The Gas Station
The Gas Station
pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pregnant!Reader
summary: Y/n is in her final trimester of her pregnancy and Rafe is eager to make sure the birth of his first baby goes smoothly, but thanks to Y/n's stubbornness they find themselves stuck in a pretty sticky situation with the last two people they expected.
a/n: So I watched "We Live In Time" yesterday and I loved the movie so much that I wanted to rewrite the childbirth scene from it cause it was my favourite! Rafe is so 'grumpy to everyone else but soft for her' core in this. Ps: I’ve never given birth so this might not be too accurate, don’t kill me
warnings: Spoilers for the 'we live in time' childbirth scene, mentions of contractions, labour, childbirth (pretty visual ig?), mentions of a zoot but no smoking, mentions of alcohol but no drinking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The living room of the Chateau was warm and filled with the low hum of conversation. Sarah was sprawled on the floor, while Kiara leaned back against the couch, discussing the possibilities of the new Cameron baby being a boy or girl. Pope sat at the kitchen table, half-focused on whatever book he had cracked open, pen scribbling against the paper trying to figure out the probability the mathematical way, and Cleo lounged near the window, lazily watching the wind shift the trees outside as they all spoke to one another
Y/n was sitting on the couch opposite Sarah and Kiara, half-listening, half-focused on the cookie in her hand as her other one rubbed over her large, rounded belly. Sarah grinned as she caught Y/n eyeing the cookie.
“What, are my cookies that good?”
Y/n opened her mouth to answer but suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand instinctively flew to her lower stomach, the cookie forgotten on the side of the couch.
Rafe, who had been leaning against the doorway, taking the time to admire the girl in her last couple of days of pregnancy, immediately straightened. His relaxed expression vanished. She had been persistent that she wanted to come and visit Sarah and the Pogue’s at the chateau, and as much as he protested, knowing the due date of their baby was any day now, she managed to sway him with those pleading eyes of hers and small pout, which he couldn’t seem to say no to.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice softened, but there was a thread of tension running through it as he crossed the room in two quick steps. Y/n didn’t answer right away. She squeezed her eyes shut, shifting to the edge of the sofa and placing both hands on her belly. She took in a slow, shaky breath.
“I… think I’m having contractions.”
The room fell into a sudden, heavy silence as they all looked at eachother.
Sarah blinked. “Wait, what? Like, actual contractions?”
Cleo sat up straighter, eyeing her. “No way sweet thing, maybe you just ate too many of them damn cookies huh?”
“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving. Right now.”
Rafe’s face paled and he was already patting his pockets for the car keys, panic creeping into his voice as he grabbed the girl’s shoes from next to the door. Pope closed his book slowly, brows furrowed.
“Hold on, how far apart are they? That matters, right?”
Kiara leaned forward, calm but attentive. “Yeah, how bad was that one? Like, on a scale of one to ‘get in the car’?”
Y/n exhaled slowly, leaning her head back. “It wasn’t that bad. Just… caught me off guard. I’m fine.”
“Fine? You just said you’re having contractions!”
Sarah gawked her eyes wide with disbelief. She had been buzzing with excitement ever since she found out she was going to be an aunt. The girl had been planning baby showers and picking out names for months, practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation that her brother was going to be a father, and that he’d changed so much since the couple had found out about their little angel. And now, that Y/n was in labour, and she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and sheer excitement.
“She said ‘think,’” Cleo corrected, smirking. “Key word, Sarah. Could just be gas, ya know?”
Y/n let out a weak laugh. “Thanks for that, Cleo.”
Rafe didn’t laugh. He crouched in front of her, eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress, “Y/n, we should go. The hospital’s all the way in Figure 8, and we’re in the Cut, that’s not a quick drive.”
Y/n shook her head, breathing steadily, she’d noticed how he’d been on edge for the past few weeks, his nerves fraying with every little thing. Rafe cared about her more than he ever thought possible- she was everything to him. The thought of losing her or their baby terrified him to his core, he couldn’t bear the thought of not being there for her, of not protecting the two most important people in his life.
“Rafey, that was the first contraction, my waters not even broken yet. We have time.”
“No, we don’t,” he snapped, then caught himself and softened his tone, letting out a sigh, “I just… I don’t want to risk it, okay?”
Kiara, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression surprised to see the once frat boy asshole so attentive, leaned over to Sarah.
“Is he always this dramatic?”
“Oh yeah, it's become a talent.”
Pope stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Look, if they’re still spaced out, you probably have hours. First babies take their time. But we should keep track.” As he looked around the kitchen drawers for something, cutlery clanged in them as he opened and shut the wooden furniture, finally fishing out an old plastic stopwatch.
Rafe shot him a glare, “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly betting on that.”
Y/n reached for Rafe’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Lets just sit here for a bit more please. If they get worse, we’ll go.”
Rafe stared at her for a long moment, then let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But if anything changes, we’re out of here. No arguments.”
“No arguments.”
She responded as she smiled in agreement, leaning forward slightly to give the boy a quick peck on the lips. Reluctantly, Rafe sat beside her, shuffling so she rested against his side, his hand protectively resting on her belly, a place it had gotten used to resting on in the past few months. Sarah cleared her throat.
“So… does this mean more cookies, or…?”
Y/n laughed out nodding her head with wide eyes and Cleo snorted at the girl's reaction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The room had grown quieter, but the tension clung to the air as Rafe stood by the window, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. His free hand raked over his short hair as he listened to the calm, too-casual voice on the other end of the line.
“What do you mean we shouldn’t come in yet?” Rafe snapped, disbelief lacing his voice.
“She’s in labour!”
The nurse on the other end responded evenly, used to anxious fathers. “Sir, unless her contractions are between three to five minutes apart, there’s no point in coming now. First-time labours can take hours, sometimes longer. You’ll be more comfortable at home.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Do you know who I am?” his tone dropped, sharp and cold, “My family practically owns half this island, and you’re telling me to just sit around and wait?”
From the couch, Sarah groaned audibly and rolled her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
She pushed off the armrest and stormed over, snatching the phone from Rafe’s hand before he could say another word and pressed it to her ear,
“Hi, sorry about him,” Sarah said sweetly into the phone, giving Rafe a sharp glare. “We’ll keep an eye on things and call if anything changes. Thanks for your help.”
She hung up and tossed the phone onto the table.
“Are you serious right now?” she snapped. “Pulling the Cameron card on a nurse? What was that supposed to do- magically speed up labor?”
Rafe’s eyes flashed angrily as he looked down to his younger sister, his finger jabbing into his chest as he spoke, “I’m trying to make sure she’s safe, Sarah! We’re stuck in this shithole cause you've,” his raised his finger pointing it to his temple, “put some voodoo spell on her so she doesn't want to leave and no one seems to care!”
Cleo looked over from where she was sitting, flipping her pocket knife, her eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by his sudden bizarre speculation. Sarah crossed her arms.
“Yelling at the hospital won’t fix that. You need to calm down before you stress her out even more.”
Rafe opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of the back door creaking open cut him off. Kiara stepped in, shaking off the light drizzle from outside, a bright blue yoga ball awkwardly tucked under her arm.
“Found it!” she grinned, holding it out like a trophy.
Y/n’s face lit up despite the discomfort. “Oh, thank God.”
Kiara rolled it over to her, and Y/n carefully shifted forward, accepting it gratefully.
“I heard these help,” Kiara said with a small smile.
Y/n slowly eased herself onto the ball, her hands holding onto Kiara’s outstretched ones in support before she sat down on the plastic sphere starting to gently bounce. A relieved sigh slipped from her lips.
“Oh wow… yeah, this is way better.”
Sarah smirked. “Look, see? This is called helping, Rafe.”
Cleo, still lounging by the window, spoke up. “Yeah man, maybe if you threaten the ball next it’ll really speed things up.”
Pope cracked a small smile from his spot at the table at the girl’s words. Rafe, still tense, exhaled sharply and dropped into a chair by the kitchen table, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes drifted to Y/n, watching her breathe easier with each bounce. As he watched her, he realised he seemed to be more stressed than she was, but was he in the wrong for that? He only wanted to make sure the mother of his child could have the most comfort possible. Without a word, he pushed up from his chair and slowly crossed the room. He crouched down in front of her, eyes locked on her face, his hands resting lightly on her knees.
“Baby… are you sure you want to stay here?”
His voice was softer now, the edge gone, replaced by something fragile. Y/n blinked down at him, her breathing steady. She lifted one hand from her belly and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing along his skin which was still smooth from when he shaved before they left their home.
“Rafey, please relax, yeah?” she murmured, her other hand drifting to rest protectively over her bump. “We’re okay.”
The weight in his chest loosened just a little at the sound of her voice, but it didn’t disappear.
Rafe leaned in just a bit closer. “Okay, but when you start feeling off you tell me, yeah?”
Y/n gave him a playful eye roll, but her smile was soft. She leaned forward, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips once more, she knew he was on edge, but she just wanted peace for the last few hours it was going to be just the two of them.
“Yes, I promise.”
Rafe’s shoulders finally dropped as he let out a quiet breath, grounding himself in her touch. Behind them, Kiara exchanged a look with Sarah and smirked.
“Well, that’s gross.”
Sarah laughed under her breath at her best friend's comments, shaking her head, but there was a warmth in her smile as she watched them. As much as she teased, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness for her brother. It was clear that Y/n had done something to him- something that had changed him for the better, something that made him softer, more present. Sarah could see it in the way he looked at her, how much he cared. It warmed her heart to know her brother had found someone who truly made him happy.
Rafe didn’t hear the girls giggling as his focus was completely on Y/n, “Alright,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her knee before standing.
“Just… don’t scare me like that again.”
Y/n smiled, leaning back and resuming her gentle bounce on the yoga ball hands circling her bump again.
“No promises.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours had passed the sky outside the windows now dark, the streetlamps having switched on which caused an orange glow around the island, but time seemed to stretch as the intensity of Y/n’s contractions grew. The living room was dim, the rain outside tapping softly on the windows, the air thick with anticipation.
Y/n was on her knees, her body leaning against the couch for support. Her face clearly reflected her discomfort, lips pressed together in effort as she rocked back and forth slowly, trying to breathe through the latest wave of pain. Rafe kneeled beside her, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other resting on her arm. His voice was low, soothing, a steady presence as he spoke to her.
“Is it passing?”
Y/n groaned softly, her breath hitching before she let out a quiet whine, barely audible.
“Yeah… it’s passing.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he kept his hand on her back, massaging in slow circles, his eyes never leaving her face. He looked up to Pope, who was standing near the window, timing her contractions with the stopwatch hanging loosely around his neck.
