the blonde boys rambles falling on deaf ears. His focus was solely on Y/n, his voice low and strained. 

“Go get some towels, some water- anything.”

They both stared at him motionless as they took in the scene of the Kook who’d tormented them for so many years, gently help the girl down to a sitting position on the floor.

“NOW!” 

He barked out. John B and JJ scrambled out of the bathroom, their feet clattering as they bumped into each other in their rush to get the supplies. They didn’t say anything, just focused on finding whatever they could to help in their panic. Rafe turned back to Y/n, his face softening despite the storm of anxiety in his chest.

 “C’mon, let me help you.”

He murmured, his hands gently gripping her arms as he helped her pull down her sweatpants, hands lovingly rubbing against her calves in an attempt to comfort her. Y/n hummed out slightly, her uneasiness palpable, but as another contraction hit, she winced, her face contorting in pain. Rafe’s brows furrowed with concern, his heart aching for her. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just breathe. We’re gonna get through this, okay?”

And just as she nodded, another wave of pain hit, and Rafe exhaled in frustration, running a hand over his hair. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, barely able to contain the rush of panic rising inside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gas station bathroom looked nothing like it had before. Blankets and towels were scattered across the floor beneath Y/n, cushioning her knees as she rocked back and forth, panting through each wave of pain. Bottles of water and crumpled packaging littered the corners- whatever JJ and John B had managed to grab in their scramble. Y/n’s skin glistened with sweat, strands of hair clinging to her flushed face. She reached up with trembling hands, tugging at her top, desperate to get it off. The sticky fabric clung to her skin, and she let out a frustrated groan.  

"Here, baby, let me—" Rafe’s voice cut off as his phone buzzed against his ear, someone's voice being heard from the other side. He was crouched down, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.  

"Yeah, okay, yeah—she's on the floor, towels everywhere. No, the hospital’s blocked off! We're stuck. I've just told you this, are you even listening to me!" 

His voice cracked, running high with panic. John B sat awkwardly near Y/n’s head, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Her hand suddenly shot out, fingers digging painfully into his arm. His breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. He muttered, voice shaky, 

"Shit- okay, okay, you're okay," 

Y/n barely managed to choke out, "Sorry," between laboured breaths as her nails digged into his skin. John B’s voice squeaked, 

"It's fine! Totally fine!" 

His face twisted in pain, but he didn’t dare pull away. JJ hovered uselessly in the doorway, wide-eyed and wringing his hands feeling a little awkward with the situation at hand. 

“Uh… y’all need anything else? Snacks? Beer? No—okay, cool.”  

Rafe paced in a tight circle before crouching behind Y/n again, gripping the phone. The nurse’s voice was brisk but calm as she spoke into his ear,“Can you see the baby’s head, sir?”  

Rafe swallowed hard, leaning over for a quick glance. His face was drained of all colour.  

“Uh… yeah I can see the head.”  

Y/n’s head snapped up. "What?! What do you mean you can see it?!"  

Rafe’s eyes were wide, panic rising in his throat as the nurse’s voice cut through the phone, steady and firm. “Listen to me carefully. That means she’s ready to push. You need to place your hand firmly against the baby’s head to guide it out slowly. If it comes too fast, there’s a risk of decapitation.”  

Rafe froze. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stared at Y/n, blinking rapidly, his mind spiralling. His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, but fear was holding him in place, like a heavy weight on his chest. He wasn’t prepared for this. He had no idea what to do, only that he couldn’t screw this up. 

“Hello? Sir? Are you still there? Is everything okay?”  

He cleared his throat, forcing the words out.  

"Yeah—yeah, I’m here."  

Rafe squeezed his eyes shut, dragging a shaky hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his eye’s. He needed to keep it together, but every second felt heavier than the last. He sucked in a breath, grounding himself before snapping his head up.  

“JJ! Get over here and hold this fucking phone!”  

JJ shuffled forward, noticeably hesitant, eyes fixed awkwardly on the wall as he stood beside Rafe, who held the phone out for the boy slightly. However, as the blond boy refused to look down Rafe remained with his hand held out, causing him to look away from Y/n and see the boy still staring straight ahead at the wall. Rafe stared at him, disbelief simmering under his skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”  

“Bro?”  

John B glanced over from where he was crouched by Y/n’s head, frowning. JJ muttered under his breath, barely audible. Rafe’s patience snapped. 

“What!?”  

“Listen, your girl is literally naked right there, man! I don’t wanna look- it’s disrespectful!”  

JJ winced, shoulders tensing. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His fists balled at his sides, knuckles white. Every muscle in his body screamed to just hit him, to shake the stupidity right out of him. He could see himself doing it- just one solid punch.  But instead, Rafe forced himself to take a breath, exhaling hard through his nose. He dragged a hand roughly over his face once again, muttering, “Jesus Christ-”  

Y/n let out a sharp, pained groan, her voice cracking.  

“JJ, I don’t care! Just help him- oh SHIIIIIIT!”  

Her scream cut through the room like a knife, yanking everyone’s attention back to reality. JJ’s eyes shot wide. 

“Okay! Okay! If you insist-”  

He didn’t even get the words out before Rafe shoved the phone- now on speaker- hard into his chest. JJ scrambled to steady it, and as his eyes flicked down, his face drained of colour as he looked at Y/n. The very top of the baby’s head was there. 

“Holy shit, Y/n there’s like a fucking baby in your pussy-”  

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, JJ!” 

Y/n’s scream was sharp and furious, echoing in the cramped space. JJ jumped, gripping the phone like it might explode.  

“Okay! Sorry! Jesus!” 

His voice cracked as he lifted the phone so they could hear it if the nurse spoke out. Rafe knelt back down behind Y/n, and he swallowed hard, as he felt the slick warmth of Y/n's skin under his palm, pressing his hand gently but firmly against the top of the baby’s head, just like the nurse had told him. His other hand rubbed slow, steady circles along the curve of her trembling back, grounding her as best he could. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he forced his voice to stay calm, soft- for her.

“Okay, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I need you to listen to me, yeah?”

Y/n’s head lolled against her arm, sweat-damp hair clinging to her flushed face as she let out a shaky breath. His voice firmed, but it was still gentle, coaxing. His hand didn’t stop moving on her back. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good. But I really, really need you to push on the next contraction, alright?”

Her glassy eyes flickered to his, searching, scared. He gave her the smallest, crooked smile despite the panic clawing at him. 

“We’re so close, yeah? You’re so strong. Just one big push for me, okay?”

Y/n’s fingers dug into the blankets beneath her, knuckles white. She gave a slight, barely-there nod.

“That’s my girl,” his hand pressed steady against the baby’s head, the other still rubbing soothingly along her back, “Next one, baby. We’re gonna meet our little Cameron. You’ve got this.”

Y/n clenched her jaw, groaning through another push, but Rafe could feel it- nothing was changing. He leaned back slightly, panic creeping into his features, and turned towards the phone in JJ’s grip.

“I—nothing’s happening,” he said quickly, his voice strained, eyes darting from the phone to Y/n’s hunched figure. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the baby moving?”

The nurse’s voice came through, calm but firm. “She’s not pushing hard enough. You need to get the baby out soon, Mr Cameron. The longer the baby stays in the birth canal, the more risk there is of oxygen deprivation.”

Fuck. Rafe’s heart plummeted at the words, and he felt his hand slip slightly against Y/n’s damp skin. He sucked in a sharp breath, his lips parting to respond, but before he could, a faint sound drew his attention.

“Rafe…”

It was John B, his voice hesitant, almost soft. He was kneeling at Y/n’s side, her trembling fingers curled weakly around his forearm. 

“Rafe, man… I think you need to talk to her…” 

He said quietly, glancing down at the way Y/n’s grip seemed to falter, her breaths shallow and uneven. Rafe swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the sight of her pain and exhaustion. God, she wasn’t even on any painkillers, he didn’t want to imagine how she felt right now. His eyes darted between Y/n and the phone before he scrubbed a hand over his buzzed hair, frustration and fear mixing in his expression. John B slowly rose to his feet, giving Y/n’s hand a small squeeze before letting go. He turned to Rafe who had also risen, his face softer than it usually was when the two of them interacted.

“You heard what she said,” Rafe said slowly, voice tight.

John B met his eyes and gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah. I heard.”

Without warning, Rafe’s hand shot out and fisted the front of John B’s shirt, yanking him in close, nose to nose. His grip was iron, knuckles white.

“You hurt my child…” Rafe’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his blue eyes blazing, “…I’ll kill you. Is that clear, John B?”

John B didn’t flinch, didn’t fight back. He just stared at Rafe, steady and calm. Because for the first time, he wasn’t seeing Rafe Cameron the hotheaded psycho- he was seeing a terrified father on the edge.

“Yeah,” John B said quietly, voice even. “Crystal.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over his face, searching for any sign of weakness, but all he saw was understanding. He slowly uncurled his fingers, shoving John B back slightly. Without another word, they switched places. John B moved towards the phone, kneeling behind Y/n and Rafe dropped to his knees beside her, his hands instantly reaching for hers. One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her own holding her hand, while the other gently rubbed along her back in slow, grounding circles.

“Hey, hey, baby, look at me,” 

He murmured, his voice softer now, but the cracks of fear still clung to the edges. Y/n barely lifted her head, her body trembling. 

“Rafe… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice thin and shaky, “I’m so tired-”

Rafe’s chest tightened, his throat burning. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this. Not here in this crappy gas station bathroom.

“I know, sweet girl… I know,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers for a moment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this for you.”

Y/n shook her head faintly, her grip on his wrist weakening.

“No, baby, listen to me.”

 Rafe cupped her face, his thumbs brushing the sweat from her cheeks. His own eyes were glassy now, but his voice steadied. “I need you to be strong for me now, yeah? Just a little longer. You can do this. You’re so close.”

She blinked at him, breath shaky, and he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against hers.

“Please, baby. For me. For our baby.”

