Bunny (P5)

Why are all the Rafe and Sofia scenes giving wattpad 💀

More teen!dean please ?

⋆˙⟡ milkshakes & car dates,

summary. skipping school with dean is always a great idea

pairing. teen!dean winchester x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 895

notes / warnings. teen dean!!! that's the warning

The school day drags like wet paint.

Your math teacher’s droning on about parabolas or something equally tragic, but all you can focus on is the folded piece of paper tucked into the corner of your notebook. Ink smudged in the corner, slightly torn — unmistakably written in Dean Winchester’s messy, all-caps scrawl.

WANNA DITCH LAST PERIOD? I GOT THE CAR & A KILLER MIXTAPE

You glance up. Two rows over, he’s slouched in his chair like he owns the school — that cocky grin barely hidden behind the tip of his pen. When you meet his eyes, he winks.

You nearly drop your pencil.

Dean Winchester is trouble wrapped in a leather jacket and dimples. He doesn’t do straight A’s or science fairs. He does engine oil and motel beds and smuggles candy into class like it’s contraband. He’s also the only person who’s ever made you laugh so hard you snorted soda through your nose — and then offered you his flannel to wipe it off.

You don’t even remember agreeing to date him. It just sort of… happened. Between one prank war in history class and that time he walked you home in the rain with only his jacket and zero umbrella. He never actually asked, just kissed you one day after detention and said, “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

And honestly? You are.

“You sure your dad won’t freak?” you ask as you slide into the passenger seat of the Impala, the vinyl still warm from the sun.

Dean smirks, throwing the car into drive with one hand, the other already reaching for the cassette deck. “He’s in another state and doesn’t know what day it is. We’re golden.”

The Impala purrs to life, and so does the music — loud and unapologetic, something with guitars and drums that make your heartbeat speed up even more than it already is.

“Where are we even going?” you ask, half-laughing, wind tossing your hair as he rolls the windows down.

Dean shoots you a look. “You ever had a chocolate shake from that diner off Route 17?”

“No?”

“Blasphemy,” he says, slamming a dramatic fist on the steering wheel. “Guess I gotta change your life.”

And weirdly… you kind of think he means it.

The diner is straight out of a movie: neon signs, checkerboard floors, waitresses who call you “hon” like it’s your actual name. Dean orders two shakes, extra whipped cream, no hesitation. You try to pay. He blocks your hand with a french fry.

“Not a chance,” he says, grinning. “My girl doesn’t pay.”

Your girl. Your stomach flips.

You sip your milkshake, cheeks warm, watching the way the sunset paints gold into his eyelashes. He’s telling some ridiculous story about Sam trying to iron a flannel while wearing it, and you’re laughing so hard you almost choke on your straw.

Dean reaches over, wipes whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, then licks it off like it's nothing. Like it’s not the most casually intimate thing anyone’s ever done to you.

“You’re staring,” he says, cocking an eyebrow.

“No I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

You throw a napkin at him. He catches it mid-air, winks. God, he’s annoying. And you want to kiss him so bad.

He leans in just a little. “You gonna kiss me or just keep drooling over that shake?”

You raise a brow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you swear it vibrates all the way to your spine.

It’s dark when he parks the Impala outside your house. The porch light is still on. Your heart’s racing.

Dean walks you to the steps, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He’s quiet, but not in a bad way. It’s like the night slowed him down a little. Let him breathe.

“I had fun,” you say softly.

He shrugs, eyes soft. “You always make it easy.”

There’s a beat of silence. The kind that buzzes with something new. Something gentle and real and teenage and too big to name. He reaches out, tugging a lock of your hair behind your ear, then just lets his fingers rest there — along your jaw, like he wants to remember how your skin feels.

“You make me wish we didn’t have to leave,” he says, like it’s not a big deal. Like it doesn’t make your heart ache in a way you don’t have words for.

You lean up, brushing your lips against his. It’s slow. Soft. Barely-there at first, until he kisses you back like he means it — like he doesn’t want the night to end either.

When you finally pull away, breathless and warm, he smiles like he’s just won a bet.

“Best. Shake. Ever,” he says.

“You didn’t even finish it.”

He grins wider. “Didn’t need to.”

You laugh, swat his shoulder, and turn to head inside. But he calls your name — soft, unsure, almost shy, and when you glance back, his voice catches a little.

“Hey… you think about the future? Like, what happens after this?”

You pause. “Yeah. You're there, without a doubt.”

“You too.” His hands are back in his pockets. “Just… makin’ sure we’re on the same page.”

You are. Even if you don’t know what the page says yet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

He smirks. “Not if I see you first.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

a/n: inspired by this post from @rafesplaymate

rafe is lost in his own reflection.

the mirror across the room captures every inch of him—sweat-slicked muscles flexing, sharp jaw clenched, blue eyes dark with something dangerous. he’s watching himself more than he’s watching you. maybe he hasn’t looked at you at all.

you’re beneath him, face down in the sheets, barely holding yourself up. your fingers fist the fabric, legs shaking from the relentless pace he’s set, but rafe barely acknowledges it. barely acknowledges you.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back. his free hand grips your waist, keeping you in place, admiring the way your body takes him—like you were made for this. for him.

but still, his eyes flicker back to the mirror.

he’s mesmerized. not by the way you tremble, not by the soft little whimpers spilling from your lips, but by himself. the way his biceps flex every time he moves, the way his abs tense, the way he looks on top of you, conquering, owning.

he smirks, licking his lips, shaking his head slightly like he can’t believe how good he looks.

"shit, baby," he breathes, almost amused, gaze still locked on the mirror. "look at me."

you don’t react—too lost in the sensation, too dazed to process his words. and that? that won’t do.

rafe clicks his tongue, slowing just enough to flip you onto your back, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. you gasp, disoriented, barely able to blink before he’s caging you in, pressing you deep into the mattress.

his big hands cup your face, squeezing, fingers digging into your cheeks—not too rough, just enough to make sure you’re paying attention.

"look, baby," he coos, voice low, commanding. his thumb brushes over your lips before giving you a light pat on the cheek, tilting your chin toward the mirror. "watch."

your blurry gaze follows his, landing on the reflection—the two of you tangled in his sheets, your body soft, flushed, wrecked beneath him. but your eyes barely have time to take yourself in because rafe?

rafe is staring at himself.

his grip tightens on your face, squeezing your cheeks together, forcing your mouth to part. his smirk deepens, admiring the way you look like this—helpless, pliant, his.

"you see that?" he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. "see how good i look fuckin’ you?"

his head tilts, studying himself, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the way his damp hair falls over his forehead, the way his hands own your face, your body, your everything.

another soft pat to your cheek, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who’s in control.

"bet you feel so lucky, huh?" he taunts, dragging his thumb down your lips, pressing it inside just enough to make you whimper. "havin’ me all to yourself?"

you nod—because what else can you do? you are lucky, aren’t you? rafe tells you all the time. no one else would take care of you like this. no one else would want you like he does.

and fuck, he looks good doing it.

his hips snap forward, and he groans, watching the way his abs tighten, the way his muscles ripple, the way his body completely dominates yours. he’s so into himself, so lost in his own self-obsession that he almost forgets you’re even here.

his jaw clenches, grip bruising as he stares himself down in the mirror, gaze wild, completely enthralled.

"fuck, i’m good."

he says it like it’s a fact. like he needs you to understand just how lucky you are to be his.

and when he finally comes, breath shuddering, head tilting back in pleasure, he still never takes his eyes off the mirror.

because at the end of the day?

rafe cameron isn’t making love to you.

he’s making love to himself.

Feeding my delusions 💋

Dating Hayden Christensen headcanons x NotFamous!Reader. | Fluff, slight nsfw topics since this would be a relationship with an older man.

°°°

˙ . ꒷ ˙— Naturally so, the age gap made him hesitate at first, his mind was plagued with self doubt. 'She's so young', 'she could be my daughter, even if she's already an adult', 'people might think I'm taking advantage— would I be taking advantage? I don't want to do that,' 'would I want my kid to date someone my age when she's older? Absolutely not.' '...It's just lunch, what's the worst that can happen?'

In the end, there was something about you that he couldn't shake off, eventually leading to him asking for your number when he knew your shift was about to end- very awkwardly, might I add. No, fame did not make him a smooth talker. At all. And he was busy hoping you wouldn't find him creepy for asking you out! But you didn't, you said yes. A little too quick.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— First date would be something low-key, especially now that he's back in the public eye. He knows he has to be careful, so he'd be mindful of that. He's a classy gentleman, no quickies in the bathroom as fun that may be that's for when you're already an established couple. If not a simple lunch, dinner at a nice restaurant. I do think he'd first take you out for lunch, though. Dinner is too serious and despite being 43, he probably doesn't want to make himself look and sound much more boring and older than he already is. Besides, lunch is quicker, if you wished to run away, you could. Dinner would be a guaranteed second date.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— I don't believe he'd take you out with the sole purpose of sleeping together, he's at an age where you're either living the bachelor life or settling down. He's got a kid, any hookups he might have are super low-key and most likely with coworkers. With you it would be different, when the time is right. Best believe he won't be taking you to a motel. He's doing this the right way and he's a patient fella. Now, this man screams vanilla, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with this! I mean think about it, having your handsome man who tends to hold some pretty intense eye contact, during missionary, holding your gaze, whispering sweet nothings... Heaven. Besides, there's plenty of time to grow bolder together, sexually speaking. You're younger than him, you will, without a doubt, wake a monster in him. Embrace it.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— He doesn't talk much, it's just who he is. We've seen how awkward he is during interviews, I'm pretty sure his co-workers have confirmed that he isn't a yapper. Especially when he's drained for the day, he'd sit down next to you and quietly read while you're scrolling on your phone on a lazy day. I believe he'd be a great listener instead! Everything you say? He's committing to memory.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— Each time you went to his home you'd take notice of subtle changes that made it obvious he truly listened to you. Suddenly your favorite snacks are stacked up in his pantry. The blinds will be in your favorite color. Little stuff that shouldn't really matter that much, but they do.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— He's so fatherly that it isn't all that surprising how gladly he'll detangle and braid your hair for you after a long day. He'll be so focused, too! With his bottom lip or his tongue slightly sticking out a bit. Cute!

˙ . ꒷ ˙— He is experienced, and by that I don't necessarily mean in bed. He's used to being in long-term relationships, so he'll have a better understanding about how this dynamic would work. He knows which are his faults and he'd work on bettering himself. Despite popular belief, the fact that he's older doesn't make a relationship with him any simpler, he's only human. But Hayden is more than willing to navigate this with you.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— As an established relationship, dates would be thoughtful but not necessarily extravagant all the time. Dinners, Lana Del Rey concerts, hockey games, picnics, trips to the beach, coffee dates, making DIYs on a lazy Saturday, shopping, etc..

˙ . ꒷ ˙— You make him feel young again, but there are times where he's reminded of his age, maybe because you playfully called him an old man, or perhaps you used modern slang that he can't understand. Both of you are always learning from each other, it can be amusing and sometimes irritating.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— He's not active on social media, but you will show him TikToks, maybe some of the fanfics you read before dating him. Hayden would in return show you some old, not so funny memes or photos that he might find by chance. Bless his heart, he's trying to be relatable here!

˙ . ꒷ ˙— He will spoil you. Spoil you. And spoil you. Not only is he a gentleman, I feel like his fatherly ways would reflect on you too. He's a family oriented man, and you're one of the most important women of his life. He will buy you anything you want, especially if he knows it has something to do with your hobbies.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— Normally, Hayden isn't immature or prone to jealousy, but soon enough he'll learn that he's growing a little too possessive of you. He's not one to snap at people or paparazzi, but he'll be glaring in every single photo taken without permission when he's out with you. The pictures will also show him very quickly hiding you behind him.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— If you're pregnant, he will be so protective of you. You want to go down some stairs? He'll grab your hand and your waist. Oh we're going shopping? Sure, but take 10 minutes to sit down and rest, every two to three stores. You're craving a smoothie? He already has his wallet out, but don't order anything too sugary because he wants you healthy! Your feet hurt? Shoes off, he's giving you a massage!