Pope glanced at the timer, then back at Rafe. “Okay, that’s about ten minutes apart now, but getting closer.”
Rafe’s gaze shifted back to Y/n, his concern deepening. He rubbed her back a little harder, as if that would somehow ease her discomfort, “Sweet girl,” he murmured gently, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear.
“I think we should get going now, hmm? The hospital’s still a bit of a drive.”
Y/n, in a small haze of pain, didn’t answer immediately. She just rested her head against her arms on the couch, humming out in agreement. Her nod was slow, but definite.
“Mmhm… yeah, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice small and weary.
Rafe exhaled, relief flooding through him but mixing with the urgency that had been building in his chest. He helped her slowly rise, supporting her as she stood, her legs somewhat unsteady beneath her.
“Alright, that's it”
As Rafe helped Y/n slowly stand, Sarah came rushing down the stairs, her face flushed from the hurry. Cleo was right behind her, holding a bag in one hand and a frantic expression on her face.
“Rafe!” Sarah called out, her voice breathless. “We got the bag Y/n left last time.”
She handed it over to Rafe, but before he could take it, Cleo swiped it from her hands with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
“Let the man take her to the car,” Cleo said, “I got this.”
Cleo gave Rafe a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to Y/n. “You’re good, girl. Just focus on not giving birth in here, aight?”
Y/n let out a soft chuckle, despite the tension in the air. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice calm and steady. Rafe shot Cleo a grateful look, still holding Y/n’s arm as she stood by herself, steady on her feet.
“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, before turning back to Y/n. “Okay, baby, let’s get you to the car. You sure you’re alright to walk?”
Y/n gave him a sideways glance, rolling her eyes a little. “I’m fine, Rafe, really.”
But before they could make it to the door, Kiara popped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and determination. “Wait, wait, don’t leave without me I want to say goodbye!”
Sarah quickly followed behind, carrying a jacket for Y/n, while Pope grabbed his keys, shaking his head in amusement. The group swarmed around Y/n, helping her navigate the small space. It was a chaotic rush of arms and voices as everyone tried to keep the situation under control- except for Y/n, who was walking at a steady pace, looking far calmer than anyone else in the room. It was amusing, watching everyone fuss over her, she couldn't wait till the baby was here and they’d have all their aunts and uncles fussing at their every cry.
“I swear, I’m fine,” she said again, giving Rafe a teasing smile as she walked on her own. “I’ve got this.”
Rafe’s eyes were glued to her, his brow furrowed in concern, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he followed her toward the door.
“Alright, if you say so,” he muttered, his voice low but full of warmth.
The car was already parked outside, the engine running, the group had gathered around the car, each of them offering their well-wishes as Y/n leaned against the car door, not wanting to get in till Rafe came out. He’d gone back in to the bathroom and Sarah had scolded him for being an ‘unprofessional dad-to-be’ which he told her to ‘fuck off’. Sarah called out, giving her a thumbs-up.
“Good luck, Y/n! Let us know when Baby Cameron gets here!”
“You got this,” Kiara added, offering a smile. “Call us if you need anything- I mean we can’t give birth but you know….”
Cleo, arms crossed and leaning against the car, smirked. “Don’t be taking forever, yeah? I wanna meet the little Poguette!”
“Poguette? We don’t know the gender yet” Pope asked as he turned to the girl eyebrows drawn down into a small confused frown
“Don’t worry- auntie Cleo’s got a feeling” She responded with a wide smile as she winked to Y/n causing her to giggle.
“I think you mean Kookette not Poguette”
Rafe spoke up as he appeared back from the house helping the girl into her seat. Y/n, sitting in the car, gave them all a tired but genuine smile, her face a little flushed from the effort. “I’ll do my best. Don’t worry, you’ll all get your chance to meet Baby Cameron soon.”
Rafe was about to close the door when she paused.
“Wait!”
The group froze, and all eyes snapped toward her, panic flashing in their faces for a brief second.
“Is everything okay? Are you—?” Sarah started, her tone suddenly worried.
Y/n looked up at her friends, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Biting her bottom lip gently before she spoke out,
“Are there any of those cookies left?”
The entire group stared at her for a beat, then burst into laughter, the tension breaking in an instant. Kiara snorted. “Nope, you ate them all, girl, not a crumb left.”
Y/n’s face dropped in exaggerated disappointment. “Aw, man… they were so good.”
Rafe, who had just started to walk around the front of the car, stopped and turned back to her with a grin. “Come on, baby. You’ll get your cookies in the hospital. I promise.”
“Guess that’ll have to do.”
Y/n sighed softly, leaning back into her seat with a deep breath. Kiara leaned in the window, shaking her head but grinning. “You’re gonna eat cookies while in labor…?”
“Hey, it’s what I want.”
Rafe sighed, shaking his head at the girl, but he couldn’t hide the fond smile that crept onto his face as he finally closed the door. He muttered, half to himself, as he walked around to the driver’s side. “We’re getting you to the hospital, cookies or not.”
The group waved them off, still laughing and calling out their goodbyes, as Rafe got in the car. Y/n smiled at the familiar faces outside the window before the car pulled away, heading toward the hospital.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The drive from the Cut to Figure 8 was a blur. Rafe’s focus was entirely on the road, but his eyes kept flicking over to Y/n, every so often. She was gripping the handle on the roof of the car, her knuckles white as the pain of her contractions began to intensify. Rafe’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers gently squeezing as he glanced at her.
“How we doing baby?”
He asked softly, though he could already see the tightness in her jaw, the way she was trying to breathe through the pain. Y/n groaned lowly, her grip on the car handle tightening as her breath hitched.
“Mmm, not great…”
She muttered, her voice strained. Her back arched slightly as another wave of pain hit, and her hand shifted to rest protectively on her belly. Rafe’s heart ached for her, but he kept his voice steady, trying to keep her calm.
“Breathe, baby. Yeah? Just like we practiced in the classes.”
His voice was gentle, encouraging, though it wasn’t lost on him how much harder it was for her now. Y/n nodded slightly, her eyes squeezing shut as she focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her whole body rocked with the rhythm, but it didn’t stop the groans slipping out of her.
“That’s it, baby. Good—”
“Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”
Her voice was sharp despite the pain, and Rafe froze for a moment, blinking in surprise at her words but he couldn't help but accept them with a nod. She was the one in labour not him. Y/n’s hand pressed harder against her bump as she groaned, her head resting back against the seat, her body arching slightly in response to the contraction.
She wasn’t having it.
Rafe couldn’t help but smile slightly at her attitude, but it was tender as he spoke, “Okay, okay,” he muttered, his hand still gently on her thigh. “I’m sorry.”
He kept his eyes on the road driving carefully, now that he had precious cargo in his car, but they would flicker occasionally to Y/n in the passenger’s seat. Always watching, always waiting, as they pushed forward toward the hospital. The pain was coming in waves now, each one crashing over her with more intensity than the last. Y/n’s body was tense, and her breathing was shallow, but she still managed to mutter through the strain,
“Sorry… just hurts…”
Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he leaned forward, his eyes focused on the road, but Y/n could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles went white around the wheel.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, baby,” Rafe said softly, his voice tight.
Y/n turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his for a split second. He looked anxious, his focus split between her and the road ahead. The tightness in his posture didn’t escape her, and she could see how much he was trying to hold it together. With a small, reassuring smile, Y/n placed her hand over his, which was still resting on her thigh. The touch was gentle but firm,
“Ready to meet Baby Cameron?”
She mumbled, her voice soft but sincere, trying to ease some of the stress in the car. Rafe’s breath hitched at the mention of their baby, and he glanced down at their hands, a small smile crossing his face. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m so lucky that you’re the mother of my child Y/n… I love you.”
She squeezed his hand back, her eyes softening as she leaned back against the seat. Her breath was steadier now, a calmness settling in her chest as she gave him a small, exhausted smile.
“I love you, too, Rafey,” she whispered back.
—
The car crawled forward for a few agonizing seconds before the engine came to a halt once more. Rafe slammed his hand against the horn in frustration, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness of the traffic. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his jaw clenched tight.
“Fuck.”
He muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of why the cars ahead weren’t moving. Y/n, breath coming in heavy bursts now, groaned quietly beside him, trying to steady herself as another wave of pain rolled through her.
“Rafe…”
“I know, baby, I know,” he spoke out to her, his voice tight with frustration. “No one’s fucking moving.”
She turned her head slowly, her hand resting on her belly as she let out another shaky breath. She could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way his shoulders were hunched in that familiar way he got when he was stressed.
“Rafe, please… just relax,”
She said softly, though she was struggling to keep her own calm with each passing minute. It was no use because he could barely sit still anymore. Without another word, he threw the door open, slamming it behind him, and stepped out into the stagnant heat of the afternoon. Y/n’s eyes followed him through the windshield as he walked down the line of cars, frustration written in his tense shoulders. The bridge conjoining The Cut to Figure 8 stretched ahead, a long line of unmoving vehicles in both directions, but it seemed like nothing was happening. No one was getting anywhere.
Rafe walked halfway down the bridge, his eyes scanning the cars as he tried to figure out what was going on. He stopped beside a car with a window rolled down, the driver staring out at the traffic in the same defeated way everyone else was. Rafe stepped closer, his voice terse as he addressed the guy.
“What’s going on up there?”
The guy glanced at him, his face creased with annoyance. “Accident upfront and tree fell in the back. Gonna be stuck here for a while, man.”
Rafe let out a low curse, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck.”
He stood there for a second, staring at the endless line of cars, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. They were stuck. Stuck in the one place they couldn’t afford to be, halfway in the middle of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, Rafe turned around and started walking back toward the car. The frustration was palpable in every step, but it didn’t touch his determination. Rafe opened the door to the car, his eyes already scanning the area as he made his way back toward Y/n. But the moment his gaze landed on the seat next to him, his heart skipped a beat.
She wasn’t there.
His mind raced as he blinked, looking around the car in confusion. He slammed the door shut, his breath quickening as he jogged over to the other side of the vehicle, checking the backseat and the floor. Where the hell could she have gone? His pulse started to race- this wasn’t happening.
“Y/n?” he called out, his voice frantic.
He spun around, looking down the bridge, feeling the panic rise in his chest. She couldn’t have just disappeared, she’s literally a nine month pregnant woman, she wasn’t easy to lose. His eyes locked on a figure at the end of the bridge, and his heart dropped into his stomach.
There she was.
Y/n was standing at the far side of the bridge, her body leaning slightly against the wall, one hand resting gently on her bump. She looked serene in a way, her posture relaxed even in the midst of the chaos, but Rafe could see the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way she was swaying lightly from side to side. The air around him seemed to still as he watched her, his thoughts spiraling, but then he broke into a jog, moving toward her with urgency.