Y/n swallowed hard, a tear slipping down her cheek, but she gave him the faintest nod.

“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead as his thumb came out to wipe her cheek free of the salty water.. 

“That’s my girl.”

Y/n let out a guttural groan as she pushed with everything she had on her next contraction, her entire body trembling under the effort. Rafe was right beside her, one hand braced on her back, the other still gently cupping her hand, which she gripped ferociously.

“Oh my God- the head’s out!” 

John B shouted, voice laced with disbelief and panic. He was kneeld awkwardly, eyes wide as he stared down. JJ was next to him, his knees slipping slightly on the layered towels. 

“Holy shit, man, I see it! Okay, okay, you’re so close, Y/n!” His voice was high with adrenaline, but there was something soft in it, too. “Come on, mama, just a little more, you’re about to meet your baby!”

Rafe tightened his grip on Y/n’s shoulder, leaning in close, his breath shaky. “Sweet girl, we’re right there, yeah? One more push. You’ve got this.”

The nurse crackled through the phone still in JJ’s shaky grip, “Support the baby’s head! Careful, slow—don’t let it drop!” JJ scrambled, hands trembling as he carefully cupped the tiny, slick head, his face frozen in panic. “Okay, okay, I got it—I got it! Oh my God, John B, help me!” John B, swallowing his own panic, steadied JJ’s hands, both of them crouched and bracing themselves.

“Y/n, baby, one more. Just one more push,” 

Rafe whispered, voice breaking but full of determination. Y/n let out a ragged sob, gripping Rafe’s arm like a lifeline, her face buried into his neck. She drew in a shaking breath and bore down, crying out as her body strained.

“There we go!” John B’s voice cracked with disbelief. “The shoulders are coming!” JJ’s eyes were wide, hands gently guiding the tiny body. Rafe’s hand slid to her damp cheek, brushing her hair back. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

And in the next moment, the baby slipped free into JJ and John B’s waiting hands, their eyes wide with shock and awe. For a moment, the entire room was still. Breathless. Then, the silence shattered. A sharp, piercing wail filled the air—raw, loud, and alive.

The baby was crying.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, filled with warmth. “That’s exactly what we want to hear, means their airways are clear- congratulations!” the nurse’s voice came through, vibrating with relief.

Y/n’s body sagged with relief, sobs breaking free as she wept, trembling from exhaustion and overwhelming joy. Rafe let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His chest tightened, and his eyes, glossed over, locked on Y/n, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Oh, sweet girl…” His voice was raw as he leaned in, cupping her tear-streaked face. 

“I’m so proud of you. You hear that?” 

He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, voice breaking. “That’s our baby Y/n, you did that.” He pressed soft, lingering kisses to her forehead, his arms holding her close. Y/n’s breath hitched, tears slipping freely. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“Is it… is it a boy or a girl?”

John B, though still emotional, took the lead as he carefully placed his hands on the baby’s tiny chest, rubbing gently as the nurse instructed to ​​ensure air was circulating properly. His movements instinctual despite the fear and emotions tangled in his chest. 

“It’s a girl.”

A fragile, joyful sob escaped Y/n’s lips, her hand flying to her mouth. The nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, her tone calm and clear. “Alright, now I need you to swaddle the baby tightly, make sure she doesn’t get cold.”

JJ moved quickly, wrapping the baby snugly in the towel, his hands surprisingly gentle despite the chaos unfolding around them. The nurse continued as they worked on the little being amongst the towels. “And how’s mom? Make sure she’s covered up too, don’t want her getting cold either.”

John B, standing up from his kneeling position, grabbed a second blanket and draped it over Y/n, making sure it covered her body as he gently rubbed her back. “Good job, Y/n. You’re amazing.” Never in a million years did he think when he got a job at the gas station he would be helping to deliver his brother in law’s baby. Y/n, leaning heavily against Rafe, gave him a small, exhausted smile.

The nurse’s voice came through again, more reassuring this time. “Now, I need you to pass the baby to mum. Be gentle, don’t pull on the umbilical cord. The ambulance is just two minutes away.”

Rafe, still crouched behind Y/n, gently helped her lean back against his chest . His arms were wrapped securely around her, as he supported her with a steady, comforting presence. He gently adjusted her position, making sure her back was firmly against his chest, and spoke softly, his voice laced with concern, 

“You okay, baby?”

Y/n hummed softly, her breath shallow as she nodded faintly, exhaustion clouding her features. She leaned back further into him, her body still trembling, but her grip on her blanket was firm. Rafe gave her a soft kiss on the side of her head, his hands gently rubbing her arm in soothing circles. JJ gently cradled the newborn, his hands trembling slightly from the weight of the moment. 

“Well done sunshine.” 

He said softly, his voice full of emotion as he carefully passed the baby to Y/n. With shaky hands, Y/n cradled the baby to her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down at the sweet, tiny face. Tears welled up in her eyes, the overwhelming joy of finally holding her daughter too much to contain. She let out a shaky sob, her heart swelling with emotion. Rafe leaned in close, his voice soft as he spoke, 

“It’s okay, we’ve got her now, yeah?” 

He wrapped his arms around Y/n from behind, his chin resting gently on her shoulder, offering her all the reassurance she needed. Y/n barely heard him though, her attention entirely on the little life in her arms. She watched as he ran a trembling finger over the baby’s cheek, the softness of his daughter's skin pulling at his heartstrings. 

“She looks just like you, Rafey” 

Y/n murmured, her voice full of awe. Rafe let out an emotional laugh, a tear slipping from his eye as he leaned in to kiss Y/n’s forehead, feeling completely overwhelmed by the moment. Y/n turned her head to look at him, and he leaned forward slightly to press his forehead gently against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet, sacred moment. After a moment of silence, he kissed her softly, his lips lingering for just a second. With glossy eyes, he whispered, 

“Thank you for giving us our sweet girl.”

Y/n smiled, her heart full as she leaned her head against his, both of them looking down at their peaceful, sleeping baby in her arms. Although baby Cameron was born in a gas station on the cut, in the hands of two Pogues who they didn't always get along with, and not in the prestigious private suite of the hospital they had planned to give birth in originally, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More more moooooore of bunny and rafe noooowwwww 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩❤️❤️❤️

Currently working on the next chapter right now but since everyone's been saying Bunny should just hit Rafe with her car already... ?

Well just imagine Bunny leaving the country club one day after work, and she's just not in the mood. She had get on her hands and knees to clean up baby vomit even though the family weren't even one of her tables and no matter how many times she washed her hands she feels like she can still smell the pungent scent on her skin. To add to that, Sofia wasn't in today so she ate lunch all by herself in the staff locker rooms.

Her feet ache, her uniform feels like it’s clinging to her skin in all the wrong places, and now all she wants is to go home, take a shower hot enough to melt her skin off, and pass out. But of course, because the universe hates her, she hears his voice.

“Hey waitress!”

Her jaw clenches before she even looks up, her pace quickening as she weaves between the parked cars. She’s not in the mood for this. “Maybank!” Rafe calls again, his voice carrying easily over the pavement.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, Pogue!”

She exhales sharply through her nose. Ignore him. He’ll get bored.eventually. Well she hoped he will, but then there are footsteps, and she knows he’s coming closer still calling out her name, and before she can help it, she bites back at him.

“Yeah I can hear your fucking nagging voice.”

Rafe just grins, clearly amused, and she’s already regretting acknowledging him. She reaches her car, yanking the handle, but before she can climb in, Rafe’s hand slaps against the door, pushing it shut again and she just folds her arms staring at him unimpressed.

“Where you goin’?”

He asks, head tilting like he genuinely wants to know. But her best guess is he's wondering if she's going to the club- so he can follow after her and torment her there instead. Y/N lets out a slow breath through her nose before levelling him with a look.

“Home.”

She replies flatly, hand coming out to yank the door open harshly and he just takes a step back hands raising in mock defeat. Rafe just hums now, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smirk.

“Wow. Moody much?”

Y/N slides into her car and slams the door shut, hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles pale. She doesn’t even look at him as she starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence between them. However, she can still hear him through the crack in her window.

“You going to the club?”

She keeps her gaze ahead, jaw clenching. There it is. She didn't have to be a genius to know he was going to ask her that, after all she hadn't been at the club for a few days and she remembers getting a message from Bambi about how her 'boy toy is getting impatient' She lets out a small sigh, assuming he'll just let it go but of course, Rafe Cameron doesn’t let stuff go.

“Hey.”

A loud thud shakes her car as his palm slaps down on the roof. Y/N jumps slightly, brows furrowing in agitation as she whips her head toward him. He leans down just enough to look at her through the window.

“Don’t ignore me when I’m speaking to you.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she shifts gears. Fuck this. Yet before she can even think about pulling out, Rafe is moving, stepping around the front of her car until he’s standing right in front of it. Her hands tighten around the wheel once more. Now he just stands there, arms crossed, looking at her with that smug little smirk like he’s got all the time in the world. Y/N stares back at him through the windshield in disbelief. Has he got nothing better to do? So now she rolls down her window, the mechanism groaning as she leans out slightly.

“Move"

Rafe doesn’t even flinch. He shifts his weight slightly, arms still crossed over his chest as he tilts his head at her, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nah,” he drawls.

“I think I’m pretty comfy here, actually.”

“Rafe, I’m not playing. Get out of my way, I swear to God—”

Her glare is sharp enough to cut glass and her palms are getting sore from how hard she's holding onto the wheel. He cuts her off, stepping forward just enough that his hands rest on the hood of her car. “Or what, huh?” He’s taunting her now, head tilted, gaze locked onto hers.

“You gonna run me over?”

Y/N’s nostrils flare. She’s this close to actually considering it. Instead, her lips press into a thin line before her hand slams down on the horn. The deafening sound screeches through the parking lot, a piercing, relentless noise that makes even her ears ring. A few birds scatter from a nearby tree. Some people turn their heads. Even Rafe's brows twitch up slightly in surprise.