˙ . ꒷ ˙— And since we're in the topic of pregnancy, I do believe this man would be almost illogically feral for you and your changing body. It's biology, baby! Pure instinct. Suddenly he's not so vanilla anymore.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— Cuddling.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— More cuddling.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— Even more cuddling, have you seen him? Duh. I'd cuddle with him.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— Be ready for the holidays, he celebrates them all! Be prepared to match ugly Christmas sweaters, and take cheesy family portraits.

˙ . ꒷ ˙— But most importantly, prepare yourself for being... loved. This man will be your home. Your safe space. He's the type of man you only find once, so hold him tight and never let go.

Bunny (P3)

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: Here comes more time at the cluubbb. Rafe is more of a dick in this than in the last one ngl (ik she want that dick tho). Also her and jj- my heart she's literally his mother figure stop.

warnings: mentions of drugs, smoking, drinking, a strip club, naked women, drug dealing, aggressive behaviour, black mailing.

(P1) (P2) (P3)

The bass thrummed through the club, vibrating up through the floor and into her bones but she barely noticed anymore. The neon lights and the low murmur of conversation, all of it was just background noise now.

She was draped across the lap of one of her regulars, a middle-aged man named Daniel who always paid well and tipped even better. His hand rested on her thigh, fingers just barely brushing against the hem of her skimpy skirt which didn’t even cover her ass, and she giggled at something he said- some stupid joke about how his wife would kill him if she knew where he was. ‘Most likely’ she thought to herself. Y/N traced her nails lightly over his shoulder, tilting her head just enough to make him think he had all of her attention.

"You always know how to make a man feel special sweetheart"

Daniel mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His wedding ring glinted under the dim club lights. She had to push down the small tug in her stomach and just smirked, leaning in so her lips ghosted just past his ear.

"That’s what you pay me for, isn’t it?"

Daniel let out a low chuckle, his hand slightly patting on her thigh,"Worth every damn penny."

She smiled at him- sweet, teasing, practiced- and her eyes flicked toward the entrance for a split second, scanning the room without making it obvious.

Just another night - just another guy.

Daniel's fingers trailed absentmindedly along the bare skin of her thigh, the warmth of his touch barely registering beneath the practiced detachment she had perfected over time. He took another sip of his drink, eyes raking over her with appreciation.

"You should let me take you somewhere nice one of these days"

He murmured, voice thick with whiskey and the kind of confidence only alcohol could provide. Y/N let out a soft laugh, she loved living into their fantasies- it always entertained her most- not to mention it gave her the best tip. Tilting her head to the side as she traced slow circles over his chest with her fingertip. She teased, voice sultry but laced with amusement.

"Oh yeah? Think your wife would be okay with that?"

"She doesn’t have to know."

He grinned, a little too smug and she couldn’t repress her smirk, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Mm, tempting," she purred, shifting slightly in his lap, feeling the way his breath hitched at the movement.

“But I think you like to hide me right here..."

"So smart, aren’t you?"

Daniel exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. She only smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. And just like that, his hand slid up, tucking a few crisp bills into the thin waistband of her panties. The sensation of paper against her skin was familiar, almost comforting in a strange way. He always paid well- one of the few reasons she tolerated his lingering touches and lazy smiles.

"That’s for being my best girl"

He said, his fingers brushing against her hip before dropping away. She glanced down at the stack peeking out from the band of her panties, counting the edges in her head. A few hundred at least. Good. Y/N leaned in closer, her lips just shy of his ear once more.

"You keep treating me this well, Danny, and I just might start believing you,"

She whispered, her breath warm against his skin. He chuckled, a deep, indulgent sound, before finishing off the rest of his drink. But just as she was about to shift, reposition herself to make him forget about everything except her and what he had left in his wallet, that same shift in the air from earlier prickled at the back of her neck- and then she felt it.

A gaze.

Heavy, unrelenting, watching her from across the club. Y/N had felt the weight of his stare before she even turned her head. It was always like this. Like some sixth sense, a quiet, nagging feeling at the back of her mind that told her exactly when Rafe Cameron was watching her.

And lately, it was all the damn time.

Her gaze flickered over to where he was sitting- Rafe, lounging in a booth with Barry beside him, the two of them deep in conversation. Barry was grinning, talking what appeared sluggishly, but Rafe wasn’t listening. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on her, the dim glow of the club reflecting off them in a way that made her stomach twist. She rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide it.

Of course he was here again.

Ever since he and Barry started coming around more often, their business booming, Rafe had made it a point to lurk in the background of her nights. She never knew if it was just to get under her skin or if he actually had some purpose behind his actions- which she doubted. Either way, she was sick of it. Turning back to Danny, she let her fingers run over his collar, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she leaned in.

"What do you say we take this somewhere a little more private, hmm?"

"You‘re a naughty girl Bunny"

Danny grinned, already pulling out his wallet. Y/N just forced out a smile, taking his hand and leading him toward where the private rooms were located. Rafe’s grip tightened around his glass, the condensation slick against his palm as he watched her. His jaw flexed, a slow inhale as Daniel let her take his hand and lead him toward the back rooms with that same effortless sway in her hips, that same lack of hesitation.

Like it was nothing- because it was nothing, that’s what he told himself, anyway. And yet, something ugly twisted inside him, something hot and slow-burning, clawing up his throat and settling behind his ribs like a weight. It wasn’t jealousy.

It wasn’t.

It was disgust. Yeah. Disgust at how easily she paraded herself around. Disgust at how she let men like Danny put their hands on her, whisper in her ear, slide cash into the band of those tiny fucking panties. Disgust at the way she looked at Rafe like he was a problem. His fingers twitched against the glass, the ice inside shifting with the movement. The door to the private rooms clicked shut, sealing her inside with another man. His stomach turned and Barry’s elbow nudged into his side,

“Gott' em panties in a twist cuz?”.”

Rafe's fingers drum against his thigh, his jaw clenching as his eyes stayed fixed on the door Y/N disappeared behind. He just exhaled slowly, lifting his drink to his lips. The whiskey burned its way down his throat, but it didn’t do a damn thing to settle the irritation simmering in his chest. His gaze snaps to the side as Tommy strolls past. Without a second thought, he stands up, stepping into his path and placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man-”

Rafe drawls, flashing that easy-going grin that never quite reaches his eyes. Tommy stops, brow furrowing as he looks at him.

“Rafe. Everything good?”

Rafe keeps his grip firm, steering him slightly away from the main floor, lowering his voice just enough, “Need to talk to you about something.” Tommy eyes him warily but gestures for him to go on.

“That girl Y/- shit what’s her- Bunny right?.” Rafe tilts his head toward the private rooms where she’d disappeared to, his lips twitching. Tommy follows his gaze and gives him a small nod of understanding, “yeah?”

“I don’t want her doing private dances anymore.”

Tommy blinks, taken aback, “What?”

“You heard me.” Rafe shifted his weight, standing a little taller as he continued, “No more private rooms for her. Not with other guys, at least.” Tommy scoffs, shaking his head at his absurd request.

“That’s not how this works. She’s one of my best girls. Lotta guys pay good money to have time with her.”

Rafe frown slightly- surprised at the man’s refusal, he lets outs a small hum of amusement, before pulling a roll of cash from his pocket and peeling off a few hundred dollar bills, letting them sit between his fingers.

“That’s cute,” he says. “But see, I’m not asking.”

“You want her to stop doin’ privates… why, exactly?”

Tommy’s expression tightens as he looks at the money, then back at Rafe. Barry, who’s been watching the exchange with mild amusement, finally chimes in. “Oh, he wants her dancin’ for us now?” he says, grinning. “Would ya look at that”

Rafe tilts his head, his rolling his eyes at his friends retort. “Something like that.” Tommy exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ charity, Cameron. I can’t just—”

“You can if I make it worth your while,” Rafe cuts in smoothly, tapping the stack of cash against Tommy’s chest before pressing it into his hand. “We both know you like money, Tommy. I’ve got plenty of it- so what’s the problem huh?”

Tommy glances down at the bills, hesitating. “I’ll keep it simple for you,” Rafe continues, lowering his voice, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“She dances for me. Me and Barry. No one else. Every time we’re here.”

Tommy lets out a long breath, eyeing Rafe for a moment before slowly nodding. “Fine. But if she asks, this wasn’t my idea.” Rafe grins, stepping back as he claps the man on the shoulder, “Pleasure doing business.” As Tommy walks off, Barry lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You’re pussy whipped Cameron.”

Rafe scoffs, leaning back in his seat, his tongue running over his teeth. “Nah, man…” He shakes his head, picking up his drink and taking a slow sip before setting it back down with a quiet clink. His eyes flick back toward the private rooms, dark and unreadable.

“Just gotta make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

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

The dressing room was a haze of perfume, hairspray, and soft music playing from someone’s phone in the corner. Bright, round vanity bulbs framed the mirrors, casting a warm glow over the space, reflecting sequins, silk, and lace. The air carried the sounds of quiet laughter, the snap of compacts closing. Y/N sat at her usual spot, adjusting the strap of her new bra, eyes flicking over her reflection. The strap was loose again- annoying. She huffed, tugging it into place just as Tommy’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Y/N. Need a word.”

“Why?”

She turned, brows furrowing as he gestured her over to him. She slowly rose up from her seat, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor getting lost amongst the chatter of the other few girls scattered around the room. She made it up to the door way and stood opposite the man eyebrows slightly furrowed as she folded her arms waiting. Tommy exhaled through his nose, arms crossed over his chest.

“No more private dances.”

"What?”

“You’re not doing them anymore.”

She let out a dry laugh as the sudden new revelation, “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s where I make the most money Tommy.”

He didn’t say anything because he knew it was going to be an issue- he also knew it was an inane request. Yet he just kept looking at her, like he was waiting for her to let it go. But she wasn’t letting it go. Her eyebrows were drawn down uncomfortably connoting her distress as her voice rang out once more.

“What the fuck is this? I can’t believe you think that I’m just going to dro-”

“-Rafe Cameron put in a request.”

And just like that, the blood in her veins ran hot. Her stomach twisted at the name alone. “A request?” she repeated slowly, already dreading where this was going. “Yeah.” He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

“No more private dances for anyone but him and Barry.”

She blinked. Then laughed. A dry, humorless sound. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m serious.” As soon as the words passed his lips the the expression of confusion was wiped off of her face in an instance, now being replaced by a face twisted with anger,

“You’re actually letting him tell you how to run your own damn club?”

“Watch it, Y/N.”

“-No, you watch it, Tommy”

She snapped, “I work here and you’re supposed to be my boss. But it doesn’t fucking look like it.”

“I am the boss. And I’m telling you how it is.”

A few girls nearby went quiet, exchanging glances. Tommy took a step closer, lowering his voice. It was uncommon for him to be stern with them, after all he considered most of them like family. So the fact they were all currently sitting watching him lecture Y/N had them slightly on the edge of their seat. She scoffed, shaking her head at him.

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well, believe it.”

Tommy shot her a look. “Do your job Y/N” With that, he turned and walked off, leaving her fuming. Moments after, Y/N stormed out of the dressing room, jaw clenched, fists tight at her sides as she weaved through the dimly lit club. The bass-heavy music thumped in her chest, the colored lights flashing over bodies, over money exchanging hands, over the world she had to survive in. She spotted them right away- Barry leaned in close to some guy, murmuring low as a roll of cash was slipped into his palm. Rafe sat beside him, relaxed, legs spread, beer bottle in one hand, his other draped over the back of the booth like he owned the place. Her blood boiled at the sight of him.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She hissed the moment she reached them, eyes locked on Rafe. Barry let out a low whistle, not even looking up from the customer. “Well, I’ll let the lovebirds sort this one out,” He muttered with a smirk before leading the guy toward a darker corner of the club, leaving them alone. Y/N didn’t waste a second.