“Y/n!”
He called out again, his voice rough. She didn’t seem to hear him at first, or maybe she was just focused on the feeling of her own body, her eyes unfocused as she rubbed her belly in slow, soothing circles, looking down at her hand. Rafe’s steps quickened, and when he reached her side, he gently cupped her arm, his fingers warm against her skin.
“You can’t just run off like that! Are you crazy?”
His voice was sharp, but underneath it, the worry was clear. He wanted to scold her for being out of the car, but the relief flooding him kept him from doing anything but reaching for her. Y/n raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his scolding, as she gently rubbed her belly.
“I just wanted some air, Rafey,” she replied with a calmness that made Rafe’s frustration falter for a second.
“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, shaking his head. His shoulders dropped in exasperation as he sighed. “I—I don’t know what I’d do- what if I lost you huh?”
She smiled at his concern, “I'm nine months pregnant and in labour, I doubt I would’ve gotten very far Rafe.” A soft, reassuring smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, that helped calm some of the nerves still buzzing in his chest.
“C’mon, let’s get you back to the car,”
He said, his voice softer now, his hand gently brushing the hair away from her face as he guided her back, but as they started walking back toward the car, Y/n’s eyes drifted behind him, catching something in the distance. Rafe looked over his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
He asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Y/n’s gaze lingered on the gas station behind them, her fingers lightly playing with his as she spoke.
“Really want some cookies right now…”
She said, her voice full of that playful lilt. Rafe blinked, taking a moment to process what she was saying before he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Are you serious right now?”
Y/n looked at him with a sweet, innocent expression. “Mmhmm.”
Rafe stared at her for a long moment, torn between disbelief and the need to smile. He glanced at the car, then at the standstill traffic behind him, a long sigh leaving his lips as the realization set in.
“Please?”
Y/n added, her voice soft but pleading, her hand still holding his with that familiar touch which guided his palm to rest it against her baby bump which made it hard for him to say no. Rafe’s lips curled into a reluctant smile.
“C’mon then,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock defeat. “Let’s just be quick, aight?”
And just like that, they veered off toward the gas station, Y/n’s determination to get her cookies almost making Rafe forget about the fact she was in labour, if it wasn’t for her groan every couple of minutes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The door of the gas station swung open, the little golden bell above it ringing as soon as they stepped inside, Y/n’s breathing hitched. Rafe was right behind her, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, ready to support her. Yet the moment the door closed behind them, Y/n groaned loudly, the contraction hitting her with full force. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and her hand instinctively went to her belly. A few people in the gas station glanced over, some in surprise, others in concern, but Rafe barely noticed them as he leaned closer to her, his voice low and calm.
“Let’s grab your cookies and go, baby,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear.
Y/n barely registered his words, still trying to push through the pain, her face scrunching in discomfort as she stepped forwards towards the sweet treat aisle. She let out another soft, pained groan as she leaned against the shelf, her hand gripping the cool metal for support.
She scanned the shelves in front of her, her eyes landing on a pack of cookies, double chocolate-chip. They weren’t Sarah’s but she guessed they would have to do. She grabbed one, then another right next to it, her body rocking slightly as she breathed heavily through the contraction.
Rafe stood behind her, watching in a mix of concern and frustration, trying to hold everything together while his brain screamed that they needed to hurry. He sighed quietly, trying to hold his patience as he watched whilst she picked up random things off the shelves- gatorade, crisps… a microwavable hot-dog for one? He furrowed his eyebrows at the girl as she shoved them all into his arms, groaning in distress, was she planning on having a picnic in the hospital?
“Is that good now?”
Rafe asked quietly, glancing at her with a raised brow as he balanced the pile of items in his arms. Y/n didn’t even look up at him. She was bent over slightly, both hands gripping onto the handles of the fridge, her body still rocking gently as the contraction slowly passed. She nodded, the sound of her breath steadying now.
“Mmhmm,”
She mumbled, barely able to focus on anything other than the sharp ache she was still feeling.
“Jesus,”
Rafe muttered under his breath, his frustration mixing with disbelief at the bizarre situation, as he moved toward the counter to pay. He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes flicking from Y/n to the Rolex on his wrist. The seconds were ticking by, and every minute felt like an eternity. He glanced over his shoulder at the long queue in front of him, a subtle frown on his face. He hated waiting, but he hated even more that they were stuck in this gas station in the first place. Y/n was still by the fridge, her back slightly arched as she leaned against it, trying to breathe through the pain of another contraction. Her groan echoed loudly through the small shop, and Rafe felt his stomach tighten.
“Oh my Gooooooooddddd-”
The people in line ahead of him turned around at the sound, their eyes narrowing as they glanced in the direction Y/n was. Rafe clenched his jaw, his grip on the products in his arms tightening as he fought to keep his composure. Another loud groan broke through the silence, and Rafe’s patience snapped. He shot a look at the guy in front of him who seemed somewhat disturbed by the sound, his teeth gritting as he tried to stay calm but his irritation bubbled over, and he shot at him quickly, his voice sharp.
“She’s pregnant, okay?”
He snapped, his gaze hardening. The man blinked, taken aback by the harshness in Rafe’s voice. The rest of the people in line seemed to take a step back, all of them suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation. Rafe was breathing heavily now, his mind racing as the seconds dragged on, but he couldn’t look away from Y/n. She was still by the fridge, still gripped by the pain of the contractions, but somehow, there was a calmness in her, even in the middle of everything, and she was now once again rocking softly back and forth. He exhaled, trying to push down the anger and frustration bubbling up inside.
The man in front of Rafe raised his hands in surrender, his face showing quick understanding. Without another word, he grabbed his items from the counter and muttered a hurried, “Sorry,” as he quickly walked past Rafe, giving him space. Rafe, barely noticing the man’s retreat, threw the items he was holding down onto the counter with a frustrated sigh. His eyes immediately darted back to Y/n, his head swiveling as he tried to spot her over the shelves. The moment he looked away from the counter, though, a voice interrupted his frantic search.
“Rafe?”
Rafe froze. He knew that voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, but of course, he did anyway. There, standing a few feet away, was John B. He groaned inwardly. How much worse could this get? He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Pogue.” The name slipped from his lips, a reflexive reaction to the guy who always seemed to be around just when Rafe didn’t need him. John B gave him a tight-lipped smile, clearly trying to keep the peace, but Rafe could see the faint annoyance in his eyes.
“You need a bag?”
John B asked, trying to be helpful, but Rafe wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“Uh, yeah,”
Rafe replied absently, barely glancing at John B as he spoke. His focus was entirely on trying to spot Y/n. His hands clenched the card in his hand as he tried to spot her around the shelves, his eyes scanning every inch of the small store. He didn’t even wait for John B to reply as his feet moved instinctively, carrying him away from the counter. He walked quickly down the aisles, his breath shallow as he called out her name, his voice strained with the urgency and stress building inside him.
“Y/n?”
His eyes darted from side to side, but there was no sign of her. He rounded the corner to another aisle, his heart starting to race as panic set in. He called out again, his voice louder this time.
“Y/n?!”
But there was still no response. Rafe felt the irritation crawling up his spine, seriously? Not again.
“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, his words laced with frustration as he threw a glance back at the counter. He felt like the whole world was working against him right now. Rafe’s eyes flicked back to John B, ready to ask if he’d seen Y/n, but then something caught his attention. The door near the counter, with a small blue sign W/C, was just slightly cracked open- it was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. He shot a quick glance at John B, his jaw tightening.
“Put my stuff to the side,”
Rafe said, his tone clipped, he once again didn’t wait for an answer, already moving toward the bathroom door. The women’s, men’s, and disabled toilets were all closed, but Rafe stepped closer to the disabled bathroom, he placed his ear against the door, trying to hear anything over the noise in the gas station.
It was then he heard it- a soft groan, followed by heavy breathing.
A slight whine escaped the other side of the door, and his pulse raced. Without thinking, he knocked gently against it, his voice low but full of urgency.
“Baby?”
A faint voice from within answered, weak but clear.
“Yeah?”
Rafe let out a relieved breath, his forehead resting briefly against the door, relief slowly hitting him. For a moment, he just stood there, collecting himself before he pulled back, his hand still gripping the handle of the door but it didn’t move. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, but he needed to stay calm- for her- well maybe for himself too.
“Are you okay?”
He asked, his voice soft but still edged with concern.There was a pause before her voice came through, strained but almost casual.
“Um…yeah?”
“What do you mean, um?”
Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at her response. Another groan came from the other side of the door, followed by a sigh.
“Well, I… uh, I thought I needed to use the toilet, but now that I’m in here… I think I need to push.”
“NO!”
Rafe’s eyes widened, and before he could even think, he blurted out the word. His hands raked over his hair, the panic setting in as his mind raced.
“Baby, no- no, don’t push, okay? Please. I need you to open the door.”
He could hear her groaning again, and the sound made his chest tighten, “Y/n, I need you to open the door, okay? So we can go to the hospital. Are you listening to me, baby?”
His voice cracked with desperation as he waited for her response. Rafe took a step back from the door, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. His mind was spinning in panic, but he was doing his best to keep it together. Another groan came from the other side of the door, louder this time, and Rafe’s chest tightened.
“Rafe, I can’t… I can’t open the door,” her voice cracked, strained. “I need to push.”
His breath hitched, and he placed a hand against the door, his grip tightening. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.” His voice was soft but desperate.
“I’m gonna come in, yeah?”
There was a brief silence before her voice came through again, strained but barely audible.
“Yeah.”
The word was cut off by another loud groan, and the sound sent a jolt of panic through Rafe’s veins. Rafe’s patience snapped. Without a second thought, he barreled back to the counter, his voice urgent as he slammed his palm onto the surface.
“I need the key to the toilets Y/n is stuck in the disabled one.”
His words came out in a rush, and John B didn’t hesitate. His brows furrowed in concern, and he quickly reached under the counter, pulling out multiple sets of keys before he found the right one.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.”
He gripped them in his hand as he looked at Rafe, he’s never seen the brunette so worried. “Sorry,” John B muttered to the guy on the other side of the counter as he quickly stood up, walking around the register. Rafe was ready to go straight back to Y/n when suddenly, John B called out.
“JJ!”
Rafe froze for a split second. Not him too. He shook his head in disbelief. What had he done to deserve this? He knew he had been a dick to so many people, for so many years, but was this really the punishment he deserved. JJ, the last person Rafe wanted to deal with, sauntered up to the counter with his signature blonde hair and cocky grin, with a zoot tucked behind his ear.