But he doesn’t move.

Of course, he doesn’t fucking move.

Y/N inhales sharply through her nose, forcing herself to take a deep breath because she genuinely feels like she might pass out from sheer hatred. Her teeth grind against each other, eyes narrowing as she grips the gear shift and smoothly switches it into drive. She doesn’t hesitate. The car lurches forward and Rafe’s body instinctively jerks back a step, his brows snapping together. He spits, his hands bracing against the hood now.

“The fuck?!”

“Fucking move”

She grits out, her patience hanging on by a thread. But he’s as stubborn as ever, stance firm, eyes narrowed right back at her.

“No.”

Her fingers flex against the steering wheel, her heart hammering with irritation. Fine. He wants to be difficult? So be it. She jerks the car forward again, this time stopping just centimetres away from his knees. The movement is sharp, precise, and just reckless enough to have his eyes widening slightly.

“You’re fucking insane”

He exclaims, finally stepping out of the way, hands held up to the car as if she might actually floor it. Y/N lets out a humorless laugh.

“Oh yeah? You don’t say.”

She doesn’t even look at him as she drives right past him, her grip on the wheel now loosening. And as she passes, she lifts one hand, flicking her middle finger out of the open window directly at him. Behind her, Rafe’s voice rings out in an irritated yell,

“Psycho bitch!

She deffo would completely run him over if there were no witnesses 🤫

alec mcdowell is obsessed with everything about you.

he doesn't care if you don't think there's anything "special" for him to obsess over, and he does argue with you on it. how could you not see that you were the hot shit? he practically studied you, partly because he was a little bit out of experience with this whole societal bullshit, and partly because he loved all of your mannerisms and quirks.

you hold his hand by his fingers, just so you can hold on tightly to his much bigger hand when you walk. you nuzzle into his side when he puts his arm around you, like you wanted to be attached to him. you gave him a kiss every time he walked into a room you were in, like clockwork.

god forbid he leave a shirt at yours, because it was gone into your closet, now, lost forever from him. not that he minded; sometimes he did it because he knew you, that was the whole point. you like to ride him in the mornings when everything's slow and syrupy and let him loose at night, when it's dark out and the only witness to the way he defiles you is the stars, who've always kept his secrets, kept them all throughout his time in manticore.

he knows all these little details about you, catalogued in his brain in the important part of it, because alec would be damned if he forgot a single thing about you. sometimes the weight of what he'd gone through and everything he missed out on because of his untraditional and fucked up upbringing weighed heavy on his shoulders, and all he could do was turn to that little place in his mind where you lived and had a home in.

all alec had to do was imagine the way your smile lit up your face, or your eyes sparkled in the morning light, or your hand pressed to his chest when you leaned up to meet his mouth for a kiss, the way you'd giggle when he scoops you up so effortlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and your nose just to make you laugh like the sun itself lived within you, and everything was okay again.

so yeah. he was a tad obsessed. but there were more times than you ever realized that the little things you did were some of the only things keeping him from sinking.

notes! this is my first time with my new taglist YEEEHAWWW if u wanna be a dahlia nation member go here hehehe THANKKK U. idk what this is either I JUST RLY WANT ALEC MCDOWEEEELLLL RNNNNNN HE'S IN MY BRAIN

tags! @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @pieandflannel @viluren @h8aaz @yulianie @angelicjackles @beausling @tinas111 @briisbananass @cowboysandcigarettes @deanswidow

request: we need moreee being lee byung-hun’s controversially young girlfriend🥹🤍

a/n: I’m working through all the request rn!! So if I haven’t posted your request, don’t worry it’s on the way

being lee buying-hun’s controversially young girlfriend

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yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername a cozy day with my love <3

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user2 I love their relationship

randomuser @/user2 he’s as old as her dad dude

user2 @/randomuser the older the better

leebyunghun4ever god I wish I had him

yourfriendsuser you guys are so cute

liked by author

usee14 that should be me

squidgamefandom I love them together and I hate it

yourusername

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yourusername little night out

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yourfriendsuser this is who ur replacing me for? ☹️

yourusername @/yourfriendsuser im sorryyy

ynfannnn when are we gonna date

leebyunghunsabs I came

user55 @/leebyunghunsabs WHAT

leebyunghunswifey I NEED MORE PICTURES OF MY MAN

ynswifey forget him. Date me

byunghun0712

liked by yourusername and others

byunghun0712 Jackson hole, Wyoming

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yourusername where you trying to share the location?

byunghun0712 @/yourusername yes

yourusername @/byunghun0712 click add location next time

yourbestfriendsuser the view is so pretty!! (@/yourusername you’re the view)

byunghunandyn best. couple. ever

sadlife ONE CHANCE PLEASE

girlblogger couple goals. travelling with your hot ass man

byunghun0712 45m

yourusername

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yourusername working through my finals thanks to the best boyfriend ever 💕

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user59 shes smart and she has a hot bf? life isn’t fair

ynswifey my wife is smart

leebyunghunswife HES SUCH A DILF

ynfanpage where are my clothes

leebyunghunswifey @/ynfanpage I swear I just had them on

dilflover FLASH US

lickingleebyunghun and the crowd is…naked??

byunghunwifey4real I could treat him so much better

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A motherly visit - son!harry potter

summary: when harry sends you another owl claiming that professor snape has it out for him, you decide to pay them a short visit wc: 1.5k+

Irritation flooded through yours veins, your eye nearly twitching with annoyance as you read through Harry’s letter. Once again, your son had been unfairly treated by his Potions teacher, graded lower on his exams and essays than he deserved. Your chair scraped loudly on the floor of your potions lab as you pushed it out from under your desk, grabbing your coat as you made your way to the fireplace in your office.

You wiped down your clean hands on the soft fabric of your coat before grabbing a handful of floo powder and travelling to Professor McGonagall’s office. As the green flames died away, revealing your confident stance, Professor McGonagall blinked slowly, only mildly surprised to find you in her office. “I need to find my son so we can have a chat with Professor Snape.” The older woman opened her mouth to reply, but you were already walking out of her office. She sighed, leaving you to your own devices in the rogue hallways of the Hogwarts castle.

Luckily for you, a loud call of “Mum!” had you stopping in your tracks and spinning on the balls of your feet to see Harry jogging towards you, his book bag flapping uncontrollably at his side. Harry gripped the strap of his back, holding it snugly against his jumper clad chest as he ran towards you with a smile. Ron and Hermione immediately quickened their pace to catch up with their friend, who threw his arms out to engulf you in a tight hug.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You mumbled, lips pressed against Harry’s forehead as you wrapped your arms around him. “What are you doing here?” He questioned excitedly, adjusting his glasses in a way that instantly reminded you of your husband. “I got your letter.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “I sent you that like an hour ago!”

“And I’m sick of hearing about how your incompetent Professor keeps poorly grading your papers, which I know deserve higher grades on.” You huffed angrily, putting both your hands on your hips. “You have your papers on you, don’t you?” Harry nodded, immediately ruffling through his book bag. You winced at the sight of loose papers in the bag but looked away, instead busying yourself by greeting your son’s two best friends. Harry made a noise of achievement as he pulled out two separate stacks of papers, presenting them to you with a smile. You scanned through them quickly as he explained “That’s my essay on the uses of mandrake plants in advanced potion making, and then that’s our most recent end of unit test.” “Well, come along then, Harry.”

“Mum, I’ve got a lesson now.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your Professor will understand I’m on a time crunch.” Your heels clicked loudly against the concrete floors, heads of students turning to look at you curiously. That would probably be one of two reasons: 1. You were a parent who had no business currently being at Hogwarts. 2. You were the most successful potioneer of your generation, specialising in poisons and their remedies, with a success so prominent that every potions student in Year 5 and above stared at your name on the cover of their potions textbooks every time they used it.

The chilly atmosphere of the dungeon welcomed you as you made a beeline to the potions classroom. Harry’s thoughts were racing as he tried predicting what you were going to tell Professor Snape, holding your son’s exam papers in hand.

Luckily for you, Snape had just exited his classroom, opening his mouth to let his students into the dark room, when he spotted you. His eyes were immediately clouded with annoyance, but something else lingered in his gaze. “Snape,” You started, glancing at the group of students waiting to be called into their classrooms. “I suggest you give your students a free period. We have things to discuss.” You didn’t wait for Snape to respond, pushing past him to walk into his classroom. You settled your things down on a table near Snape’s desk, standing up behind the uncomfortable stools. “Take a seat, sweetheart.” Harry smiled gently as you returned your gaze to him, eyes softening as they took him in. You pushed a rogue strand of hair away from his face before turning around to meet Snape’s eye as he trudged towards you.

“You realise it’s been almost twenty years, right?” Harry wasn’t expecting those to be your first words. “So I suggest you get over your little crush on me and your hatred towards my husband, because my son is facing the consequences of your feelings.” Harry gasped at the revelation, his eyes wide with shock. He pursed his lips suddenly to suppress his laughter.

Snape hated him because he was jealous of Harry’s father?

You turned over Harry’s papers to face the Professor. “Look me in the eye and tell me you believe these deserve a Poor.” Snape looked up, making solid eye contact with you, though he didn’t say anything. “Y/N-” “It’s Mrs. Potter to you, Snape.”

The long-haired Professor inhaled deeply. “Mrs. Potter, I strongly believe that your son’s papers deserve the grades they were awarded.” You hummed, entirely unconvinced. Pushing Harry’s essay to the side, you flipped his exam paper open. “Then we seriously need to question your teaching. Green pen, please.” Snape grumbled quietly as he stood up walking to his desk to retrieve a green pen for you, placing it in your extended hand.

“Let’s see.” You spoke under your breath, moving around the table to stand next to Snape. The next few minutes were dreadfully tense for Harry, watching as Snape spent most of the time looking at the side of your face rather than the paper, where you were adding small check marks next to Harry’s answers. When you reached the end of the paper, you flicked back to the beginning, counting the marks in a quiet whisper.