“Do you have any idea how much money I’m losing because of your shit?”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem Bunny.”

Her voice was sharp, but quiet enough not to draw attention. Rafe, as always, looked entirely unfazed. He barely lifted his chin to meet her glare, taking a slow sip from his bottle before answering.

“Besides- I think I can afford to pay for a stripper.”

Her teeth clenched so hard it ached. Her fingers curled at her sides, nails pressing into her palms. She was about to snap back, about to tell him exactly where he could shove his money, when his eyes darkened, and he cut her off.

“Just shut up and do your job.”

“-Excuse me?”

She inhaled sharply. He gestured lazily toward the small stage beside their booth, the one with the pole gleaming under the soft purple lights. He tilted his head, a slow, smug grin curling on his lips.

“Go on—I’m waiting, Bunny.”

Fury burned through her, white-hot. She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling heavily, her pulse drumming against her skin as she lifted up her hand pointing at him- ready to curse him out in front of half the club. Rafe watched her, his amusement growing the angrier she got. Before she could let loose, Tommy was suddenly between them, a firm hand on her arm.

“Hey- hey"

He warned, his voice low, expression sharp. Y/N’s breaths were heavy, her fists trembling at her sides as she glared past Tommy at Rafe. He only smirked, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world. Tommy stepped in between them, his hand firm on Y/N’s arm, his voice low but controlled.

“Are we gonna have a problem here?”

He asked, but his eyes flickered between Y/N and Rafe, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Rafe didn’t flinch. He leaned back, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ask your bitch, man.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, blood boiling at the words, her heart pounding in her chest- she genuinely felt like she was going to pass out from rage. She whipped her head toward Tommy, her gaze sharp with fury.

“You’re gonna let him talk to me like that?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and his eyes softened just a fraction. He lowered his voice, like he was trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.

“Look—do this for me, and I won’t take a cut out of your payment ever again.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over his face, her anger simmering down just enough to process his words. No cut? That would make a huge difference. The weight of the decision settled into her chest. She let out a long sigh, her body trembling with the frustration of it all.

“Fine.”

“Great. Now get up there.”

Rafe watched with a knowing grin, his eyes never leaving her as she reluctantly made her way to the pole. She could feel the heat in the room, the music vibrating in her veins, but the irritation still pulsed through her every movement. Her fingers wrapped around the pole which was cool against her hot palms, and with one fluid motion, she spun herself around it- her body a controlled chaos. The lights reflected off her skin as she danced, each move a mix of anger and seduction, trying to drown out the growing tension inside her chest.

Rafe leaned back in the booth with Barry now. He watched her every move, the smirk never fading from his face. Barry let out a low whistle, nudging him. Rafe slapped his arm, as if to shake off the tension of the moment, before yelling out over the music, his voice loud and clear:

“Shake your ass like you mean it!”

Y/N’s eyes shot up, meeting his for a brief second, the rage in them burning hotter than before. She tried to block him out, focusing on her routine, but his words dug into her, fueling the anger that she kept buried deep. Her body flowed into the next move, a slow, deliberate drop to her knees her back arching, her gaze never leaving Rafe’s as she pushed her hips up, challenging. Then, with a slow, deliberate crawl, she made her way toward the end of the small stage where they sat. Each step was calculated, her body close to the floor, her hips swaying with a rhythm that seemed to pierce right through him.

The whole time, she didn’t look away, not once breaking the eye contact- she refused to let him think she cowers under his glare.

Rafe’s hand tightened around his beer bottle, his focus locked on her. He couldn’t help but sit forward, leaning in slightly, the raw intensity of her stare pulling him in. His fingers gripped the neck of the bottle, almost white-knuckled, before he took a slow sip, as though the action could calm this sudden heat inside him.

It didn’t.

Y/N didn’t break eye contact. Her body felt on fire, the music in her bones, the anger in her veins. She reached the edge of the stage and paused, just a foot or two away from Rafe, her chest rising and falling with every breath, her muscles aching but refusing to give in as she ran her hands down her body. His smirk faltered for just a second before it returned, but it wasn’t the same. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes now.

“My private little dancer hmmm?”

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

The sun hung high, casting a golden glow over the beach as the Y/n and Pogues basked in the warmth of one of the rare days off she had. The ocean shimmered in the distance, the waves rolling in lazily against the shore and all of them were lounging around, enjoying the moment of peace. Pope, ever the thoughtful one, sat up and glanced over at the girl,

“So, how’s your job going, Y/N?”

He asked, his voice casual but curious and Y/N shot him a look, raising an eyebrow.

“Jesus Pope- stay in school man”

She teased, shaking her head. The group burst into laughter, and even Pope couldn’t help but crack a smile at her response. Sarah, still amused, chimed in, “Is it that bad?” Y/N groaned dramatically, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows to look at the blonde haired girl,

“I’m serving kooks all day, getting yelled at if I bring them a steak at the wrong temperature, if their lemon slice is on the wrong side of the plate… It's just- it’s shit.”

John B and Cleo laughed again, yet she found the others nodding sympathetically. Kiara, who had been humming to herself while watching the waves, looked over at JJ with a playful glint in her eye.

“You should get a job Jayje” she clawed out to the boy who was wading through the water, her voice teasing. JJ groaned and threw a hand up in the air. “Not you too,” he replied dramatically. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she sat up, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Thank you, Kie! Someone else here who has common sense.”

Kiara grinned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s not that hard JJ,” she joked. JJ shook his head, muttering under his breath, but there was a playful glint in his eye as he watched the gang, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment. Y/N leaned back, soaking in the easy banter and warmth of the sun. John B stretched out on his towel, a relaxed smile on his face as he glanced over at Y/N.

“It’s nice you could join us though.”

“Thanks JB”

She responded, her voice light as she let out a small hum, resting her head on her folded arms and giving him a grateful look. Just then, JJ, hair still dripping from having left the water moments prior, bounded over and flopped down on top of her, his back sprawling out across hers like a human blanket.

“Jeez, JJ!”

Y/N exclaimed, nearly knocking the wind out of herself under his weight. “Uh, rude?” JJ grinned, his cheek pressed into the sand as he looked up at her.

“You’re heavy as hell, J”

She shot back, trying to wiggle out from under him. The rest of the group laughed, with Cleo shaking her head. “You’re a big back rude boy.” she teased. JJ immediately shot her a look. “Yo- shut up…” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. The atmosphere was easy and familiar. JJ shifted his weight slightly, settling more comfortably. He looked out over the ocean for a moment before his tone shifted.

“I miss this”

He said, his voice quieter now, almost like a confession. Y/N turned her head just enough to catch his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He let out a small sigh, his gaze lingering on the others for a moment before meeting hers, “You’re just busy all the time.”

“I know J, I know.”

Y/N nodded, the weight of her words settling between them as she spoke. JJ huffed softly, clearly trying to hold back some frustration.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m doing it for you, yeah? You’re my brother, J. I’d do anything for you.”

She cut him off, her voice soft but firm, JJ’s eyes softened at that, but before he could respond, his stomach gave a loud rumble cutting him off mid-sentence. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Hungry much?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up much?”

JJ groaned, but his stomach gave another loud growl, making everyone laugh. “Let me go get you something to eat,” she offered, already starting to rise. But JJ wasn’t having it. He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could get up, holding her in place.

“Okay, okay, let go”

She said, trying to wiggle free. He just squeezed her tighter, pressing his body closer to hers in a hug. Y/N patted his back sweetly before she let out an exaggerated groan.

“Ew, Jay, you’re all sweaty!” 

Y/N stood in line at the food truck, the warm sun still casting its golden light over the beach as the waves crashed nearby. She couldn’t resist—her favourite fish tacos were the perfect treat, and she’d ordered enough for the whole group. She was balancing her drink in one hand while she fumbled with her phone, checking to make sure everyone had their orders right. Then, just as she was waiting to pick up the food, she heard that familiar voice behind her.

“That’s a lot of food for one person, Maybank” Rafe said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He eyed the stack of boxes she was waiting for, a smug smirk on his face.

“Sure you can afford all that? Or do you need me to front you a little cash?”

“I can fucking afford to feed myself, you asshole.”

Y/N didn’t even turn around at first, knowing exactly who it was and she shot back without missing a beat. Rafe tutted at her attitude, clearly amused. He stepped closer, his presence still as commanding as ever. “Careful,” he warned, his voice dropping just a notch.

“I could always let your little secret slip, you know? Wouldn’t want your brother finding out how you’re really making money.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t let him see it. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “You wouldn't dare” He just leaned in a little, his smirk widening. “Oh I would,” he said, his voice low, teasing.

“Ruin your perfect little world, wouldn’t I?”

As Y/N stood at the food truck, Rafe’s smug grin never left his face as he stared at her, clearly enjoying the quiet torment no one else had taken notice of. But as they exchanged words, JJ, who had just been chatting with the others, saw the two of them. His eyes narrowed, and a surge of protective instinct kicked in. He took a step forward, moving toward them with purpose.

“You got a problem Cameron?"

JJ muttered, his gaze darting between Y/N and Rafe, his jaw tight. Y/N quickly stepped between them, placing a hand on JJ’s chest to stop him from taking another step- she knew how impulsive her brother could be.

“Jay, let it go”

She said firmly, her tone not leaving room for argument. Rafe just watched, the smug smirk on his face growing wider as he looked Y/N up and down folding his arms. His eyes held a silent warning, the kind that said ‘I’ve got you and there's nothing you can do’ without speaking it aloud. JJ didn’t take his eyes off Rafe, but with a sigh, he let Y/N push him back. He mumbled under his breath,

“You’re lucky she’s here.”

“Oh you bet”

Once she’d pulled her brother away from Rafe and they were on their way back to the group, tacos in hand, JJ couldn’t help but throw a question out. He looked over at Y/N with a raised eyebrow, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Since when do you listen to what Rafe says?”

Y/N just takes a slow bite of her taco, trying to ignore the question. The food tasted like cardboard in her mouth as she chewed slowly, her mind racing.

“Just… leave it Jay.”

Her voice is tired, and JJ can see the exhaustion behind her eyes. He’s about to press her again when he catches the look on her face- a mix of frustration, anger, and something else… something he can’t quite figure out. He lets it go, but his mind is still buzzing. He knows she’s hiding something from him- and he can’t deny that it pisses him off. She’s his older sister. She’s always been the strong one, they’ve always stuck together. So why won’t she tell him what’s going on with her…?

As JJ dropped the subject, Y/N let out a quiet breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. But the heaviness didn't lift. She couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt- and all of it was tied to Rafe. She hated herself for letting it get this far but she couldn't let JJ get involved in it, not yet.

Not ever.

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog @rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @rafesgurl @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl @silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt @ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn @emeloyy @pluviophilis @slut-4-gojo @willowpains @wtfisastiles @rafecqmeronslove @pleasstory @lolasangelz @beau-dabomb @psychocitylights @constantsadness @rhianthebest @emmiesummers @sfotiegiuls @ggraycelynn @larema121 @emeloyy @pluviophilis @urgoldens @insominagirlss @urfavoritebrunette007 @mauvesmax @miniiminie

Answer this ― Hayden Christensen

summary: Being a smaller actress and being chronically online is all fun and games until you're very much famous and older boyfriend comes into the background of your Instagram live so you make him do a Q and A.

cw: fem!reader, age gap mentioned, nothing smutty just pure fluff

req: this was requested by @jameskellysgirl! I hope you enjoy mama

Word count: 2159 words

You watched as the chat moved quickly on the screen, trying to read out someones comment while you quickly blended in the foundation on your face.

It was five p.m. and your boyfriend of a year and five months was taking you to your favorite Italian restaurant for the evening for your usual date night even though you insisted on staying in for the night and ordering a few pizzas but your lovely boyfriend wanted to spoil you.