“Sup?” he asked, sounding entirely too carefree for the situation.
“Need you to take over the counter for a bit,”
John B said, his voice tight with urgency. JJ nodded lazily, unconcerned, “Mkay, my man,” he said, easily slipping into the role. John B turned back to Rafe, and the Cameron boy grabbed his arm.
“Let’s go.”
They both moved toward the corridor with all the bathrooms, John B crouched in front of the disabled toilet door, the key in his hand as he started to unlock it. Rafe stood by him, his muscles tense, feeling like he could finally somewhat breathe again now that they were this close. They were about to get Y/n out, and finally going to leave this godforsaken place.
“Don’t worry, man,” John B said, trying to reassure him as he worked the key into the lock. “We’re gonna get her out of there.”
But then, there was a loud snapping sound. Both of them froze.
Rafe’s stomach dropped.
“What? What is it?”
His voice was sharp, fear creeping in. John B hesitated, his face a mixture of guilt and disbelief. “Well… um… the key broke.”
Rafe blinked in stunned silence. “What? Speak up!”
John B looked back at him, the words tumbling out quickly. “The key broke.”
Rafe’s frustration hit a boiling point, his voice cracking with anger as he slammed his hand against the wall angrily.
“What the fuck do you mean, you broke the key?!”
“I’m sorry! It was an accident, alright?” John B’s hands shot up in defense.
Rafe’s eyes went wide. “How the hell do you fuck up opening a door? Are you fucking serious right now!?”
Before John B could answer, they both heard a loud voice from the other side of the room. “Heyyy, what’s going on here? What’s all the yelling for?” Rafe’s head snapped toward the voice. He could feel his blood boil. Of course. It was JJ. Of course it was. John B rolled his eyes.
“Y/n’s stuck in the toilet, and I broke the key-”
Then, a loud, strained groan from the other side of the door cut him off. Y/n’s voice echoed out, desperate and pained.
“Fuuuucckkkk,”
Rafe slammed his hand against the door, his voice softer but filled with worry. “Baby, you okay?” There was a brief pause before she answered.
“Yeah, just… fuuuuuuck…”
“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, running his hands through his hair, trying to keep it together. John B glanced at him.
“What was that?”
Rafe’s breath quickened, his anxiety rising again as he looked down to the door handle of the door, the snapped metal now lodging into the keyhole.
“She’s in labor.”
JJ blinked, processing that. “What the fuck?”
“And now she’s fucking stuck in there… because of you!” Rafe growled, his eyes narrowing in fury. “I swear to god-”
But before Rafe could say anything more, JJ was already moving. He pushed past both of them, walking straight up to the door. Rafe stared at him, scoffing in disbelief. JJ turned to face the door, knuckles knocking against the wood in a rhythmic pattern. He called out, looking toward the door,
“Hey sunshine,”
“JJ?”
“Yeah, yeah,” JJ answered as he pulled his cap off and readjusted his hair, putting it back on backwards. “I need you to take a step away from the door.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
Rafe’s confusion was evident, his brow furrowed. JJ didn’t respond. He kicked the door hard, and the force of it echoed in the space, making Rafe’s heart skip a beat as he realised what the boy was trying to do.
“Wait!”
He called out as he rushed forward, his voice frantic as he called out to Y/n.
“Y/n, I need you to step back from the door, yeah?”
“I just told her that.”
JJ spoke back to the boy, hands out in the air in confusion at his actions. Rafe rolled his eye’s as he spoke back so Y/n couldn’t hear,
“She’s a stubborn pregnant woman, obviously she’s not going to listen to you.”
JJ gave him a look before shrugging his shoulders, “touché.” From the other side, her breath was labored, each inhale shaky. “Ughh… okay,” she responded weakly, and there was a faint sound of movement behind the door.
“Have you done that for me, Y/n?”
Rafe’s voice was strained, as if he was holding onto his patience by a thread. Another soft “yeah” came from her, and he stepped back, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Without saying another word, Rafe squared his shoulders. The frustration of the past few minutes boiled over. He looked at the door one last time and, without hesitation, launched his foot into it with everything he had. The sound of his kick reverberated through the small space, but the door didn’t budge. John B stepped forward, shaking his head in skepticism, but nevertheless he kicked the door next, his hit less forceful than Rafe’s but still forcefull.
Nothing.
JJ followed suit, throwing his foot at the door, his kick full of impatience.
Still nothing.
Rafe watched them, frustration building in his chest. “Get out of my way,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Without another word, he ripped his jacket off in a quick motion, tossing it aside as he stepped forward with sheer determination. This time, he didn’t just kick. He slammed his foot into the door again and again, each strike more powerful than the last, the force of his anger and desperation driving him. Finally, with one last powerful kick, the door swung open, the sound echoing loudly in the small hallways to the toilets.
Rafe rushed in, his breath still heavy from the effort of kicking the door in. His eyes darted across the cramped space until he found Y/n. She was sitting there, slumped against the toilet, arm supporting herself on the sink next to her as she sat leant over, her face flushed with sweat, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.
“Sweet girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands instinctively cupped her cheeks, his fingers trembling slightly.
“Are you okay? C’mon, let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?”
Y/n’s eyes were wide, and her grip tightened around his wrist. “I can’t… I can’t, Rafe,” she gasped, her voice a strained, breathless whimper.
“I need to push, Rafe… I can’t—”
The words trailed off as another wave of contraction hit her, causing her body to tense up. Rafe’s heart dropped in his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d promised her he’d make sure everything was smooth, that she’d be in a safe, controlled place when the baby came. This definitely wasn’t how he’d envisioned the birth of his first child to happen.
“Okay, it’s okay-”
He whispered, his hand brushing the small strands of damp hair away from her flushed, sweaty face. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile, even though inside, panic clawed at him.
“-I’m here now, yeah? C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”
And as he gently helped her try to shift, he held her gaze, his own filled with worry and tenderness. He wasn’t sure how things would play out from here, but he knew one thing- he was going to make it work.
The moment John B and JJ stepped through the door coming back from locking up the door of the small gas station shop, they froze. Their eyes locked on Y/n, who was still leaning against the sink, her breathing ragged and uneven, sweat dripping down her face. JJ’s eyes widened in realization, his mouth falling open.
“Oh shit,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern.
“This is like for real- she’s in labor… like it’s legit-”
Rafe didn’t even look at them as he snapped into action, the blonde boys rambles falling on deaf ears. His focus was solely on Y/n, his voice low and strained.
“Go get some towels, some water- anything.”
They both stared at him motionless as they took in the scene of the Kook who’d tormented them for so many years, gently help the girl down to a sitting position on the floor.
“NOW!”
He barked out. John B and JJ scrambled out of the bathroom, their feet clattering as they bumped into each other in their rush to get the supplies. They didn’t say anything, just focused on finding whatever they could to help in their panic. Rafe turned back to Y/n, his face softening despite the storm of anxiety in his chest.
“C’mon, let me help you.”
He murmured, his hands gently gripping her arms as he helped her pull down her sweatpants, hands lovingly rubbing against her calves in an attempt to comfort her. Y/n hummed out slightly, her uneasiness palpable, but as another contraction hit, she winced, her face contorting in pain. Rafe’s brows furrowed with concern, his heart aching for her.
“I know, baby, I know. Just breathe. We’re gonna get through this, okay?”
And just as she nodded, another wave of pain hit, and Rafe exhaled in frustration, running a hand over his hair. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, barely able to contain the rush of panic rising inside him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gas station bathroom looked nothing like it had before. Blankets and towels were scattered across the floor beneath Y/n, cushioning her knees as she rocked back and forth, panting through each wave of pain. Bottles of water and crumpled packaging littered the corners- whatever JJ and John B had managed to grab in their scramble. Y/n’s skin glistened with sweat, strands of hair clinging to her flushed face. She reached up with trembling hands, tugging at her top, desperate to get it off. The sticky fabric clung to her skin, and she let out a frustrated groan.
"Here, baby, let me—" Rafe’s voice cut off as his phone buzzed against his ear, someone's voice being heard from the other side. He was crouched down, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Yeah, okay, yeah—she's on the floor, towels everywhere. No, the hospital’s blocked off! We're stuck. I've just told you this, are you even listening to me!"
His voice cracked, running high with panic. John B sat awkwardly near Y/n’s head, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Her hand suddenly shot out, fingers digging painfully into his arm. His breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. He muttered, voice shaky,
"Shit- okay, okay, you're okay,"
Y/n barely managed to choke out, "Sorry," between laboured breaths as her nails digged into his skin. John B’s voice squeaked,
"It's fine! Totally fine!"
His face twisted in pain, but he didn’t dare pull away. JJ hovered uselessly in the doorway, wide-eyed and wringing his hands feeling a little awkward with the situation at hand.
“Uh… y’all need anything else? Snacks? Beer? No—okay, cool.”
Rafe paced in a tight circle before crouching behind Y/n again, gripping the phone. The nurse’s voice was brisk but calm as she spoke into his ear,“Can you see the baby’s head, sir?”
Rafe swallowed hard, leaning over for a quick glance. His face was drained of all colour.
“Uh… yeah I can see the head.”
Y/n’s head snapped up. "What?! What do you mean you can see it?!"
Rafe’s eyes were wide, panic rising in his throat as the nurse’s voice cut through the phone, steady and firm. “Listen to me carefully. That means she’s ready to push. You need to place your hand firmly against the baby’s head to guide it out slowly. If it comes too fast, there’s a risk of decapitation.”
Rafe froze. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stared at Y/n, blinking rapidly, his mind spiralling. His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, but fear was holding him in place, like a heavy weight on his chest. He wasn’t prepared for this. He had no idea what to do, only that he couldn’t screw this up.
“Hello? Sir? Are you still there? Is everything okay?”
He cleared his throat, forcing the words out.
"Yeah—yeah, I’m here."
Rafe squeezed his eyes shut, dragging a shaky hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his eye’s. He needed to keep it together, but every second felt heavier than the last. He sucked in a breath, grounding himself before snapping his head up.
“JJ! Get over here and hold this fucking phone!”
JJ shuffled forward, noticeably hesitant, eyes fixed awkwardly on the wall as he stood beside Rafe, who held the phone out for the boy slightly. However, as the blond boy refused to look down Rafe remained with his hand held out, causing him to look away from Y/n and see the boy still staring straight ahead at the wall. Rafe stared at him, disbelief simmering under his skin.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Bro?”
John B glanced over from where he was crouched by Y/n’s head, frowning. JJ muttered under his breath, barely audible. Rafe’s patience snapped.
“What!?”
“Listen, your girl is literally naked right there, man! I don’t wanna look- it’s disrespectful!”