“You’ve given my son an 18/50. The mark he should have gotten is a 39. Not an outstanding by any means, but still two entire grades above the one you gave him.” Harry swallowed thickly as you spoke, crossing your arms over your chest whilst you stared down Professor Snape.

“Keep up with this prejudice against my son and I promise, you will come out of a job.” Snape scoffed, finally saying “You act as though anyone will take your word over mine.” Your genuine laugh surprised Harry. “You can stop pretending you think they’ll choose you over me. We both know Professor Dumbledore has been begging me to take this position for, what, four years now?” All colour drained from Professor Snape’s face as you revealed that information. You walked around the hopeless professor to place a hand on your son’s shoulder.

“Who knows, maybe next year I’ll take his offer?” You leaned closer to Professor Snape, bringing your voice down to a whisper. “If I don’t hear that you’ve changed my son’s grade by tomorrow, I promise, worse things will happen to you than losing your job." You straightened up, clearing your throat before adding "Who knows, maybe I’ll even send my husband to visit you.”

Harry revelled in the way Snape shuddered at the mention of his father. He didn’t bother hiding his smile at Snape’s reaction to your friendly threat, holding his hand out for you to hold as you gathered your things. You took Harry’s hand, guiding him out of the room with a satisfied smile. “Is it true they asked you to come work here?” You nodded with a hum.

“Why didn’t you take the offer?” You turned to look at Harry’s hopeful eyes, furrowing your eyebrows. “I didn’t want to be invasive. I mean, I know for a fact I wouldn’t have wanted my parents to hear every rumour that was spread, or know every time I got into trouble. That would be inevitable if I worked here, and, you know, I want you to have some freedom.”

“Well, what if you came next year?” You stopped in your tracks at Harry’s question, turning to look at him properly. “You know, it’ll be my last year, so I’d have had my freedom, and you’ll be a great teacher for everyone. And I guess it would be nice having you around.” Harry’s cheeks were flushed pink and your heart warmed as you realised the true reason for his request. He missed you and his dad.

“Okay.”

“Okay!?” Harry jumped up at your agreement, laughing joyously. “But!” “But?” Harry echoed, sounding slightly horrified. “I’ll still live at home. I won’t stay here overnight like some Professors do. We’re just one apparation from home anyway. But I guess I’ll stay here until late afternoon if I have to mark papers.” Harry grinned, throwing his arms around your shoulders to bring you into a tight hug. You laughed, eyes widening as you realised he was looming over you despite the heels you wore. “Harry, honey, you are getting too tall.” The boy shrugged as he let go of you. “Madame Pomfrey said I’m still growing. I’ve still got a couple of inches ‘til I catch up to dad anyway.”

“He won’t be too happy about that, but the two of you can argue about it at dinner tomorrow, yeah? I’ll send McGonagall an owl to let her know. Just come by using floo.”

“Ooh and can we play a game of Quidditch after?”

“Only if you’re willing to lose.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin

Bunny (P4)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: I'm not gonna lie I've never been on a golf course so this might be really inaccurate. however #justiceformygirly/n

warnings: mentions of drinking, rude comments, aggressive behaviour, black mailing.

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4)

The sun was beating down on the manicured greens of Figure Eight’s most exclusive country club as Y/N crouched by her cart, restocking the mini freezer with ice. The scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the air, mixing with the distant sound of polite laughter and the occasional crack of a golf club hitting a ball. She exhaled sharply, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead as she shoved a bottle into place. Working the beverage cart wasn’t the worst job in the world- decent tips, the occasional rich old man slipping her an extra twenty just to call him sir, and best of all, no uniform beyond the white polo and tennis skirt. But the heat, the mind-numbing small talk, the entitled customers was already testing her patience.

With a huff, she straightened and glanced out over the course. A group of men stood a little ways off near the ninth hole, laughing too loudly. She didn’t even need to get closer to know who was there- she could feel him before she even saw him.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the cart, shoving a few more bottles onto the shelves with unnecessary force. Of course he was here. He was always here, like a shadow dressed in designer. And judging by the obnoxious laughter echoing across the course, he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. Y/N had spent the past week trying to avoid him, especially after what happened at the club- but clearly, the universe had other plans. And sure enough, as she climbed onto the cart, ready to make her rounds, a sharp whistle cut through the air, snapping her attention toward the very last person she wanted to talk to. Rafe stood a few feet away, golf club resting against his shoulder, that same smug grin tugging at his lips. His eyes flickered over her, slow and deliberate, before he tipped his head toward the cart.

"You gonna do your job, or just sit there like a stuck up bitch?"

Her grip tightened around the steering wheel, teeth grinding together. A few of the other guys chuckled, amused at her expense, and she forced a slow exhale before putting on her best fake smile.

"What can I get you, gentlemen?"

She asked sweetly, voice laced with poison. Rafe exchanged a look with Topper who was already stepping closer, resting his forearm on the top of the cart like he belonged there. "Let’s see…" He dragged the words out, acting as if he were actually thinking about it.

"How about a Johnnie Walker Blue? Neat."

Y/N fought the urge to scoff. Of course he’d order the most expensive whiskey they had. "Sure thing," she chirped, already scheming.

"And for the rest of you?"

The other guys rattled off their orders—beers, vodka sodas, a gin and tonic. She nodded along, pretending to be the perfect accommodating employee, but Y/N barely spared Rafe a glance before turning to the rest of them.

"And you?"

She asks, voice clipped as she looked towards the brunette. Rafe glances down at the selection of bottles lined up on her cart, dragging out the moment. "Hmmm." Her fingers tighten around the bottle as she makes one of the other guys drinks. "Sure, go ahead. Take your time," she says flatly, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. A slow grin spreads across his face at her impatience.

"I’ll have a Bloody Mary."

"A Bloody Mary?"

She scoffs before she can stop herself, staring at him. He speaks, tone nonchalant, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Yeah"

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head, "You don’t even drink shit like that-"

"-Is there a problem?"

Her jaw clenches. Of course, this is exactly why he ordered it- because its the most complicated drink on the menu to make. He knows she’s going to put in the effort for a drink he won’t even finish. He’s just doing it to get under her skin. And the worst part?

It’s working.

Y/N turned away from him, yanking a cup off the shelf with more force than necessary. The ice clattered loudly as she scooped it in, the sound grating against her nerves as she reached for the vodka. The other drinks were easy- simple pours, barely requiring her attention- but this dumbass Bloody Mary… She grabbed the tomato juice with a scowl, biting back the urge to roll her eyes. The thick liquid sloshed into the glass, the deep red already annoying her before she even had to reach for the Worcestershire sauce. A few dashes, a heavy pour of vodka again, a squeeze of lemon she nearly crushed in her frustration at the never ending ingredients.  Behind her, she could feel Rafe’s eyes burning into her back, could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he said,

“You’re taking your time Maybank.”

Her grip on the drink tightened, and she soon found a slow smirk creeping onto her lips as her fingers curled around the Tabasco.

One, two, three, four, five, six—

She lost count of the number of shakes she gave it, but the deep red liquid swirled ominously in the glass, promising nothing but regret. A quick stir, a squeeze of lemon once more, and she shoved the celery stalk inside, pushing it down so hard that the juice nearly sloshed over the rim. Turning back, she plastered on her sweetest smile and placed the drink down in front of him with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Your drink”

She said brightly, tilting her head as she batted her lashes at him. Rafe eyed her, then the Bloody Mary, before lifting it lazily to his lips. He took a long, slow sip; the burn of all that extra Tabasco, the overwhelming taste of tomato and spice hitting his tongue like a slap, but there’s no way in hell he’d give her the satisfaction of a reaction- instead letting the awful taste settle, all while maintaining eye contact with her. His jaw flexed slightly, the faintest twitch of his lip as he smacked his lips, 

“Mmm- Perfect.”

She’s fuming. She knows it tastes like absolute shit, knows it should have him coughing or gagging, but instead, he’s sitting there acting like he just ordered the best damn drink of his life. He lifts the glass toward her, a smug glint in his eyes as he adds, 

“You should try it”

She glares up at him, fingers tight around the cold cup as he presses it into her hand. He’s close- too close- his broad frame looming over her, one hand braced against the top of the cart as he watches her with that insufferable smirk. He murmurs, voice low and taunting.

“Drink it”

Y/N hesitates for half a second, but she refuses to let him win. So, she lifts the glass to her lips and takes a sip- too big of a sip. The spice immediately scorches her tongue, searing all the way down her throat. She barely suppresses a cough, blinking rapidly as her eyes well up, the heat hitting her like a slap. Rafe tilts his head, watching every flicker of discomfort with smug amusement.

“Aww—what?” His voice is mocking, dripping with fake sympathy as he leans in just a little more.

“You don’t like it?”

She swallows thickly, willing herself not to react as she forces the glass back into his chest, her jaw clenched so tight it aches,

“Go fuck yourself Cameron.”

And now he’s looking down at her, eyes flickering over her face, dark with something unreadable as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Such a naughty mouth Y/N.”

She doesn't to look away, refuses to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. Her jaw tightens, other hand curling into fists at her sides, but she holds his gaze, a silent challenge burning between them. Then he moves, reaching for the cup, fingers brushing against hers as he takes it back—too fast, too careless- and the red liquid sloshes over the rim, splattering against her white polo and tennis skirt.

She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes snapping downward as the cold, sticky drink seeps into the fabric, staining it instantly. A drop lands on his own polo, but he doesn’t seem to care- doesn’t even glance at it. Her gaze flicks back up, burning with rage, but he’s already watching her, already grinning, amused by the whole thing. His voice is anything but apologetic.

“Oops.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

She mutters, stepping back instinctively, eyes darting down to the spreading stain. Rafe, meanwhile, just watches her, amusement flickering in his gaze as he sets the now almost-empty cup back on the cart. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, before he tuts. “Look at that,” he muses, eyes dragging over her ruined uniform.

“Messy, messy.”

“You’re such a dick.”