You called yourself lucky because you were dating the infamous Hayden Christensen who was a much bigger and well known actress then you.

The two of you met at an after-party for an event that you were invited to as a plus-one with one of your friends. The two of you instantly clicked and immediately started flirting which led to quite romantic dates and then eventually; he asked you out and you said yes.

You knew that this was a different kind of relationship since he never really dated someone much younger than him and you never dated someone older then you before either so it was new for the both of you but the two of you made it work and you both had a happy healthy relationship.

You are chronically online, as your friend would say, but you respect your boyfriends wishes and rarely posted him unless you had permission too.

Hayden was a private person and didn't have social media nor did he talk about his private life outside of acting. He just preferred to stay on his farm in Canada and build ponds to eventually watch the wildlife formed around it.

He loved to stay at home and cook you a home meal but sometimes he would just rather take you out and spoil you like you deserved because in his eyes; you and his daughter were his whole world.

So, as you sat in front of your phone doing a Instagram live stream while putting on your makeup, you were surprised when you noticed your boyfriend come into view.

Hayden was wearing his signature Carhartt hat, a black shirt, a black button-down shirt over it, black jeans, and his Adidas Oswego. He looked good, per-usual and you couldn't help but smile as you saw him appear behind you on your phone screen.

"Hey bab- Oh I didn't know you were streaming" He spoke sheepishly as he gave the phone a little wave which sent your comments going wild. You smiled at him, motioning him to come closer as he stood in the doorway. "Babe, come here" You said confidently and his cheeks turned a soft shade of red.

Hayden didn't understand much about Instagram lives but he understood that it was live and there was at least over hundred people watching him in the comfort of his own home. He didn't mind it of course because he loved to hear you read out the comments about him but that was only because he was off camera.

He walked over to you nervously, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently massaging them. You smiled, feeling the warmth of his touch. Tilting your head back to look up at him, you murmured, "Say hi to the camera."

"Hi everyone" He flashed the camera a nervous smile before turning his attention back on you. "You look beautiful by the way" He whispered in your ear which made you blush vigorously.

When you looked back at the screen, you saw the truckload of comments begging and pleading for a Q and A between you and Hayden but mostly for him. It wasn't a bad idea since he had been coming more and more out of his comfort zone recently and you knew wouldn't be opposed to a few questions.

"Do you wanna do a little Q&A for all your depraved fans?" you teased, watching as he gave you a thoughtful look. After a moment, he shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it up beside you and settled in, resting his hand on your thigh.

"Sure, what's the harm in that?" he replied with a grin.

You giggled, looking at the screen to find a first question to ask him. One of them caught your attention so you turned your head to look at him. "Who's you're favorite character in Star Wars?" You asked him which made him let out a chuckle before smacking his lips together/

"Well, I always liked the characters in masks when I was younger, so it’s probably Boba Fett," he responded, his eyes softening as he looked at you with a loving smile, clearly appreciative that you were continuing the conversation.

"Who's yours?" he asked, and you couldn’t help but blush, the question catching you slightly off guard.

"I always liked Anakin," you replied, your voice a little more confident than you felt, though the warmth of your blush didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. His laughter filled the air, light, and teasing, as he grinned at your response.

"Really?" He asked, slightly in disbelief that you, his girlfriend, favored the character he played. You sheepishly nodded your head, before burying your face into your hands as a way to hide the blush forming on your face.

Hayden quickly noticed this and grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your face and lacing his fingers with one of them as he moved the other one to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Why are you so embarrassed? It's cute" He reassured you and you just rolled your eyes, desperately wanting to move on to the next question.

You glanced at the screen, scanning through the fan questions until one caught your eye. Smiling to yourself, you finally settled on it. "How would you feel about owning a cat?" you asked, unable to stifle a soft laugh.

Hayden, of course, knew you were a cat person. He knew you’d been wanting one for ages, so it wasn’t a surprise when that particular question popped up. He chuckled softly, shaking his head at you with a knowing smile, then ran a hand over his face.

"Y'know, I’ve thought about it because you keep asking me," he admitted, glancing to the side for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I’ve considered it. They’re great pets, and honestly, I think Briar would love having one around, too."

"Plus, we can always get a barn cat" You spoke with a confident smile and he nodded his head at you, agreeing with you in that moment. "We could but were are not getting those hairless cats," He said and you made an offended expression at him before crossing your arms over your chest.

"Why not?! They are so cute-" you playfully jabbed at him, knowing that this would start a playful banter between the two of you.

"They are ugly!" He argued back which made you laugh and double over in your chair, placing a hand on his shoulder before straightening yourself back up and shaking your head at him.

"They are an ugly cute." you remarked and he couldn't help but shake his head at you while you searched for another question for him to answer.

"Okay... Have you thought about getting social media?" You asked, bitting down on you're bottom lip as you watched him think of a response.

Hayden chuckled, leaning back a bit as he considered the question. "Ah, social media... you know, I get asked that a lot," he said with a smile. "Honestly, I’ve thought about it. I get that it’s a great way to connect with fans and share a bit more of, well... real life."

He paused, scratching the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. "But I kinda like being a bit of a mystery. Besides, you know how bad I am with technology—I’d probably end up posting the same thing five times or something," he laughed. "Maybe one day... but for now, I’ll just live vicariously through your account!"

You shook your head, looking down at the groan as you played with the necklace around your neck. "So no social media?" you responded, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged with a playful grin, "Yeah, I think for now, no social media. I like keeping things a bit more low-key." He paused, giving you a knowing look. "But who knows? Maybe I'll surprise everyone one day and join. I'll just need you to give me a crash course on how to post the right thing without embarrassing myself."

He laughed softly, his usual laid-back charm shining through. "Until then, I'll stick to enjoying all the posts you share instead."

"I feel like when you do join, you'll break the internet" You joked before looking back at the screen to see the time. it was almost time for you to leave since you had a reservation but you had time for one more question so you looked at the comments again while Hayden caressed your thigh.

"When are you gonna propose?" you asked him and he just gave you a look. Sometimes you're boyfriend was difficult to read and maybe that was because he liked to keep things private but you also wanted to know how he would respond to your question.

Hayden gave you a small smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something deeper. He leaned back slightly, as if considering how to respond. He was always a bit of a mystery, especially when it came to things that mattered most.

After a brief pause, he looked at you with a knowing smile, though his gaze was soft, almost tender. "You know me too well," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I like to keep a little suspense, don’t I?"

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering near your face. “But… when I do, you’ll know. It’ll be everything you deserve.”

His tone was serious, but there was still that playful edge. "Until then, I think you’ll just have to keep wondering."

You rolled your eyes, gently pushing his shoulder as you pouted at him slightly. "You're no fun" A laugh escaped past your boyfriend's lips when you said that, making him just shrug your shoulders before you turned your attention onto the camera.

"Alright, I'm ending the live since Mr. Supense over is taking me out. Night" You quickly spoke into the camera before finally ending your live. Once the live ended, you turned your attention to your boyfriend who was just staring at you with a loving expression on his face.

You really did wonder if he thought about it; being married to you. You knew you wanted that life with Hayden and you also knew that Hayden wanted to have another kid, to give Briar that opportunity to be a big sister so you really did want to know if that was in the cards of your relationship.

"Are you gonna propose one day?" You asked seriously, tilting your head to the side as you wanted for him to respond.

Hayden met your gaze, his expression softening as he sensed the seriousness in your question. He didn’t rush to answer, instead taking a moment to look at you with that familiar, thoughtful expression he often wore when he was being sincere.

“Of course I am,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of warmth. He reached for your hand, gently squeezing it. “You’re everything to me. When the time is right, I’ll ask you. You’ll know it, I promise.”

His gaze lingered on you, his smile tender but knowing. "I want it to be something special—something that feels right for both of us."

You couldn't help but smile back at him. Hayden was always like that, you remembered your first date with him and how he wanted the moment to be special for both of you which ultimately led to you spraining your ankle because you decided to wear heels and him having to carry you up to your apartment.

It was definitely memorable despite the sprained ankle. It was special and something you often talked and joked about.

"You are always keeping me on my toes" You replied jokingly as the two of you were seemingly leaning closer to each other for a kiss.

Hayden chuckled softly, the playful spark in his eyes growing as he leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “I can’t help it,” he teased, his voice low and warm. “It’s fun keeping you guessing.”

The space between you seemed to shrink as you both leaned in, the anticipation hanging in the air. His hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as he smiled, just before closing the distance for a kiss. The moment felt like a quiet promise, an unspoken understanding that whatever was ahead, you’d face it together.

A/N: Hello my babies! I hope you all enjoy this and espically the person who requested this! I actually had a lot of fun writing this and I am really proud of my work! This is also my first ever Hayden Christensen content on this app so feel free to like or reblog! I love you all!

The bunker was quieter now.

Not the eerie, lonely kind of quiet Dean had known for most of his life. No—this was a different kind. A good kind.

The kind filled with soft baby coos, sleepy little sighs, and the rustling of tiny hands against warm blankets.

Dean Winchester—the man who had spent his entire life running, fighting, surviving—was now lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with his newborn son asleep on his chest.

His boy.

His freakin’ kid.

Dean still wasn’t over it. The weight of something so small, so fragile, just curled up on him like he belonged there.

Which, hell—he did.

The kid was his. Theirs.

A soft chuckle pulled Dean from his thoughts, and he turned his head to see you watching him, a sleepy smile on your face.

“You’re supposed to put him in the bassinet, y’know,” you teased, voice thick with exhaustion and affection.

Dean smirked, shifting slightly but careful not to disturb the tiny human sprawled over his chest. “Yeah, and you’re supposed to be resting.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded. “I can’t sleep when you’re over there looking all—” you gestured vaguely at him, eyes shining. “Like that.”

Dean raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like you’re completely in love.”

Dean huffed, running a hand over his son’s impossibly soft back. “Well… yeah. ‘Cause I am.”

your expression softened, and for a second, you just looked at him—really looked at him. Like you were memorizing this moment, the way he was.

Then you shifted closer, resting your head against his shoulder, your fingers gently brushing over your son’s tiny hand.

“He’s got your freckles,” you murmured.

Dean chuckled, tilting his head to press a kiss to your hair. “Yeah, but he’s got your nose.”

“And your lips.”

“And your eyes.”

you hummed, smiling against his skin. “I think he’s just the perfect mix of both of us.”

Dean swallowed hard, throat tightening with something thick and warm. “Yeah. He is.”

Their baby stirred slightly, making a tiny noise before settling back down, his little hand curling into Dean’s shirt.

And just like that, Dean Winchester was done for.

All the hunts, the losses, the near-death experiences—none of it had ever prepared him for this. For fatherhood.

For love like this.

Dean exhaled slowly, tightening his hold on you as he looked down at your guys son. “This is real, right?” he asked quietly.

you lifted your head, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “It’s real, Dean.”

He nodded, still in awe, still not sure how the hell he got this lucky. Then, with one last glance at the tiny, perfect boy sleeping on his chest, he smirked.

“You know,” he said, voice low and teasing, “if he’s anything like me, we’re in trouble.”

you laughed, warm and sweet. “Oh, I know we’re in trouble.”

Dean grinned, closing his eyes as sleep finally started to pull him under, his wife in his arms and his son safe against his chest.

The apple pie life.

His life.

And for the first time ever Dean Winchester wasn’t afraid of the future.

absolutely beautiful

The Ring

tenth doctor x f!reader

Summary: In which the only way for you and the Doctor to get out of this one is a fake marriage. But how fake is it really?

You keeled over, your breath coming out in short pants. You weren't as good at this running thing as the Doctor was. 

Sensing you weren’t behind him, the Doctor turned to check on you. You threw your thumb up, signaling that you were okay. You didn’t like the Doctor worrying about you. 