JJ winced, shoulders tensing. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His fists balled at his sides, knuckles white. Every muscle in his body screamed to just hit him, to shake the stupidity right out of him. He could see himself doing it- just one solid punch. But instead, Rafe forced himself to take a breath, exhaling hard through his nose. He dragged a hand roughly over his face once again, muttering, “Jesus Christ-”
Y/n let out a sharp, pained groan, her voice cracking.
“JJ, I don’t care! Just help him- oh SHIIIIIIT!”
Her scream cut through the room like a knife, yanking everyone’s attention back to reality. JJ’s eyes shot wide.
“Okay! Okay! If you insist-”
He didn’t even get the words out before Rafe shoved the phone- now on speaker- hard into his chest. JJ scrambled to steady it, and as his eyes flicked down, his face drained of colour as he looked at Y/n. The very top of the baby’s head was there.
“Holy shit, Y/n there’s like a fucking baby in your pussy-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, JJ!”
Y/n’s scream was sharp and furious, echoing in the cramped space. JJ jumped, gripping the phone like it might explode.
“Okay! Sorry! Jesus!”
His voice cracked as he lifted the phone so they could hear it if the nurse spoke out. Rafe knelt back down behind Y/n, and he swallowed hard, as he felt the slick warmth of Y/n's skin under his palm, pressing his hand gently but firmly against the top of the baby’s head, just like the nurse had told him. His other hand rubbed slow, steady circles along the curve of her trembling back, grounding her as best he could. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he forced his voice to stay calm, soft- for her.
“Okay, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I need you to listen to me, yeah?”
Y/n’s head lolled against her arm, sweat-damp hair clinging to her flushed face as she let out a shaky breath. His voice firmed, but it was still gentle, coaxing. His hand didn’t stop moving on her back.
“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good. But I really, really need you to push on the next contraction, alright?”
Her glassy eyes flickered to his, searching, scared. He gave her the smallest, crooked smile despite the panic clawing at him.
“We’re so close, yeah? You’re so strong. Just one big push for me, okay?”
Y/n’s fingers dug into the blankets beneath her, knuckles white. She gave a slight, barely-there nod.
“That’s my girl,” his hand pressed steady against the baby’s head, the other still rubbing soothingly along her back, “Next one, baby. We’re gonna meet our little Cameron. You’ve got this.”
Y/n clenched her jaw, groaning through another push, but Rafe could feel it- nothing was changing. He leaned back slightly, panic creeping into his features, and turned towards the phone in JJ’s grip.
“I—nothing’s happening,” he said quickly, his voice strained, eyes darting from the phone to Y/n’s hunched figure. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the baby moving?”
The nurse’s voice came through, calm but firm. “She’s not pushing hard enough. You need to get the baby out soon, Mr Cameron. The longer the baby stays in the birth canal, the more risk there is of oxygen deprivation.”
Fuck. Rafe’s heart plummeted at the words, and he felt his hand slip slightly against Y/n’s damp skin. He sucked in a sharp breath, his lips parting to respond, but before he could, a faint sound drew his attention.
“Rafe…”
It was John B, his voice hesitant, almost soft. He was kneeling at Y/n’s side, her trembling fingers curled weakly around his forearm.
“Rafe, man… I think you need to talk to her…”
He said quietly, glancing down at the way Y/n’s grip seemed to falter, her breaths shallow and uneven. Rafe swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the sight of her pain and exhaustion. God, she wasn’t even on any painkillers, he didn’t want to imagine how she felt right now. His eyes darted between Y/n and the phone before he scrubbed a hand over his buzzed hair, frustration and fear mixing in his expression. John B slowly rose to his feet, giving Y/n’s hand a small squeeze before letting go. He turned to Rafe who had also risen, his face softer than it usually was when the two of them interacted.
“You heard what she said,” Rafe said slowly, voice tight.
John B met his eyes and gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah. I heard.”
Without warning, Rafe’s hand shot out and fisted the front of John B’s shirt, yanking him in close, nose to nose. His grip was iron, knuckles white.
“You hurt my child…” Rafe’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his blue eyes blazing, “…I’ll kill you. Is that clear, John B?”
John B didn’t flinch, didn’t fight back. He just stared at Rafe, steady and calm. Because for the first time, he wasn’t seeing Rafe Cameron the hotheaded psycho- he was seeing a terrified father on the edge.
“Yeah,” John B said quietly, voice even. “Crystal.”
Rafe’s eyes flicked over his face, searching for any sign of weakness, but all he saw was understanding. He slowly uncurled his fingers, shoving John B back slightly. Without another word, they switched places. John B moved towards the phone, kneeling behind Y/n and Rafe dropped to his knees beside her, his hands instantly reaching for hers. One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her own holding her hand, while the other gently rubbed along her back in slow, grounding circles.
“Hey, hey, baby, look at me,”
He murmured, his voice softer now, but the cracks of fear still clung to the edges. Y/n barely lifted her head, her body trembling.
“Rafe… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice thin and shaky, “I’m so tired-”
Rafe’s chest tightened, his throat burning. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this. Not here in this crappy gas station bathroom.
“I know, sweet girl… I know,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers for a moment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this for you.”
Y/n shook her head faintly, her grip on his wrist weakening.
“No, baby, listen to me.”
Rafe cupped her face, his thumbs brushing the sweat from her cheeks. His own eyes were glassy now, but his voice steadied. “I need you to be strong for me now, yeah? Just a little longer. You can do this. You’re so close.”
She blinked at him, breath shaky, and he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against hers.
“Please, baby. For me. For our baby.”
Y/n swallowed hard, a tear slipping down her cheek, but she gave him the faintest nod.
“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead as his thumb came out to wipe her cheek free of the salty water..
“That’s my girl.”
Y/n let out a guttural groan as she pushed with everything she had on her next contraction, her entire body trembling under the effort. Rafe was right beside her, one hand braced on her back, the other still gently cupping her hand, which she gripped ferociously.
“Oh my God- the head’s out!”
John B shouted, voice laced with disbelief and panic. He was kneeld awkwardly, eyes wide as he stared down. JJ was next to him, his knees slipping slightly on the layered towels.
“Holy shit, man, I see it! Okay, okay, you’re so close, Y/n!” His voice was high with adrenaline, but there was something soft in it, too. “Come on, mama, just a little more, you’re about to meet your baby!”
Rafe tightened his grip on Y/n’s shoulder, leaning in close, his breath shaky. “Sweet girl, we’re right there, yeah? One more push. You’ve got this.”
The nurse crackled through the phone still in JJ’s shaky grip, “Support the baby’s head! Careful, slow—don’t let it drop!” JJ scrambled, hands trembling as he carefully cupped the tiny, slick head, his face frozen in panic. “Okay, okay, I got it—I got it! Oh my God, John B, help me!” John B, swallowing his own panic, steadied JJ’s hands, both of them crouched and bracing themselves.
“Y/n, baby, one more. Just one more push,”
Rafe whispered, voice breaking but full of determination. Y/n let out a ragged sob, gripping Rafe’s arm like a lifeline, her face buried into his neck. She drew in a shaking breath and bore down, crying out as her body strained.
“There we go!” John B’s voice cracked with disbelief. “The shoulders are coming!” JJ’s eyes were wide, hands gently guiding the tiny body. Rafe’s hand slid to her damp cheek, brushing her hair back.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”
And in the next moment, the baby slipped free into JJ and John B’s waiting hands, their eyes wide with shock and awe. For a moment, the entire room was still. Breathless. Then, the silence shattered. A sharp, piercing wail filled the air—raw, loud, and alive.
The baby was crying.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, filled with warmth. “That’s exactly what we want to hear, means their airways are clear- congratulations!” the nurse’s voice came through, vibrating with relief.
Y/n’s body sagged with relief, sobs breaking free as she wept, trembling from exhaustion and overwhelming joy. Rafe let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His chest tightened, and his eyes, glossed over, locked on Y/n, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Oh, sweet girl…” His voice was raw as he leaned in, cupping her tear-streaked face.
“I’m so proud of you. You hear that?”
He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, voice breaking. “That’s our baby Y/n, you did that.” He pressed soft, lingering kisses to her forehead, his arms holding her close. Y/n’s breath hitched, tears slipping freely. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Is it… is it a boy or a girl?”
John B, though still emotional, took the lead as he carefully placed his hands on the baby’s tiny chest, rubbing gently as the nurse instructed to ensure air was circulating properly. His movements instinctual despite the fear and emotions tangled in his chest.
“It’s a girl.”
A fragile, joyful sob escaped Y/n’s lips, her hand flying to her mouth. The nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, her tone calm and clear. “Alright, now I need you to swaddle the baby tightly, make sure she doesn’t get cold.”
JJ moved quickly, wrapping the baby snugly in the towel, his hands surprisingly gentle despite the chaos unfolding around them. The nurse continued as they worked on the little being amongst the towels. “And how’s mom? Make sure she’s covered up too, don’t want her getting cold either.”
John B, standing up from his kneeling position, grabbed a second blanket and draped it over Y/n, making sure it covered her body as he gently rubbed her back. “Good job, Y/n. You’re amazing.” Never in a million years did he think when he got a job at the gas station he would be helping to deliver his brother in law’s baby. Y/n, leaning heavily against Rafe, gave him a small, exhausted smile.
The nurse’s voice came through again, more reassuring this time. “Now, I need you to pass the baby to mum. Be gentle, don’t pull on the umbilical cord. The ambulance is just two minutes away.”
Rafe, still crouched behind Y/n, gently helped her lean back against his chest . His arms were wrapped securely around her, as he supported her with a steady, comforting presence. He gently adjusted her position, making sure her back was firmly against his chest, and spoke softly, his voice laced with concern,
“You okay, baby?”
Y/n hummed softly, her breath shallow as she nodded faintly, exhaustion clouding her features. She leaned back further into him, her body still trembling, but her grip on her blanket was firm. Rafe gave her a soft kiss on the side of her head, his hands gently rubbing her arm in soothing circles. JJ gently cradled the newborn, his hands trembling slightly from the weight of the moment.
“Well done sunshine.”
He said softly, his voice full of emotion as he carefully passed the baby to Y/n. With shaky hands, Y/n cradled the baby to her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down at the sweet, tiny face. Tears welled up in her eyes, the overwhelming joy of finally holding her daughter too much to contain. She let out a shaky sob, her heart swelling with emotion. Rafe leaned in close, his voice soft as he spoke,
“It’s okay, we’ve got her now, yeah?”