She clenches her jaw, nostrils flaring as she glares up at him. Rafe just smirks at her stubbornness, gaze flickering between her eyes before dropping, taking his time to lazily drink in the sight of her, now disheveled and stained because of him. Then, he exhales sharply, like he’s made some kind of decision. “Well,” he drawls,

“you should probably go clean that up- wouldn’t want to look unprofessional.”

God, he was insufferable.

Y/N's eyes narrow as she dabs at the stain on her polo with a tissue, but it’s no use. The red liquid has already seeped deep into the fabric, leaving a glaring mark. She sighs in frustration, bending over to wipe the mess off her shoes, her white skirt riding up her thighs. She can feel a set of eyes on her, Topper and Kelce standing a few feet away, their gazes lingering and she rolls her eyes, already irritated. But the way they’re elbowing each other and snickering only makes her more uncomfortable.

Before she can fully straighten up, she feels a sudden, sharp slap against her ass. Y/N jumps, her body stiffening as a rush of heat floods her face. Her head whips around, her eyes flashing with fury.

"What's wrong with you?!" 

She snaps, her voice sharp as she scoffs, brushing it off as best she can, but her face is red with embarrassment and fury. Rafe's staring at Kelce now, his gaze practically burning through him. Kelce’s smugness falters for a second, the cocky grin fading slightly as he tries to meet Rafe’s eyes, but he can feel the threat hanging in the air. Without a word, Y/N steps over to the cart, her fingers already reaching for the wheel. Yet as she goes to grab it, she hears Rafe’s voice, low and commanding.

"Hey—hey!"

He grabs the wheel himself, his grip tight and unforgiving. Y/N looks up at him, confused and a little frustrated. He demands, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Where are you going?"

"Really? I'm covered in tomato juice, Rafe," she snaps, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do you think I’m doing? Going back to get changed."

Rafe narrows his eyes, still looking at her with that dead, intense glare, and it’s almost like he’s seeing right through her. "Well, you got your shitty drink on me," he says, his voice dripping with irritation.

"Excuse me, I did that?"

Y/N blinks, incredulous. Her eyes flicker down to the tiny splodge of red on his polo, her expression shifting into an exaggerated roll of her eyes as she looks back up at him. Rafe’s jaw tightens, but his gaze doesn’t falter as he stands there, silently assessing her, his posture rigid with tension.

"Yeah, well," he mutters, clearly not done with the situation, "drive me back. I need to change."

Y/N glares at him, shaking her head. "What? No."

She can't even protest any further as Rafe steps around her, sliding into the cart, and sitting down beside her with that infuriatingly casual air, like he’s the one in control. His leg bumps hers as he settles, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if the whole thing is just a game. Y/N glares at him as he casually sits down beside her in the cart, crossing his arms and leaning back like he’s completely at ease.

"Uh- get out?"

She says, her voice sharp with frustration. Rafe doesn’t even flinch, just looks over at her with a lazy smirk.

"Get out"

"I hope that’s not how you talk to all your customers, Maybank."

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Y/N’s eyes widen in disbelief, she’s seething, the smell of the tomato juice stain on her uniform only adding to the frustration. Her hand clenches around the wheel as she tries to keep her composure, but it’s hard when Rafe is sitting there, acting like he owns the place.

"Better get going, or that stain will stick”

He adds casually, the smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth. Y/N’s jaw clenches, and she takes a deep breath, trying to suppress the urge to snap back at him. But with the tension thick in the air, there’s no ignoring him. She huffs, gripping the wheel even tighter. “Fine,” she mutters under her breath, eyes flicking to him before she starts the cart and drives off, the sound of the engine almost masking the anger simmering between them.

Rafe leans back, perfectly comfortable in his spot, not a care in the world, while Y/N fights the urge to punch him in his stupid fucking face. Her eyes stay on the road, trying to ignore the irritating presence next to her, but she knows this is far from over. The cart bumps along the grass of the golf course, the soft hum of the engine doing nothing to ease the tightness in the air. Y/N’s hands are tight around the wheel, her grip rigid as she focuses on driving, trying to ignore the heat from Rafe’s presence beside her. Her body’s tense, her muscles stiff under the weight of his gaze.

Rafe, on the other hand, seems perfectly relaxed, like he’s completely comfortable with the silence stretching between them. But he’s not looking at the horizon or the passing course; no, his eyes are on her. Slowly, they drift over her face, studying her every feature with an intensity that makes her skin crawl. Then, his gaze lowers, tracing down her body with lazy attention, stopping at her thighs—bare beneath the drink-stained skirt. Y/N’s pulse picks up, and she doesn't even process it, but she feels Rafe’s hand is on her thigh, resting just above her knee.

The touch is so casual, but it makes her freeze. Her body stiffens in shock, and her eyes snap to his, wide and full of surprise.

"Rafe—"

"Shhh, relax"

He murmurs, his voice low and slow, the words cutting through the tension like a hot knife. His fingers rub gently up and down her thigh, almost as though a sweet gesture, but the touch feels possessive, like he’s marking her without saying it aloud.

"What- What the fuck are you doing?"

She asks, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty, and every part of her wants to pull away. He squeezes her thigh lightly, almost teasingly, and his gaze doesn’t leave her as he speaks.

“Well I pay for your services, don’t I?”

His words are heavy with meaning, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes her stomach flip. Y/N scoffs, a mix of disbelief and anger rising inside her.

“Yeah, wrong club”

She bites back, trying to push him off, but the way his hand stays there, the way his fingers grip her just a little too firmly, a little too high, keeping her in place.

Her heart races, the air around them charged, and it’s clear that neither of them is backing down. Y/N’s pulse thunders in her ears, and her breath catches in her throat. Rafe’s hand is still on her thigh, just a little too far up, the warmth of his fingers on her bare thigh making her feel exposed. She grips the wheel tighter, her knuckles going white, the engine’s soft hum doing nothing to drown out the sound of her rapid heartbeat. The cart lurches over a bump, and it snaps her attention back to the road, but Rafe’s hand doesn’t move—his fingers squeezing once more. She feels a rush of heat, but the anger bubbles just as fast, rising in her chest.

"Get your hand off me"

She says through gritted teeth, her voice more forceful this time. She forces her gaze ahead, trying not to look at him, trying not to react to how his hand is still there, how it’s still so present. But Rafe just smirks, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear as he whispers,

“Make me.”

His voice is laced with a challenge, with something dark that makes her skin prickle, makes her feel like she’s walking a dangerous line between hatred and something else. Something she’s not ready to confront.

Her jaw clenches, and for a split second, she contemplates slapping his hand away. But then she feels it—the sudden weight of his gaze as it shifts to her lips, lingering for a heartbeat too long. The chemistry between them, that dangerous spark, shifts just a little. She knows he’s pushing her, testing her limits. But there's also this magnetism pulling her toward him, something about the way he’s looking at her drives her crazy.

"Cut it out Cameron"

She warns, voice barely above a whisper, but it’s a warning that means nothing when Rafe just chuckles and moves his hand upward almost hitting the edge of her panties.

Then, without warning, she jerks the wheel to the side, sending the cart veering slightly off course toward the edge of the course.

It’s a quick move, almost out of desperation, as if she’s trying to shake off the way he’s affecting her. The cart jerks again, and Rafe has to steady himself hand letting go of her thigh to hold onto the dashboard.

"You really want to play that game, huh?"

He muttered, eyes narrowed. Y/N doesn’t know what she’s doing, but all she can think of is how badly she wants him out of her space, out of her head. She doesn’t care about the stain on her skirt anymore; she’s thinking about the best way to get a thousand miles away from him.

The cart bumps back onto the paved path leading to the club, and she slows it as they approach the building, her fingers twitching on the wheel, still burning from the heat of the moment. Rafe leans back against the seat, but there’s still that smug look in his eyes, that feeling of control he loves so much. He glances at her, as she gets out the cart, he slips out after her taking in her expression, the way she refuses to meet his gaze, and then says,

“I need a change of shirt.”

“Okay”

She replies flatly, her tone as cold as she can make it. Y/N doesn’t even flinch, still focused on the path ahead. Rafe steps closer, closing the space between them with slow, deliberate movements, he leans down slightly, his voice low and insistent.

“So... get me a shirt.”

“I don’t see how you're my problem”

She shoots back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, finally looking up at him, her arms crossing over her chest. Rafe doesn’t step back, doesn’t even give her a second to breathe before he takes another step forward, crowding her space.

“Well, I am, so fucking find me a change of top”

He demands, his tone sharp, full of that same cocky authority. Y/N’s lips curl into a sarcastic smile even though she’s seething inside. She rolls her eyes, turning her head away just enough to make it clear how little she cares.

“Sure Mr. Cameron, let me get that for you”

She mocks, voice dripping with fake sweetness. He can't even say anything else because she turns on her heel and strides toward the club, walking away with that same attitude as she leaves him standing there with his challenge unanswered.

Yet as she's walking away, she feels the sharp tug on her arm, her body jerking back as Rafe’s fingers wrap around her bicep, pulling her toward him. She turns, ready to snap at him again, but before she can open her mouth he scolds,

“Don’t walk away from me.”

His voice is low, almost a growl, and there’s something dark and angry simmering under the words. Y/N’s eyes flash, but she stands her ground, lifting her chin as she spits back, her annoyance clear.

“Or what?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, a vein at his temple throbbing with the effort to keep his temper in check. He doesn’t want to be this pissed off, but the way she’s treating him- like she doesn’t give a shit about him- it drives him mad. It’s like a challenge, and he’s not backing down from it, even though he knows he’s been just as bad. His voice comes out seething,

“Or I’ll complain to your manager.”

At that, something shifts in Y/N’s expression- her eyes narrow, defiance flickering for just a second. She can’t afford to lose her job, not like this.

Not over him.

She snatches her arm back, her frustration visible, and for a brief second, the fight in her dies down. She exhales, the anger draining from her posture as she steps back, eyes flicking toward the staff quarters.