“I’m sure we’ve lost them for now,” he assured, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick that he had.

“What are we going to do?” You asked once you had caught your breath. You allowed your legs to fold underneath you, sitting in the grass. The Doctor crouched down next to you. 

It was supposed to be a nice vacation, a break from the hustle and bustle of time traveling. You had explicitly asked for a relaxing trip, one where you didn’t have to save the world or run for your life. You should have known that was never how it was with the Doctor. 

Everything was fine at first. The alien town the Doctor had selected for your trip was throwing an elaborate festival. You were more than happy to partake in the dancing and sample the foreign foods. What you failed to notice was the ritual behind the festival. The village selected an unmarried woman each year to sacrifice to their gods. In retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest ritual you had encountered over the years. What made it so uncomfortable was the fact they had selected you. 

“I would rather not be a blood sacrifice,” you admitted, pushing your wayward hair out of your face. 

“I won’t let that happen,” The Doctor said seriously, taking your hand gently. He had the duty of care, something that he didn’t take lightly. 

“I’m not sure how much good we are against a whole village of bloodthirsty aliens,” you laughed, burying your head in your hands. You should have been scared, upset even. Instead, you found the whole thing funny. You supposed that was a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Everything could always be worse, and everything in front of you could always be funny. You just had to frame it the right way.

“I have an idea,” the Doctor murmured. You looked up at him, confused. He only whispered things when he knew you wouldn’t like them. 

“They only want to sacrifice you because you’re unmarried,” he stated. You stared at him, unsure of the point he was trying to make. 

He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. 

“I’m gonna need you to spell this one out for me,” you laughed lightly.

The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing aggressively. “We could get married,” he said matter-of-factly, with the same tone he used to ask if you wanted tea or coffee in the morning. 

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed. The Doctor swallowed again, his eyes diverting from yours. 

You loved the Doctor, in every sense of the word. He was your home, your comfort. He was everything and more to you. But he only loved you as a friend, and you were more than willing to accept that love. It was better to love him like this than not at all. 

“They can’t sacrifice you if we get married.” 

“No, I got that part,” you rushed out, waving your hands about anxiously.

“You,” you sighed, pausing before continuing, “marry me?” 

“To save your life, yes,” the Doctor said like it was the simplest thing in the world. He would walk to the ends of the universe for you. He had.

“Can we do that?” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. The whole thing felt too good to be true. 

“I can’t think of anyone else I would rather fake-marry,” he smiled, taking your hands in his again. 

You grinned, the smile taking over your whole face. The Doctor loved it when you smiled like that. He loved it even more when he made you smile like that. 

“Let’s get fake married!” you laughed, jumping up from the grass. The Doctor nodded in agreement, standing up next to you. 

“How exactly…” you trailed off. “Are we going to get fake married?” The Doctor had a habit of making plans without a way to execute them. 

It wasn’t like you could just walk into the village church and get married. You certainly couldn’t go back to the TARDIS, or that would have been the plan before suggesting a falsified marriage.

“There was a little cottage on the outskirts of town, we can hope that there’s an inhabitant there who can serve as a witness?” He suggested. 

You couldn’t come up with a better idea so you agreed, following the Doctor as he walked off into the distance. 

You tried not to read too much into the whole marriage thing. The Doctor was doing it to save your life, nothing more. Still, the mere idea of it left your skin tingling and your heart racing. 

You were so lost in thought you hardly noticed the cottage creeping up on you until you were standing on the front steps. 

The Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wood softly before stepping back. You waited in silence for a few moments. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What if this didn’t work? 

The door flung open, revealing an old woman. 

“What do you want?” She barked, clearly disturbed by the visit. 

The Doctor cleared his throat, searching for his words. You frowned, he usually didn’t have any trouble talking to strangers. 

“This is a bit of a strange request,” he laughed lightly, his hand drifting towards the back of his neck subconsciously. 

“Spit it out, young man.” 

You bit back a giggle. The Doctor was far from young, even if this face was youthful. 

“We need a witness for our wedding,” he rushed, his words coming out in hurried clusters. 

The woman remained silent for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of you. You could see hundreds of questions forming in her mind before she shook them away. 

“I don’t want to know,” she murmured as she opened the door. 

You exchanged a look of relief with the Time Lord before following her inside. 

She bustled about her cottage, sorting things out while the two of you fiddled anxiously in the corner. 

“Well, let's get on with it,” she finally sighed. 

The Doctor nodded timidly, holding out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his, your fingers interlocking instantaneously. You had held hands hundreds of times, yet it felt different.

With his other hand, the Doctor rifled about in the pockets of his coat. You frowned, wondering what could possibly be in there. Did he really need a jammy dodger from the depths of his pocket right now? Finally, his hand slipped out of the pocket holding two silver rings. 

“Why, on Earth, are you carrying around wedding bands?” you laughed. He only shrugged, handing the simple rings over to the old woman. She examined the objects in her hand wistfully, turning them over in her hand. 

“I can’t say I’m a professional at this,” she warned. It didn’t really matter to either of you.

The Doctor took your other hand in his, standing face-to-face with you. You laughed at the domesticity of it. 

“Do you,” the woman paused, looking at the Doctor. 

“John Smith,” The Doctor smiled. You shook your head at his fake name. You had told him hundreds of times that he should change it. No one was really named John Smith, that's the kind of name you only ever found in books. 

“Alright,” the woman said, not even blinking. “Do you, John Smith, take this woman to love and hold blah, blah, blah?” She finished, looking back to the Doctor. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were glued to you, studying every single aspect of your face. He never wanted to forget this moment. From your end of things, you were left with a sickly feeling that you had food on your face. 

“I do,” He smiled brightly. 

“And you?” she turned to you, repeating the process. 

“Absolutely,” you grinned. 

The woman handed you each a ring, which you placed on the other’s hand. You noted the slight shake in the Doctor’s hands as he slipped the silver band onto your finger.

You had always wanted to get married. Sure, you never imagined it like this. Standing in some random cottage in a pair of worn-out jeans exchanging wedding bands in order to save your life was never your plan. Even still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You may kiss the bride,” The old woman chided, looking at you two disapprovingly. You were so busy looking into the Doctor’s eyes that you completely forgot about the whole kissing part of getting married. 

A scarlet flush overtook your face, but the Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands gently, angling it upwards towards his. Slowly, he dipped his way down until his lips were inches away from yours. 

You could feel his breath on your mouth, you noted each and every twitch of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as he eliminated the gap, his mouth crashing into yours. 

He very well could have given you a chaste kiss, the kind you give your gran on Christmas Eve. Instead, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about kissing you for eons. 

His mouth fit against yours perfectly. There was no other way to describe it. 

He pulled away slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless. Your eyes remained closed for a moment, taking it all in. When they finally opened, you saw him. Your Doctor. The impossible, magnificent, loving creature in front of you. It was foolish to claim that such a being was yours alone, but you couldn’t see it any other way. 

“Congratulations,” the old woman smiled, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, pushing your hair out of your face. 

-

You didn’t keep the ring on long. A few days after your wedding it came off with the rest of your jewelry before bed. You just never put it back on. It was a fake wedding after all. 

That didn’t mean that you threw it away though. Quite the opposite. The ring sat on your bedside table, occasionally glimmering in the light. 

Sometimes, you would run your fingers over it before bed. You relished the idea of it all. The memory of his hands holding yours, the feeling of his lips on yours. It haunted you.

The Doctor, however, never took it off. Not after the wedding. Not before bed. Not when he fiddled with the wires under the TARDIS console. 

You noticed this one evening, the dimmed lights of the control room catching on the polished metal. 

“Why do you still wear that?” you asked, gesturing to the Doctor’s left hand. His eyes traveled to the band on his finger that he had been idly spinning. 

“It’s my wedding band,” he shrugged as if it was as simple as that. 

“I’m not sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I’m not even sure our wedding was legal.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowned, still looking at the ring. 

“I can take it off if it bothers you,” he suggested. He didn’t want to take it off, not ever. But if you wanted him to, he would. 

“It doesn’t,” you whispered, staring at the space where your own ring used to be. The feeling of his lips came back to you, and you had to push it to the side. 

“Did it mean nothing to you?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening you might have missed it. 

“Not at all,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“You don’t wear yours,” he commented, taking your left hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, not trusting yourself to meet his eye. 

“You married me to save my life,” you stated. 

“And?” 

“It was a fake marriage.” 

“Not to me,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes drifted up to his face. He was looking at your hand with a pained expression. For the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps the absence of your ring was upsetting to him. For so long, you had assumed that he just wanted to forget the whole thing. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “I always wanted you to be my wife.” 

You didn’t know what to say. For a minute, you hardly believed the words coming from his mouth. 

“I always wanted you to be my husband,” you whispered, leaning in towards him. You paused, your breath bouncing off of his lips. It reminded you of your first kiss, the familiarity of it shocking. 

You learned in and kissed him gently, a tender kiss to test the waters. You pulled away, unsure if this was what he wanted. The Doctor gripped your face, crashing his lips against yours in a much more urgent matter. You smiled against his mouth, melting into the kiss. 

“My wife,” he chuckled between the kisses he planted all over your face. 

“My husband.”

I read this atleast once a week

public eye (drew starkey x fem!reader)

pairing: drew starkey x reader

warnings: none, all cute shiz and some sexy moments. ;) shotgunning smoke, make out.

summary: all the times the public thought the two of you were dating, and the one time they knew.

a/n: sorry I've been on such a long break, life got a bit busy recently but i'm hoping to get back into writing - especially for drew! also sorry if the use of arse scares anyone - im british x

requests open!

word count: 1.8k

You and Drew has always been close. The cast were aware, the fans were aware. Ever since season one of Outer Banks came out, and both of your statuses grew, people began to dig. Your relationship friendship dated all the way back to your teenage years, doing multiple high school theatre shows together, and going on to attend the same University.

This also meant that there were a lot of photos and videos of the two of you being stupid kids, and while you had never explicitly said you were dating, even denying it to this day, there were early on suspicions.

A main one being the hundreds of photos together at family events, arms wrapped around each other, in some his jacket thrown over your shoulders as weddings went on into the night.

Though, the more incriminating stuff came much more recently, as now people knew who you were and so what was and wasn't posted was no longer in your control.

→ Sleeping Angels

The first video to cause rumours was posted onto Chase's story. It was short, only fifteen seconds or so, meaning no one was really concerned about what it might cause.

It was clearly from the set of OBX as the trailer surrounding you was littered with both cast and crew members, all shuffling around while you and drew were the complete contrast.

The pair of you were lying (quite comfortably) on a leather l-shaped sofa in the corner of the room. You could hear what you assumed to be Chase and Rudy giggling as they approached, laughing at how tightly Drew held you to him.

You were wrapped closely into his chest, arms lying softly on his wait while on of his held the back of your head, the other tucked under your t-shirt (which was actually your characters wardrobe and not your own) sitting on your back.

They couldn't see your face, but judging by Drew's closed eyes they could assume you were asleep.

Ever so gently the boys began to take gummy worms from their pockets. Each placing one in both of Drew's ears, and finally one was wedged into his mouth which woke him up.

At first, he was confused, looking down at you but upon seeing you still asleep his eyes looked up, squinting to avoid the lights. Unable to hide their humour at the situation anymore Chase and Rudy burst into laughter, Drew joining but much quieter due to his sleepy state as he threw the gummy worms back at the pair.

The removal of his hand on your back is what brought you back to the non-sleeping world. Hearing a mumbled 'fuck off' from Drew as he smiled at the two boys.

"What's happening?" You mumbled, utterly confused, hair sticking up in every direction and Drew quickly attempted to smooth it down maintaining your dignity as you were filmed.

"Nothing. Ignore these idiots ba-." The camera quickly shut off, leaving the viewers intrigued. What had Drew been about to say? Was it an accident? It was all unclear.