He wrapped his arms around Y/n from behind, his chin resting gently on her shoulder, offering her all the reassurance she needed. Y/n barely heard him though, her attention entirely on the little life in her arms. She watched as he ran a trembling finger over the baby’s cheek, the softness of his daughter's skin pulling at his heartstrings.
“She looks just like you, Rafey”
Y/n murmured, her voice full of awe. Rafe let out an emotional laugh, a tear slipping from his eye as he leaned in to kiss Y/n’s forehead, feeling completely overwhelmed by the moment. Y/n turned her head to look at him, and he leaned forward slightly to press his forehead gently against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet, sacred moment. After a moment of silence, he kissed her softly, his lips lingering for just a second. With glossy eyes, he whispered,
“Thank you for giving us our sweet girl.”
Y/n smiled, her heart full as she leaned her head against his, both of them looking down at their peaceful, sleeping baby in her arms. Although baby Cameron was born in a gas station on the cut, in the hands of two Pogues who they didn't always get along with, and not in the prestigious private suite of the hospital they had planned to give birth in originally, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.
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More Posts from Writtenbyhollywood and Others
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.
Thinking about Hayden 24/7
(the fact that im reading this in class...)
Happy News! Part II
Hayden Christensen, beloved Star Wars actor who portrayed Anakin Skywalker, gets to see his new baby— wait, are those... twins? Oh how ironic! | Fluff, corny Star Wars puns.
“So this is baby A, in his little sac how cute. And next to him is baby B,” points out the ob-gyn with a little grin, the irony of the situation is not lost on her. She's been your doctor since you moved to Canada with Hayden, and considering that he's standing next to you right now, eyes wide with a face of almost horror, she can't help herself, patting your hand once. “Congratulations family, seems like the force will be strong with these two.”
Hayden seems to be almost as white as the wall behind him, fidgeting with your left hand which he had in his. He offers a nervous laugh at the force joke, but it's clear the poor man is feeling almost faint. It was one of those chuckles he gave during awkward interviews. His face said it all, I'm too old for this!
You blink a few times, staring at the ultrasound in disbelief. You know your doctor has been doing this for many years and more to come, but you can't help but question her abilities at this point. It just doesn't sound real.
“Are you sure, doc? Nah, I don't think I can— I mean, two babies? That's... Ffff—”
She lets a small compassionate chuckle, you're not the first nor the last patient that finds herself in denial when hearing the news. Carrying twins? And Hayden Christensen's on top of that? This is too perfect, too funny.
The doctor proceeded to explain everything that you were seeing on the ultrasound, and she's confident that everything points out to a healthy pregnancy. Of course, you'd have to come back for a check-up in a couple of weeks, but the odds were in your favor.
“I will give you a moment,” she says, wiping off the gel from your barely noticeable belly before exiting. She left a good photo of the ultrasound up, for both of you to process it as you fix up your clothes and sit on the bed.
You stare at Hayden, just as anxious, if not more. You're the one who's carrying those babies, a huge responsibility on your shoulders now.
“Please let me know if I have to get up and give you the bed, I don't think I can drag your ass up if you faint.” You joke.
Hayden seems to come back to himself a bit, glaring for a moment. His shoulders seem to relax though.
“... Baby A and baby B. I'm not sure if I should laugh at this or not.” He brings a hand to his sweaty forehead, this time chuckling nervously, but despite his initial shock these news are exciting. His laughter immediately brings out yours. “I'm too old for news like these, Jesus Christ. We need to buy double the things, I have to baby proof the house twice! We gotta pick out two names, as if choosing one wasn't tough enough.” He continues to ramble, mostly speaking about how he had to secure the house in case his kids were total geniuses who would get themselves into trouble.
“Twins. You gave me twins, Hay...” You say, pulling down your shirt, your head spinning. Hayden helps put on your jacket, and he even got you down from the bed, gripping you firmly. He dusts your clothes off for no reason, and even tries to fix up your bun.
“Water? Here's mine, drink.” He orders, taking the cap off and bringing the bottle to your mouth. You stare at him, taking a sip with amusement. He seems awfully focused now. “Slowly my love.”
Yeah, something tells you this man is about to become the most protective being on earth. It makes you giggle, he's always been protective of you since you're much younger than him, it sparked every single primal cell in his body to be your fearless anxious protector. But this? You can already tell this has made that instinct stronger.
“You really are Anakin Skywalker, just... don't go on any violent rampages, please. You'd hurt your back.”
Hayden pinches your cheek teasingly. “You damn brat, you're lucky I'm so in love with you.” He huffs, now wrapping you between his arms. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, just holding you for a whole minute without speaking. Your heart flutters like it always did, this man's presence is enough to make you feel at peace, it was a nearly indescribable feeling, but the closest you could get to put it into words was home. Hayden felt like home. “WE are not naming them Luke and Leia.”
“I didn't say—”
“I know your brain, you brat.” He playfully scolded, making you chuckle at being caught. You were absolutely going to suggest it, you'll even add them at the top of the list. “We don't even know what they are yet.” Hayden adds, to which you shrugged.
“Did you ever think this could be possible? You having twins?” you ask him shyly as his hand caresses the small of your back.
“Hm, to be fair I always thought I would only have Briar. But then I met you, you rocked my world, made me fall in love, then we got married...” He recounts with a humorous tone. “Yeah the thought crossed my mind a couple of times, I found the possibility rather funny.”
“But you're not laughing now,” you tut with mock pity, to which Hayden rolls his eyes playfully. “Heh, wait until Ewan finds out, he's going to get a kick out of this!” you add, making him groan, mumbling something about you being a brat again. Out of all the loving nicknames he has for you, that one is his favorite. You remember one interview where he accidentally referred to you as such. He didn't mean to since he avoids talking about his personal life, the man protects you and the marriage strictly, but that day he accidentally blurted it out when the interviewer mentioned your tendency of sharing TikTok edits of him. That brat, it's all he grumbled while blushing, innocent enough, right? Well fans went crazy over it, the poor man was scandalized with the things you showed him, from TikTok edits with inappropriate songs, to fanfics on Tumblr. Needless to say he didn't go out for a few weeks, something you still found hilarious. He always answered that he didn't have the need to go out during those weeks, but you know better.
You make a vague effort to grab your purse from the chair, but Hayden beats you to it, making a disapproving sound.
“I'll do it, you just walk and look pretty.”
“Haydennn—”
“Come on, sit down until the doc comes back.” He orders again, gently guiding you to the chair, making you huff. “We can stop for a smoothie on our way back home, I'll make you a nice bubble bath, give you a good ol' massage afterwards.”
Your brows are almost immediately raised, hearing him talk. It was amusing to say the least, and you wondered how he would get when you were rounder with his kids. You shake your head, a loving smile adorning your pretty face. You're suspecting he's going to stick to your side like a shadow, and frankly, it doesn't bother you one bit. He wasn't lying when he suggested he'd become unbearable, and now that you know you're having two kids? Ohhh boy.
There's a knock on the door, the doctor making her presence known before getting back in the room. After a couple of minutes you're being dismissed, and just as Hayden promised, you're on your way to get a smoothie. You slurp happily as he drives with all the precautions in the world, but it's hard to get exasperated when he looks so damn happy.
˚ · .˚ ༘ void,
summary. seeing you after so many years is harder than dean had ever expected.
pairing. dean winchester x reader ; angst
wordcount. 792
The Impala rumbles softly, the low growl of the engine almost soothing against the tense silence inside. Dean grips the wheel tightly, his knuckles white against the leather, his jaw clenched. Sam sits in the passenger seat, flipping through the case file with a furrowed brow, oblivious to his brother’s quiet turmoil.
The brothers are heading into a small, sleepy town, the kind Dean swears is the perfect breeding ground for monsters. The sheriff called in a favor, and they agreed to take the hunt. It was supposed to be straightforward—check out the bodies, track the thing, kill it. Dean didn’t expect ghosts from his past to come creeping in.
But that’s exactly what happens when you stop by the local diner.
Dean’s the first to spot you, sitting by the window. At first, he thinks his mind’s playing tricks on him. But then you laugh, and it hits him like a freight train. You look older, sure, but you’re still you—your smile just as bright, your eyes just as full of life.
And you’re not alone.
There’s a man across from you, his hand resting on yours as you talk. A little girl, no older than six or seven, sits between you, giggling as she tugs on your sleeve to get your attention. You lean down to kiss her forehead, your hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Dean’s heart twists painfully in his chest.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice snaps him out of his daze. “You okay?”
Dean doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are glued to the scene in the diner, the way you look so… settled. So happy.
“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice rough. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”
Sam follows his gaze and frowns, glancing back at Dean. “Do you want to—”
“No,” Dean cuts him off, shaking his head. “Let’s just… let’s just get to work.”
But it’s too late. You’ve spotted him, and your eyes widen in recognition. You excuse yourself from the table, walking toward the door, and before Dean can think of an escape plan, you’re standing in front of him.
“Dean Winchester,” you say, your voice warm and familiar. “Of all the places…”
He forces a smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hey, sweetheart. Long time, no see.”
You laugh softly, the sound tugging at something deep inside him. “It’s been, what, ten years?”
“Something like that,” he replies, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.
Your eyes soften as you study him, like you’re trying to piece together the years that have passed. “You look good, Dean.”
“You too,” he says, and he means it. You look more than good—you look radiant. But he doesn’t say that.
You glance back at the table, where your husband is watching curiously. “I should get back. But… it’s good to see you. Really.”
Dean nods, his throat tight. “Yeah. You too.”
As you walk away, he feels like the air’s been knocked out of him. Sam doesn’t say anything, but Dean can feel his brother’s eyes on him.
“She looks happy,” Sam says quietly once you’re out of earshot.
Dean swallows hard, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. She does.”
He doesn’t add that it hurts like hell, that seeing you with a family—a life he’ll never have—feels like a knife twisting in his chest.
Later, after the case is done and you’re just a memory in the rearview mirror, Dean pulls over on the side of the road, claiming he needs a minute. Sam doesn’t argue; he just waits in the car while Dean steps out into the cool night air.
Dean leans against the Impala, staring up at the stars. His hands are trembling, and he clenches them into fists, trying to steady himself.
For years, he’s carried the weight of what could’ve been. With Lisa, with you, with anyone who might’ve made him feel like he wasn’t just a soldier in this endless war. But it never works out. It’s always the job, always the life, always the damn apocalypse getting in the way.
And now, seeing you happy—truly happy—makes him wonder if he ever had a chance at that kind of peace.
When Sam joins him, neither of them speaks for a while. The silence stretches between them, heavy but comfortable, until Sam finally says, “You okay?”
Dean doesn’t look at him. “I’m fine, Sammy.”
Sam doesn’t push, because they both know it’s a lie.
As they get back in the car and drive off into the night, Dean can’t help but glance at the passenger seat, where you used to sit so many years ago, laughing and teasing him about his music choices.
It’s just a memory now, but it still lingers, bittersweet and aching.
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about me!
abby. 8teen. she/her. latina/québécoise. media student.
NAVIGATION: masterlist ⋆ wattpad
BACKUP BLOG: @hollywoodmaneaters
requests!
i am always open for requests but just know that I have a tight school schedule. therefore, I might not always answer them fast enough. you can request whoever you like!!
I usually write reader as a female but you can always request for reader to be male or nonbinary!
side note!
english is not my first language. therefore I ask of you to be kind and if you see any mistakes let me know!
Hello!!! Can I request Lee Byung-Hun x reader low-key announcing a pregnancy? Please 🙏 but their marriage is not public yet. Like the fans knew they're married but don't know who. Pretty please🙏🙏 thank youuuu
announcing your pregnancy with lee byung-hun
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yourusername
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yourusername one year already ❤️
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user76 it still shocks me to this day that shes married
ynfanpage @/user76 it shocks me that we still dont know who he is
user09 you’re so pretty !!!
user78 my dream wedding dress
ynfan as long as he treats u well im happy…☹️
user45 @/ynfan very happy…🥲
user09 I hope i look as pretty as u when I get married
yourusername
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yourusername surprise surprise
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user76 u keep surprising me everytime u make a post
ynfan rue when was this!?
ynfan98 WHAT
yourfriendsuser congratulations love you 🫶
yourbestfriendsuser excited to be an auntie😉
liked by author
randomuser SINCE WHEN
ynspookie are u cheating on me?
yourusername 10m
byunghun0712
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byunghun0712 on the way 🍼
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user12 why is everyone having a kid
byunghunswifey guys that’s me in picture sorry u had to find out this way
user34 first @/yourusername and now him!?!
user10 did anyone else spot @/yourfriendsuser in the likes
leebyunghunswife NO STOP
user87 ur breaking my heart
byunghunfan brb gonna go jump off a cliff
user27 @/byunghunfan that reminds me of something 🌝
yourusername
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yourusername europe
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user43 i love the aesthetic
ynfanaccount she's so active nowadays
user54 she's got everything i want
yourfriendsuser face card never declines
ynfan pregnancy suits u
byunhun0712
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byunhun0712 my beautiful wife
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user87 haha good joke.
user58 i wish i could call u my husband
laylaaa.07 life is so unfair
kelly.yxx if only I was 20 years older. our age gap wouldn't be that bad
o70.lana im not jealous :) and my eye is def not twitching rn
user44 IS THAT @/yourusername !?
user76 love a man who isn’t afraid to post his wife
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a/n: another request done !!
Hiiii! I hope you're doing great <3 would you please write something platonic, when Dean and Sam were children (or teenagers, it's up to you), and John were to leave them with an ally/friend of his, and she's very attentive, caring, loving, patient, and understanding with them? I deeply enjoyed that our boys had mother figures in their adulthood, that genuinely cared of them, but I would have had loved if they would have had some type of caring figure when they were younger, bc they deserve the entire world :')
Ofc if you don't feel comfortable writing about this or you just simply don't like the idea, pls feel free to ignore it :)
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ safe haven,
summary. john's out for another hunt and the boys get dropped off with a trusted friend
pairing. sam & dean winchester x mother-figure!oc
wordcount. 435
notes. love this concept and they definitely would've needed this! hope you like it hon
John doesn’t say much before he leaves. Just a gruff “You listen to her, alright?” before he’s out the door, duffel slung over his shoulder, truck rumbling down the dirt road.
Dean watches him go, jaw tight. He’s used to this—watching his dad disappear, knowing it’ll be days before he comes back, if not longer.
Sam, though—Sam still watches the taillights until they’re gone, small shoulders sagging.
“Well,” a voice hums behind them, warm and light, like a quilt fresh out of the dryer. “I don’t know about you boys, but I’ve got a roast in the oven that’s about to fall apart if we don’t dig in soon.”
Dean turns to look at her—the woman John dropped them off with. He doesn’t know much about her, just that her name is Annie, and their dad trusts her.
That’s rare enough.
She doesn’t look like a hunter. No scuffed-up boots, no haunted eyes. Just soft curves, an apron dusted with flour, and a smile that reaches her eyes.
She looks like a mom.
Dean doesn’t trust it.
But Sam—Sam is already inching toward her kitchen, nose scrunching as he sniffs the air. “Roast?” he asks, tentative, like he’s afraid he misheard.
Annie’s eyes twinkle. “With potatoes. And homemade bread. You eat bread, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Sam nods quickly, and Dean huffs, nudging his brother. “Dude, act like you’ve been fed before.”
Annie just chuckles, ruffling Sam’s hair. “Come on, then. Wash your hands first.”
Dean hesitates, lingering in the doorway as Sam beelines for the sink.
She’s too nice.
Nice people don’t last long in their world.
But the kitchen smells amazing, warm and buttery, and his stomach betrays him with a loud growl.
Annie turns, raising a brow. “Well?” she says, gentle but firm. “You coming, or am I gonna have to carry you?”
Dean snorts, shoulders easing just slightly. “I’d like to see you try, lady.”
She grins. “Careful what you wish for, kid.”
That night, she tucks Sam in first, smoothing his hair back, humming something soft. Sam’s out within minutes, relaxed in a way Dean hasn’t seen in years.
And then it’s just him.
Dean is sitting stiffly on the bed when Annie turns to him.
“You don’t have to, you know,” she says softly.
He frowns. “Have to what?”
She smiles, but there’s something sad in it. “Be on guard. Take care of everything. Just for tonight, sweetheart, let someone take care of you.”
Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything.
But when she pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, when her fingers brush against his hair—
He finally relaxes.
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want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ( continues in the comments )
EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER
WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs
NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah
After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.
Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.
But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.
You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.
They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.
Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.
This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.
You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.
It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.
You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.
Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.
As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.
Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.
He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.
His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.
"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.
He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.
You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.
Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.
A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.
"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"
"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.
He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.
Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.
Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"
You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.
His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.
"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.
His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.
You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"
He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."
You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.
Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.
"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.
"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"
"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."
His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."
"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.
"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"
"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.
"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"
"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."
His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."
You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.
His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.
Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.
He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.
The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.
He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.
You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.
He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.
"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"
You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.
His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."
"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.
"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"
His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.
Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips
He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.
He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.
"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.
He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"
Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.
"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.
"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.
You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."
The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.
He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.
One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.
"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.
You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.
"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.
You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.
He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"
His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.
"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.
He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.
You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.
He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.
"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.
"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.
"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."
"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."
"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."
"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.
He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"
You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.
"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.
Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."
There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.
He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.
His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.
He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.
You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?
Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."
You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.
shower thoughts
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ellie williams x reader
summary: a lazy shower after a slow morning with ellie leads to contemplation of your continuously budding relationship.
(implied homophobia from parents; established lovers)
a/n: not sure how i feel about this one lol ,, i might have to release something else soon to make up for how short it is
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Your hair sticks to the back of your neck and back in wet clumps. The light touch of Ellie’s lips to your skin is soothing as she kisses your shoulder, then the space between your shoulder blades, her mouth just barely grazing your skin.
It was a slow, quiet Saturday. Both of you had woken up in the early hours of the afternoon, and, after a couple more hours of burrowing under the covers like mice, decided to wash off your grogginess in the shower. It was nice, sleeping over at Ellie’s. Sure, her bedroom was always a mess, with comics strewn around the carpet and charcoal somehow smeared across her walls, but that gave it character. It was all so Ellie.
“D’you think we’d still be here even if I didn’t slip you my number at that coffee shop?” you murmur suddenly, barely audible over the sound of the showerhead.
You were feeling thoughtful as it neared half a year together as a couple. It was strange to think back on how you two had met now that you had come so far. After seeing Ellie, a then stranger, a couple of times at your favorite little coffee shop in the city, you had finally decided to bite the bullet and approach her after some hyping-up from a friend. That was back in March of last year. It was December now, and the two of you had been going steady since that summer after your first introduction.
Ellie kisses at your nape silently for a moment. You can tell that she’s pondering your question even if you can’t see her face with her standing behind you.
“Why’re we talking about this?” she asks softly, though not accusatorially. Her fingers come up from your waist to play with the stands of hair at the back of your neck, pushing the hair away from the damp skin and gingerly wrapping the strands around her fingers.
You don’t reply for a long time. You just relish in the feel of your girlfriend standing behind you in that tiny old shower, in the feel of the hot water pouring down against your front from the shower head, burning your skin deliciously.
“I almost didn’t do it,” you finally admit, letting your eyes close and dipping your face slightly so that the scalding water poured over it.
That was the truth. You almost didn’t approach Ellie that day. There were a couple hundred worries plaguing your mind as you had sat at your little table in the far corner of that coffee shop, squeezing your paper cup tight and hashing out the details of how exactly you were going to go about it. At the forefront of your thoughts were your parents and what they would think about their daughter asking out a girl.
That was a worry you had poured over quite a bit last year before you and Ellie first started talking, before she had sat down with you on your worn down couch in your own apartment that one night after you had nervously confided to her and gently told you, “Y’know you’re not obligated to tell anyone anything, right?”
Ellie knows about your struggle with your sexuality, with accepting yourself and with not worrying so much about others accepting you. With your parents and how hard it’s been not being able to be honest with them. The two of you had talked about it before, of course, lots and lots of times.
“I was really scared,” you admit, using your girlfriend’s silence as a cue to continue, “of what it would mean if I approached a girl. Of what it would mean if I approached you.”
“But you did it,” Ellie murmurs into your skin, lifting her face from your nape, “You approached me in the end.”
You nod, mostly to yourself, silent for a moment. “I did.”
Ellie kisses your skin again, nimble fingers rubbing at your naked sides as the water streams over the two of you. You swear to yourself that this is as close to serendipity as you’ve ever been — under the hot stream of the shower-head with your girlfriend, hidden away in her tiny apartment away from the rest of the world. One day, you’ll have the strength to seek out more — holding hands with her outside in front of strangers, kissing her under the rain in the city center, showing her off to your parents — but, for now, you were content.
You turn in Ellie’s arms to face her and study her face carefully, taking in every single detail of it and committing it to your memory — the freckles dotting her rosy cheeks, the scar on her right eyebrow, the slight part of her pretty lips.
“You’re so pretty,” you exhale, eyes darting without purpose as Ellie’s hands move up to brush wet clumps of hair from your cheeks, “I really like you, Ellie.”
Her thumbs rest on your cheekbones, rubbing absentmindedly at the warm skin of your face. “You’re such a dork.”