“C’mon”

She mutters under her breath, quieter now, and there's a weariness in her voice that wasn’t there before. She’s not giving him the satisfaction of being totally submissive, but her tone has changed—it's more resigned than anything.

Rafe watches her for a beat, still standing a little too close, but this time, he doesn’t say anything. His eyes follow her as she walks through the club, her movements brisk as she heads toward the staff quarters. There’s a flicker of surprise in his chest, and for a moment, he considers backing off, letting her go, but something about how she’s reacting entices him So, he follows her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N walks briskly through the club, the sound of her shoes clicking against the polished floors echoing in the quiet hall. Rafe follows closely behind, his presence heavy in the air as they make their way toward the staff quarters. She doesn't glance back at him, but she can feel the heat of his gaze boring into her.

They pass a few of the staff lockers, the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above the only sound as they walk down the narrow aisle of the staff area. Y/N moves with purpose, each step holding no sign of the unease she’s feeling on the inside. She turns the corner at the end of the hall, and they reach the large lost and found. It’s a mess- shirts, jackets, random pieces of clothing, and forgotten items strewn across the bins, piles of things that have clearly been left behind by members and staff who aren’t quite as neat as they should be. There’s no order, no system, just a jumble of lost things waiting to be reclaimed. She gestures to it, voice laced with that same sarcasm she’s always got, but with an edge of frustration creeping in.

“There.”

She motions to a polo shirt thrown over a pile of forgotten jackets. Rafe takes a step forward, his eyes scanning the pile. He doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking back to her for a moment, sizing her up. There’s something about the way she’s handling this, the way she’s pretending to be completely unaffected, that gets under his skin. He doesn’t like it- not because she’s hiding something, but because it’s like she’s challenging him to break her composure. He grabs the shirt off the top of the pile, holding it out in front of him like he’s completely entitled to it. The material is rough, not the kind of quality he’s used to, and he sneers at it for a moment.

“This is what you got for me?” he mutters, voice dripping with mock disbelief, “I didn’t realise I was getting leftovers.”

“Not my fault you spilled tomato juice on yourself.”

Y/N crosses her arms, her body language unreadable as she leans against the nearby counter. She rolls her eyes, eyes flicking over his shoulder for a moment, clearly unimpressed by his dramatics. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches her with that cold smirk, but then his hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of the shirt with exaggerated slowness.

“I thought you were supposed to take care of me- Y/N”

He says, voice low and purposeful, the undercurrent of something more in his tone now. Y/N shoots him a quick look, her eyes narrowed, frustration simmering. She stands up straighter, ready to walk off, but she’s not backing down.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am serious.”

He steps closer, his face unreadable, but there's something about his presence, the way he stands there so close, that makes her freeze for just a moment. Rafe's gaze unwavering as he watches her, looking for any crack in her cool exterior. Y/N’s pulse quickens, but she’s not going to let him see that. She stands her ground, even though every instinct is telling her to get away from him. He tilts his head slightly, his voice low and deliberate.

“You really don’t care, do you?”

“About what, exactly?”

Y/N arches an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile. Rafe takes a slow step forward, the proximity between them shrinking. He’s invading her space, pushing against her comfort zone, but she’s still not backing down, she won't appear weak- she's not weak.

“About making sure I’m... taken care of”

He says, his words hanging heavy in the air. She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes again and shes surprise they've not fallen out of their sockets yet.

“I’m not your fucking personal assistant, Rafe.”

“-but you sure as hell act like it”

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he enjoys seeing her fight back, his hand's still gripping the shirt, his fingers brushing against her arm lightly as if testing her reaction. Y/N’s breath catches, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she meets his eyes, the defiance still strong in her stance. She leans in just a fraction,

“And what? You think that means you can boss me around?”

Without warning, Rafe moves, stepping into her space so suddenly that she has no choice but to press her back against the lockers, the cold metal digging into her skin. His large frame looms over her, his hand bracing against the locker next to her head. He’s so close, she can feel his breath against her cheek. For a second, she freezes, eyes wide as she realises just how trapped she is- physically and mentally. She looks up at him and his eyes are already fixed on her, his expression unreadable, almost cold.

“Maybe I do”

He says, his voice now barely a whisper, but it feels like it’s cutting straight through her. There’s something in his eyes- something dark, predatory, like he’s daring her to make a move. Her chest tightens. She hates that this proximity makes her heart race, but she refuses to let him know that. She’s not going to let him see that he’s rattling her.

“And if I don’t want to be bossed around?”

She challenges, her voice shaky, but she’s still holding her ground. Rafe’s gaze flickers for a moment, then he moves even closer, his knee brushing lightly against her thigh as he adjusts his position. Her breath catches again, her body tensing instinctively, but he’s not done yet. His voice drops even lower as he leans in, his words like a private threat just for her.

“You’ll learn to deal with it, Maybank.”

She almost flinches at how intimate it sounds- like there’s more than just the words hanging between them. It makes her nauseous- she’s so close to him now, she can’t tell where he ends and she begins.

Then, suddenly, her phone buzzes in her pocket, breaking the tension like a gunshot.

She takes the opportunity to glance down, breaking eye contact with him just for a moment. It’s a message from her manager. She sighs, her shoulders sagging as the reality of her situation starts to settle back in. This isn’t a game. She can’t afford to get caught up in whatever power struggle Rafe’s trying to pull. Without looking back at him, she pushes her self away from the lockers speaking out sharply.

“You’ve got your shirt. Now get out.”

Rafe doesn’t move right away. He stands there, staring at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Y/N thinks she’s won their little silent quarrel, but something about the way he looks at her- dark, calculating- tells her she hasn’t. Finally, he steps back, his gaze lingering on her like he’s trying to figure her out. His voice, when it comes, is dripping with something both mocking and serious.

“You might want to work on your customer service skills, Maybank.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N steps out of the club, exhaustion settling into her bones after a grueling double shift. The cool night air hits her like a breath of fresh air, and she sighs, stretching her arms overhead. She’s almost to the parking lot when she hears a familiar voice calling her name.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Sofia's voice is warm, and Y/N turns to see her friend walking towards her with a bright smile. They meet halfway, and she smiles, grateful for the distraction. Sofia pulls her into a hug, the kind of hug that only close friends give.

"Hey, Sof," Y/N says, her voice a little tired but genuine, "how’ve you been?"

"Good, just the usual stuff but you look like you could use a nap," Sofia jokes, pulling back to get a better look at Y/N, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"Double shift today?"

"Yeah, you know, Can’t resist the overtime."

Y/N chuckles lightly, shrugging. Sofia grins but then her expression softens.

"I saw you with Rafe earlier…"

"Oh, uh, yeah. He's just being a bitch as usual..."

Y/N's heart skips a beat, and she immediately tries to brush it off, her gaze flicking away. She trails off, not wanting to get into it. It’s not like she owes Sofia an explanation, but it feels weird to talk about Rafe. She adds quickly, forcing a smile.

"It’s nothing"

"You sure?’"

Sofia tilts her head with a small smile but she can sense the shift in Y/N’s mood. Y/N exhales sharply, trying to hide the heat creeping up her neck. "It’s really not a big deal," she says, voice a little too sharp.

"Just a… a thing. Nothing worth getting into."

Sofia watches her for a moment, her eyes searching Y/N's face. "Alright," she says, though the tone in her voice suggests she’s not entirely convinced, "But just so you know, people talk. I’m not saying you need to explain yourself, but one of the girls said you went to the locker rooms and I know that doesn't mean—"

Y/N cuts her off with a soft but firm laugh. "Sof, it’s really nothing. He’s Rafe Cameron, I don't want anything to do with him, relax. Anyways- I’m not going to waste my time worrying about whatever it is other people gossip about."

Sofia doesn't push further, but her concern lingers in her eyes. "Okay, okay," she relents, nodding.

"You're not mad right?"

"What!? No- of course I'm not. Don’t worry."

Y/N gives her a half-smile, trying to look confident. The two share a brief, comfortable silence before Sofia raises an eyebrow.

"You heading home now? Need a ride?"

Y/N shakes her head, glancing back at the club, "No I'm good I drove- besides I know when I get back I’m crashing tonight for sure, so I doubt I could keep up any good convos right now."

Sofia smiles knowingly, "Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where to find me."

“I know- I love you get home safe.”

“I love you too! Text me when you're back”

Y/N waves at the girl, and the two of them part ways, Sofia heading off into the night while Y/N walks toward her car, a heavy feeling settling in her chest. Her mind drifts back to the Chinese leftovers sitting in the fridge at home, wondering if JJ got to them before she had a chance. As she gets closer to her car, her pace slows, and she sees a figure leaning against it.

Her heart skips a beat, and instinctively, she hesitates.

It’s late.

She’s alone.

She knows better than to approach someone like that without caution. She stays still for a moment, the feeling of being vulnerable creeping over her, before she takes a few steps forward, straining her eyes to make out the person.

Then she sees it’s him.

Her stomach drops, and she mutters under her breath, "What the-?" She’s always been a decent person, always tried to do the right thing. But then there’s Rafe- always showing up at the most inconvenient times. "Seriously?" she says, her voice low, laced with frustration as she walks around to the opposite side of the car.

"What do you want?"

She shoves her bag in the backseat, the motion sharp, as her thoughts race. She can feel his presence by the driver's side, looming, as if he’s waiting for something. He’s standing there, leaning casually, but she can tell he’s not entirely sober- his eyes are blown, his posture sloppy, like he's a little drunk and definitely high. She rounds the back of the car and stops just short of him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Rafe doesn’t move, his eyes locked on her with that same unreadable expression.

"Why the hell are you here?"

She mutters, now visibly annoyed, but not completely surprised. Was his tormenting the morning not enough for him? Of course, he’d show up when she’s least expecting it, and definitely when she least wants him around. Rafe steps closer, his presence overpowering the air between them. His eyes are half-lidded, and his stance is far too relaxed for the late hour and the situation they’re in. He tilts his head as he studies her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "So," he starts, voice low and a little too smooth for Y/N's liking,

"You headed to the club tonight? Gonna work that shift of yours... ?"