Of course with obsessed fans it didn't take long for rumours to fly, the main one being that the words coming out of his mouth were to be 'baby'. They were right. Thought you wouldn't tell them that, not yet at least.

→ Poguelandia

The next clip to blow up and cause hysteria was the two of you at the Outer Banks season three event 'Poguelandia'. You had arrived together and explored together, alongside Austin, your arm linked through the two boys'.

You talked to fans, played minigames and drank. Drank a lot. Which you blamed for your obliviousness when acting a bit too close to Drew for someone who wasn't dating him. To be fair, he also could've avoided it and yet neither of you did.

It happened as the cast and close friends stood atop the exclusive stage, all singing and dancing together as bands played - especially when 'Left hand free' came on.

You mostly behaved for the first twenty minutes, dancing with Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia but soon you wanted to spend some time with Drew, tending to get clingy when tipsy.

You began your walk over as the video begun, Madelyn attempting to grab your arm but it was a futile attempt as now, with him in your sights, you were determined.

The girls looked concerned before Austin- who was stood with Drew- leaned over and whispered something to them all, waving off their concern as they continued to dance and the camera now panned to you and the much taller boy.

You were talking, pressed against the edge of the silver fence which kept you from falling as the crowd kept growing around you.

As you got bumped by an unknown person Drew wrapped his arm around your waist, offering you a sip of his drink which you gladly took but soon regretted as you realised it was beer.

He chuckled with a smirk already knowing you didn't like it. Then he said something, but as the camera was miles away the viewers began to assume, and being reasonable, it did look awfully similar to 'sorry, sweetheart' before you received a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Soon after you joking turned away in annoyance, facing the stage and beginning to sway, your front pressed against the fence, back against Drew's stomach. He wrapped his hand around your waist, beginning to sway with you and you could tell the Filmer subtly freaked out as the camera jolted for a few seconds before it zoomed in further.

It showed Austin wide eyed as he searched the crowd for anyone watching. Not seeing anyone he shrugged taking a sip from his plastic cup before once again dancing with a smile.

Unfortunately, he had been wrong and once again your and Drew's relationship was being speculated.

→ Italy

The final clip of you and Drew which went viral without real confirmation of anything more than a close friendship was while he was filming in Italy.

After being spotted out and about alone for months, suddenly you appeared by his side wearing a pretty sundress, once again arm linked through his.

He wore a cap and you both wear sunglasses, looking like typical celebrities avoiding being spotted, though now it was known he had been here for months it was near impossible.

You were stood calmly in a corner attempting to navigate the way to a restaurant you were going to try when a small group of girls approached you both.

They explained they were big fans of Outer Banks and both of your characters in said show, asking very politely for a photograph in their adorable Italian accents.

They began screen recording in order to be able to capture the whole interaction, as fans often did and it was decided you would take the photo as you were in the middle, the girls on one side, drew on the other.

The viewers watched as you took the phone, hand briefly passing the camera showing a thick silver band ring, in it was a delicately carved cursive 'D'.

As soon as the girls watched the video back and saw it they posted the video to Tik Tok, it garnering as much attention as you imagined it would when showing something so potentially interesting.

What they didn't expect, however, was the further observations. The most major being the necklace that had been in almost every photo of Drews for the past few years, the charm which hung from the end now looked weirdly similar to your necklace, and the viewers couldn't help but wonder if it was a matching one of his own, with your initial carved instead of his.

It was.

→ The Conformation.

The final and real proof to all the fans who suspected you and Drew may be together was a video of the two of you at a cast night out in South Carolina at a club.

The two of you were stood outside of said club, clearly trying to cool down as both of you faces were red, Drew's shirt unbuttoned at the top, his chest rosy must like his cheeks.

He was leant against the wall of the club, legs wide as you stood between them, hands placed on his hips ever so slightly holding his shirt between your fingers.

Your dress which was black and almost fully covered in diamonds shimmered under the moonlight and you could see mouth something along the lines of 'you look beautiful' followed by you leaning forward, burying your smiling face into his neck.

His hand, which wasn't holding a lit cigarette came up to hold the back of your head, throwing his own back against the bricks in a laugh, clearly finding your bashfulness cute.

Soon enough the conversation turned from casual to flirty, body language changing in a way so blatant, you could tell from the other side of the screen.

Your hands moved from his waist to around his neck, hands linked behind his head as his spare hand held your waist, thumb soothing over the fabric covered skin every once in a while.

Realising his cigarette had been left unattended for a while, Drew brought it up to his lips, inhaling deeply. A wordless conversation ensued between the two of you as he brought you closer, mouths inches from each other as he exhaled into your mouth.

The smirk was evident on his lips as you blew the smoke from yours in turn, quickly pulling you in once again - this time your mouths connecting in a speedy rhythm.

You struggled to keep up due to his height, stretching onto your tip toes even in the platform boots you had put on for this very reason. He realised this, laughing, eyes still closed and lips still next to yours as he decided to lean down further to meet you instead.

As the kiss grew more intense, tongues now making appearance and putting on a show for the whole street, his hands reached down (having long since threw the cigarette to the ground) holding your arse between his palms.

Sadly, your moment was put to an end as a relieved looking JD ran out of the clubs door, seeing the two of you.

He patted you on the back, a blush covering his cheeks - from the heat or the intrusion it was unclear - and said something to the two of you before leaving and giving you a moment to gather yourselves.

You both stood up fixing your postures and straightening each others clothes before you shared one final peck, soon after heading inside, hands entangled.

Soon after, the video was posted onto every single social media platform with the caption, Y/N L/N AND DREW STARKEY MAKE IT OFFICAL DURING STEAMY KISS OUTSIDE SOUTH CAROLINA CLUB.

If only they knew you had been dating for years and this was most definitely not the first 'steamy kiss' the two of you had shared.

Bunny

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 actually said I'd never do another series again but here we are 😼. Looollll anywho, Y/N literally is literally a walking definition of older child syndrome and her and Rafe hate eachother so much stop. This is gonna be such a good enemies to lovers get me outta here

warnings: mentions of drugs, smoking, drinking, a strip club (duh), naked women, drug dealing, aggressive behaviour.

(P2)

The faucet dripped steadily, each drop hitting the rust-stained sink with an echo that filled the quiet of the house. Y/N stood in the cramped bathroom, arms crossed, lips pressed together in frustration as she watched the slow but relentless leak. 

Another thing broken. 

Another thing they couldn’t afford to fix.

She let out a slow breath, running a hand down her face before turning sharply at the sound of footsteps thudding through the hallway. She knew them well—JJ, heading for the door, heading out. Again.

“JJ.” 

Her voice was firm, but it barely slowed him down as he moved through the house, searching for his keys. He muttered, pushing past the worn couch and shoving a hand into the pocket of his frayed shorts.

“Not now, Y/N, alright?” 

“JJ, seriously.” 

She stepped into his path, arms out now, forcing him to stop. 

“Can you just- can you talk to me for five seconds?”

“What?”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, but there was impatience in them, already halfway gone even as he stood in front of her. Y/N clenched her jaw, gesturing back toward the bathroom. 

“Shit’s breaking faster than I can fix it. We need money and I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll figure something out, okay?” 

JJ sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he stepped around her, heading toward the door again. She let out a humorless scoff watching her brother avoid the conversation- once again.

 “What about that job interview at the gas station I told you about last week?”

She’d told him about it last monday, she could still remember begging the manager to give him a chance, given his reputation- well it wasn't the best. JJ’s shoulders tensed slightly, and for the first time, he hesitated. 

“Uh… yeah, about that…”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She already knew the answer before he finished his sentence. She spoke slowly, warning in her tone.

 “JJ” 

“Look, me and the Pogues were fishing, and we kinda… lost track of time.”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. Y/N shut her eyes, exhaling sharply as she lifted her hands to cover her face. 

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, technically, I did show up. Just… a little late.”

JJ let out a half-hearted chuckle, like maybe that’d soften the blow. She dropped her hands, shaking her head as exhaustion settled deep in her bones. 

“Jesus, Jay. Do you even care?”

JJ frowned but didn’t answer right away. He knew he was being a little unreasonable- but in his defense he was just a teen. His silence however told her everything. She looked at him and momentarily took in his appearance, his messy blond hair, his summer kissed skin; she envied him a little, the way he was always out and about, not worried, never stressed. She muttered, turning on her heel.

“Forget it” 

“Y/N—”

But she was already walking away, back toward the bathroom, back toward the leaking faucet, back toward everything she had to deal with alone. JJ hesitated for a second, watching her go, then sighed and yanked open the door. And then it shut behind him, leaving Y/N standing there in the silence. She swallowed hard, blinking back the stinging frustration behind her eyes.

"Yeah," she muttered to herself, voice barely above a whisper.

 "Guess I'll figure it out myself."

After a while she had given up on the leaky faucet, cleaning up the house- to the best of her ability- before settling down in the kitchen.The stack of bills sat on the dining table, a messy pile of final notices and overdue warnings. Y/N stared at them, her fingers running over the edges of the envelopes, as if touching them could somehow make the numbers smaller, make the debt disappear. The utilities, the rent- hell, even the grocery bill? It was all piling up faster than she could keep up with. Sometimes she wished she could turn back time, move back to when she didn't even know about all of this, before she showed her dad she could look after herself - and JJ… maybe then she wouldn't have this constant weight on her shoulders.

With a sigh, she dropped her head down onto the table, resting her forehead against the cool surface. Think, think, think. There had to be a way to come up with money, something quick, something that didn’t involve relying on JJ, because clearly that wasn’t an option either now. Her mind raced through possibilities, but every idea led to a dead end. The front door swung open and then slammed shut. Y/N didn’t even lift her head as heavy, stumbling footsteps made their way inside. 

She knew that gait all too well. 

Her jaw clenched as her father mumbled something incoherent under his breath, his words slurred, laced with whatever shit he had put in his system tonight. She stayed still, hoping, praying, that he’d just pass out somewhere and leave her be. Without a word to her, he shuffled through the house, disappearing into her bedroom. Y/N pursed her lips, lifting her head slightly as she listened to him rustling around in there. She knew better than to go after him. Whatever he was looking for- money, booze, something to pawn- she wasn’t about to get in his way.

Instead, she pushed back from the table, standing up slowly, her hands pressing against the wood as she steadied herself. The house was too quiet now, except for the occasional sound of drawers opening and closing in her room. Her stomach twisted. She needed to get out of here, needed to fix this mess before it swallowed her whole.

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

She’d been driving with no real destination, letting the silence of the night and the hum of the engine settle her thoughts. She’s gripping the wheel tightly, her thoughts tangled in the mess of overdue payments, an empty fridge, and a father and brother who barely acknowledge her existence unless they want something.Then, as she’s driving through the dimly lit streets, she passes by it. The neon sign flickers, casting a dull pink glow onto the pavement, and without even thinking, she slams the brakes. Her car comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the empty street and can feel her seat belt digging into her chest momentarily, her heart pounding as she stares at the building.

It’s not like she’s never thought about it before. 

She’s heard things, seen the type of girls who walk in and out of there, all done up with money to spend. And right now, she has nothing- nothing but overdue bills and a house falling apart. Her hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. A part of her wants to just drive away, pretend she never even considered it. But another part of her- the part that’s desperate, the part that’s sick of drowning- knows this might be her only shot. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath before finally pulling her car to the curb. She sits there for a second, hands still on the wheel, staring at the entrance, she brings her hand up to rub it down her face, hand resting over her mouth as she thinks. 

Really thinks.

Then, before she can change her mind, she kills the engine and steps out.

The night air is cool against her skin, but it does nothing to settle the heat rising in her chest. Her heart is hammering, her stomach twisting as she closes the car door behind her. The pavement feels unsteady beneath her feet as she walks toward the entrance. The music from inside is faint but pulsing, the bass reverberating through the ground. She hesitates, staring at the worn-down exterior and the neon sign buzzing overhead. As she approached the door, something caught her eye- a flyer taped to the window, the bold letters glaring at her in the dimming light.