Ellie’s lashes flutter though, in that way they always do whenever she’s flustered or surprised, even if she’s trained herself to maintain a mellow expression. She swallows, throat bobbing ever so slightly. You almost miss it.
She reaches for the loofah, almost as a distraction, lathering it up in the lemon shortcake scented body wash you had brought over one night because you didn’t like smelling like pine trees. Her hand moves gingerly against your neck, loofah squeezed tight in her grip, then down your bare front. It’s strangely intimate, and you let her lather you up without saying anything, gaze trained to her face. She’s looking down at her hand as she works, but her gaze flickers upwards to meet yours after a while.
“I’m glad you approached me that day.”
Her voice is soft, almost inaudible, and you can tell that her words are genuine. They melt you, and you find yourself leaning into a subtle, barely there kiss. When you draw back, Ellie’s lashes flutter again.
“I’m glad too.”
COOLSVILLE ─── dean winchester
warnings! mentions of drug use (420 blaze it!)
word count! 1.8k
you had no idea how it started—how you became the kind of person who burst into your best friend’s apartment rambling about ghosts like it was just another tuesday. if you had to pinpoint it, though, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that sam winchester, despite trying so hard to be normal, had never been able to shake the magnetism of the weird.
you met sam at stanford. you weren’t really the type for the whole serious academia thing, but somehow, the two of you had just clicked. maybe it was the way he always seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, and you had a knack for making people lighten up. maybe it was because you were both sort of weirdos in your own ways—you, with your love for old urban legends and half-baked conspiracy theories, and sam, with his way of knowing just a little too much about the things you brought up.
either way, he was your best friend. he never judged you when you showed up to his dorm room high as hell, rambling about cryptids or some unsolved murder case that had captivated you for the week. and when he moved in with jess, you adopted her into your circle just as fast.
which is why, when something seriously weird happened in or around stanford, sam was the first person you thought of.
the rumors had started a few weeks ago—hikers going missing near an old, abandoned motel off the highway. people talked about hearing whispers in the woods, seeing shadows move even when there was nothing to cast them. classic ghost shit. but what really got you was the fact that no one seemed to be doing anything about it. the cops brushed it off, called it accidents, but you weren’t buying it.
and sure, maybe you weren’t a hunter or whatever, but come on. it was just a ghost. how hard could it be?
the knock on sam’s apartment door was way too enthusiastic for someone who wasn’t trying to break it down. before he could even get up to answer it, the door swung open, and you burst in like a whirlwind, eyes wide, hair slightly messy, and smelling faintly of weed.
“okay, dude, i know you don’t do the whole hunting thing anymore, but hear me out—" you started, barely pausing to breathe as you plopped down onto sam’s couch. "there’s some seriously weird shit happening just outside town. like, i think it’s a ghost. it has to be. i mean, i don’t actually know jack shit about ghosts, but the vibes? immaculate. real haunted as hell energy. i’d go check it out myself, but i also don’t know how to check out ghosts, and also, i’m high, and this just sounds like a sick idea—”
“hey,” sam cut in, looking like he was already regretting whatever was about to happen next. “this is my brother, dean.”
you stopped mid-rant, finally realizing there was another person in the room.
dean winchester was sitting on the couch, beer in hand, watching you with a smirk that told you he had been very entertained by your little speech.
he had this whole rugged, effortlessly cool thing going on—leather jacket, cocky half-smile, green eyes that practically twinkled with amusement. the kind of guy who probably had stories that would make your ghost story sound like a kindergarten fairy tale.
“well, hey there,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clearly enjoying your reaction.
you exhaled, collecting yourself. “hey, cool. nice to meet you.” then, without missing a beat, you turned right back to sam. “so, about the ghost shit—are you in?”
dean let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you know, sammy, i like this one.”
sam shot him a glare. “no. absolutely not.”
“oh, come on,” dean drawled, grinning as he nudged sam with his elbow. “indulge your friend, would ya? she’s clearly passionate about this ghost crap.”
“i am not indulging her,” sam huffed, arms crossed. “we’re not going on some ghost hunt just because she saw a couple of weird reddit posts.”
you scoffed. “okay, rude. first of all, i did my research. second of all, it wasn’t reddit, it was the newspaper and reddit —which, honestly, i feel like makes it more credible.”
sam shot you a deadpan look.
dean snorted. “see? now we have to go.”
“dean.”
“sam.”
dean clapped a hand on sam’s shoulder, his grin widening. “come on, man. what’s the worst that could happen?”
sam let out a long, suffering sigh, running a hand down his face. “i hate both of you.”
you beamed. “so that’s a yes?”
“fine,” he muttered, already regretting everything.
dean smirked. “atta boy, sammy.”
you didn’t know how, but somehow, you convinced them. or maybe dean had been looking for a little excitement. either way, an hour later, you were in the backseat of the nicest car you’d ever been in—dean’s impala—on the way to check out your “ghost.”
dean had been grilling you about what, exactly, you’d heard.
“so, people are just... disappearing?”
“yeah,” you said, leaning forward between the front seats. “like, they go hiking, and then they just don’t come back. no bodies, no signs of a struggle. just gone. and people have been talking about hearing whispers in the woods. creepy shit.”
dean hummed, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “and you figured this was a ghost?”
you shrugged. “what else would it be?”
dean smirked. “oh, sweetheart. you have no idea.”
that should have been your first clue that you were in way over your head.
you were about twenty minutes outside of town, where the paved roads had turned to dirt and the streetlights had long since disappeared. the deeper into the woods you drove, the quieter it got—too quiet. even with the car rumbling beneath you, there was a heaviness in the air, a weird sort of stillness that made your skin prickle.
dean noticed it too, because his hands tightened around the wheel. “yeah, this place has a vibe,” he muttered.
“yeah, a creepy one,” you agreed. “we sure this was a good idea?”
“no,” sam said bluntly.
dean just grinned. “that’s what makes it fun.”
when the impala finally rolled to a stop at the edge of the woods, you realized just how dark it was out here. the trees stretched high, their branches twisting together to block out most of the moonlight. the headlights cast long, jagged shadows that seemed to move when you weren’t looking.
you swallowed hard. okay. maybe this wasn’t one of your brightest ideas.
sam sighed, pushing open his door. “let’s just get this over with.”
you followed suit, stepping out and instantly regretting not bringing a jacket. the night air was sharp, colder than it had been in town. goosebumps prickled along your arms.
dean opened the trunk, revealing an arsenal of weapons and tools that had you raising an eyebrow. “okay, what the hell?”
“what?” dean said, grabbing a flashlight and a shotgun like it was the most normal thing in the world.
you gestured wildly. “this is not standard ghost-hunting equipment. you’ve got, like—holy water? is that a machete?”
sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “this is a terrible idea.”
dean ignored him. instead, he turned to you with that same cocky smirk. “what, you thought we were just gonna bust out a ouija board and call it a day?”
“honestly? yeah.”
dean chuckled. “well, welcome to the real world, sweetheart.”
you didn’t like the way he said that.
sam handed you a flashlight—nothing fancy, just a regular one—and muttered something under his breath about how this was so stupid as the three of you started towards the trailhead.
the dirt path was narrow, winding between thick trees that made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. the further you went, the more the shadows stretched, twisting like something alive.
and then you heard it.
a whisper.
faint, barely there, but close enough to make your stomach drop.
you froze. “uh. did you hear that?”
dean and sam exchanged a look. that was never a good sign.
and then, before you could say anything else, something moved in the trees.
something big.
the branches cracked. leaves rustled.
your breath caught in your throat.
oh.
oh, shit.
this was so not just a ghost.
you didn’t really remember how it all went down. one second, you were frozen in place, staring at the shifting shadows in the trees. the next, something exploded from the darkness—too fast, too inhuman.
a blur of motion. a guttural snarl.
and then pain.
something huge slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you went flying. the impact was brutal, sending you crashing to the ground so hard that the world tilted. the taste of copper flooded your mouth.
you barely had time to register the weight pressing down on you before claws tore through your skin, sharp and merciless. a ragged scream ripped from your throat, but it was drowned out by the thing’s snarl.
you struggled, kicking, thrashing—fighting—but it was too strong. its breath was hot and rancid against your face, its growl vibrating through your bones. the sharp, burning pain of teeth sinking into flesh stole whatever fight you had left.
somewhere, distantly, you heard sam shout your name.
a gunshot rang out.
the weight lifted.
you gasped, but the air barely made it to your lungs. everything burned—your skin, your ribs, the deep, searing wound where the thing’s teeth had sunk in.
somewhere above you, voices clashed, distant but frantic.
“dean! she’s—it got—” sam’s voice was raw with panic, his footsteps pounding toward you.
“get her up! we gotta move!” dean’s voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the haze.
“this was stupid!” sam shouted, closer now. you barely felt it when his hands pressed against your arm, shaking slightly as he tried to assess the damage. “it was reckless—we shouldn’t have brought her out here!”
dean let out a ragged breath. “we’ll talk about it later, sammy—right now, we need to get her back before—just get her up!
your body felt impossibly heavy, like the ground had wrapped itself around you, pulling you deeper. sam’s voice blurred in and out, shifting from frantic words to muffled sounds.
“stay with me—hey, keep your eyes open—come on, you’re okay—”
but you weren’t.
the darkness was creeping in at the edges of your vision, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, it was winning.
you thought you felt someone scoop you up—strong arms, the scent of leather and gunpowder grounding you for a brief moment. the motion made your stomach lurch, a dull ache radiating from every part of you.
the voices—sam’s frantic, dean’s sharp—blurred together, growing distant. you tried to focus, tried to hold onto something—anything—but the heaviness pulled at you, dragging you under before you could fight it.
breezy's notes: because i am nothing if not a die hard scooby-doo fan! also, had to make up for all the sad shit that i was posting lol. thank you dolly for making all the decisions for the visuals bc i could not make them for the life of me 🤍 it is also important to note that canon is a suggestion here and not a rule lmao. ALMOST FORGOT THIS WEREWOLF! READER IS THE SAME AS THE WEREWOLF! READER IN BURNT SUGAR, SO THIS SERIES (??) WILL BE AN ORIGIN STORY I GUESS
if you'd like to be added to/removed from the tag list pls lmk!
tags ⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭: @floralscented @deansbeer @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @florchids @bluemerakis @tortureddarkstar @figthoughts @ultravi0lence14 @misatxox @foolinthera1n @deansenvy @hoffmansgirl @eepwtf @lawboysammyy @jjmbbg @tinas111 @soldiersgirl @whisperingdaze @abox-of-rocks @starzify @acklesgal @beausling
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.
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