His words are dripping with something- teasing, playful, but also a little too sharp, like he knows exactly how to push her buttons. She steps back instinctively, glaring at him, but he doesn’t give her any space. He steps forward again, this time almost closing the gap completely. She pushes his chest, trying to push him away.

"Get your fucking act together, Rafe. I don’t have time for this shit."

Her voice is tight, forced out through gritted teeth. But he’s not having it. Instead, he steps in even closer, his hand brushing her arm, an unspoken challenge in his touch. The air between them is thick with tension, and she can feel it creeping under her skin. He’s toying with her. Again. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand reaches up to rest lightly on her waist, and he gives her a slight, mocking smile.

“Don’t make things complicated”

“Get off me, Rafe”

She snaps, shoving his hand away harder, but he’s not backing off. Before she can react, he steps around her, his movement quick and decisive. With one smooth motion, he flips them around, so now she’s trapped- her back against the cold metal of her car, his body closing the space between them. Her breath hitches at the sudden shift, and she looks up at him, eyes wide with a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Where r'you going?”

He mumbles, his voice low and threatening, but there’s something in it that sounds almost possessive, like he’s done playing games. Y/N’s heart is racing, but she doesn’t show it. She tries to push him off again, her hands firmly against his chest, but his body is solid, unmoving. She glares up at him, her chest heaving with each breath, but he’s not giving her an inch.

“You’re fucking insane”

She spits, her voice barely audible, but laced with venom. Rafe’s hand slides down to her waist, his grip firm but possessive, as he leans in closer, closing the distance between them. The proximity is overwhelming, his body heat radiating off him. His other hand rests casually on his hip, his gaze dark as he looks down at her, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Come on, Y/N,” he murmurs, voice thick with an almost smug satisfaction. “Come home with me- be my little dancer." His words are dripping with insinuation, the suggestion hanging heavy in the air, thick with promise and something darker beneath the surface.

“I’ll pay you well... you won’t regret it.”

Y/N freezes for a moment, shock and outrage flickering across her face. Her hands which were instinctively pressing against his chest, trying to keep some distance between them, faltered slightly. Is that really what he thought of her? The audacity of what he just said is enough to make her blood boil, the anger rising up in her chest like fire.

Her hand swings up and cracks across his cheek.

The sound of the slap echoes in the night air, sharp and satisfying. Rafe stumbles back in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief, his drunken haze momentarily shaken. Y/N, her breath coming in short, angry gasps, doesn’t give him a chance to react. She yanks open the car door, the movement quick and jerky as she turns on her heel to face him one last time.

“I’m not a fucking prostitute”

She spits out, her voice low and venomous, the words sharp as daggers. She slams the door behind her with a force that makes the whole car shudder, her heart racing in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her. The silence that follows is deafening, and all she can hear is the ringing in her ears.

Rafe stands there for a moment, he’s drunk, but even through the haze of alcohol, something in his chest tightens as he watches as she drives off, the sting of her slap still lingering on his skin.

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COOLSVILLE ─── dean winchester

warnings! mentions of drug use (420 blaze it!)

word count! 1.8k

you had no idea how it started—how you became the kind of person who burst into your best friend’s apartment rambling about ghosts like it was just another tuesday. if you had to pinpoint it, though, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that sam winchester, despite trying so hard to be normal, had never been able to shake the magnetism of the weird.

you met sam at stanford. you weren’t really the type for the whole serious academia thing, but somehow, the two of you had just clicked. maybe it was the way he always seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, and you had a knack for making people lighten up. maybe it was because you were both sort of weirdos in your own ways—you, with your love for old urban legends and half-baked conspiracy theories, and sam, with his way of knowing just a little too much about the things you brought up.

either way, he was your best friend. he never judged you when you showed up to his dorm room high as hell, rambling about cryptids or some unsolved murder case that had captivated you for the week. and when he moved in with jess, you adopted her into your circle just as fast.

which is why, when something seriously weird happened in or around stanford, sam was the first person you thought of.

the rumors had started a few weeks ago—hikers going missing near an old, abandoned motel off the highway. people talked about hearing whispers in the woods, seeing shadows move even when there was nothing to cast them. classic ghost shit. but what really got you was the fact that no one seemed to be doing anything about it. the cops brushed it off, called it accidents, but you weren’t buying it.

and sure, maybe you weren’t a hunter or whatever, but come on. it was just a ghost. how hard could it be?

the knock on sam’s apartment door was way too enthusiastic for someone who wasn’t trying to break it down. before he could even get up to answer it, the door swung open, and you burst in like a whirlwind, eyes wide, hair slightly messy, and smelling faintly of weed.

“okay, dude, i know you don’t do the whole hunting thing anymore, but hear me out—" you started, barely pausing to breathe as you plopped down onto sam’s couch. "there’s some seriously weird shit happening just outside town. like, i think it’s a ghost. it has to be. i mean, i don’t actually know jack shit about ghosts, but the vibes? immaculate. real haunted as hell energy. i’d go check it out myself, but i also don’t know how to check out ghosts, and also, i’m high, and this just sounds like a sick idea—”

“hey,” sam cut in, looking like he was already regretting whatever was about to happen next. “this is my brother, dean.”

you stopped mid-rant, finally realizing there was another person in the room.

dean winchester was sitting on the couch, beer in hand, watching you with a smirk that told you he had been very entertained by your little speech.

he had this whole rugged, effortlessly cool thing going on—leather jacket, cocky half-smile, green eyes that practically twinkled with amusement. the kind of guy who probably had stories that would make your ghost story sound like a kindergarten fairy tale.

“well, hey there,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

you exhaled, collecting yourself. “hey, cool. nice to meet you.” then, without missing a beat, you turned right back to sam. “so, about the ghost shit—are you in?”

dean let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you know, sammy, i like this one.”

sam shot him a glare. “no. absolutely not.”

“oh, come on,” dean drawled, grinning as he nudged sam with his elbow. “indulge your friend, would ya? she’s clearly passionate about this ghost crap.”

“i am not indulging her,” sam huffed, arms crossed. “we’re not going on some ghost hunt just because she saw a couple of weird reddit posts.”

you scoffed. “okay, rude. first of all, i did my research. second of all, it wasn’t reddit, it was the newspaper and reddit —which, honestly, i feel like makes it more credible.”

sam shot you a deadpan look.

dean snorted. “see? now we have to go.”

“dean.”

“sam.”

dean clapped a hand on sam’s shoulder, his grin widening. “come on, man. what’s the worst that could happen?”

sam let out a long, suffering sigh, running a hand down his face. “i hate both of you.”

you beamed. “so that’s a yes?”

“fine,” he muttered, already regretting everything.

dean smirked. “atta boy, sammy.”

you didn’t know how, but somehow, you convinced them. or maybe dean had been looking for a little excitement. either way, an hour later, you were in the backseat of the nicest car you’d ever been in—dean’s impala—on the way to check out your “ghost.”

dean had been grilling you about what, exactly, you’d heard.

“so, people are just... disappearing?”

“yeah,” you said, leaning forward between the front seats. “like, they go hiking, and then they just don’t come back. no bodies, no signs of a struggle. just gone. and people have been talking about hearing whispers in the woods. creepy shit.”

dean hummed, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “and you figured this was a ghost?”

you shrugged. “what else would it be?”

dean smirked. “oh, sweetheart. you have no idea.”

that should have been your first clue that you were in way over your head.

you were about twenty minutes outside of town, where the paved roads had turned to dirt and the streetlights had long since disappeared. the deeper into the woods you drove, the quieter it got—too quiet. even with the car rumbling beneath you, there was a heaviness in the air, a weird sort of stillness that made your skin prickle.

dean noticed it too, because his hands tightened around the wheel. “yeah, this place has a vibe,” he muttered.

“yeah, a creepy one,” you agreed. “we sure this was a good idea?”

“no,” sam said bluntly.

dean just grinned. “that’s what makes it fun.”

when the impala finally rolled to a stop at the edge of the woods, you realized just how dark it was out here. the trees stretched high, their branches twisting together to block out most of the moonlight. the headlights cast long, jagged shadows that seemed to move when you weren’t looking.

you swallowed hard. okay. maybe this wasn’t one of your brightest ideas.

sam sighed, pushing open his door. “let’s just get this over with.”

you followed suit, stepping out and instantly regretting not bringing a jacket. the night air was sharp, colder than it had been in town. goosebumps prickled along your arms.

dean opened the trunk, revealing an arsenal of weapons and tools that had you raising an eyebrow. “okay, what the hell?”

“what?” dean said, grabbing a flashlight and a shotgun like it was the most normal thing in the world.

you gestured wildly. “this is not standard ghost-hunting equipment. you’ve got, like—holy water? is that a machete?”

sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “this is a terrible idea.”

dean ignored him. instead, he turned to you with that same cocky smirk. “what, you thought we were just gonna bust out a ouija board and call it a day?”

“honestly? yeah.”

dean chuckled. “well, welcome to the real world, sweetheart.”

you didn’t like the way he said that.

sam handed you a flashlight—nothing fancy, just a regular one—and muttered something under his breath about how this was so stupid as the three of you started towards the trailhead.

the dirt path was narrow, winding between thick trees that made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. the further you went, the more the shadows stretched, twisting like something alive.

and then you heard it.

a whisper.

faint, barely there, but close enough to make your stomach drop.

you froze. “uh. did you hear that?”

dean and sam exchanged a look. that was never a good sign.

and then, before you could say anything else, something moved in the trees.

something big.

the branches cracked. leaves rustled.

your breath caught in your throat.

oh.

oh, shit.

this was so not just a ghost.

you didn’t really remember how it all went down. one second, you were frozen in place, staring at the shifting shadows in the trees. the next, something exploded from the darkness—too fast, too inhuman.

a blur of motion. a guttural snarl.

and then pain.

something huge slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you went flying. the impact was brutal, sending you crashing to the ground so hard that the world tilted. the taste of copper flooded your mouth.

you barely had time to register the weight pressing down on you before claws tore through your skin, sharp and merciless. a ragged scream ripped from your throat, but it was drowned out by the thing’s snarl.

you struggled, kicking, thrashing—fighting—but it was too strong. its breath was hot and rancid against your face, its growl vibrating through your bones. the sharp, burning pain of teeth sinking into flesh stole whatever fight you had left.

somewhere, distantly, you heard sam shout your name.

a gunshot rang out.

the weight lifted.

you gasped, but the air barely made it to your lungs. everything burned—your skin, your ribs, the deep, searing wound where the thing’s teeth had sunk in.

somewhere above you, voices clashed, distant but frantic.

“dean! she’s—it got—” sam’s voice was raw with panic, his footsteps pounding toward you.

“get her up! we gotta move!” dean’s voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the haze.

“this was stupid!” sam shouted, closer now. you barely felt it when his hands pressed against your arm, shaking slightly as he tried to assess the damage. “it was reckless—we shouldn’t have brought her out here!”

dean let out a ragged breath. “we’ll talk about it later, sammy—right now, we need to get her back before—just get her up!

your body felt impossibly heavy, like the ground had wrapped itself around you, pulling you deeper. sam’s voice blurred in and out, shifting from frantic words to muffled sounds.

“stay with me—hey, keep your eyes open—come on, you’re okay—”

but you weren’t.

the darkness was creeping in at the edges of your vision, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, it was winning.

you thought you felt someone scoop you up—strong arms, the scent of leather and gunpowder grounding you for a brief moment. the motion made your stomach lurch, a dull ache radiating from every part of you.

the voices—sam’s frantic, dean’s sharp—blurred together, growing distant. you tried to focus, tried to hold onto something—anything—but the heaviness pulled at you, dragging you under before you could fight it.

breezy's notes: because i am nothing if not a die hard scooby-doo fan! also, had to make up for all the sad shit that i was posting lol. thank you dolly for making all the decisions for the visuals bc i could not make them for the life of me 🤍 it is also important to note that canon is a suggestion here and not a rule lmao. ALMOST FORGOT THIS WEREWOLF! READER IS THE SAME AS THE WEREWOLF! READER IN BURNT SUGAR, SO THIS SERIES (??) WILL BE AN ORIGIN STORY I GUESS

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HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE ┆ meeting reader ✶

❝ not all quite there . . .

. . . crazy with a wrench ❞

pure lapdog behavior 𖥔 unabashed showing off chaotic inner monologue 𖥔 himbo .ᐟ rafe’s introduction 𖥔

“hey, hey,” rafe slapped topper in the chest about five times until topper responded, “stop hitting me, i’m right here.”

rafe ducked down in his seat suddenly, bracing his head, “did she see me?” topper looked around, already over rafe’s behavior, “who? why are you in that position, you look like a fetus, dude.”

rafe peeked over his arms, seeing you were now turned around. he blew out a breath then responded, “that girl over there. you know her? don’t answer, i don’t want you to know her. actually, can you go over there and put in a good word?”

topper blanched, “i am so confused. do you want me to talk to her or not?” rafe shrugged, tilting his side to side, “a little. not too long. crap,” he said suddenly, ducking back down, “i think she looked over again. or am i delusional? i can’t tell anymore. she can’t see me until i’m ready.”

topper frowned, “ready? what are you about to do, you just healed your ankle from jumping two stories, don’t do that again.”

rafe shrugged, “i can and i will. just . . tell her about how much i can press. girls like that right? does she look like she’s into bench pressing? don’t look at her. say something about how i fix cars. and i can fix her car if she has a car. if she doesn’t, tell her i’ll buy her one.”

topper stood, making his way over while walking backwards, “so, that’s all gonna scare her. i got it,” he turned around, making his way towards you.

rafe shifted in his chair, crossing a leg over the over, then putting them back down. he stretched to flex his arms, then quickly put them down too. how the heck do you sit?

while rafe wondered that, topper was doing his best to introduce rafe, “he’s not all quite there . . crazy with a wrench, though.”

rafe looked up after he settled himself when you turned your head to look at him, smiling when you spotted him. that means go, right? rafe sprung up, making his way over, not being able to sit still for another second now that you looked at him. smiled at him.

“sup?” he said once he reached you two, gesturing his head for topper to go away. topper got the hint, returning to his seat. passing rafe, he muttered, “she doesn’t have a car.”

rafe blurted, “i can buy you one,” startling you. he wasn’t able to see topper shaking his head in disappointment as he walked away. your brows scrunched, “sorry?”

rafe smiled nervously, “me too. um, i can buy you a jacket. you look cold,” you realized you were rubbing your arm, “oh, yeah. no, it’s fine. not that bad,” you laughed slightly.

rafe shook his head, anxious you were cold and possibly uncomfortable, “no, if you’re cold, i’ll get you a jacket.”

you tilted your lips, “it’s fine, really. i’m leaving soon, anyway. kind of bored . . was that your friend?” you attempted conversation, but rafe was distracted, staring at you after you mentioned leaving, until he heard the last part of the sentence.

“huh? no, don’t think about him. where are you going?” he didn’t want you to leave yet. did topper talk about his bench press? did you care? did you want to see the callous on his hand from handling tools?

“uh . . just back home. my comfy place,” you muttered shyly. rafe nodded, then frowned. you don’t have a car, are you walking? alone? “i can walk you. i can buy you a jacket on the way. what kind of cars do you like?”

you couldn’t keep up with all that he said at once. you giggled, rafe slightly going weak in the knees at the sound, “sure, you can walk me. i’m still fine about the jacket. mustang’s are pretty cool. what’s your favorite?”

rafe responded distractedly, “the one that drives. you said i can walk you?”

you really have never met a guy like him, “yeah, but i don’t even know your name,” you narrowed your eyes, jokingly suspicious. you didn’t expect rafe’s response, “i’d endure fifteen stab wounds before i hurt you, i’m rafe,” he held his hand out.

your eyes widened, “oh . . don’t do that. nice to meet you,” you shook his hand, responding with your name, then turned to start walking. rafe followed alongside you, thinking about how sweaty his hands just were and how you probably didn’t like that. is he walking alright? are you sure you don’t want a jacket?

“your hand . . ” you suddenly spoke. rafe stilled slightly, scared you noticed the sweatiness. great one, rafe. but then you continued, “it felt rough. what’s on it?” rafe turned to you quickly, excited you brought it up and not the sweat thing. he extended his hand again, “i have a callous, look . . ”

PAIRING: hayden christensen x pregnant!reader

FLUFF ❦

It was 8PM Friday night when it happened. HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN'S house was all quiet, all warm from the fireplace your boyfriend set up. Lavender candle flickered on the coffee table nearby, filling the air around with something sweet and soft. A half empty bowl of popcorn sat beside it, long abandoned in the favor of the true battle.

Uno.

You and Hayden were cross-legged on the too comfortable couch, cards fanned out in your hands, the little plastic deck sitting between you both. He wore his grey sweatpants and a loose Henley, leaning back against the cushions with one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch and those tempting, long fingers tapping idly against his knee.

He was way too calm.

Too collected.

While you..heavily pregnant. Hormonal. Exhausted. Swollen. And now, for the fourth time, you’re one card away from victory—

Until Hayden slapped down a +4 card.

Your breath stopped in your throat. Heart fluttered in its place. Your gaze snapped from your carda to him, betrayal thick in your voice. “Are you serious right now?”

Hayden just smirked. “Rules are rules, sweetheart.”

Oh. Oh.

Your lip wobbled. Your eyes stung with soon to come tears. Your hormonal rage building in your chesr.

“You don’t even care about the game,” you whispered with the shaky voice. “You just wanna watch me suffer.”

Hayden exhaled through his nose, probably for the fifth time this hour “Baby, it’s Uno.”

You slammed your cards down on the coffee table. “It’s a personal attack is what it is.”

Hayden chuckled, his deep, warm, way-too-pretty voice not helping you at all.

“You think this is funny?”

He raised his hands in surrender, lips twitching. “I think you’re very cute when you’re angry.”

“i am not cute”

He grinned at that, looking entirely too amused. His hand shot towards to grab his mug of tea as if he didn’t just shatter your entire uno-world.

“You just ruined family game night.”

Hayden snorted. “Baby, it’s just the two of us.”

You blinked rapidly. “Exactly. That is the problem”

There was a bright moment of pure silence. A little beat. You don't know what really happened. You don't really knew how dramatic you could be. Like something was pulling all the strings on your emotions, causing you to react in ways you'd never do.. probably

A tear rolled down your cheek.

Hayden’s entire body froze in it's place. His smirk disappeared. His blue eyes widened.

“Baby—”

You sniffed, letting your arms cross over your belly as you dramatically shifted to face the opposite direction, making Hayden panick

He quickly stood up from the couch, immediately those toned arms reached for you, pulling you back without slopping the little homemade coffee table from the couch. He shifted you between his legs, arms wrapped around you as he buried his face in your neck.

“Okay, okay, I take it back,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder. “I’m a terrible person. I should’ve let you win.”

You mumbled something unintelligible.

Hayden sighed, lips tracing up to your jaw. “Come on, baby, don’t cry over Uno.”

You sniffed. Hard. “It’s not just Uno. It’s about the concept.”

Hayden chuckled, hugging you tighter.

And despite yourself, despite your weird outburst, despite his stupid, deep, pretty voice, his warm, strong arms, his soft, sleepy kisses; you melted like a little puddle

You grumbled into his chest, “I want ice cream.”

Hayden smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll grab the tub,” he murmured. “And you can pick the movie.”

You hummed, already content, already forgetting your induced heartbreak. While Hayden just shook his head, muttering fondly under his nose: "Hormones are scary.”

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