NOW HIRING

This is insane. 

She shouldn’t be here.

And yet, she doesn’t turn around, instead her fingers flex at her sides before she pushes the door open, stepping inside. The shift in atmosphere is immediate. The air is thick with perfume and alcohol, the dim lighting casting deep shadows across the room. The club isn’t packed- it’s late on a weekday- but there are still men scattered around, cash in hand, eyes glued to the stage. A girl moves fluidly under the colored lights, her body illuminated by pinks and blues as she wraps herself around the pole. Y/N swallows, forcing herself to keep walking, past the wandering eyes of men who glance at her but don’t linger. She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going, only that if she stops now, she’ll most likely lose her nerve.

She spots a bar toward the back and makes a beeline for it, hands slightly clammy. A woman stands behind the counter, pouring a drink for some guy in a suit. Y/N waits until she’s done before leaning in slightly. 

“Hey, um- do you know who I talk to if I’m looking for a job?”

The woman lifts a brow, gaze flicking over Y/N, taking her in. Then, without a word, she jerks her chin toward a door near the back as she picks up a glass on the counter and starts drying it. 

“Through there. Ask for Tommy.”

Y/N nods, her pulse jumping as she turns toward the door. This is it. She can still leave, still pretend she never came here. But instead, she takes a breath and pushes the door open. The door swings shut behind her with a dull thud, muffling the thumping bass from the main room. The air back here feels different- less suffocating, it’s dimly lit, the walls lined with old vintage posters of strippers and liquor crates, the faint scent of cigarettes lingers in the air.

Y/N’s eyes adjust quickly, landing on a man seated behind a cluttered desk, lazily counting a stack of cash. He looks to be in his late forties, broad-shouldered with thinning hair and a face that’s seen its fair share of rough nights. A half-smoked cigarette dangles between his fingers. He doesn’t look up immediately, just exhales a cloud of smoke before finally lifting his gaze to hers. His eyes sweep over her, slow and calculating. 

“You lost, sweetheart?”

“I saw you were hiring.”

Y/N shakes her head, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.That piques his interest. He leans back in his chair, eyeing her with something between amusement and scrutiny. 

“That so?”

“Yeah. I—I need a job.”

She nods, trying to keep her voice steady. Tommy taps his fingers against the desk, sizing her up. 

“You ever danced before?”

Y/N hesitates for half a second, “No.”

He smirks like he expected that answer, responding with a slow nod as he places the money he was counting into an envelope labeled ‘Bambi’. 

“You got any experience bartending? Serving?”

“...I'm a waitress at the country club.”

His brow lifts, and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to laugh in her face. Instead, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his jaw, momentarily pausing as he closes up the envelope, puts it onto a pile and looks up to her. 

“So, what? You just walked in here hoping I’d throw you on stage?”

“I’m a fast learner.”

Y/N presses her lips together, shifting on her feet. Tommy watches her for a beat, then gestures toward the empty chair across from him. 

“Sit.”

She does, moving forward and lowering herself onto the chair in front of him, the leather squeaking a little as it makes contact with her bare thighs. He studies her in the dim light, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. 

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” he says, dragging the word out like he’s tasting it. “You don’t look like a girl who just woke up one day and decided this is what she wanted to do. So tell me- what are you really doing here?”

“I need the money.”

Y/N clenches her jaw. Tommy hums, nodding like that doesn’t surprise him as he taps the ash of his cigarette on the edge of an empty whiskey glass. 

“That part’s obvious.” 

He leans forward slightly as he continues, resting his elbows on the table. 

“But I need to know what I’m dealing with. You got people who’ll come looking for you? A jealous boyfriend? Strict parents? Any reason this might come back to bite me in the ass?”

Y/N hesitates, because the truth is- complicated. JJ wouldn’t approve, not in a million years, his sister working in a strip club? There was no way he would be happy about it, but the more she thought about it, he’s barely around- and besides she is the older sibling. And Luke? She doubts he’d even notice with the way he’s always high out of his mind. Yet deep down she knew, if he did find out it certainly wouldn’t end well.

“No,” she says finally. 

“No one’s coming after me.”

Tommy watches her carefully, like he’s weighing her answer. Then, with a slow nod, he exhales another stream of smoke and flicks his butt of his cigarette into the glass. 

“Alright, Y/N… I’ll give you a shot.”

Relief floods her chest, but it’s short-lived as he continues.

“First things first- you start off small. No stage, not yet. You’ll work the floor. Waitress, maybe some private rooms if you’re up for it. Tips are yours, but the house gets a cut. If you prove you can handle yourself, we’ll talk about dancing.”

Y/N nods, ignoring the way her stomach tightens at the mention of private rooms. She can handle this. She has to. Tommy gestures toward the door. 

“Come in tomorrow night. Nine o’clock. One of the girls will show you the ropes.”

“Okay, thank you.”

He hums out as Y/N stands up, gripping the back of the chair briefly before letting go. As she turns to leave her hand reaching out for the door handle, Tommy’s voice stops her.

“One last thing, sweetheart.”

She glances back.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

His gaze is sharp, knowing. Y/N doesn’t reply. What could she possibly say to him? She just nods once and steps back through the door, back into the neon-lit haze of the club.

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

The dressing room hummed with chatter, the air thick with the scent of perfume, body shimmer, and a mix of fruity smoke drifting around. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting girls in various states of getting ready- adjusting lingerie straps, applying a final coat of lip gloss, securing thigh-high stockings into garter belts. Y/N sat at one of the vanities, leaning in close as she fixed the last flick of her eyeliner. Her figure was wrapped in black lace, tiny straps and sheer panels leaving just enough to the imagination- but she still had a few finishing touches to go. Naomi- better known as Bambi- was beside her, placing her straightener down and popping her gum loudly as she smirked at Y/N through the mirror. 

“You’re getting faster at this,” She mused, eyes flicking down to Y/N’s hands as she fastened a delicate silver choker with a small heart pendant around her neck. 

“First week, you were takin’ forever in here. Now look at you. A real pro, Bunny.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, smoothing out a stray strand of hair before reaching for her gloss. She teased, voice light but with that tired edge that never quite went away these days.

“Yeah, yeah. You gonna pat me on the head next?” 

“Mmm, maybe after your first private dance of the night. If you’re good girl.”

Bambi grinned and Y/N huffed a laugh, pressing her lips together to even out the gloss. A month and some into this life, and she wasn’t sure if she was settling in or just getting better at pretending she had. It was easier now- knowing the regulars, knowing what songs meant what, knowing how to smile just enough but not too much. The money helped. 

God, did the money help.

She glanced down at her phone, screen lighting up with a notification. 

JJ :  Staying at John B’s 

JJ  :  See you tmr

JJ  :  Good luck at work!!!

Y/N stares at the screen for a moment, her stomach twisting like it always does when she thinks about how much she’s keeping from him. He thinks she picked up an extra night cleaning shift at the country club since that’s what she told him. He has no idea that while he’s crashing at the chateau, she’s slipping into heels and stepping onto a stage under flashing neon lights. She locks her phone, pushing the thought away. 

Guilt won’t pay the bills.

“Busy night, you think?”

She spoke as she ignored the message, flipping the phone over and looking back at the girl next to her. Bambi gave a lazy stretch, rolling out her shoulders. 

“Always is on a Friday. High rollers’ll be in. You might get lucky.”

“Yeah, real lucky.”

Y/N scoffed, grabbing her perfume and spritzing it lightly over her collarbones. Bambi side-eyed her, then leaned in with a smirk. 

“Come on, Bunny. You might actually have fun tonight. If not, at least make it worth your while.”

Y/N just hummed, adjusting the strap on her heel as the familiar pulse of bass-heavy music leaked in from the club floor. The music thrums through the floor as Y/N steps out of the dressing room, the familiar pulse of bass settling into her bones. The club is alive tonight- packed booths, the bar swarmed with men flashing cash, neon strobes flickering over clinking glasses and loose laughter. Bambi walks beside her, adjusting the strap of her bra as she surveys the crowd. 

“It’s a good night,” she muses, eyes gleaming as a man waves down a waitress with a fat roll of bills in his hand. 

“Everyone’s in a generous mood hmm.”

 “Looks like it.”

Y/N hums, already spotting a few regulars scattered through the crowd. The air is thick with perfume and cologne, the scent of whiskey and something heavier and smokier lingering beneath. Girls weave through the crowd, balancing trays of drinks, draping themselves over men who let them. The DJ’s set switches, the bass rattling the room, A voice calls from near the DJ booth, and Bambi nudges Y/N with her hip, a smirk tugging at her lips as she sends her a little kiss.

“Knock ’em dead, baby.”

Y/N exhales, rolling her shoulders back as she steps into the chaos of the club. The energy is thick tonight- bodies packed around the stage, eager hands already tossing bills, the bass thrumming deep in her ribs. She grips the pole, the cool metal grounding her for a brief moment before she moves.The nerves are familiar but distant now, part of the routine; she’s used to it- the way the outside world fades the second she steps onto the platform.

Her body flows with the music, slow and teasing at first, rolling her hips as she wraps a leg around the pole and lifts herself with ease. She spins, the world blurring for a second, heels gliding effortlessly over the platform. A whistle cuts through the noise. A few more bills flutter at her feet.

She twists, sliding down with a deliberate drag before pushing herself back up, hooking her knee and arching her back; thighs squeezing the pole as she extends her body in a perfect line. The music pulses, dictating her movements- fluid and sultry. For a moment, there’s nothing but the heat of the lights and the electric charge of the crowd.

But then as she lifts her gaze mid-spin, her eyes catch on something in the far corner.

Two men in a booth, half-hidden in the dim lighting. They sit relaxed, a quiet presence amidst the chaos, yet people keep coming up to them- leaning in, hands subtly exchanging cash, small bags slipping from one palm to another. She doesn’t need to look too closely to know what’s going down. She presses her palm to the pole, as her feet hit the platform again, hips swaying slowly, her focus slipping back to the crowd in front of her, but something gnaws at her, pulling her attention back. Then, the lights shift, a quick flash of neon, just bright enough to cut through the shadows, and she sees him.

Rafe Cameron.

And he’s looking right at her.

Leaning back in the booth, one arm draped lazily over the seat, a glass of whiskey in his other hand. Her breath catches in her throat, her grip faltering just slightly as she steadies herself. But it’s too late. Her moment is stiffer now, the tension stretched between them, across the crowded room, and he’s locked in the way he watches her. Unblinking. She can’t tell what he’s thinking but she knows one thing for certain- 

He knows exactly who she is.

Y/N forces herself to keep moving, to stay in rhythm with the music despite the ice-cold feeling creeping up her spine. But it’s impossible to ignore the weight of Rafe’s stare. It lingers burning through the dim haze of the club. She glides down the pole, making sure to keep her expression smooth- indifferent. Her heart is hammering against her ribs, but no one in the audience would know it. They see only the show, the slow hypnotising sway of her hips as she lands back on the stage, the way her fingers tease at the hem of her lace bra before she moves toward the edge of the stage dropping to her knees. The song is winding down. One last arch of her back, one last deliberate sweep of her hands up her thighs before letting the final beat pulse through her body.

Applause, whistles, the sound of crisp bills hitting the stage.

She scoops up what she can as she stands, but her mind is barely there. Not when she can still feel the weight of him watching. As she steps offstage, she risks a glance toward the booth again.This time Barry is grinning, chatting with some guy in a backwards cap who’s slipping a wad of cash into his pocket. And Rafe- he’s still looking at her, Y/N’s breath catches as their eyes meet again and this time, he smirks. It’s small, almost lazy, but there’s something in it that makes her stomach flip.

Shit.

She rips her gaze away, hurrying toward the bar, barely registering the sound of heels clicking against the floor or the music thumping through the speakers. She drops her earnings into her basket at the end of the bar- before grabbing a glass of water. Her hands are steady as she lifts it, but her heart is pounding wildly. The bartender gives her a once-over as she wipes down the counter. 

“Damn, Bunny- y'look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You have no idea.”

Y/N exhales, pressing the cold glass to her lips. Her eyes drift back to Rafe before she can stop herself. He’s talking to someone else now, some guy in a backward cap, shaking his hand as something small and discreet trades between them-

Fucking hell.

She jumps at the sudden touch on her arm, nearly spilling her drink. Whipping around, she exhales sharply when she sees who it is.

“Jesus, Tommy.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing- It’s nothing.”

She responds as she shakes her head slightly, Tommy doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it slide.

“Someone put in a request for you.”

“Who?”

Y/N wipes her palm against her thigh, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up her spine. Tommy leans in slightly, his voice calling out over the music as his head nods in the direction she was just looking. 

“Rafe Cameron.”

Y/N freezes and Tommy notices her stiff shoulders instantly. 

“Something I should know about?”

“Um… I think he and his friend are selling coke-”

“—I know” 

Tommy says easily as he picks up one of the clean empty glasses on the bar, putting it away. Y/N frowns at his words. Since the first day she’d started working here, he had stated to her he had ‘zero-tolerance’ for any of the girls doing coke… so how come now, Rafe Cameron was allowed to walk in here and make this his personal dealing spot. 

“But I thought you—”

“I made a deal with them,” he shrugs, “keeps people coming in, keeps them buying drinks. Business is business Y/N.”

“Right.”

Y/N purses her lips as he speaks and Tommy studies her for a moment, then gestures towards where Rafe was sitting, once again passing over something she couldn't quite make out to a man in a white shirt. 

“I can send someone else, but you’ll lose out on the cash for the night.” 

His voice has that slight edge to it, the one that tells her he won’t be making a habit of exceptions. She hesitates. She could probably say no. She should say no. But then she thinks about the pile of bills waiting for her at home, the ones she still doesn’t know how she’s going to all pay.

“I—” She clears her throat. 

“It’s fine.”

“Good. He’s waiting.”

Y/N exhales, setting her glass down with a quiet clink and then she turns, smoothing out her hair, checking her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Rafe still leaned back in one of the lounge chairs, legs spread, arm slung over the back of the seat. Barry is beside him, but he isn’t paying attention to whatever he’s saying. His eyes are already on her.

Watching. 

Waiting.

She swallows hard, ignoring the way her pulse kicks up as she straightens her shoulders and starts moving toward him. Her heels click against the floor, her movements slow and she can feel the weight of his gaze. When she finally stops in front of him, Rafe tips his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey there, Bunny.”

Y/N clenches her jaw at the sound of his voice- low and smooth, edged with amusement. She doesn’t let it show, though. Instead, she gives him the same sultry smile she’s perfected for every other man who’s sat in front of her.

“Cameron” 

She says, tilting her head slightly, letting her fingers trail lightly over her bare thigh. Rafe grins like this is all some kind of joke. Like she isn’t standing in front of him in six-inch heels and a barely-there outfit, about to dance for him like she doesn’t know exactly who he is.

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you here"

His voice is smug like he’s savouring every second of this. Y/N bites back a retort. She wants to tell him to fuck off. Wants to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here, why he put in a request for her.

But she doesn’t. 

Because she can’t.

Her fingers twitch by her side as she takes a step closer instead, smoothly moving into his space. Rafe doesn’t move back. If anything, his smirk deepens as he spreads his legs a little wider and Barry chuckles beside him, knocking back the rest of his drink before running his hand over his head. He mutters, already moving to stand.

“ 'ight I’ll leave you to it,” 

But before he can leave, Rafe shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips,

"No, no—stay man."

Y/N’s stomach twists. She doesn’t want an audience, especially not Barry, she doesn't even want to be doing this in the first place. The club is still packed, neon lights flickering across the space. There are men scattered around, girls in their laps, some whispering things in their ears that’ll have them reaching for their wallets without hesitation. Y/N has done this a hundred times now. She knows the drill.

But this- this is different.

She inhales slowly as she notices Barry sitting back in his seat, eyes racking over her body and she has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She hesitant, her inner conflict gnawing at her mind but eventually she lets out a small breath a moves forward, swinging a leg over Rafe’s lap, lowering herself onto his thighs, moving her hips in a way that’s meant to tease. She lets her hands trail up his chest in a way that’s meant to be practiced and seductive. But then- his hand comes to rest on her hip.

Her whole body tenses.

Rafe notices. Of course he does. His thumb presses against the curve of her hip, just enough to make her teeth clench. Y/N forces a tight-lipped smile, shifting on his lap just enough to make it look like part of the dance- but really, it’s an attempt to put space between them. Her voice stays low, sharp beneath the sultry act.

"There’s a no-touching policy."

Rafe’s smirk doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens. His fingers stay right where they are, his grip on her hip solid, unmoving. He tilts his head slightly, blue eyes gleaming with something threatening.

"None of the policies here apply to me, Maybank."

He speaks out as his finger slips under the strap of her black thong, tugging on it and letting it snap back into position, the feeling causing a sharp sting on her skin. The way he says her last name- it’s teasing, taunting. Like he enjoys the way it sounds in his mouth and Y/N can’t help but clench her jaw at the thought, heat creeping up her neck.bShe doesn’t let her movements falter though, even as his words sink into her skin like a slow-burning ember. Her ass grinds down onto his lap intone with the song blaring out through teh clubs speakers, her fingers trailing over his shoulders, a practiced motion, a distraction- for herself more than for him.

“That so?”

She murmurs, voice light, teasing, playing into the role she’s supposed to be in. Rafe lets out a quiet hum, his thumb stroking over the thin fabric of her outfit.

“Mhm. I don’t think Tommy would wanna lose his best customers, do you?”

She bites down on the inside of her cheek at his words but th rhythmic roll of her hips never stops. She knows he' s pushing her.

It’s in his nature.

Barry lets out a low whistle from his seat which is followed by a chuckle. Her eye's drift over to him sitting his legs spread wide as he takes lazy sips from his drink.

“Damn didn’t peg you for this line of work Maybank. Not that I’m complainin’.”

Her spine stiffens, at she meets his eye's- yet she refuses to give them the satisfaction of leaving before the song is finished. Her focus shifts to Rafe, on the smug expression he wears as he watches her, like he’s got all the time in the world.

Like he’s enjoying this far too much.

Y/N exhales sharply through her nose. He’s trying to get under her skin. And it’s working. Rafe grins, his grip on her hips unwavering he taunts, his other hand sliding down to her thigh, drifting awfully close to her inner thigh as he tilts his head slightly.

“What’s the matter huh? You dance for all these guys, but you’re nervous around me?”

The song drags on, seconds feeling like minutes. Her body moves on instinct, performing for him, back arching as she struggles not to unravel under his gaze. And then, just as she starts to think she can get through this without losing it- he leans in. His breath fans against her ear as he speaks, voice just low enough for only her to hear.

“Wonder what your brother would think if he saw you like this.”

His voice is casual, but there’s something sharp behind it, something that makes her stomach twist. Her jaw tightens.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Just seems like something he’d wanna know,”

Rafe doesn’t even acknowledge her as she speaks, his full attention locked onto the way her hips are still grinding against him. He muses, tilting his head.

“Bet he thinks you’re a little cleaner or somethin' huh?”

Her pulse thrums in her ears, but she doesn’t let it show. Rafe’s smirk deepens, catching the movement. His fingers drum now against her knee.

“Relax, Y/N. I’m just making conversation.”

“Yeah? Funny, doesn’t feel like that.”

She scoffs under her breath. He hums, tilting his head as he takes her in, eyes darting down from her face. Her stomach knots, but she refuses to cower under his gaze. Instead, she leans in just enough that only he can hear her. “You know,” she murmurs, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness,

“most guys just pay and keep their mouths shut.”

Rafe tutted, a slow, mocking sound, then, before she can react, Rafe casually plucks a few crisp fifty-dollar bills from the stack in front of him. His fingers ghost along the curve of her waist before he shoves them right between her pushed up tits, tucking the money into her bra. Heat rushes to her face- not from embarrassment, but from the pure, seething hatred bubbling up inside her. Her jaw tightens, and she shoots him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. Barry, watching the whole thing unfold, bursts into laughter, slapping his knee like it’s the funniest thing he’s seen all night.

“Country Club” he wheezes, “she gon' kill you man”

“Nah,” he drawls, eyes flicking up to hers.

“She likes it.”

Rafe just smirks, leaning back lazily in his seat and she scoffs, the sound sharp and dripping with disgust, before snatching the money from between her tits and throwing it straight at him. The crisp bills flutter uselessly against his chest before falling into his lap, but she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t want his money- doesn’t want anything from him.

She shifts to push off his lap, to put distance between them, but Rafe moves faster. His hand snaps around her wrist in an iron grip, yanking her back down before she can escape. A sharp gasp slips from her lips as she stumbles into him, her free hand landing against his chest to steady herself.

He’s close now.

Too close.

Rafe’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by something more irritated as he stares up at her. His fingers tighten around her wrist, his grip just bordering on painful, a silent warning.

“I’d be real careful, Bunny”

Rafe murmurs, his voice low and laced with something that makes her stomach uneasy. Her breath catches, but she refuses to look away, her glare burning into him. He tilts his head slightly, his smirk creeping back as he studies her reaction.

“You wouldn’t want your brother to hear about this little conversation, would you?”

The words hang heavy between them, and she swallows hard, her pulse hammering. Y/N sits there, her body tense, her expression carved from pure, unfiltered hatred. Every fiber of her being screams at her to move, to slap that smug look off his face, but she doesn’t. Because if Rafe tells JJ… she doesn’t know what she’d do.

He watches her, sharp and calculating, before plucking the discarded money from his lap. He folds the crisp bills between his fingers in half, before bringing them up to her face. His eyes stay locked on hers, and his lips curl into that insufferable smirk.

“Open up”

He murmurs, voice taunting but firm. Her jaw clenches and she doesn’t move. Amusement flickers in his gaze, but there’s something else there too- something that tells her that she'd not got much choice now. He lifts a brow, daring her to defy him and she hates herself for it, but after a long, thick moment of silence, she slowly parts her lips. Rafe hums in satisfaction, slipping the folded-up bills between her teeth.

“Atta girl”

He muses as she bites down, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary before he pulls away. He leans back lazily in his seat, studying her with open amusement, eyes flicking between the money in her mouth and the fire still burning in her gaze. She can tell he’s so fucking satisfied. The song finally comes to an end, the heavy bass fading into the low murmur of conversation and clinking glasses. The second the last note plays and a new one begins, she jerks her wrist free from his grasp, ripping her hand away like his touch burns her.

Her mind is racing- anger, humiliation, and something else she doesn’t want to name all tangling together in a storm inside her chest. She stands abruptly, plucking the money from between her lips with two fingers like it’s tainted. Without even sparing him a glance, she turns on her heel, ready to put as much distance between herself and Rafe Cameron as possible.

But then- she feels it.

The sharp smack lands right on her ass, firm and unapologetic. A small gasp passes her lips and the audacity of it sends white-hot anger surging through her veins, and she whips around so fast her hair nearly follows the motion. Barry is already laughing, a deep, wheezing sound, blowing out a thick puff of smoke as he watches the scene unfold like it’s the best entertainment of the night.

And Rafe?

Rafe just grins up at her, infuriatingly relaxed, his expression unreadable save for the smug amusement dancing in his eyes. Then, as if he hadn't already done enough, he puckers his lips, blowing her a lazy, taunting little kiss to her. She stares at him, disgust and fury twisting in her chest, her fists clenching at her sides- heart thumping heavily in her chest as she becomes certain of one thing.

She’s never hated anyone more in her life.

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog @rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @rafesgurl @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl @silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt @willowpains @ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn