Hiiii!! Could You Do A Relationship With Lee Byung Hun But Their Keeping It Private Like She Never Post

Ive never related to a song more than this one.

Lee byung hun but situationship maybe? Pretty please 🙏

having a situationship with lee byung-hun

a/n: thank you for the request! I actually really loved this idea

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byunghun0712

liked by from_jjlee and others

byunghun0712 #미스터션샤인 #mrsunshine

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leebyunghunfan this is the first time I don’t see @/yourusername like his post

user1 @/leebyunghunfan probably because of the way he’s looking at the girl in the first picture

user2 interesting post…

yourstruly @/user2 bffr they’re just coworkers

user2 @/yourstruly are we looking at the same pictures ?

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriendsuser and others

yourusername book date with the bestie cuz men ain’t shit

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randomuser wait happened?? is she talking about byung-hun??

ilovedilfs @/randomuser I really hope not

girlblogger y’all are overreacting. they never said they were together

ohfish @/girlblogger they’re prob just hooking up

yourbestfriendsuser hoes before bros

liked by author

userr12 I just noticed she unfollowed him omg…

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername if you don’t want me DON’T ACT LIKE YOU FUCKING WANT ME

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yourbestfriendsuser he don’t know what he’s missing out on

byunghunandyn I’m seriously wondering if they’re together or not

user_ @/byunhunandyn was the caption not clear enough for u?

iconiccuser we’ve all been there girly

user55 @/iconiccuser the strongest of soldier fr

user91 I get this on so many levels

user32 no way. He liked the post as if this wasn’t about him😭

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername im someone who forgives and forgets

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user1 STAND UP GIRL

marrymebyunghun who can blame her

byunghunswife @/marrymebyunghun I mean look at him

ynfan we get it dw

user31_ you’ll get out of that phase

ynfan4ever @/user31_ if my bf gave gifts like that I would forgive him without hesitation

user31_ @/ynfan4ever THEYRE NOT EVEN TOGETHER

ynfan4ever @/user31 YOU DONT KNOW THAT

user76 and the crowd is...confused?

byunghun0712

liked by yourusername and others

byunghun0712 cheers 🍻

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user12 guys… she’s following him again

byunghunfan @/user12 NOOOOO

stormshadowsabs leave my man alone

ynsfan @/stormshadowsabs tell him to leave our girl alone

hayyleee raw.

dilfenthusiast let's make love

azeala.aa all 10 fingers

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername saw lisa live!!!

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ynfan1 gorgeous

user09 are they together?

randomuser @/user09 yes and no

leahhhh.hhh till the bed breaks

user45 ahhh omg ur a lisa fan!!!

yourusername @/user45 well of course!

fckmeleebyunghun the jealousy im feeling...

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriendsuser and others

yourusername maybe the single life suits me better

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user08 bad bitch

ynfan02 girl what happened now

user34 I’m getting used to this now

byunhunfan this is more entertaining than my life

user12 well what did he do this time

leebyunghunswifey @/user12 why do u assume he’s the problem? Maybe it’s her

ynfanpage @/leebyunghunswifey men are always the problem. you’ll understand that when you’re older

user10 u may have lost ur man but at least ur hot

byunghun0712

liked by yourusername and others

byunghun0712 💪

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yourusername biting my lip

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user75 HIS ARMSSS

user12 now why is @/yourusername in the comments

byunghunswifey @/user12 Frl what are u doing

userr09 @/yourusername is so luckyyy

user98 can she not make up her mind ?

ynfan y’all are taking this too seriously. so what if they’re hooking up?

user23 @/ynfan exactly like they wouldn’t be the first to do so

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Bunny (P12)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

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

a/n: well bazinga. here we are- I'm loving you guys all fangirling over rafe and bunny cause they're such cutie patooties. But happiness is not for free, so I'm really really sorry about this one- I hope ya'll can forgive me. (and rafe) (idk if I can)

warnings: angst :(, alcohol, smoking, weed, violence, fights, drunkenness, rafe being a little bitch

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12)

The air is heavy with the lingering warmth of the day, the sky streaked with dying gold and violet as Y/N steps out the back exit of the country club. The low hum of insects fills the silence, broken only by the soft scrape of her boots against the pavement. Her shoulders are tired, the strap of her bag crumpled in one hand, and she taps her phone screen with the other, the glow casting light across her features, a new message flashing on the screen.

JJ : Lost my charger again

JJ. : Its okay tho cuz I took yours

JJ : I'll give it back

JJ : (I won't)

A laugh spills quietly from her lips, soft and genuine. That familiar feeling of warmth spreads through her chest at his messages. It'd been a few weeks since she'd come back from Charleston- since JJ had finally got a job. And she had to admit he was trying, really trying, so now their long awkward conversation which ended with deafening silence had eased in to sweet and stupid messages and playful banter which filled the walls of their bedrooms once more. Her fingers typed out a reply—

Y/N : u better u loser

She places the phone into her pocket and glances up- and then stops dead in her tracks. Her car’s parked at the far end of the staff lot, right where she left it but what she didn’t leave, was the sleek black Range Rover sitting beside it, the glossy paint catching the orange hues of the setting sun. She stiffens immediately, scanning the lot, no one around and her steps towards her car quicken. The driver’s side door opens, and Rafe steps out, tall and unbothered, his hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, and there’s that stupid smirk playing on his lips. Her heart jumps straight into her throat. “Rafe—” she hisses under her breath, marching toward him with panic in her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, voice low and smooth, “What? I can’t come see you?”

“Not in the staff parking lot,” she snaps in a hushed whisper, “Do you want someone to see you? What if someone from inside walks out—”

“Relax”

He says gently, stepping forward and before she can argue more, his hands are at her hips, warm and familiar, tugging her closer until her body is brushing against his in the narrow space between the cars. The proximity knocks the air from her lungs. Her hands instinctively rest against his chest, palms flat over the material of his t-shirt where she can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm beneath her fingers.

Hers? Not so much.

“There’s no one around...”

He murmurs, head tilted down as he looks at her, his voice softer now, velvety and coaxing and her breath catches. She should push him away. She should tell him this is reckless, stupid, dangerous. But his scent- musky and alluring- clouds her thoughts. And his touch, just the lightest press of fingertips against the small of her back— is so familiar now, so comforting in its own twisted way. And she hates that it’s comforting. Her fingers twitch against his chest. She finally manages a whisper her words stubborn,

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile in his voice as he leans in just a fraction closer, breath ghosting against her temple.

“But I wanted to be.”

She rolls her eyes with a long, exaggerated sigh, but her lips betray her- tugging upward at the corners, betraying the way he’s already wormed his way into her mood.

“We’re gonna get caught”

She mutters under her breath, glancing toward the dark stretch of the staff lot like someone might materialise from the shadows. The words barely leave her lips, soft and hurried, like they know better than to draw attention. Rafe just smirks, tilting his head down slightly, his chin angling toward her as he closes the few inches left between them.

“Not if you kiss me quick”

He says, voice low and roughened with amusement. Her eyes squint in a playful glare, head pulling back a fraction.

“You’re so annoying.”

But her body leans in all the same.

Her fingers find the soft t-shirt, curling into the fabric without even thinking. She rises onto the balls of her feet, just barely, and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s quick and light—barely a brush. Just a flicker of warmth, like a secret passed between two people in the dark. As she pulls away, his face follows hers- like his lips are trying to chase the kiss she’s already taken back. He doesn’t even think about it, just dips forward slightly, a greedy edge in his movement. She breathes out a small laugh, pushing against his chest with a single finger. “Nope,” she says, her smile widening.

“I'm hungry.”

"Yeah well so am I"

He lets his hands slip from her hips with a groan that’s more for show than anything, head rolling back as he leans against the hood of his car. She just shrugs, the inuendo lost on her ears as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder.

“You’re such a tease Bunny”

He drawls and she snorts, already turning on her heel to head toward the trunk of her car.

“I don’t know what you mean Cameron.”

Her fingers make quick work of the car key, popping the trunk. She grabs the rolled-up apron resting on top her bag and tosses it in alongside her worn-out tote bag, the whole thing collapsing into a pile on top of an old hoodie and a dented water bottle. The sound of the trunk slamming shut echoes across the empty lot. Spinning back around to face him, she crosses her arms and leans her weight into one hip, chin tilted up with that same little smile that drives him crazy.

“You really wanna get caught by one of your little Kook friends out here with me?” she teases, cocking a brow. “Have to explain why you’ve been slumming it with a Pogue?”

His smirk twitches- just a smidge. For the briefest moment, his expression shifts and something softer creeps into it. Something a little more sincere. His gaze lingers on her face longer than it should and then flickers back down to her lips before returning back up again.

“Wouldn’t care if they did”

He says simply, a quiet shrug rolling off his shoulders as if he means it, as if it's the simplest answer in the world. It catches her off guard- freezes her for a beat. Her mouth opens, then closes again but she recovers quick, brushing it off with a scoff and a roll of her eyes.

“You’re so full of shit.”

But even as the words leave her lips, there’s a faint flicker of something else behind her voice- something almost moved. Something she doesn’t want to name because it’s been a few weeks since that night.

A few weeks since she tilted her milkshake to her lips and he wiped the sweet drip from her skin with his thumb like it meant nothing. Since he kissed her like he’d been holding back for months and she melted into it like her body had been waiting on that exact moment to exhale. And since then? It’s been a series of late-night meet ups that feel like a secret thread connecting them. Not the kind that spun in lies—but the kind too delicate to speak aloud. The kind you carry with careful hands and quiet hearts in fear of it snapping. Every night, after her shift ends and the world turns quiet, she finds him waiting. Always parked in the back corner of some parking lot—headlights off, music low and she slips into the passenger seat without a word, throws her bag in the back, kicks off her shoes, and leans over to kiss him like she’s been holding her breath all day.

The kisses are slow at first. Always. A shared pause. But then they tip into something deeper, heavier—like they’re trying to memorise each other without crossing any lines they haven’t drawn out loud- but it never goes further than that. His hands stay respectful, if not reverent- one cupping her jaw, the other braced on the back of her seat or tangled gently on her waist, on her hip, in her hair. Her fingers clutch the hem of his shirt like a tether, holding on but not pulling him in any closer than he already is.

There’s a quiet fire, always simmering, but neither of them dare feed it too much. Neither of them dare ask what they are. It’s easier this way. Safer. They stay pressed into the quiet hum of those car rides, the warmth of shared fries, the heat of stolen kisses in the dark, and the steady, unspoken beat of something they’ve both grown addicted to but don’t yet understand.

Rafe leaned against the top of her car, forearms braced over the roof like he had all the time in the world. The late golden hour sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the near-empty staff lot behind the country club. His eyes squinted slightly from the light, jaw sharp as ever, that casual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth “What’s your hurry today, huh?” he drawled lazily, peering down at her with a teasing glint.

“You extra hungry or what?”

Y/N huffed, already halfway into the driver’s seat of her little beat-up car, one leg in, one out, “No asshole- I just don’t want anyone to spot us, okay?”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, the sound low and unbothered. He shrugged one shoulder and pushed off the car just enough to stretch lazily.

“It’s not a big deal.”

She snapped her head up to look at him, her tone sharper now, “Yeah, actually Rafe—it is a big deal. Because if JJ finds out—”

“I know”

He cut in, dragging a hand over his jaw, irritation flashing in his eyes. “If JJ finds out, he’ll be mad. Whatever. I get it, okay? No need to tell me again.”

The words hung between them for a second, heavier than either wanted them to be. The silence wasn’t angry- but it was tense. The same argument they hadn’t quite had, bubbling beneath their stolen moments. He stood there now by her open car door, his figure blocking some of the sunlight, casting a soft shadow over her where she sat inside the car. From where she was, her eye level landed right at his belt. Her gaze softened a bit, guilt tugging at her gut. Then her hand came up, absent-minded and almost sheepish, her fingers catching on the loop of his jeans. She played with it lightly, tugging once. A peace offering. His eyes flicked down to her hand, then to her face, jaw still tight. She asked quietly, tilting her head up at him with a playful sort of pout, brows lifted just a touch.

“You mad..?”

“No,” he replied, voice low. “Why would I be mad?”

She shrugged, still toying with the denim loop, “I dunno. I thought—” she cut herself off, shaking her head a little, “Doesn’t matter.”

Rafe didn’t press. He let it hang, then gave a soft hum, looking around the lot- empty still, save for their two cars and the rustle of wind through the nearby trees. “So,” he drawled, rocking back slightly on his heels.

“We going to get something to eat or what?”

Y/N brightened a little, grateful for the pivot. “I’m feelingggg…” she stretched the word dramatically, “Chinese?”

He smiled at that slightly, nodding, “Chinese sounds good.”

“Cool,” she said, pulling her legs fully into the car now, “I’ll meet you there then?”

He gave a small nod, “Yeah… yeah.”

But she could tell- by the way he paused before turning away, by the way his fingers twitched at his side- that he was still holding onto a bit of a grudge. He hadn’t gotten his kiss, not a real one. And that wounded pride was showing, even if he tried to hide it behind his nonchalant façade. She rolled her eyes with a soft exhale- who would have thought Rafe Cameron was so needy?

Reaching up, she curled her fingers into the front of his T-shirt, tugging him gently back down toward her, guiding him until he bent slightly, face now level with hers. His breath hitched, eyelashes fluttering as he leaned into her touch. She kissed him then- firm, but warm. Just enough to melt that sulking tension in his brow. His lips moved against hers with a soft hum, his hand bracing on the edge of her door as he leaned in a fraction more, savouring it. When she pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded, lips parted like he wanted to chase her mouth again.

“You done now, you baby?”

She murmured with a crooked smile, eyes teasing but fond. Rafe’s smirk returned, slow and smug. “Yeah,” he murmured, straightening up,

“I’m done now.”

And with that, he backed away from the car, hands in his jacket pockets like he hadn’t just been melting under her touch. She watched him retreat toward his car, her heart doing that dumb little flutter it always did lately, it lingered in her chest. Just as his door swung open, he looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t forget the egg rolls.”

She rolled her eyes and started her car.

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

The quiet hum of the radio filled the space between them, the soft crackle of music soothing after a long day. They sat there in the dim light of the car, the smell of Chinese food mingling with the fresh evening air that drafted in through the slightly cracked window. Y/N leaned back against the seat, her legs tucked up beneath her as she dug into her takeout container. Rafe sat beside her, elbow propped up on the door, his free hand reaching for his food, the sound of plastic utensils scraping against the containers faint in the otherwise still air. Rafe asked, his voice low as he finally broke the silence, his eyes flicking over to her as he stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“How was work?”

“It was… okay”

Y/N muttered, chewing before she continued, eyes shifting away from him for a moment, “Had this asshole customer... one of your friends actually.”

“One of my friends? Who?”

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing slightly in curiosity as he put his food down. Y/N rolled her eyes as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression calm despite the frustration in her voice.

“That guy Brett? The one you hang out with sometimes. Total jerk.”

“Why, what did he do?”

Her expression tightened as she recounted the experience, “he kept clicking his fingers in my face like I was some kind of dog, and whenever I went over to his table, he called me ‘waitress’ like I’m not even good to have a name? God he was so patronising.”

“He really did that?”

He asked, disbelief creeping into his tone, jaw clenched. Y/N tilted her head toward him, not missing the change in his expression. 

“Yeah, why? You don’t believe me?”

“No” He muttered, his voice hardening a little as he picked up his food again, his hand gripping the chopsticks tighter than necessary.

“I believe you.”

He took a bite, chewing slowly as he fought the frustration that was rising inside him. A small silence settled between them, the only sound the soft clinking of their chopsticks against the takeout containers. Rafe didn’t like that she had to deal with people like that, didn’t like it one bit.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

He asked, his voice casual, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Y/N turned her head slowly toward him, her expression soft but guarded as she mumbled,

“Working.”

Rafe blinked raising an eyebrow, “It’s Saturday…?”

“Yeah, and?” She shrugged, taking another bite of her food, her voice low and almost dismissive. “I’m broke, Rafe. I’m always working.”

His eyes darkened again as he placed his food down with a soft clink, his fingers tapping against the lid of the container. He wasn’t about to let this go- he hated it, and they both knew it. He took a sip of his drink, the cold liquid hitting his throat like a jolt, but it did nothing to cool the fire that was building in him. He put the cup back in the cup holder with a sigh, his voice quieter but still firm.

“I don’t see why you can’t just take a break. You don’t always have to work.”

“We’re not having this conversation again Rafe.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to him, her face hardening slightly as she gave him a pointed look. He frowned, the words heavy in the air.

“Look, I get that maybe you think it’s embarrassing to accept my—”

“If you keep talking about this,” she interrupted, her tone sharper now, “I’m getting out of your car.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, taking in the shift in her expression- the quiet defensiveness there, the exhaustion she was trying to hide. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. He paused, the weight of her words sinking in, then gave a short, almost defeated nod, like he was choosing to back off of the subject for now. Y/N didn’t say anything in response, her eyes softening as she turned back to her food, the brief tension hanging in the air like smoke. She had already given him her answer. She had already drawn the line before, and Rafe knew he’d have to respect it—for now. The silence that settled between them wasn’t heavy but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Just... quiet. Their takeout containers were nearly empty now, the scent of soy and spice lingering faintly in the car, blending with the low hum of music still playing in the background. Y/N had reclined her seat a bit, one leg tucked up under the other, the other stretched out, socked foot resting against the dashboard. Her shoes sat forgotten on the floor, and a soft breeze drifted in through the cracked window, brushing gently against her skin.

Rafe glanced over at her, his arm draped over the back of her seat, thumb idly brushing the seam of the leather. She looked content, even if a little tired- hair slightly messy from the day, lashes casting soft shadows across her cheekbones as she stared out at nothing in particular. He liked seeing her like this, unfiltered.

“There’s a party tomorrow night”

He said suddenly, voice quiet but breaking the lull between them. He reached forward, placing his empty cup in the holder before leaning back again, tapping a slow rhythm on his thigh. She turned her head lazily, brows knitting together slightly.

“A party?”

He nodded, “One of the beach houses on Figure Eight. Bunch of people’ll be there.” He paused, then looked over at her, expression unreadable.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Her head lifted a little more now, blinking at him like she wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “Yeah.” He gave a slow shrug, feigning casual, but his eyes were locked on hers, watching closely.

“I’m gonna be there...”

“Since when do you want me showing up to a Kook party?”

Y/N sat up slightly in her seat, feet slipping from the dashboard and landing softly on the floor. He smirked lightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Since now.”

There was a beat of silence, then another. Her gaze searched his face, trying to find the catch—but there wasn’t one. Just Rafe, looking at her like he didn’t care if the whole island had something to say about her. She asked, voice lower now, almost testing him.

“You serious?”

“Yeah- I am.”

He leaned a little closer, one arm still draped along the back of her seat. Y/N pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him, chewing over the offer in her mind. The idea of being in that world with no responsibilities- even just for a night- felt risky. Foreign. But something in the way he was looking at her made it hard to say no.

“I don't know Rafe... I’d stick out like a sore thumb besides people will talk-”

"-people always talk”

He shot back cutting her off slightly, amused as she frowned slightly, arms crossing tighter as she shook her head a little.

“This is different. You know it is.”

Rafe tilted his head thinking deeply, but didn’t press her just yet, “Your friend’s gonna be there,” he said instead, voice smooth as ever.

“My—what? Who?”

“Sofia, right?”

He squinted slightly and Y/N straightened a little, her mouth dropping open at the mention of the girls name.

“Sofia’s going?”

“Yeah.” He was smirking now. “That guy she’s been seeing? The new Kook on the island? He’s the one throwing it.”

“She hasn’t told me that,” Y/N muttered, staring at him.

“Well.” He turned more toward her, resting his elbow against the console and tapping the edge of her thigh with his fingers playfully.

“Looks like you’re not the only one with a dirty little secret.”

She let out a shocked laugh, eyes widening at the words passing his lips before narrowing her gaze at him as she shoved his shoulder back, playful but not gentle,

“You’re such a dick, Cameron.”

He only grinned, letting her shove him- indulging in the feeling of her touch even if momentary. Y/N gave a little scoff and turned away, but her smile lingered. A beat of silence passed over them before she spoke out, “Fine,” she said, like it pained her to admit it.

“I guess I can… think about it.”

“Think about it?” Rafe echoed with mock offense, sitting up straighter, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

She didn’t look at him this time, just smirked and reached down to close her container, the sound of clicking plastic filling the car. She then bent over placing it down on the floor, and as she sat back up Rafe leaned in closer again, slower this time, the tip of his nose brushing her jaw before his lips followed. He kissed the curve beneath her ear, then slowly worked his lips down the side of her neck.

"Maybe I can persuade you to come hmm...?"

“You’re such a perv”

She mumbled through a grin, her hand finding his chest and giving him a half-hearted push. He pulled back slightly, lips acting from her skin as he muttered,

“So… still a no?”

“Fine... I’ll come.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile that betrayed her. Rafe sat back accomplished as he spoke out, “Knew you'd give in.”

“But,” she added, wagging a finger at him. “You’re not glued to me all night, okay? Or people will notice.”

“Relax. We’ll keep it lowkey.”

He gave her that cocky, lopsided grin again and before she could snark back another smart-assed comment, he hit the button on the side of his seat. With a low mechanical whir, his chair reclined all the way back, and he stretched out like a king- arms behind his head, t-shirt rising just enough to show a sliver of his toned stomach. Then he patted his thigh, smirking.

“So… where were we?”

Y/N shook her head, heat prickling her cheeks as she shifted toward him again, “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her knees were already crawling across the seat.

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

The sun had long dipped below the tree line now, and the soft golden wash of string lights gave the Chateau its usual hazy, warm glow. A lazy summer night settled in with the gentle hum of cicadas in the distance and the low bass of music crackling from the old speaker propped up on a makeshift crate. Everyone was sprawled out in their usual places- Cleo had her legs kicked up on the railing, passing a blunt between her fingers, while Pope leaned back in one of the rickety lawn chairs, letting the smoke curl from his mouth toward the night sky. JJ was stretched across the hammock, shirtless of course, balancing a beer on his chest while making some offhand joke that had Kiara snorting into her drink. John B sat on the edge of the porch, Sarah curled comfortably in his lap, her fingers absentmindedly threading through his messy hair as she hummed along to the music. Then, like she suddenly remembered something juicy, Sarah’s voice piped up.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you guys.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked toward her lazily, half-baked or halfway drunk. JJ raised an eyebrow, already skeptical. “There’s this party tomorrow night. One of the beach houses on Figure Eight — some rich kid’s throwing it. But I got the invite,” she emphasized with a little smirk, twirling a lock of her blonde hair,

“which means you guys can come too!”

There was a collective beat of silence, then came the chaos.

“A kook party?” Pope made a face. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Hard pass”

Kiara chimed in, swirling what was left in her cup. JJ sat up a bit in the hammock, giving Sarah a look of exaggerated offence, “Sarah — my best friend’s dearest girlfriend — why the hell would I willingly put myself in a room full of kooks with their Vineyard Vines shirts and trust funds?”

“Kook fest? I don't think so- rude boy's got a point."

Cleo added, completely unfazed. Sarah groaned dramatically, tossing her head back against John B’s shoulder, “Guys, everyone on the island’s been invited. Literally everyone. You want to miss the one time we can sneak in and drink their expensive-ass booze and pretend to be civilised?”

John B scratched the back of his neck, “I mean… Sare, are you sure this is a good idea? These things usually end in someone getting arrested or beat up.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” she shot back smiling up at him, “Come on, baby...”

JJ shook his head with a mock sigh, “I do love chaos, but I also love not getting decked by some pastel-wearing rich boy with a superiority complex.”

“C’monnn,” Sarah pleaded, eyes bouncing between them all. “Free booze. Loud music. Rich kids being embarrassing. You telling me you wanna miss that?” JJ glanced around, took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like he was warming up to the idea.

“Free booze, huh?”

“Like actually free”

Sarah said, perking up as she nodded her head. Kiara sighed before adding to the ongoing debate. “Okay I guess if we go in a group, it’s not like they can kick us all out.”

Pope laughed, “That’s comforting.”

“So it’s decided then?”

Sarah asked, clapping her hands and JJ leaned back with a smirk.

“Eh why the hell not. 

The chatter faded back into that familiar haze- the music a little louder now, the clinking of glass bottles, occasional bursts of laughter echoing under the soft glow of the porch lights. JJ had flopped dramatically back into the hammock, tossing a peanut at Pope, who swatted it away with a sharp “cut that out”, but he was grinning as he said it. Kiara and Cleo were side by side, passing the blunt like it was a baton in the slowest relay race known to man, and Sarah was still curled into John B, nose buried in his neck as she murmured something that made him laugh under his breath. Then the crunch of gravel under tires caught their ears- a car rolling up toward the end of the drive, headlights slicing through the trees. Everyone instinctively turned to look, and when the engine cut and the door swung open, a familiar silhouette stepped out.

“Y/N!”

Sarah called out instantly, lifting her hand in a wave. JJ was already in motion. He practically leapt out of the hammock with a lopsided grin on his face, his movements loose and full of that buzzed joy that lived in him when he was around his people. He jogged toward her, arms wide like he was about to tackle her. Y/N had barely rounded her door when JJ crashed into her, arms circling tight around her waist and lifting her a few inches off the ground in a twirling hug. She let out a breathless laugh, one arm instinctively hooking around his shoulder.

“Jay, are you drunk?”

“Yes ma’am”

He said proudly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek like a sleepy golden retriever. John B called out from the porch, raising his beer in salute.

“And high!”

“Wow what a responsible crowd I’ve joined.”

She looked past JJ and shook her head smiling, JJ grinned and still half-latched to her side laced his fingers between hers and started tugging her toward the group.

“Welcome, my dear sister, to the finest motive on the island.”

“Yeah, it looks so lit”

Y/N snorted as she said dryly, eyeing the half-deflated pool float on the lawn and Kiara using a stick to fish a beer bottle cap out of the fire pit. Pope looked up and offered her a beer, cracking open another one.

“You want?”

“Nah, I’m driving.”

She shook her head, raising a hand politely. JJ was still practically glued to her back, and now his chin came to rest on her shoulder, his head leaning sleepily against hers like gravity had chosen her specifically. She glanced sideways, her voice softening.

“You okay, mister?”

“Right as rain”

He murmured, words muffled against the collar of her white work polo. Y/N smiled to herself and brought one hand up to gently pat his cheek, a small fondness in her eyes. She dropped down onto the worn-out quilt Pope had stretched across the grass, tucking her legs beneath her and setting her keys in a little pile beside the cooler. The smell of bonfire smoke and salty air clung to everything, and the mellow strum of a guitar looped in the background from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. The Chateau felt hazy with summer warmth and low buzzed laughter, like time didn’t really exist here.

“Y'missed blondie trying to backflip off the porch railing”

Cleo said, raising her eyebrows at the girl, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she handed her a cold bottle of water. Pope snorted from where he sat beside her,

“More like he tripped, flailed, and then landed face-first into the lawn chair. Truly a work of art.”

“Sounds about right.”

Y/N laughed, tilting her head back slightly as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Y/N!” Sarah suddenly perked up from where she was comfortably curled up on John B’s lap, her legs stretched out across the blanket and her fingers idly threading through his curls.

“I almost forgot to tell you- we’re all going to a party tomorrow night. You have to come”

“Oh—uh…”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Shit. Rafe had already invited her out tomorrow- there was no way she could show up two places at the same time. She furrowed her brows thinking of a quick excuse, “I don’t think I can,” she said slowly.

“Sofia asked me to cover her shift tomorrow night. Late shift.”

The groans came instantly.

“Noooo” Kiara moaned out in disappointment. “Again?” Cleo frowned as she spoke, “Girl, you’re always working.” JJ leaned up, pulling a dramatic face as he sat up behind her, one hand propped on the ground and the other pointing accusingly.

“Y/N- my sweet, overachieving sister. You never go out.”

“I do go out!”

“When?!” JJ countered, hand waving wildly, “Name one time that we went out that didn’t involve grocery shopping or pretending not to cry while pumping gas for my bike cause you can't afford it.”

“JJ, please,” she groaned, rubbing at her forehead the others watching the small sibling quarrel, “Sofia never gets nights off. I have to fill in for her.”

But even as she said it, her mind was moving. What if I go to Rafe’s first? Just for a bit. Then come late, no one would know, they're on different sides of the island. She knew it was risky but- it was worth the risk if it meant getting her brother off her back. She sighed, trying to keep it casual.

“Where is it anyway... maybe I can stop by before it ends.”

Sarah perked up instantly at the question, “New guy just moved into this insane house on Figure 8- I’m technically on the guest list, so by extension, that means all of you get to come.”

Y/N froze.

Her stomach sank, it’s the same party. Her chest tightened like a fist was forming right behind her ribs. The same one Rafe is going to and now… JJ would be there. All of them would be there. She forced a tight smile, heart beating a little faster and her throat closed up slightly. She can’t go. She can’t risk it—JJ seeing her with Rafe? No. Absolutely not. That would ruin everything. He’d lose it. He’d probably have a fit and if he didn’t, the look in his eyes would be worse. She felt herself retreat inward for a split second- like her body was still sitting there on the blanket, but her mind was miles away, spiralling in panic. Then- she forced it back. Forced her lips into a smile, stretched just wide enough to pass as real. She said, voice smooth,

“I’ll see if I can make it”

“Yeah?”

JJ looked over at her, suspiciously squinting, she nodded without hesitation.

“Maybe just for a bit.”

Even as the lie came out of her mouth, her brain was already racing. Y/N cleared her throat softly, still gripping the now half-empty water bottle in her hand. Her eyes swept across the group lounging lazily on the worn blankets and cushions sprawled out on the overgrown lawn.

“I actually think I’m gonna head back now”

She said, standing up slowly and brushing the bits of grass and twigs from her shorts, “Just came to check up on you guys.”

JJ looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged now on a faded beach towel, lips wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle, and gave her a lazy, crooked smile. He winked, blonde hair a windswept mess.

“Mission accomplished sis.”

She rolled her eyes at him, amusement flickering behind her lashes, and bent to grab her keys from the little crate they’d been using as a table.

“You coming back or staying the night?”

She asked, giving him a look as she nodded toward the house, her tone light but a little pointed the role of big sister coming naturally. Before JJ could even open his mouth to respond, John B was already groaning dramatically from the other side of the blanket. “Take him,” he said, flopping his head back against the tree behind him.

“Please. I don’t want him here. He eats everything and he talks in his sleep.”

Sarah burst into laughter in his lap, her whole body shaking with it as she nearly spilled the beer in her hand. “He really does! The other night he mumbled something about raccoons with spatulas.”

“That was one time!”

JJ threw his hands up like he was being framed for a crime. Y/N just bit back a laugh, fighting back a grin watching the chaos unfold with fondness. JJ tilted his head, smirking toward her. “And just because of that,” he said smug as hell,

“I shall be staying the night here. With Mr. John Booker Routledge.”

A round of exaggerated groans erupted from the rest of the group. Y/N laughed under her breath, her fingers still gripping her keys as she shook her head fondly at them. “Alright, alright,” she said,

“Have fun then... don’t get too smashed.”

“No promises!” Kiara called out with a wide smile, raising her can in salute.

“Speak for yourself,” Pope muttered. “I have dignity unlike some.”

That earned another laugh from the group.

Y/N smiled again, softer this time, eyes briefly flicking back to her brother. He caught her gaze and shot her a lopsided grin, one that still looked more boyish than he probably intended. It made something ache a little in her chest- an affection threaded with worry she’d never admit out loud.

“Night Jay”

She murmured before reaching over to ruffle his hair messily. He smiled her lazily before flopping back onto the blanket like a man who had no thoughts, no responsibilities, and no idea that his sister was walking a tightrope he couldn’t see. Y/N turned, the noise behind her fading into the hum of summer insects and music humming from the portable speaker, and walked back to her car,

The car door creaked softly as Y/N pulled it open, the familiar weight of it grounding her just a little. She slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her with a muted thunk, the quiet inside the car swallowing up the laughter still drifting from the Chateau. The engine wasn’t running yet, and the warm evening air clung to her skin like a second layer. It smelled like sun-warmed leather and pine needles.

For a moment, she just sat there. Her fingers hovered over her bag before she reached in and pulled out her phone, the screen lighting up as soon as her thumb brushed the side. No new messages. Just the same old wallpaper of a blurry sunset and the faint glint of her own reflection staring back. She hesitated and her thumb hovered over the screen for another beat- then tapped into her messages.

Rafe

The name alone made her chest tighten a little. She bit down on her lower lip, chewing at the soft skin absently. Her other hand reached up to pull her hair away from her face, then fell limply against her lap. The inside of the car felt like it was shrinking. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, a sharp whisper into the quiet. She tapped the messages open. Leaning her head back, she let it fall gently against the headrest, eyes blinking up at the roof of the car as she let out a long, tired sigh. Her fingers rested against the phone in her lap, before tapping her fingers against the screen.

She started typing. Hey, change of plans. I might not— Backspace. No. Too vague so she tried again. Something came up— Backspace. Her heart thudded in her chest, slow and heavy. Then she typed with more finality this time:

Bunny : I'm sorry but I can't do tmr

She stared at it. Read it once. Then twice. Then, with a small exhale that she couldn’t quite tell was relief or regret, she hit send. The text shot off into the thread, disappearing into that blue bubble like a stone dropped into deep water. She locked her phone again, let her head fall back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed. Her lips pressed into a line. Maybe that’s for the best, she told herself. Maybe-

Buzz.

Her eyes snapped open. The screen lit up and she unlocked it quickly, thumb tapping into the thread without thinking.

Rafe : what why not

Short and blunt. Her stomach twisted, that anxious little knot curling a bit tighter as her thumbs moved again.

Bunny : Your sister’s going to be there which means JJ’s gonna be there

She sat there, holding her breath like it’d keep her heart from thudding so hard. The typing bubble appeared instantly, three dots bouncing like they knew what they were about to say was going to matter more than it should.

Rafe : so what?

Of course, she thought bitterly, jaw tightening. But before she could respond, another message popped up. She blinked, stunned by how he could sound so calm about something that made her whole chest tighten.

Rafe : Why is that a problem

Bunny : It’s a problem cause he’ll see us

Her fingers tapped harder this time and her hand trembled slightly as she held the phone. She hated this—how tense it made her. How she had to think of all the possible consequences when Rafe didn’t even seem to care.

Rafe : are you serious

Bunny : Yes I’m serious wtf do u mean???

Her reply came before she could even second-guess herself but then… nothing. No bubble, no typing dots and her eyes flicked to the corner of the screen at the bottom. Read. That was it? He read it and then disappeared. A dry laugh escaped her lips, more disbelieving than amused. She pushed her palm against her forehead, trying to will away the creeping frustration crawling beneath her skin.

Rafe : You’re really gonna let your brother control us

Bunny : He’s not controlling us

Rafe : Well he’s controlling this.

Her teeth sunk into her lip again, harder this time as the message made her fingers still. She stared at the words, something bitter blooming behind her ribs. Then she typed, slowly, like the question had been sitting on her tongue for a while- because it had.

Bunny : What is this

Bunny : What even is 'this' Rafe?

Read

The air in the car felt heavy now. Thick with silence and words that would never be spoken aloud. She watched the screen for a beat. Then two. Then five. The beats turned into a minute but still there was no response from him so her fingers moved again of their own accord.

Bunny : seriously

Bunny : Leaving me on read are you being for real

Bunny : Hello?

Still.

No answer.

Her mouth twisted into a scoff, this one sharper. Less disbelief and more hurt. She leaned her head back against the seat, her knuckles white where she clutched the phone. She could feel it bubbling now- not anger, not really. Just… disappointment. That familiar ache that curled into her chest when something started to crack and she knew she couldn’t fix it. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she typed one last time.

Bunny : Grow up Rafe

Then she dropped the phone into the empty cup holder with a soft clack and her hands came up, pressing into her face, covering her eyes. She let out a breath- long and slow and quiet. She didn’t even know what this was anymore, or what she wanted it to be.

All she knew was that it hurt.

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

The bass was thumping hard enough to make the floorboards vibrate. Music roared from massive speakers set up on the back patio of the mansion, spilling into every corner of the sprawling beach house like a pulse. The crowd was thick—Kooks and Pogues alike stood packed shoulder to shoulder, laughing, grinding, shouting over the noise. Red solo cups littered the deck, the grass, the kitchen counters. Half-empty bottles of liquor sat abandoned on tables, the scent of alcohol and sweat clinging to the humid air. Inside, the lighting was low and tinted gold, shadows dancing as bodies moved through the house, more people flooded through the front door- new arrivals, drawn in by the promise of booze and the thrill of recklessness that always hung thick in the air.

Rafe was in the middle of it, standing near the table on the backyard patio where a lineup of liquor bottles had turned into a makeshift bar. His button-down was half undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, collar a little askew. He reached for another shot, his fingers curled tight around the glass rim as he knocked it back, throat bobbing as the burn slid down. “Bro,” Kelce said, squinting as he leaned forward, voice slurred with the edge of tipsy concern.

“I never do this but- maybe slow down a little”

“That’s like, your seventh” Topper added from where he was slouched against the couch, a beer dangling between his fingers.

“You good man?”

“I’m fine”

Rafe muttered, his voice low, gruff, and not even remotely convincing. His jaw flexed as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead. He didn’t look at either of them as he spoke but he wasn’t fine. Not even close. His head was heavy, the alcohol catching up to him in a sluggish crawl through his limbs. He could feel it in his slow, unsteady blink. In the weight of his shoulders, in the way the music felt a little too loud, a little too sharp.

She wasn’t here- Y/N wasn’t here.

And he hated that it mattered. Hated that he kept glancing toward the front door every time someone new walked in- just in case she'd changed her mind. Hated that he could hear her voice in the back of his mind. “I can’t go, your sister’s going to be there” ... “JJ will be there” ... “He’ll see us.” His jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, the burn of the liquor lingering in his chest. She was always so damn concerned about JJ, about keeping him in the dark- about keeping them in the dark.

Like this is all some secret she needs to protect.

Topper was saying something again, laughing about a girl he’d hooked up with last weekend, but Rafe didn’t hear it. He was staring at the countertop, where drops of clear liquor beaded on the marble surface. His hand was still fisted around the empty shot glass. He looked like a storm waiting to happen- cheeks a little flushed, eyes shadowed and distant, lip twitching at the corner in a scowl. But under it all, he was sulking. Quietly. Bitterly. Like a kid who didn’t get what he wanted.

And all he wanted was her.

The rumble of the Twinkie pulling up was swallowed by the thump of music echoing off the walls of the massive house. Lights flashing inside spilled through the tall windows in bursts that lit up the manicured lawn and the stretch of cars already jammed up along the curb. The Pogues piled out- John B leading the charge in his usual messy curls with Sarah right on his heels, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo. JJ slammed the passenger door shut with his hip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose cargo shorts, eyes flicking over the crowd on the lawn before following- Pope, Kiara and Cleo weren’t far behind.

The house was huge. Open floor plan, high ceilings, the kind of kitchen you only saw on cooking shows. People were everywhere—on the stairs, pressed against walls, spilling onto balconies. It smelled like weed and citrus vodka, and someone in the hallway was definitely already throwing up. “Damn,” John B muttered as they walked in, eyebrows raised.

“This place is nice.”

“No shit”

Pope said, already eyeing the built-in speakers in the ceiling. Cleo let out a low whistle and made a beeline for the massive kitchen island, where liquor bottles and mixers lined the counters like a buffet. She said with a grin, snatching a bottle of rum and starting to pour,

“The free alcohol is even nicer”

“Now this is why I dragged you guys here..’.”

Sarah laughed, reaching over to help herself to a half-mixed drink and Kiara grabbed a couple of plastic cups, handing them around. The music rattled the cabinets, the floor under their shoes vibrating faintly in time with the beat. People were dancing in the next room, someone yelling something about beer pong from the backyard, but the Pogues took a moment to regroup in the kitchen. JJ stood a bit apart from the group, back braced against the counter, swirling whatever was in his cup without really drinking it. His hat was pulled low, hair curling beneath the brim, and there was a little pinch between his brows that hadn’t faded since they arrived. Kiara noticed first. She nudged him gently with her elbow, tilting her head toward him.

“She’s not coming then?”

JJ blinked, not catching the question right away over the music.

“Huh?”

“Y/N- she’s not coming?”

Sarah repeated, louder this time, looking up from her drink. JJ’s expression tightened for a split second, and he looked down into his cup like it suddenly had answers. “Nah,” he said, voice clipped.

“She’s not.”

There was something in the way he said it in a short and flat tone, a little irritated like he didn’t want to care, but he did. Kiara gave a small nod and didn’t press. Instead, she reached out, rubbed his arm gently with her hand before stepping away to help Pope crack open a bottle of something suspiciously blue. No one said anything else. But in the middle of the crowd, under the flashing lights and the pounding bass, JJ stood a little stiller than the rest. Eyes drifting toward the front door they'd came through like maybe- just maybe- she’d still show.

Rafe shoved his way through the backyard, the lights and thumping music cutting through the cool air like a heavy pulse. He could feel the tension in his chest, the tightness that hadn’t loosened since their texts earlier... "What is this"... That question had been eating at him ever since because he didn't know what it was. But that didn't change the fact that his mind kept circling back to her. The way she made him feel, how easy it was to talk to her, how easy it was to just be around her- it wasn’t like anything he'd ever experienced. And it scared him. Because he wasn’t the kind of guy to get tangled up in feelings, he didn’t do that. But Y/N, she was different- it unsettled him. He couldn’t admit that to her, though. Couldn’t let her know that she was getting under his skin, into his bloodstream like a drug, that she was getting too close.

By the time he made it through the crowd and into the kitchen, he was ready for another drink, maybe more than one. The sound of glass bottles clinking and people chatting loudly barely registered in his mind as he reached the counter, eyes scanning the chaos for what he needed. He was almost there, his hand reaching for the first bottle of vodka, when he collided with someone.

Thud

He didn’t even flinch, just kept moving forward until he heard a sharp, annoyed voice.

“Excuse me?”

Rafe’s shoulder had shoved into Sarah, causing her to stumble back just a little. She glared up at him, her eyes narrowing with irritation. He didn’t care and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for small talk with her.

“You’re excused”

He muttered back, not even bothering to meet her eyes as he grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off.

“Asshole”

Sarah muttered under her breath, clearly unamused, but Rafe wasn’t listening. He poured the liquor into his cup with a steady hand, watching the clear liquid slosh into the glass. The burn in his throat might’ve been the only thing that could numb the frustration gnawing at him. He downed it in one go, feeling it course through his body. Rafe stood near the edge of the kitchen, the alcohol still burning in his stomach as he surveyed the crowd. The noise was becoming a dull roar in the background, a blur of laughter and shouting, but his mind was still running on autopilot. He tried to focus on his drink, twisting the glass in his hand, but then something caught his ear.

JJ

He was talking to John B, and it didn’t take long for Rafe to hear the frustration in his voice. JJ’s words carried across the room, loud enough for Rafe to pick up on.

“I don’t get it bro”

JJ was saying, his voice edged with something close to bitterness already lightly slurred from the alcohol he consumed since they arrived, “Y/N’s always working. Always dude. It’s like- I literally got a job so she could work less? And she still can’t make time for anything. Not for me. Not for us. She's always got some lame ass excuse.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened at the sound of JJ’s voice, and he instinctively stepped closer to the conversation, the growing frustration in his chest gnawing at him. He watched as JJ’s face twisted, anger bubbling up in his expression.

“She’s never around anymore. Like, she’s always somewhere else, doing something else. It’s like she doesn't care- You know what? Maybe it’s just me she doesn’t want to spend time with maybe I’m just a fucking inconvenience to her.”

John B shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to respond. He just nodded slowly, not really agreeing or disagreeing as he brought his beer bottle to his lips. Rafe’s pulse spiked. His chest felt tight, and for a moment, the room seemed to narrow around him. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles went white.

He was angry.

No, he was beyond angry.

He could feel the heat rising in his body, but it wasn’t just because of JJ’s words. It was the way he was talking about Y/N, so dismissively, so coldly. The kitchen was still a chaotic blend of chatter and clinking glass, the music vibrating through the floor, and the air thick with alcohol. But his mind wasn’t on the drink anymore. It was on her—on Y/N. On the way she would slave away all day in her shitty job only to go home to a brother who wasn't even grateful? He could hear JJ’s voice cutting through the noise of the house, loud and full of venom. Rafe turned, just in time to catch the words.

“Acting like she’s such a good fuckin’ sister,” JJ spat, his words as he gestured around. “When she can’t even take the time out of her day to talk to me. It’s a fuckin’ jok, man..”

John B was still next to him, leaning against the counter, his eyes tired, clearly not wanting to get involved in the growing tension. But he let out a soft sigh and said,

“Come on, man. You’re being a little harsh she does a lot for you-”

“-No. I’m not,”

But JJ wasn’t having it. His face twisted into a mix of frustration and bitterness. “She doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself," he snapped, his voice louder now.

"She’s a shitty fuckin’ sister.”

Rafe could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest. He was barely holding it together at this point. His hand clenched around his glass, and without thinking, he pushed himself away from where he was and made his way towards the blonde haired pogue,“Hey-” Rafe’s voice was rough, his jaw tightening,

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

JJ didn’t even hesitate as his brow furrowed, his head snapping toward Rafe, his eyes narrowing. The smirk on his face was all cocky arrogance, like he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Rafe stood in front of JJ, his fists clenched so tightly around the edge of the counter that his knuckles were turning white. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the alcohol in his system only amplifying the frustration that had been simmering for hours.

"You really think you know your sister?"

Rafe's voice cut through the tension like a blade, each word laced with disbelief and a deepening anger. His gaze was intense, narrowing as he stared down at JJ, his stance aggressive and unsteady from the booze. JJ didn’t flinch, instead, he scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you know about her?”

The words were laced with spite, his eyes flashing as he shot back, barely holding back his irritation. He was drunk, way too much to back down. The space between them was closing, both of them leaning in slightly, their bodies tense as if they were about to collide. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes flickered between JJ’s face and the rest of the room. John B was already sighing, rubbing his hand over his face, clearly feeling the impending collision. His tone was a little exasperated.

“Alright, guys... let's not do this tonight.”

But his words were barely a whisper in the whirlwind of tension between JJ and Rafe. They didn't take their eyes off each other. Rafe stood his ground, every inch of his body radiating the anger and frustration he’d been holding back all night. His expression twisted into something cold, nasty, as his voice came out low, almost a growl.

"A lot more than you"

He spat, the words dripping with contempt. JJ’s eyes flared with fury, and before anyone fully processed the insult, his body reacted. Without thinking, he shoved Rafe, a rough, sudden motion that sent the air between them crackling.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His words were sharp, cutting through the already tense atmosphere like a knife. The crowd around them seemed to gather and the only thing that mattered now seemed to be this confrontation, the two of them standing face to face, inches away from an explosion. Rafe’s jaw clenched, his teeth gritting as he stumbled back just a half-step from the shove. But he didn’t let it slide, his eyes burned with rage, and with a brutal shove of his own, he sent JJ stumbling back.

“Get off me, you dirty fucking pogue”

He snarled, his voice a low rasp. John B and Pope, sensing the situation spiraling, rushed in to intervene, but their voices only seemed to intensify the already-fueled fire.

“Hey, hey—alright JJ stop."

“C’mon man”

John B called out, his tone a mix of frustration and concern, his hand on JJ’s arm trying to pull him back. But JJ, his face red with anger, ignored them, shoving them off as if they were nothing. His eyes were locked on Rafe, his fists trembling with barely contained rage. Sarah, standing nearby, caught sight of the escalating tension and turned to Rafe with an incredulous expression.

“What is your problem?”

She spoke out her voice sharp as he brows drew down into a concerned frown, but Rafe didn’t even glance at her. His attention was fully on JJ, the hate between them palpable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the entire kitchen watching in stunned interest as the two guys stood their postures defiant, aggressive. JJ, unable to take the weight of the situation anymore, spun on his heel and began to turn away, his anger boiling over, his fists still clenched with popes hand on his arm leading him away. But Rafe’s voice, cutting through the tense silence, sliced through the air like a final verdict.

“I pity her for having a brother like you”

He said, the words slow and deliberate, aimed to sting. The room went deathly quiet apart from a few low mutters, and for a split second and the words hung in the air like a curse. JJ froze, his back to Rafe, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His body went rigid, the hurt flashing in his eyes as he clenched his jaw tighter. Kiara’s voice came through softly, but it was too late.

“JJ don’t”

She pleaded, but JJ had already turned and with a motion of pure, unfiltered anger, he threw a punch, his fist flying straight at Rafe’s face with all the pent-up rage he’d been holding back. The force behind it was hard enough to knock Rafe off balance, and in that moment, the air around them seemed to explode. Everything that had been building up, the tension, the anger, the frustration- finally came to a head.

And just like that, the fight erupted.

The air was thick with the sounds of punches landing, grunts of pain, and the occasional slap of skin against skin. People's previous murmuring had turned to excited yells and cheers, phones being raised as they recorded the ordeal. JJ’s vision was red, every inch of his body screamed as he threw wild punches, each one landing with force, but Rafe was no slouch- he met every hit with a violent shove or a retaliatory strike of his own. JJ's jaw was clenched tight as he pushed against Rafe, throwing a punch that caught him square in the ribs, causing the other man to grunt in pain. Rafe staggered but didn’t fall, instead grabbing JJ’s shirt and yanking him forward with a growl. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, sweat and blood mixing, the scent of alcohol clouding the air. Rafe’s eyes were wild, his face contorted with anger as he bit out the words through gritted teeth, each syllable harsh and slurred.

“If you love your sister so much, why is she always running to me when she’s got problems, huh?”

His grip tightened on JJ’s shirt, pulling him in closer, their faces just inches from one another. His words were cold, bitter. JJ blinked, his mind struggling to process what Rafe just said. His nostrils flared as his nose dripped blood, a line of crimson streaking down his face. JJ’s voice was a low growl, disoriented, the anger still there but replaced by confusion.

“What?”

“That’s what I thought”

Rafe sneered, a harsh laugh falling from his lips, his bloodshot eyes alight with a murderous glint. JJ’s fury surged again, his face lit with rage as his eyes narrowed, locking onto Rafe’s smug expression. Without warning, he launched himself forward, his head connecting with Rafe’s face in a brutal headbutt. The impact was sickening- Rafe’s head snapped back violently, and a grunt escaped him. He staggered back a step, dazed, blood oozing from his busted lip.

Rafe didn’t back down, he shoved JJ with both hands, sending him stumbling back a few steps. The two of them were back at it in an instant, their bodies crashing together, fists flying in every direction. JJ’s elbow connected with Rafe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Rafe faltered this time, falling backward, his balance compromised. He hit the ground hard, the floor beneath him rattling. For a split second, the fight paused. Rafe lay there, stunned, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. But JJ was already on him, a feral grunt escaping his throat as he scrambled to pin Rafe down. He grabbed Rafe’s polo top, yanking him up to his face, his grip like iron. His chest was heaving, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps as he leaned in close, his face twisted in disgust.

“Don’t fucking talk about my sister like you know her- you don't know anything about her- you don't know her like I do.”

JJ snarled, his voice low and seething. His words were laced with every ounce of hurt, frustration, and protective anger he could muster. Rafe’s head lolled back for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused from the blows. He let out a drunken, mocking scoff, a bitter chuckle escaping from his busted lips. His mouth was smeared with blood, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable, even through the haze of intoxication. He muttered so only the blonde boy could hear, the words sharp, but somehow quieter than before.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant”

The entire world seemed to stop in that instant.

JJ's grip slackened, his fingers loosening around Rafe’s shirt and his chest tightened as the words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him in an instant. John B and Pope, who had been trying to pull the two apart for the last few moments, finally managed to tear JJ off Rafe. JJ didn’t resist this time, his body felt stiff like stone, his mind struggling to catch up with what he just heard. Rafe lay on the floor, barely able to lift his head, but his voice, now quieter and almost hollow, drifted through the space between them. “Yeah,” he said, his words slow and deliberate,

“She didn’t tell you, JJ. She came to me.”

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𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮

warnings: none other than cussing.

time: March 2005

The hum of the camcorder buzzed faintly in the background, capturing the chaotic, candid moments of the set. Tom Welling slouched in the director’s chair, his boyish grin flashing as he looked straight into the lens. His dark t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, sleeves snug around his biceps. The director called for a break, and the atmosphere shifted—lights dimmed, laughter filled the air.

“Alright, people!” Kristin Kreuk yelled, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “Five-minute break, but don’t go far. I need my Lana Lang aura charged or something.”

You leaned into the frame, your arm casually draping across Tom’s shoulder, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. He tilted his head toward you, his expression lazy and full of mischief. "Look who's stealing my spotlight," he teased, his voice low enough to make the hairs on your arms rise.

“Stealing?” you scoffed, your lips curling into a smirk. “I’m the reason anyone's watching this video.”

Tom’s laughter rumbled deep in his chest, and he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his lap without hesitation. His large hands gripped the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing absent circles into your skin through your jeans. “Careful, babe,” he whispered just loud enough for the mic to pick up. “You’re gonna start rumors.”

“They’re not rumors if they’re true,” Kristin chimed in, walking by with a water bottle, rolling her eyes but grinning.

---

The camcorder caught every stolen moment: Tom’s fingers brushing hair out of your face, the way you leaned into him when you thought no one was watching, his palm sliding lower than appropriate during a staged kiss, his lips grazing yours when the director yelled cut. But this wasn’t for the network or the fans; this was raw and unfiltered—your own little slice of chaos.

“Clark wouldn’t grab her ass like that,” Michael Rosenbaum, bald and smirking, broke in as he leaned against the prop barn door. “But Tom sure as fuck would.”

You flipped him off without looking, feeling Tom’s body shake beneath you as he laughed. "Jealous?" Tom shot back.

“Hardly,” Michael quipped, “but if you’re filming this for posterity, I’d at least appreciate an angle where her face isn’t buried in your neck like a goddamn Hallmark card.”

"Noted," you deadpanned, leaning back just far enough for Tom’s lips to find yours. This time, it wasn’t a quick peck. It was lingering, full of slow, deliberate pressure. The kind of kiss that left your knees weak even while you were sitting.

“Okay, Jesus Christ.” Michael shielded his eyes dramatically. “I’m out. I’ll be in my trailer rethinking every life choice that brought me here.”

---

Later, when the camera was left on a coffee table unattended, you and Tom sprawled out on the couch in the greenroom. He held you tight, his hands dipping under your shirt just enough to stroke your bare skin, his lips finding your neck. You giggled, the sound muffled as he nipped at your earlobe.

“This isn’t gonna make it into the gag reel,” you whispered, biting your lip as he pressed kisses along your collarbone.

“Not unless you want it to,” Tom murmured, his voice warm and teasing, but his hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you closer until you were straddling him fully.

From somewhere in the background, Erica Durance’s voice echoed down the hallway. “You two better not be screwing on the prop furniture!”

“Not yet!” Tom called back with a grin, and his lips crushed against yours before you could react.

i saw someone mention an idea a while ago (i cant remember who im sorry!!!) about what would happen if baby (the impala) became a real person from some witch spell and what theyd be like 'n ive been thinking about it ever since ...

"would you still love her so much if she was a person?

what a weird thing to ask about a car, dean had thought in that moment, but hey, witches were weird sons of bitches. he'd laughed about it, shoved the stupid witch killing potion down her throat, and went on his merry way.

baby wasn't where he'd parked her. he walked all around the place, head spinning in absolute befuddlement, because how does a parked car move, when-

"dean!"

a girl in a black leather jacket, only a black leather jacket, sprints up to him like he's some kind of sight for sore eyes. his eyes widen, absolutely certain this was just going to chalk up to the weirdest night in the world, and then he remembers the witch and her cryptic talk.

"ah, fuck," dean groans, and the chipper girl in front of him merely blinks, the bags under her eyes a little dark, a little heavy. he knew he needed to get baby an oil change. seeing how rundown she was starting to look now that she was real was like icing atop a fucked up cake.

the girl's head tilts. "is something wrong with my engine?"

dean blinks once. twice. "what?"

"you say that when something's wrong with me." in her hand is his to-go cup from the diner. straw to her mouth and drinking like she'd been in a desert for weeks. right. maybe the oil change was more than overdue. he'd been busy, alright? "i think it's my engine."

"yeah? why's that?"

the girl blinks again. looks down at herself, and then back up. "something did not start right."

no. something did not start right. she's practically bouncing on her heels, though, and she's pretty as all sin, so at the very least, dean's body upkeep with his car was spot on.

it was a long walk back to the hotel. he wasn't even sure how to explain this to sam, or how exactly to handle walking down the highway with a half naked girl, but. stranger things had happened and would happen, he supposed.

the slurping noises from her drinking only got louder as they walked. it was empty, except for the ice melting and pooling in the bottom of the styrofoam. "this was really good. tickled my tongue."

dean couldn't help the curl in the corners of his lips at that. the answer was yes. he would still love her as much if she was a girl.

HOPE THIS IS GOOD I JUST WOKE UP N HAD TO MAKE SOMETHINNGGGG BC THIS IDEA IS SO CUTESIE SILLY AND I TOO DIDNT STOP THINKING AB IT UNTIL I GOT SOMETHIN OUT < 3

Bunny (P10)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

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

a/n: Guys- #roadtrip! (this aint no godamn roadtrip.) Lets seeee, this is actually pretty sad but then again bunny and rafe have me in a chokehold. oh and since everyones been dying and sobbing on there knees for it- JJ redemption :)

warnings: mentions of pregancy sickness, anxiety, abortion clinic, an abortion, sad bunny but soft!Rafe

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10)

The dock was quiet, only the sound of the water lapping against the wooden posts filling the night air. A few dim lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the worn planks. Y/N sat perched on a stack of crates nearby, a small bag slung over her shoulder, her fingers gripping the strap absentmindedly. The night air was cool, the wind rolling in off the water and she exhaled slowly, watching the way her breath disappeared into the darkness. Her body felt tense, an anxious energy humming beneath her skin and it wasn’t just the cold keeping her on edge.

The sound of boots against wood made her lift her head, and there he was- Rafe, moving toward her in dark clothing, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. She huffed out a small laugh at the sight.

"You look dumb."

"And you don’t?" 

He countered, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to her own cap lightly before stepping beside her. He took a glance around the dock, assessing, scanning, before finally exhaling and leaning against the crate beside her. She looked out at the water, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

"Thanks for coming with me,"

She said, voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure if she should say it. He turned his head toward her, studying her profile for a beat before looking back out at the water.

"Of course."

Rafe watches her from the corner of his eye, the way she stared out toward the oncoming ferry, her face unreadable in the dim light a dark shadow covering half her face due to her cap. He asked, his voice quieter this time, not pushing, just… checking.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked, like she wasn’t expecting the question, like she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring for a few seconds too long. She blinked, small but harsh, then followed it by a forced nod,

“Uh, yeah- let’s go.”

Rafe didn’t quite believe her, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, taking the bag from her shoulder without a word and to her own surprise- she let him- watching as he placed it on the opposing shoulder which had his own bag. She followed after him silently as he stepped onto the ferry nearing the empty entrance. The ticket attendant, a tired-looking man in a navy uniform, scanned their tickets. He glanced at the names printed on the peices of paper and read aloud,

“Mr. and Mrs. Walker?”

Y/N furrowed her brows slightly, eyes flicking to the ticket in the man’s hand before turning to Rafe. Before she could say anything, she felt the warm weight of his hand press lightly against the small of her back as he stepped forward smoothly. “Yeah,” Rafe says with an easy grin.

“Me and my wife are just going for a short trip.”

The man barely spared them a glance, nodding as he handed the tickets back, “All good—enjoy your journey.” They stepped past the checkpoint and as soon as they were out of earshot, Y/N whispered,

“Mr. and Mrs...?”

Rafe couldnt surpress the small grin tugging at his lips, eyes ahead as he lead them toward the deck, “I thought you didn’t want to be recognized...” He murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

“Or should I have put your name down as Bunny?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she elbows him, “Shut up, smart ass.”

Rafe just chuckled, pushing open the door to the ferry’s indoor seating, the cool night air following them inside. Yet as he pushed Y/N hesitated for a moment before speaking,

“...Can we sit outside?”

Rafe paused, furrowing his brows as he looked down at her, “Why would you want to do that? It’s dark as hell out there.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, “I’m pregnant Rafe—I get nauseous all the time. At least outside, I’ve got fresh air.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying her like he’s trying to figure out if she’s being truthful or just making an excuse so he does what she wants. After a beat, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he muttered, motioning toward the door that leads to the deck.

“Go on then”

Without hesitation, she pushed through it, stepping out into the crisp night air. A breeze rolled over the ferry, cool and salty, and she breathed it in deeply. She didn’t have to turn around to know Rafe was following right behind her- she could hear his heavy steps. She settled into one of the worn seats, putting her bag he'd passed her on the floor next to her before shifting to get comfortable. The air was cool against her skin, the faint hum of the ferry’s engines vibrating beneath her. Rafe sat down next to her, stretching his legs out and leaning back slightly. He watched her from the corner of his eye, and it didn’t take long for her to notice.

“What?”

She asked, her voice carrying a little edge, like she’s too tired to deal with whatever comment he’s about to make. “Nothing,” he says easily, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk.

“What, can I not look at you?”

“No”

She deadpanned, rolling her eyes before shifting her position, bringing her legs up onto the chair. She folded her arms over her knees, her head resting against them. Rafe eyed her again.

“Are you about to throw up or—?”

“No asshole, I’m just tired”

She muttered, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He scoffed at her harsh tone of voice before speaking up,

“You know, considering I organized this whole thing for you, you’re not very nice are you?”

She shifted her head, now looking at him, but she didn’t say anything. In reality, she knows he’s right. He didn’t have to do any of this for her. Yet, here he is- booking a ferry, making sure no one recognizes them, sitting beside her in the cold night air without a single complaint. She exhaled softly, pressing her lips together.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve the attitude.

She exhaled through her nose the breath rising in a small clous from the chill of the air, gaze dropping to where her fingers play idly with the hem of her sleeve.

"Sorry"

She muttered, barely above the sound of the wind. Rafe didn't say anything right away. He just hummed in acknowledgment, shifting slightly in his seat, like he hadn't really expected her to say it. The ferry rocked gently beneath them, the rhythmic sound of waves slapping against the hull filling the quiet between them. The water stretched out into an endless black abyss, only interrupted by a gleam of moonlight rippling across its surface. The island behind them grew smaller and smaller, its warm, glowing lights fading into the distance, swallowed by the dark. The silence stretched on, the distant hum of the engine the only sound breaking through the quiet between them. "So... " Rafe shifted, his gaze flicking to her profile before he asked

"What did you tell your brother?"

At first, she didn't answer, the question hanging in the air like a weight. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeve, her gaze still focused on the dark horizon ahead. After a beat, she finally responded, her voice low, almost like she's trying to convince herself as much as him.

"Told him I had a job interview."

Rafe raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "In Charleston... he believed that?"

She hummed softly in response, offering a casual nod as she lets out a quiet breath,

"Yeah."

Her eyes flickered briefly to him, and then she looked away again, the conversation itself being enough to bring on an ache she didn't want to face. She doesn't push the subject further, her gaze falling to the water, watching the faint ripples dance under the boat’s wake. Rafe caught the shift in her demeanour but chose not to say anything. He leaned back slightly, lost in his own thoughts, as the boat cuts through the black sea, the island now nothing more than a faint memory in the distance. His eyes flicked to her, the question sitting heavy on his tongue. The wind whipped through the air around them, but the tension between them felt more heated than the cold.

"Does he know?"

"What?"

"Does JJ know?"

The question seemed simple but his voice softened. Y/N pressed her lips together, her gaze flicking to the dark horizon- looking anywhere but to him. She hesitated before answering, almost like she was trying to convince herself to tell the truth.

"No... he doesn’t."

Rafe blinked, surprise flickering across his features, but he quickly masked it. He nodded, his fingers drumming gently against the table between them. There was something about her answer that he wasn’t expecting.

"...I thought you two were close."

The words hung between them, and Y/N’s shoulders stiffened at the words. She turned toward him, her eyes narrowing, a little defensive. "Look," she started, her voice edged with frustration,

"I don’t go around asking you about your relationship with Sarah or your lack thereof, so why don't you just drop it?"

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he flinched slightly like he’d been slapped. The air between them shifted and from the way his hand now lay in a fist against the dark coloured table top, she knew she shouldn't have said what she did. He let it linger, only to let out a short, sharp comment-

"Alright, no need for the fuckin’ attitude."

Y/N clenched her own fists, feeling her temper flare at his words. She had no idea why his comment hit her like that- but deep down she knew it was because it sounded awfully similar to what someone else would always say to her- to the words that lingered in the walls of her home.

"God, you know- I just don’t get you Rafe."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his arms folding across his chest, "Yeah? Well I’m all ears Bunny."

Y/N shook her head, her voice biting now, "One minute, you’re nice. Actually, not a complete asshole. And the next? You're right back to being your self-entitled kook self."

He scoffed, leaning back slightly, but the words stung. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like that- he knew what people whispered when he walked but, but directly to his face... no one said a thing- especially not someone like Y/N. Yet instead of apologizing, he shot back, crossing his arms even tighter.

"So, what do you want from me huh? Actin' like you're such a saint yourself Maybank"

Y/N scoffed right back at him, pulling her legs up under her. "You just—" she paused, running a frustrated hand over her face.

"..I don’t know you- you’re just confusing. I can’t figure you out."

Rafe stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge her. There was a vulnerability in her words, a softness she was trying to hide behind all the frustration she kept targeting him with. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her, reading her better than she realized. Maybe that was part of the issue- they both knew each other a little too well for their own good. Y/N stood up suddenly, brushing the fabric of her jacket down, her movements quick as she stepped away from him. She didn’t look at Rafe as she moved to stand by the railing, her arms resting on the cool metal as she stared out at the dark expanse of water. The sound of the boat's engine and the subtle slap of the waves against the hull filled the air, but the tension between them still hung thick, unspoken.

Rafe stayed seated, watching her from the corner of his eye. She was illuminated softly by the dim lights of the boat, casting a faint glow across her face, her features softened, but there was still a heaviness to her posture. He felt a pang of guilt deep in his chest, something sharp and uncomfortable. He knew he shouldn’t have pressed her like that, but he couldn’t help it.

For some reason, he always assumed she and JJ were the kind of siblings who shared everything, who didn’t keep secrets. The way she’d been so quick to shield her brother from everything, to keep him from knowing about her pregnancy, caught him off guard. He ran a hand over his jaw, a quiet sigh slipping from his lips. His thoughts drifted—unbidden.

To Sarah.

He hadn’t spoken to her in ages their relationship was... complicated, to say the least. But looking at Y/N now, standing at the edge of the boat with her back to him, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she and JJ were now- unable to speak about the things that hurt. The night was growing colder as the boat continued its steady path, the rhythmic hum of the engine almost lulling them into a quiet trance. Y/N shifted in her seat which she had returned to, a soft shiver running through her. The chill in the air seemed to settle in her bones, and without thinking, she muttered,

"I’m going inside. I’m cold."

Her voice was low, almost swallowed by the wind. Rafe, not looking up from his phone hummed in acknowledgment, fingers tapping out a message to Barry who was speaking to him about a new 'supplier'. The noise of his fingers tapping against the phone screen echoed faintly between them, but otherwise, there was nothing more to be said. Y/N didn’t wait for him to reply, standing up with the intention of heading inside. She moved with purpose, but as her foot shifted on the deck, the boat suddenly jolted—a subtle shift in direction that caught her off guard. Her body teetered for a split second before she stumbled, her hand shooting out to catch herself against the railing. It was nothing too dangerous, just the motion of the boat, but in the brief moment of imbalance,

Rafe’s instinct kicked in.

He reach out toward her, his hand halfway in the air before he pulled it back, seeing that she’d already steadied herself. His body froze for a second as he watched her, his gaze lingering on the way her posture straightened again.

Y/N, catching the small flicker of movement from him, glanced over at Rafe, her eyes locking with his for just a moment longer than either of them anticipated. It wasn’t a look of gratitude or acknowledgment- just a silent gaze in his direction, a brief pause that hung between them before she quickly looked away. She said nothing, just turned and continued her walk toward the cabin, moving a little faster now. Rafe stood frozen for a beat, his hand still in the air as though unsure whether to reach out after her. He let his hand drop to his side, watching her retreating figure. The silence around them seemed louder now, the distance between them more palpable than before.

After a moment, he exhaled, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and with a brief glance toward the dark waters, he followed her inside.

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

The soft hum of the taxi filled the air as it moved through the quiet streets of Charleston, the city’s lights casting long shadows on the pavement. The streets, usually busy with the bustle of tourists, were almost empty at this early hour of the morning. The moon hung high in the sky, its light reflecting off the buildings as they passed. Y/N stared out the window, her face illuminated by the passing streetlights. Her eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular- just the empty streets, the quiet that felt too loud between them. She shifted slightly in the backseat, then broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask the question.

"When’s the... clinic booked for?"

Her gaze didn’t leave the window, but she was still waiting for his answer, the question just another small part of this strange, tense journey. Rafe’s eyes flicked to her for a moment before he glanced out his own window, his fingers drumming idly on the seat beside him.

"Evening"

He said simply, his voice low, he didn’t look back at her after that, the words hanging between them with an unspoken understanding. She nodded softly, her gaze still fixed on the darkness outside, her eyes slightly glazed as she thought about what was ahead. The clock on the taxi’s dashboard blinked a bright 3:13 AM, the streets were empty.

The taxi slows to a stop in front of a hotel, the headlights casting a long, soft shadow across the dark pavement. The building isn’t the most luxurious from the outside, but to Y/N, it’s the fanciest place she’d ever set foot in. As she steps out of the cab, she hesitates for a second, looking up at the hotel’s grand but understated exterior. The soft glow of lights spill from the inside, and the hum of quiet conversations can be heard from within.

Rafe’s already out, paying the driver. Y/N adjusts the small bag slung over her shoulder as she follows him inside, her footsteps echoing as they step through the double glass doors.

The lobby is elegantly designed—modern. There are soft armchairs scattered throughout the space, a sleek chandelier hanging overhead, and the hum of quiet conversations. It feels foreign to her, like she doesn’t belong here. Rafe heads up to the reception desk without a second glance, but Y/N, lost in her thoughts, lingers by the lobby’s wide glass windows, gazing out at the city streets. The street is still, save for a few scattered cars driving by.

Her attention is pulled back into the room when she notices a man sitting in one of the armchairs, talking animatedly on his phone. His voice is low, his hand gesturing as he speaks. Sitting beside him, though, is a woman who looks to be in her early thirties, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, dressed simply but elegantly. Y/N’s eyes are drawn to the curve of her belly. The woman’s hand rests gently there, a soft and loving gesture, cradling the life growing inside her. The man finishes his call and puts the phone down, settling next to her with a smile. His words are muffled, but Y/N can tell by the way he’s looking at her- so tenderly- that he’s saying something reassuring. She presses a kiss to his cheek, the act so natural and intimate, and his hand moves automatically to rest on her belly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Y/N’s heart tightens as she watches them, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, the world around her seems to blur as she’s struck with the emptiness that threatens to overwhelm her. She feels a sting of jealousy- sharp and uncomfortable- but it’s not jealousy of them, not really. It’s jealousy of their simplicity. The way they seem to have it all figured out. Rafe returns to her side, his steps sure as he walks toward her. His eyes quickly flick over to where hers are fixed, but he doesn't need to follow her gaze to know what she's looking at. He doesn’t say anything at first- just watches her for a second longer before clearing his throat. The sound is like a small signal to break the tension hanging in the air.

“I’ve got the key card”

He says, his tone neutral, trying to sound casual but his voice sounds more empathetic than he'd like to let on. Y/N doesn’t respond immediately, she only gives a short nod, her mind still caught on the sight of the couple in the lobby. She blinks a few times, pushing down the emotions threatening to flood her again.

“C’mon”

He says again, stepping toward the elevator. It’s easy to just follow his lead, so she falls in line behind him, her footsteps light as she walks into the lift with him. The doors shut with a soft chime, and the silence between them is thick with the unspoken, and neither of them seems willing to break it. Y/N catches a glimpse of Rafe from the corner of her eye. He’s standing a little too still, his jaw tight, but then he shifts slightly, a sudden yawn catching him off guard.

It’s a soft sound.

She watches him for a moment, then quickly looks away, guilt swirling in her stomach. She feels bad. It’s hard to ignore the fact that she’s dragged him off the island for something she hasn’t even fully explained, and it doesn’t help that she’s been distant with him. He doesn’t owe her this, and yet, here he is. He’s sacrificed his time, his peace, to follow through with something she needed.

Something she couldn’t even handle on her own.

Her chest tightens, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even know how to apologize properly. The doors to the elevator ding, and Y/N shakes herself out of the fog in her head as the doors slide open. She steps out, trailing behind him down the corridor, the low hum of the building’s air conditioning the only sound between them. Her thoughts continue to swirl in a haze, and she follows Rafe wordlessly, her gaze flickering over the brightly lit walls and the muted carpeting underfoot. The beep of the card unlocks the hotel room, the handle clicking softly as Rafe steps forward to push the door open. He enters first, his eyes scanning the room for a moment before pausing just inside the threshold. He’s holding the door open, his back to her, but he doesn’t move forward immediately. Y/N stays a step behind, and she tilts her head slightly, a mix of curiosity and hesitation in her posture.

“What?”

She asks quietly, her voice sounding smaller than she intends. She doesn’t know why she’s asking. Maybe it’s just the lingering unease she feels with the way he's paused, or maybe it’s just the awkwardness of being here with him.

Alone.

In a hotel room.

Rafe doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes flick to her, briefly meeting her gaze, then turning to the room as if weighing how to explain this. Y/N, now more aware of the pause, steps forward and brushes past him to peer into the room, her eyes scanning the space. The moment her gaze lands on the large, neatly made bed in the center of the room, her stomach drops. She takes a slow step back, blinking.

One bed.

Of course.

Her mouth opens as she exhales a soft, surprised “Oh,” almost as if she’s disappointed in herself for not anticipating this. The reality of the situation sinks in quickly, the silent weight of the choice she’s facing now becoming apparent. She glances back at Rafe, her eyes narrowing slightly. He stands frozen for a second, looking at the bed, then at her and his expression shifts into something more neutral—calm, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath. His gaze lingers on her for a second too long, the tension thick in the air between them. Rafe, standing just behind her now, clears his throat and shrugs.

“There was meant to be two singles...”

His voice is more earnest than she expects, but the tension is still thick. His gaze flickers to the bed and back to her.

“Guess they messed up with the booking.”

“Right”

She mutters and rolls her eyes, feeling that old frustration bubbling up again. She hears him shift behind her, and the tone of his voice softens slightly.

“No, seriously, I booked two beds Y/N.” he pauses, then sighs. “They messed up. Besides... not like I’m used to dealing with rooms for more than one.”

His voice is quieter now, maybe even a little... sheepish?

Y/N’s shoulders stiffen, and she tries not to think too much about it. She shouldn’t be frustrated, not really. He did try. It wasn’t his fault, but- she just nods, not trusting herself to speak, her eyes still locked on the bed as the weight of the situation settles in. It feels too personal, too uncomfortable, but she forces herself to exhale and shake it off. She half-turns to face him, her voice a little sharper than she intends.

“Great... so, what now?”

Y/N takes a few steps further into the room, her eyes scanning the rest of the space. It’s huge, definitely bigger than anything she’s used to, with a bathroom off to the side that looks like it could fit a small army. She almost feels out of place in the luxury of it all. Her fingers brush the smooth edge of the desk, the furniture pristine, and she can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. As she moves toward the far side of the room, her gaze lands on the couch. It’s medium-sized, tucked neatly against the wall near the bed. Her eyes linger there for a moment. She hears Rafe step closer behind her, his heavy footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet room. He follows her gaze, then looks back at her.

“I’ll sleep on the couch”

He says, and Y/N pauses, slightly skeptical. She turns to face him, a little incredulous.

“What?”

Rafe’s hand rubs the back of his neck, his posture a little stiff. “I mean, it’s fine... you’re pregnant and I’d rather not—” He cuts himself off, realizing that the sentence sounds ridiculous.

“I’ll take the couch.”

She doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but she can’t help but bristle at the idea. “It’s fine,” she starts, shrugging it off, “I can take the couch.”

Rafe’s expression tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “No. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” His tone is firm but not unkind.

“We’re not doing that.”

Y/N opens her mouth to protest, but then she catches the look in his eyes. Something about the way he’s saying it, the way he stands there, not pushing but still resolute. She presses her lips together, swallowing her own stubbornness.

“Fine”

She mutters, walking toward the bed and sitting down on the edge. He gives her a half-smile, nodding. He pauses for a second, his gaze flickering over her, before he heads over to the couch, testing the cushions.

“I'm sorry abou-”

"-It's fine Rafe."

She shoots him a side-eye, still a little uneasy but also strangely grateful that he’s not making her sleep in the same bed. The night passed in an odd kind of quiet. Y/N had turned away from the sofa, curling into herself under the blanket, her back to Rafe. He, on the other hand, lay awake for a while, his eyes tracing the outline of her figure in the dim light, the soft rise and fall of her breathing making him feel strangely protective- though he wouldn’t admit it. Eventually, sleep claimed them both, though neither one of them seemed to rest all that peacefully.

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

Morning came slowly, the bright sunlight spilling through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N woke first, rubbing her eyes before slipping out of bed quietly, trying not to disturb Rafe. He was still asleep on the couch, his body turned slightly, his arm thrown across his forehead. She grabbed a quick shower, dressed in the clothes she’d brought, and then made her way downstairs as he stirred from his sleep.

The small café downstairs was cozy, a little more upscale than the usual diner, but not so fancy it felt out of place. She and Rafe sat down at a table near the window. Y/N absently pushed her pancake around on the plate, the syrup drizzling down the soft stack of pancakes in front of her. Rafe had ordered eggs, bacon, and toast, and his plate was practically a mountain compared to her much smaller serving. Rafe looked at her plate,

“There was so much on that menu, and you got pancakes?”

Y/N shot him a small glare, her fork poking at her pancakes. “You’re one to talk. Look at your own plate.”

She rolled her eyes, the usual defiance in her tone. Rafe couldn’t help the small, amused grin that tugged at his lips. It was impossible to not appreciate her sass, even if it was often sharp-edged. He shook his head, stabbing into his food. They ate in silence for a few moments, the air between them comfortable. Y/N pushed a cut pancake around her plate, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“...When I was younger,” she started quietly, not looking up from her plate, “my dad used to make me and JJ pancakes for breakfast every Sunday.”

Rafe, who’d been about to take another bite, paused. He studied her for a moment, his gaze flicking from her to the food, but he didn’t say anything. Y/N continued, her voice softer now.

“He hasn’t done that for years.”

His eyes softened a little, the layers of tension between them briefly melting away as he processed her words. He didn’t know how to respond to her suddenly opening up, so he just stayed silent, watching her as she cut into her pancake. For a second, he wished he could ease her melancholy, the way her voice had faltered just a little when she’d spoken of her father. Y/N looked up at him then, catching the brief flicker of empathy in his eyes, before she quickly glanced back down at her plate, focusing on her food. Neither of them said anything for a while, and the quiet lingered between them. Rafe cleared his throat after a beat, as though considering whether to share what was on his mind. He looked down at his plate, pushing some bacon around before speaking again, his voice quieter now.

"My dad used to… uh…" He paused, as if trying to find the right words, "used to say that a growing man needs a filling breakfast, so ever since then, if I have breakfast, I have this."

He motioned vaguely to his plate of eggs and bacon. Y/N, in the middle of cutting up her pancakes, glanced up at him, her eyes taking him in, trying to process his words. It was strange to hear him speak so casually about his father- considering everything she knew from Sarah about the difficulty of their relationship. She hummed in acknowledgement, a simple gesture before she spoke up again, a question lingering on her tongue.

“Aren’t you bored of it?”

He didn’t answer right away, chewing a bite of his food, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Some things you don’t get bored of.”

Her fork paused midair, and for a second, she just studied him. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of understanding before looking back down at her plate, cutting up another piece of pancake. But his eyes stayed on her, the weight of his gaze just enough to make her feel like he was reading her again. She didn’t look back at him, though- her mind was too busy running through the conversation, the way his words felt like an opening, even if just a crack.

Y/N sets down her fork, her plate now empty, and picked up the warm cup of tea in front of her, holding it between both hands. She takes a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through her as she looks out the window, her gaze distant. Rafe, still focused on his food, catches her pause out of the corner of his eye, sensing a change in her demeanor. He swallows a bite and glances at her, then back at his plate.

"How far away is the clinic?"

She asks quietly, her voice slightly less steady than usual. She’s trying to keep it calm, but there’s a subtle weight to her words, as though she’s still sorting through the emotions building up inside. Rafe chews for a moment before answering, his tone straightforward but gentle.

"It’s not far, maybe a 30-minute drive. Shouldn’t be too bad."

He doesn’t press her for a response, letting her take the lead in how much she wants to engage with him. She nods slowly, but her eyes remain unfocused, drifting out the nearby window as her thoughts spiral. She feels a tight knot forming in her stomach. The decision she’s made, the steps she’s about to take—they all feel heavier now, so much more real than ever before. The thought of the procedure is enough to make her feel a little sick, though she doesn’t want to admit it out loud. It’s all she’s been thinking about since they left the island, but now that they’re so close, it’s almost suffocating. Y/N’s fingers wrap more firmly around her cup as she stares out the window again, but there’s a slight unease in her posture now. After a moment of contemplation, she breaks the silence with a soft, almost tentative voice.

"Do I... do I have to give my name or...?"

Her voice trails off, unsure, as though she’s not even sure she wants to know the answer. Rafe, sensing her hesitation, quickly cuts her off, shaking his head. "No," he says, his tone firm but gentle.

"It's anonymous. You don't have to. They won't even know who you are."

Y/N's eyes flicker to him, and she exhales a quiet breath of relief. "Right," she mutters, her fingers tightening around the cup again.

The idea that it could be so impersonal, that no one would know her, seems to bring her some comfort, though she doesn’t show much outward emotion. The thought of keeping it all anonymous, of having no strings attached, gives her a strange sense of control over something that’s felt so out of her hands.

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

The hours leading up to the appointment felt like they were dragging, each minute stretching on, yet it was as if time was slipping by too fast at the same time. Y/N had spent most of the day trying not to think about what was coming, but now, as she stood outside the clinic, she couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Her heart was pounding, her stomach tied in knots, but she didn’t have the strength to back out now. Rafe walked ahead, pushing the door open for her, and she stepped inside, the sterile, clinical air hitting her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The waiting room was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made her skin prickle. It was empty, except for one woman in her mid-thirties, flipping through a magazine, and the receptionist sitting behind the desk, typing away. "Go sit down," Rafe murmured softly, his tone steady as he gestured to the row of empty chairs against the wall,

"I'll get the papers you need to fill in."

She didn’t have to be told twice. Her legs felt like jello, and she made her way to an empty seat, trying not to let her nerves show. The walls of the room were a bland gray, making everything feel dull and lifeless. The fluorescent lights above hummed quietly, and there was a small window in the ceiling letting in the dim light from the dark sky. Y/N's eyes drifted to the woman sitting across the room. The woman glanced up from her magazine and caught her gaze, offering a kind, understanding smile. Y/N hesitated for just a second but returned a small, tight-lipped smile in return. The woman nodded in acknowledgment before looking back down at her magazine and Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. A moment later, Rafe returned, clipboard in hand, and sat beside her.

"Here"

He said, passing it to her with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She nodded, taking the clipboard from him. She looked down at the forms, at the boxes she’d need to fill in, the questions that seemed to stare up at her, expecting answers. Her grip tightened around the pen as she brought it to the paper, but the tremble in her hand was almost impossible to ignore. She bit her lip and tried to steady herself, but it was no use. Her hand wouldn’t stop shaking, and she could feel the hot sting of tears threatening to fall, though she desperately fought to keep them in check. Rafe noticed immediately, his eyes narrowing with concern. He sat closer, his hand lightly resting on her hand for a moment before he gently took the clipboard from she had grasped in it.

"Let me do it," he said quietly, his voice soft but insistent.

"I’ll fill it in for you."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in her throat. She muttered, feeling embarrassed, but she couldn’t seem to help it,

"But… you might not know..."

Rafe looked at her, his expression unwavering but gentle,"Then you tell me," he replied, his voice calm,

"and I’ll write it down alright?"

Y/N stared at him for a beat, her heart doing something strange in her chest, something like relief mixed with disbelief. She could feel the weight of his kindness, and for a moment, it almost made her want to cry more. But instead, she simply nodded, her throat tight.

"Okay"

She whispered, taking a steadying breath. She started telling him the details- any medical allergies, then other information like her date of birth- which he reassured wasn't necessary if she didn't want it there. Rafe wrote it all down, his handwriting neat and precise, his hand steady despite her trembling voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly, but the warmth of his presence beside her was oddly grounding, even though it didn't make her fear go away. The woman who had been reading the magazine had gone in, and the receptionist was somewhere out of sight, probably dealing with paperwork or something in the back.

It left just Rafe and Y/N sitting together in quiet.

Y/N sat forward slightly, her hands laid pressed under her thighs, her fingers digging into the chair. She couldn’t bring herself to look up. Her eyes stayed focused on her shoes, her mind racing, all the thoughts running in every direction. Rafe, stayed sitting beside her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed slightly, and despite the calm exterior. Then, out of nowhere, Y/N broke the silence.

"Rafe, I’m scared."

Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it hit him hard. He was taken aback, not expecting her to admit it. He had seen her put up walls, but hearing her say those words made something tighten in his chest. He turned to her, trying to offer some kind of comfort, even if he wasn’t sure how to give it.

“Hey- it's okay...”

He said, his voice quiet but earnest. But she wasn’t reassured, her teeth caught her bottom lip, and she bounced her leg nervously, her eyes still downcast. Her voice cracked slightly, and she swallowed hard.

“What if something goes wrong, and—”

"Y/N—this is the best clinic in Charleston, alright? I promise."

Rafe shook his head in a reassuring gesture. Her eyes flickered up to him for a moment, but she quickly dropped her gaze again, her voice barely audible when she spoke again.

“I—but what if something happens?”

"Maybank" he said, his voice firm yet gentle, as if trying to anchor her in the moment.

“Nothing is going to happen, okay? You’re gonna go in there, they’ll do the procedure, it'll take 15 minutes and then you’ll be out. I’ll be right here waiting for you."

She let out a breath she’d been holding in, almost like a tiny surrender, but still, her hands were clenched under her thighs, her shoulders tense. Rafe could see her trying to hold it together, but the vulnerability in her eyes was there, clear and raw. Her hands moved then, resting on top of her thighs, and then, as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore, one hand came up to cover her mouth, the other rubbing her face in frustration. She mumbled,

“I’m so scared.”

The words hit him like a punch, torturous, he felt it deep down, the weight of her fear, and it gutted him in a way he didn’t expect. She was trusting him enough to let this fear out, and it made him feel an overwhelming pressure in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t know what to do, what would help her calm down. But then, without thinking, he reached out, his hand resting gently over hers, the one still resting on her thigh. Her eyes flickered down to where his hand met hers, and for just a second, their gazes met- her eyes searching his, full of uncertainty, and something else.

Something almost... vulnerable.

"I’m going to be waiting here for you the whole time," he said softly, his voice steady but carrying a quiet reassurance.

"I’m not going anywhere."

Y/N’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath as she processed his words, her bottom lip trembling slightly. Then, slowly, she moved her hand so it was now holding his, her fingers slipping between his as she squeezed gently. He felt her hand in his, felt her trust in that simple gesture, and his thumb instinctively began rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. Neither of them said anything more. The silence between them wasn’t oppressive now; it felt almost comforting, as if the simple connection of their hands could steady them.

The quiet of the waiting room was broken by the soft click of a nearby door opening. An older woman in a crisp white doctor’s coat stepped out, glancing around the space before her eyes landed on Y/N. Her face softened immediately, smile warm and gentle as she called out,

“We’re ready for you now sweetheart.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, so subtle it could’ve been missed if Rafe wasn’t watching her so closely. She straightened a little, gathering herself. Her fingers slowly, reluctantly, slipped from his, and Rafe let her go, though his hand lingered in place for just a second longer like it didn’t want to lose the contact.

“You’ll be fine”

He said quietly, his voice steady. She nodded- small, but firm- and stood up. Rafe watched as she walked toward the woman, her steps light, almost unsure. The doctor opened the door beside her and stepped inside, holding it open behind her. Y/N followed, before she paused in the doorway.

She looked back.

Her eyes found Rafe's, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. He met her gaze from where he sat, arms still crossed over his chest, jaw tight, but his eyes—his eyes soft blue eyes watching her like he didn’t want her to go in there alone- like he wanted to be there right beside her, holding her hand.

And then the door closed behind her.

Rafe exhaled slowly through his nose, the weight of the silence hitting him all over again. He hadn’t even noticed how hard his heart was beating until now. His hand twitched once on his leg, like it still remembered the feeling of her fingers in his.

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

The room was quiet.

Still

Only the faint sound of a random film playing on the TV filled the silence- a movie neither of them was really watching. Y/N sat curled up on the bed, knees pulled tight to her chest, her arms looped around them as her eyes stayed fixed on the screen like it was holding her in place.

She hadn’t said a word since the procedure.

Not in the car.

Not during the walk back up to the room.

Not once.

Rafe sat on the couch for a while, watching her more than the movie, caught somewhere between giving her space and wanting to do something, anything, to make this less heavy. Eventually, he stood up, quiet steps carrying him to the small desk tucked in the corner of the hotel room. He picked up the room service menu lying there, flipping it open. He glanced over at her again—still quiet, still curled up, like if she moved too much, she might fall apart and he walked back over and perched on the edge of the bed, not too close, careful with her space. Gently, he set the menu down beside her.

“You should eat something,”

He said, voice low, her eyes dropped to the menu for a second, but she didn’t reach for it. Then she turned to look at him, but he was already watching her. She gave a small shake of her head, still not speaking. Rafe sighed, running a hand down his jaw, rough with tension. “Maybank…” he tried again, softer this time.

“You gotta eat.”

Nothing, she didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stared ahead at the TV like she wasn’t really in the room at all. “Alright,” he muttered, half to himself, picking up the menu again.

“Let’s see…”

He started listing, casual but careful, “Mozzarella sticks... caesar salad... bbq wings... mac and cheese.... tomato soup with grilled cheese....? Sliders? Pasta? Uh- spaghetti with truffle and mushroom? No..? Alright, club sandwich... chicken tenders... fries…?”

Her head shifted slightly.

Just enough to catch his attention and make his eyes flick over, catching the way hers had finally lifted, just the tiniest bit of reaction. “Fries?” he asked, tone light but a little hopeful.

“You want fries?”

She didn’t speak, but after a beat, gave him the smallest nod. It wasn’t much, barely anything- but it was something to Rafe. That was enough to make a small, quiet smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Alright” he said softly, already reaching for the hotel phone to place the order, his eyes lingering on her just a second longer.

He crossed the room in a few slow strides, grabbing the hotel phone off the receiver with one hand while flipping open the room service menu with the other. His thumb hovered briefly over the order as he pressed the button for the front desk. When the soft voice of the receptionist answered, he ordered simply- just the fries, nothing else. His voice was steady, careful, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile quiet that had settled over the room. As he hung up, the faint mechanical buzz of the line disconnecting filled the space for a second, then faded. The silence returned but this time, it was broken—softly,

“Thank you”

Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. Rafe blinked and turned around slowly, surprised. She hadn’t spoken since she’d walked out of the clinic, hadn’t looked at him much either. And now, her voice was small—tired in a way that made something twist in his chest. He offered a quiet nod.

“It’s fine.”

He didn’t say anything else, just turned to go back to the sofa where he’d been keeping his distance since they got back. He didn’t want to crowd her, not after he'd just managed to get her to ease open. But just as he reached the edge of the bed, her voice stopped him again “You, um…” she said, hesitating, chewing at her bottom lip.

“You can sit here- if you like...”

He looked over at her slowly. She was still curled up near the pillows, knees hugged to her chest, the hotel duvet tangled loosely around her legs. She wasn’t quite looking at him- her eyes were flickering toward the television instead- but her fingers were nervously fidgeting in her lap.

“You sure about that?”

He asked gently, his voice softer now, the usual sharpness dulled by caution. She nodded, the motion small but certain. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice slightly more sure this time.

“I’m sure.”

He hesitated only a second more before moving- careful and quiet, almost like if he made too much noise the moment might break apart. He rounded the bed and eased himself down beside her on the opposite side, lowering slowly until his back rested against the padded headboard. He kept a respectful distance, just enough to give her space but not so far that she felt alone. The curtains were drawn tight, muffling the city beyond, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner blended with the low volume of the movie.

Y/N sat propped against the pillows now, the bowl of fries resting on her lap. She was picking at them slowly, not ravenous, just nibbling. The taste of them felt grounding, something familiar in all the strange quiet of the day. Beside her, Rafe sat with his arms crossed over his chest, head tipped back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded as he watched the television. His expression was unreadable- tired maybe, the pale light of the screen moved across his face, catching the curve of his jaw and the furrow between his brows.

She glanced at him for a moment, then looked down at the bowl in her hands. Without a word, she nudged it a little toward him- silent but clear in her offering. Rafe’s eyes slid down to the bowl, then back up to her. He gave a faint shake of his head.

“I’m good, Maybank.”

“Have some,”

She tilted her head slightly, not pressing, just… encouraging as she said quietly. He looked at her again, her face soft in the dim light. There was a gentleness in her voice that tugged at something in his chest.

“They’re really good,”

She added, as if that might tip the scales.

And it did.

Rafe gave a small, defeated nod and reached into the bowl, pulling out a fry. He took a bite, crunching into it—and he had to agree it was perfect. Crisp, golden, just the right amount of salt. He gave a quiet little amused breath through his nose, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile.

“That’s pretty damn good”

He admitted and Y/N let out a breath that was almost a laugh, her lips curving into a small smile- soft, genuine. It was the first real one all day. She spoke, nudging the bowl toward him again.

“Have another”

He didn’t argue this time. He reached in and grabbed another fry, and then another after that because it seemed to satisfy her- make her happy. She shifted a little, adjusting the bowl so it sat between them now, and in doing so, she edged closer to him—just enough that their arms were nearly brushing. The bowl sat empty now, discarded somewhere by their feet, but Y/N hadn’t moved. She was still tucked in beside him, her side pressed into his, arms brushing with every breath, every subtle shift. The silence was back—but it wasn’t the heavy kind from earlier. It was different now, calmer.

A little softer around the edges.

Rafe hadn’t shifted either. His arms were no longer crossed, his hands resting on his stomach now as he leaned against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. He could feel the warmth of her against him, not overwhelming—just there.

Solid.

Y/N's knees were still drawn up, but her shoulders had eased, the tension from earlier leaking out of her bit by bit. Her cheek was tilted slightly toward him, not quite resting, but close enough that if she leaned an inch more, she could. The TV kept playing, casting dull light across the room, neither of them really paying attention to it. Rafe shifted just slightly, glancing down at the point where their arms touched, then at her profile. The flicker of the screen light danced along her skin, catching on the curve of her cheek, the arch of her nose.

Rafe’s throat felt dry, like he hadn’t swallowed in hours. He blinked, but his gaze didn’t shift.

Not from her.

Not from the way the soft hotel light picked up on her lashes or the way the curve of her lips- soft and slightly parted- seemed impossibly delicate. Y/N sensed it, felt his eyes on her. She turned her head slightly, brows pulling together gently. She asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“Hm?”

He blinked again, slower this time. She tilted her head, a small crease forming between her brows as she brought a hand up to swipe lightly across her cheek.

“Is there something on my face?”

Rafe’s eyes followed her hand, the slow sweep of her fingers against her skin. He shook his head quickly—too quickly maybe—and leaned back against the headboard again. “No,” he said, his voice low, the edge of it a little hoarse.

“No there isn’t.”

Her hand fell away as she looked at him. Really looked. The space between them felt warm, heavier somehow than it had a second ago. The TV was still going, but the sound barely reached them anymore. Her eyes stayed on his, searching his expression like she wasn’t sure what she was seeing there.

Neither of them looked away.

Her gaze dipped- just briefly- to his lips and then in return his eyes did the same, flickering down to hers. His tongue slipped over his bottom lip dampening it slightly and the moment stretched, thick with something unsaid, something almost fragile.

The moment shattered with the sharp buzz of her phone against the bedside table. Y/N blinked, her gaze finally dragging from Rafe’s- like coming up for air- and she turned toward the sound coming from the bed side table, phone screen lighting up the darkened corner of the room.

JJ

She stared at the name for a second too long, her stomach twisting. He didn’t know where she was, as far as JJ was concerned, she was in Charleston chasing a job offer. She picked it up, pressed the screen to answer, and forced her voice to be steady.

“Hey, Jay… everything okay?”

There was a pause on the other end, the background sound fuzzy like he was outside before his voice came through, rough but familiar.

“Uh… yeah- yeah. I’m cool. Just… wondering how your interview went.”

Her brows pulled slightly together in surprise.

“Oh. Uh—it was okay. Yeah. Went fine.”

There was a soft hum from him in response and then silence. She shifted on the bed turning away from Rafe who was now looking at her somewhat curiously, especially since he noticed the tension in her shoulders tightening. She asked, the edge of concern pushing through.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, I’m at the Chateau,” he answered, “It’s… chill here.”

“That’s good,” she said quietly.

There was another stretch of silence, a tense one to the point she could feel something sitting behind it. Then JJ cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I was just thinking… um-”

“What’s wrong?”

She asked quickly, her voice dipping softer as she could sense her distress. She could hear something different in his voice—like guilt “I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “For not talking to you...” Her breath caught a little and she swallowed. Her grip on the phone tightened just slightly.

“I, uh- I got a job, that’s what I was calling to tell you. It’s, uh, at the fish and tackle shop.”

She froze and for a second, she didn’t even process what he said. she just stared down at the carpet of the room, lips parted then spoke out, “… are you being serious?”

“Yeah” There was another pause before he continued his voice coming out through through the small speaker of the phone,

“I’m sorry I’ve been slacking and you’ve had to carry the house by yourself. I’m… I’m trying to be better. For you.”

She stared at the wall, that ache behind her ribs swelling. A sad smile tugged at her lips as her eyes glistened. She blinked fast, the sting behind her eyes catching her off guard. She drew in a slow, quiet breath through her nose.

“I’m proud of you Jay”

“Thanks,” he said, quieter now and then he asked, “When are you coming home?”

She drew in a slow breath, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, its red digits glowing up to her, her voice lightening.

“You going to sleep soon or what? It’s pretty late.”

He let out a tired “mmhmm,” and then he said, almost too quietly, “I miss you.” She pursed her lips tight, holding in the rush of emotion building in her throat. “I miss you too.”

“Goodnight,” he mumbled out to her.

“Go to sleep”

“I will.”

“You better.”

He let out a low chuckle- small, but real- and she could almost envision his boyish grin in the dark. “See you tomorrow,” she said.

“See ya tomorrow, sis.”

The line went dead.

She lowered the phone slowly, staring at it in her lap. The silence of the hotel room returned, and with it came the dull, heavy pressure in her chest. That hollow feeling. That shame. Because even though she had smiled and said all the right things, one truth lingered loud in her head—

She’d lied to him- and she'd never done that, not as seriously as this.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as her fingers tightened slightly around the edges of her phone. The guilt crept in like a tide, slow but suffocating. JJ’s voice was still echoing in her ears—the softness in it, the hesitation- he was trying so hard. He had called just to tell her he’d gotten a job, just to let her know he was trying to be better for her.

And here she was.

Sitting in a hotel room far from home, sharing quiet and warmth with the one person her brother hated more than anyone else on the island. The one person who'd hated and tourmented them since they were kids. She glanced over at him, still silent on the other side of the bed. His gaze was fixed on the muted television, though she could tell he wasn’t really watching. There was a calmness to his posture now, a quiet presence that shouldn’t have felt safe- but somehow did.

And that made it worse.

Because the longer they sat here, the more she realized that her feelings for him were starting to shift. The edges of her anger had dulled, the lines had blurred. He had seen her at her lowest, and he hadn’t run, he hadn’t mocked her like he always had. He’d stayed- and that terrified her more than anything.

Because JJ could never know.

Not about why she was really in Charleston.

Not about Rafe.

And especially not about the way her heart was starting to beat differently when he looked at her.

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lee byung hun but like him married with a young wife!? Pleaseeee!!

BIRTHDAY WISHES | lee byung-hun and his young wife

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byunghun0712

liked by yourusername and others

byunhun0712 happy 26th birthday to the love of my life

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user46 HAPPY BIRTHDAY

yourbestfriendsuser HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL

byunghunfan HE’S MARRIED!?

user4 @/byunghunfan they’ve been married for 2 years

byunghunfan @/user4 STOP

yourusername ur making me feel old (not as old as you but still)

byunghun0712 @/yourusername haha 😂

yourusername

liked by zendaya and others

yourusername he always makes sure I look good especially for my birthday

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yourfriendsuser why is he so focused 😭

user09 WHY CANT HE LOOK AT ME THAT WAY

ilovedilfs i aspire to be you

user64 @/ilovedilfs marry a dilf?

user12 I wish to be his controversially young wife just like you

y/nfan4 can’t believe this beautiful woman is married

yourusername

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yourusername my fav pictures from my birthday

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yourbestfriendsuser YOUR LOOKING WAY TOO GOOD

liked by author

user76 how old are you now??

y/nswifey @/user76 she’s 26!

userfan18 I can’t believe she just turned 26

claireeperrz @/user18 Frl I’m 26 and I’m not even married yet

y/nsworld they’re so cuteee

y/nsdiary can’t believe I wasn’t invited ☹️

marrymey/n

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marrymey/n our beautiful queen turned 26 <3 here’s pictures via her husband’s [lee byung-hun] story today

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y/nssoulmate HUSBAND!? HELLO!??

user13 she’s prettyyy who is she?

mrslee don’t remind me they’re married

user5 SHE LIKED YOUR POST

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yourusername thank you everyone for the birthday wishes!!! love you all

marrymey/n @/yourusername omg no way you commented

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a/n: sorry I haven’t really updated. I’m back in college so I’ve been pretty busy

Frat boy rafe doesent know how to fuck properly

Pairing: frat!rafe cameron x reader

Warnings: (smut 18+, frat boy Rafe behavior (cocky, entitled, desperate), inexperience, unfulfilling experience, mild degradation/frustration, light alcohol consumption, messy, not romantic)

Rafe had been circling you like a vulture for weeks.

It wasn’t even about you—not really. It was about the chase, the fact that you weren’t giving in as easily as the others. The more you rejected his advances, the more he obsessed over the idea of getting you in bed. And you knew it. You saw the way his eyes would darken whenever you shot him down, the way he would always try again like he had something to prove.

He wasn't subtle. Not at all. Every chance he got, he had some excuse to get you alone. Every night at parties, he was in your space, offering you drinks you didn’t ask for, whispering things in your ear that he thought were smooth. He didn’t even try to hide that he was only after one thing.

"Come on," he groaned one night, cornering you in the kitchen at a house party. His breath reeked of cheap beer, his hand splaying against the counter beside you, blocking you in. "Why are you making this so hard?"

"Maybe because I don’t want to?" you teased, watching frustration flicker across his face.

But that wasn’t entirely true, and you both knew it.

Rafe was an ass, a spoiled rich boy with entitlement issues, but you couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t thought about it. He was hot, obnoxiously so. He had this effortless kind of arrogance, all strong arms and cocky smirks, and as annoying as he was, he was still magnetic. You knew exactly why girls lined up for him. But still—you held out, dragging it on longer than necessary, just to see how desperate he’d get.

And he got desperate.

By the time you finally gave in, he was already half out of his mind with want.

It happened in his room, the air thick with tension, his hands greedy and impatient. He didn’t waste time. The second you let him know it was happening, he was on you—mouth everywhere, hands fumbling with your clothes like he was scared you’d change your mind.

He was rushed. So, so rushed.

You could tell he had no idea how to pace himself, no sense of control. He was all over you, hands squeezing, pulling, gripping, as if he couldn’t decide what to focus on. He didn’t know how to take his time, how to make it good for you. He was just chasing his own high, acting purely on impulse.

"Fuck—" he panted against your skin, already working to get his jeans off, his breath hot against your neck. "You don’t know how bad I need this."

You almost laughed. Oh, you knew.

The desperation was pouring off him in waves. He was so worked up, so frantic, that he barely let you breathe between kisses. His hands trembled slightly when he shoved your underwear down, his fingers clumsy against your skin.

And then—just like that—he was in you.

No teasing, no buildup, no attempt at making it feel good for you. He just buried himself inside you with a strained groan, gripping your hips so tight it almost hurt.

And it was bad.

Not the worst experience you’d ever had, but definitely not good.

He was messy, unsure, and completely out of rhythm. His thrusts were erratic, too fast one second and too slow the next, like he couldn’t decide what worked. He kept adjusting, shifting positions, like he thought the issue was in the angle instead of the fact that he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

"You like that?" he asked at one point, voice breathless, and you almost rolled your eyes because—no. Not really.

It was obvious he was trying to figure out how to talk you through it, but it just wasn’t working. Every time he opened his mouth, he second-guessed himself, stumbling over his words like he didn’t know what you wanted to hear.

And then—it was over.

Way too soon.

His breath hitched, his body tensed, and you barely had time to process it before he was finishing, groaning against your shoulder as he lost control completely.

You didn’t even try to hide your disappointment.

Rafe, still breathing heavily, finally pulled back enough to look at you. His face was flushed, his hair damp with sweat, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked uncertain.

You could practically see it in his eyes—the slow realization that he hadn’t gotten you off. That it hadn’t been good for you. That maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as smooth as he thought.

"Did you…" he trailed off, searching your face.

You just raised a brow.

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Fuck."

hiii

so idk if your requests are open but could you please write some hcs about clayton Beresford as a husband and dad

Thank youuu ❤️

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

HUSBAND/DAD!CLAY HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains filthy, crazy sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: of course my requests are open! I just LOVE seeing notification from my inbox, so thank you very much <3 hope you like it

MARRIAGE

Clayton Beresford who after two delightful years of your relationship proposed to you. He took you to the fancy restaurant, and since it was something you did often, you hadn't have any suspicious. But have you thought about marrying him? Of course, yet, you wanted to give him time. You knew how his earlier marriage ended so it'd be out of your character to even suggest him taking your relationship to another level. But the ring you got was out of your wildest dreams - 4 carat round cut diamond ring that seemed to shine more than every star in the sky

Clayton Beresford who got even more all-about-you after wedding. Even more love making with no care in the world, long honeymoon, even more spent time together just more everything

Clayton Beresford who, despite his demanding job, always makes time for you. He’s the type of husband who will surprise you with small gestures; like leaving sweet notes in your purse or sending you flowers (mostly to your workplace) randomly just to remind you that he’s thinking of you.

Clayton Beresford who loves planning spontaneous weekend trips to your favorite places. Whether it’s a cozy cabin in the mountains or a luxury hotel in the city, Clayton enjoys these escapes to focus solely on you without any distractions.

Clayton Beresford who's big on surprises. He might book a last-minute trip to Paris (or any place on earth), arrange for a private dinner on the rooftop of the restaurant's building or just in the place you'd not be able to pay by yourself. Or buy you that piece of jewelry you casually mentioned months ago.

Clayton Beresford who has a strong protective instinct. He always ensures you’re safe, and anyone who might pose a threat to you or your happiness would have to face his wrath.

Clayton Beresford who depended on you doing the grocery shopping since he had never done that before (however after a few times he gained knowledge);

Clay glanced away for just a second, but when he looked back, you were gone. His brow furrowed as he scanned the immediate area, stepping away from the cart to see if you had wandered behind another display. But there was no sign of you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in as he quickened his pace, determined not to lose you. Not in this place.

He began weaving through the aisles, his eyes darting around in search of you, listening intently for any sound that might be your voice. But the supermarket was huge, and the weekend crowd made it even more overwhelming.

With a groan of annoyance, Clay pressed on, moving faster now, his heart racing a little at the thought of losing you in this sea of people. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of you between rushing people. A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest as he turned sharply toward the sound.

You were standing by the dairy section, casually chatting on the phone as you picked up items. Relief washed over him, and he silently thanked whatever forces led him to find you.

Like a lost puppy or a child who had been separated from their parent, he hurried over to you, his earlier frustration melting into a quiet sense of relief.

Reaching for a carton of milk, you sensed someone close behind you. Turning around, you found Clay standing there, his expression a mix of worry and boyish vulnerability that made you smile. It was as if he had been a little kid lost in a big mall again.

You handed him the shopping list, tapping the line where it said 'bananas' with a knowing look.

Clay accepted the list with a determined nod. He was a grown man—he could handle picking up some bananas.

But when he reached the produce section, his confidence wavered as he stared at the six different types of bananas on display, his frown deepening in confusion.

It was supposed to be a simple task: grab the bananas and return to you. Yet here he was, staring at the display like they were some exotic species he had never encountered.

He didn't recognize any of the types, and he had no clue which one you wanted. So, with a loosing sigh, he carefully picked a bunch of yellow bananas, added some mini ones, and then tossed in a few green ones for good measure. Feeling a bit more confident, he placed them all in the cart and made his way back to you. A small, proud smirk forming on his lips as he approached.

“I got them,” he announced, a hint of pride in his voice as if he had just completed a great feat.

You glanced down at the cart, noticing the remarkable assortment. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at him. "Baby, but... they're all different kinds."

His smirk faded slightly as a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He glanced at the cart, then back at you “I know,” he admitted, his voice soft and a bit self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure which ones you wanted, so I just… grabbed a few to be safe.”

Your heart melted at his effort, and you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "C'mon, we'll figure out these bananas together."

His cheeks flushed a deeper red at your affectionate gesture, and he looked down at you with warm, loving eyes, a shy smile curving his lips.

“Okay,” he murmured, feeling content as he started pushing the cart again, this time with you walking beside him.

PREGNANCY

Clayton Beresford who was shocked yet thrilled when he found out you're pregnant. He was always gentle with you but from that day he got on another level of doing everything in his power to make sure you're safe, happy and comfortable

Clayton Beresford who seemed to be hypnotized by your changing body (so obviously loved to have his hands on it, and you loved when he did)

Clayton Beresford who had to deal with your neediness for attention/affection;

"Baby, I'm already late. You know I can't stay longer," he sighs, slipping on his black cloak, the fabric rustling as he moves with familiar urgency.

"Are you sure you can't stay just a little longer?" you pout, leaning against the doorframe of your mudroom

He chuckles softly and walks over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest "Baby, I'd love nothing more than to stay," he murmurs "But…" he sighs again, the weight of responsibility heavy in his voice, "you know I can't be late twice in a row."

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his muscles firm against your softer frame. The warmth of his embrace makes you want to hold onto him just a little longer.

"But I thought you'd make love to me all morning," you tease, your voice soft and playful "and then spoil me with a big breakfast."

His eyes softened after his large hands roam over to cup your pregnant belly, his fingers gently tracing over the curve "That was the original plan," his lips formed into a knowing smirk. His hands linger on your body, as if memorizing every inch before he has to let go. "But you know I've got to go to work…"

"But what if the baby comes out while you're not here?" you pout, feeling the warmth of his knuckles as they gently trace over your swollen belly.

He chuckles softly at your worry, his lips curling into a reassuring smile. He steps back slightly, his hands slipping from your waist to admire the sight of your pregnant form. "Babe, we've talked about this. The baby's not coming today," he says with a confident grin, glancing down at your round belly before meeting your concerned gaze.

"Yeah... right," you mumble, still not entirely convinced.

He can't help but smirk at how endearingly moody you are, especially when you pout like that. With a gentle touch, he wraps his fingers around your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking directly into his smiling eyes. "Don't give me that look," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth as he leans in closer, his breath brushing against your lips.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as the reality of his departure sinks in.

His gaze locks onto your big, sparkling eyes as he gently cups your cheeks. "I'm going to miss you too, baby. But I have to go to work," he murmurs with a tender smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips once more.

"I love you, you know," your voice lingering, trying to stretch out the moment just a little longer.

His smile deepens, touched by your efforts to keep him close, but he's all too aware of the ticking clock. "I love you too, more than anything. But if I don't leave now, I'll be late for a meeting with the board... and I can't afford to do that again," his tone a mix of regret and urgency as he gives you a sympathetic look, hoping you understand.

"But you're their boss," you protest softly, a pout forming on your lips.

He sighs, knowing that leaving without giving you something special will likely leave you moody for the rest of the day. Even though he’s pressed for time, he quickly pivots. "How about I give you a kiss for the road?" he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes as he shifts the mood.

"Okay," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, his hand finding its way to your cheek once more, tenderly cradling your face. He pauses, taking a moment to get lost in your sparkling blue eyes, savoring the connection before slowly closing his own and leaning in. His lips meet yours in a slow, loving kiss

Clayton Beresford who makes sure to lift up your pregnancy mood;

His heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked face. Instantly, worry fills his eyes and he kneels beside you, his voice soft and full of concern. "Baby, what’s wrong?" He gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, urging you to meet his gaze.

"I feel so huge..." you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

"Baby, you know I love every part of you. Nothing could ever change that," he says tenderly, his words full of sincerity.

But your insecurities linger, and you turn to him, searching his face. "So you think I’m huge?" you ask, misinterpreting his silence as agreement.

He sighs again, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable you are right now. Quickly, he tries to soothe your worries before they spiral. "No, no, love..." he insists, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the traces of your tears. "You’re not huge, you’re beautiful."

You glance down at your growing belly, frustration evident in your voice. "I barely fit into my pants."

He smiles softly, his gaze never leaving yours, understanding the deep-seated concerns you have about your changing body. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "But that’s just because of the incredible little life you’re carrying."

"You look absolutely radiant when you’re pregnant," he adds, his words filled with admiration, careful not to say anything that might upset you further.

"Yeah?" you sniffle, your voice small and uncertain.

He nods slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, full of love and reassurance. "Yeah, baby," he repeats softly. "You’re glowing, and you’re absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you, pregnant or not."

"But what if after I push the baby out, I still look pregnant? And... and I have all these marks, and my body doesn’t go back to the way it was? And you'll leave me?"

His heart aches as he listens to your fears, unable to bear hearing you doubt the body he cherishes so deeply. "No, no, no, shhh, baby, no..." he murmurs urgently, his voice soothing as he tries to calm your spiraling thoughts. "I would never, ever leave you for that. My love for you knows no limits, nothing could change that."

His hands continue to tenderly stroke your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he speaks. "I love you so much, sweetheart. The marks on your body from carrying our beautiful child—they'll only make me love you and your body even more."

"Yeah?" you sniffle, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

his eyes filled with admiration and love as he nods "Yeah, baby. Because those marks are proof of your incredible strength, of the life you’ve nurtured for nine months.. and only an absolute goddess could manage that"

Clayton Beresford who every day remaided you how beautiful you are, what a treasure you are in his life that nothing could replace

Clayton Beresford who got more cuddly with you;

"Look at that… he’s a little boxer" his lips curved up as he felt the baby’s tiny movements beneath his fingertips. His voice was filled with awe, and there was a boyish excitement in his eyes that made you smile.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced up from your book. "How do you know it’s a boy?"

He shrugged, but the cheeky grin that spread across his features betrayed the certainty in his heart. He leaned closer, letting his chin rest on your bump. His touch was gentle, almost tingly at times while his long fingers made sure to memorize the path over your swollen skin

"Father’s instincts," he whispered

"Oh? Didn’t know you had those," you chuckled, your fingers threading through his tousled curls. There was something endearing about how intensely focused he was on your belly - his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for more signs of the baby’s movements.

Clay still kept his, this time less wider, smile over his lips. He seemed to calm down under not only your touch but the feeling of your belly with his child right in his reach and right before his eyes. He shifted slightly, pressing his lips gently against your tummy. His lips lingered for a little longer, his expression changing to more surprised;

"Hush," he murmured softly, his hand stilling when he found the spot where the baby seemed to be resting. "I can sense him…"

Yet, the baby had quieted, and clay's lips formed into a pout. The frustration knitting his brows before he nuzzled to your belly "Can’t you encourage him to kick or something? I want to know that he’s alive…" he mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of concern and childish impatience (that you rarely saw before)

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his earnestness. "Clay, how am I supposed to encourage him? Maybe he’s sleeping."

He groaned softly, looking up at you with those soulful eyes, making it impossible not to find him utterly endearing. He looked like a grumpy child who hadn’t received the attention he thought he deserved and it was both cute and hilarious

"Well, I don’t know," he muttered, his hand still drawing small circles on your belly. "Talk to him? Tell him how cool I am… maybe he’ll be excited then and want to say hi."

You rolled your eyes playfully, still stroking his curls. "Baby, don’t be ridiculous… he's probably sleeping."

He huffed in response, still pouting but clearly knowing you were right. The baby was just asleep, and there was nothing he could do but wait. Still, the idea of his child not acknowledging his presence seemed to tug at something deep within him.

"I just want him to know that I’m here too," he mumbled

You smiled down at him, your voice soothing as you reassured him. "I bet he does, clay."

"Just imagine how cute he’s gonna be," clay mused, his voice softening as he let himself drift into the fantasy of fatherhood. "A baby version of me, running around, being a menace to everyone…"

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What if it’s a girl?"

His hand paused for a moment, the weight of the thought catching him off guard. For a few seconds, his expression was blank as he processed the idea of having a daughter. Then, slowly, his usual cocky grin reappeared, but with a touch of tenderness that hadn’t been there before.

"A baby girl," he echoed, as if trying out the words. "She could get your looks, though. I wouldn’t mind that. The second most beautiful girl in the world… and daddy’s little princess."

Just then, he felt a light flutter beneath his palm. His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up like a child on Christmas morning, the pout completely erased by a wide grin "There you are…"

The baby seemed to respond to his voice, shifting slightly as if acknowledging his father’s presence. He continued to rub gently over your belly, his touch loving and protective, showering the area with soft kisses.

"Already responding to me," he whispered, a wave of satisfaction washing over him as he felt the tiny movements beneath his hands. "Smart baby…"

clayton continued to soothe your belly, his hands and lips moving in a calming rhythm until the baby settled back into stillness. Even as the baby quieted, he wasn’t ready to let go. He lingered, enjoying the feeling of being close to both of you, his heart full and content.

"Guess he’s asleep again…" he said softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Or maybe he’s just tired of you," you teased lightly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

His eyes widened in mock offense, his pout returning as he looked up at you, clearly not appreciating the joke. "Very funny," he grumbled, his frown deepening. "I am the most interesting person this baby will ever meet—"

But despite his grumbling, you could see the love and excitement in his eyes, the way he couldn’t wait to meet the little life growing inside you. And you knew, without a doubt, that he would be the best father this baby could ever ask for.

Clayton Beresford who spoiled you way more during your pregnancy. More presents without occasion, more affection, more cuddles, just more everything there was to give

Clayton Beresford who was there on most of your doctor appointments. If he had a busy schedule, which happened often, he then couldn't appear (but you didn't mind, since it was just doctor appointment to check on your and the child's health, nothing more so much important for him to be there everytime)

Clayton Beresford who was obsessed with making love to you during your pregnancy;

"youre-youre so big--" you mewl underneath him

"I am, aren't I?" he panted, his hands gripping your plump hips tightly. "And you're so fucking tight, sweetheart." His words spurred him on, pushing deeper inside you to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

your eyes barely could keep themselves open from the sensation of having him again in your hole. Who would have known that your pregnancy hormones would make you so horny you would cry to Clayton about it. And him, being such a generous gentleman who loved his wife with all his being, how could just leave you like that? When you sobbed, begged for his touch

"Don't close your eyes," he commanded softly "Open them. Let me see the look on your face when I'm inside you."

your eyes reluctantly opened, at least they lingered between half opened and half closed. A moan rumbled through your throat as you took in the sight of his muscles that ripped whenever his hold grew too much

"That's it," he panted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Let me hear you." Clayton's breath hitched as he felt her body tremble beneath him. The way you moaned and your completely swollen breasts jingled with each thrust was driving him wild. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he warned you, picking up the pace even more.

PARENTHOOD

Clayton Beresford who was there for you for the whole childbirth. Encouraging you, giving you support, etc. He'd insist you'd hold the baby first, not him. And before he'd even hold the newborn, he'd make sure you're all safe and everything's okay;

After making sure you held the newborn first and you were all okay, he had time to take the baby close to his chest, his large, strong arms cradling the fragile newborn bundle with a tenderness that belied his powerful frame. The baby’s skin was a delicate shade of pink, still wrinkled from the birth, and Clay couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming surge of emotion as he gazed down at the tiny life nestled against him. The baby was so small, so impossibly vulnerable, and it made something deep within him tremble and break.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he gently stroked the baby’s cheek with a trembling hand. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips barely brushing the baby’s soft, downy skin and his hand looked enormous in comparison to the baby’s minuscule features.

“He’s so small…” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His throat tightened as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Are you crying?” you asked softly, a tired smile playing on your lips as you rested after the long and exhausting delivery

He glanced up at you and he felt a single tear escape and trail down his cheek “…No—yes… maybe…” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He quickly wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, but it was clear that his composure was unraveling. He returned his gaze to the baby in his arms, his expression softening as he ran a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at how delicate and perfect it was.

When the newborn's hand wrapped around clay's finger, he felt like his new heart might explode from overwhelming feeling. It was so cute, the baby’s grip firm and warm

“He’s holding my finger…” he murmured, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered awe

The baby continued to cling to his finger, his tiny hand gripping the large digit with a determination that was both heartwarming and humbling. Clay smiled through tears and a mixture of pride and amazement shined in his eyes as he gently caressed the baby’s hand, utterly mesmerized by the strength in such a small being.

“Such a tight grip… I’ve already created a little warrior,” he mused with a soft chuckle, his voice laced with pride. He looked down at his son, his heart brimming with a love so profound it was almost overwhelming. “You’re going to be strong, just like your momma” he added, his tone filled with admiration.

“…You have your momma’s eyes, you know?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as a fresh wave of emotion washed over him. There was a hint of pride in his voice, but also something deeper, something reverent. The sight of those eyes, so familiar and yet so new, made him feel as though he was looking at a piece of you—a part of the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.

As if sensing the weight of the moment, the baby cooed softly, his tiny body wriggling uncomfortably against the confines of the blanket. You watched the first interaction between your husband and your child and it was the most endearing thing you experience. Delivery was hard, damn it hurt like hell, as if devil himself teared your insides but as soon as the baby was out, all the pain was forgotten

“You don’t like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement as he gently traced soothing circles over the baby’s cheek “I don’t blame you… I’d hate being swaddled too.”

Clayton Beresford who is the kind of dad who’s always one step ahead when it comes to the safety and well-being of your children. He’s vigilant about who they spend time with and ensures they grow up in the safest environment possible.

Clayton Beresford who, despite his often serious demeanor, has a major soft spot when it comes to his children. He’s not afraid to get down on the floor and play with them, and he’ll often indulge them in things other might not—like staying up a bit past bedtime for just one more story.

Clayton Beresford who enjoys spoiling his kids, whether it’s with the latest toys, gadgets, or extravagant birthday parties. However, he’s careful to balance this with teaching them the importance of gratitude and not taking things for granted.

Clayton Beresford who, if you have a daughter, is wrapped around her little finger. He’s the type of dad who will attend tea parties, help with ballet practice, and learn how to braid hair just to make her happy;

"Hold on, baby, I'm almost finished," he murmured, his voice a soft yet deep rumble as he focused on working his fingers through the strands of your daughter's hair.

"Maybe we should just ask Mommy," she whispered, her small voice carrying a hint of doubt.

"No, no," he shook his head gently, a determined glint in his eye. "We don’t need Mommy for a braid. Daddy can do it just fine."

Clay's fingers moved clumsily but with care, tugging her hair a bit too tightly at times. His brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully looped the strands together.

"But Mommy always likes to help," she insisted, her tone hopeful.

"Daddy likes to help too," he replied, his voice tender but resolute, wanting to prove himself to his little girl.

He paused for a moment, examining his work with a critical eye. The braid was far from perfect—slightly uneven and a little messy, held together by a hairband that seemed to be doing more of the work than the braid itself. But as he looked at it, a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"See? Not so bad, huh?"

Clayton Beresford who is big on teaching his children responsibility from a young age.

Clayton Beresford who made sure to pay attention to your kids after he came back from work. Even if he was extremely tired, he'd rather fall asleep with your baby boy in his arms than leaving you alone to deal with the children

Clayton Beresford who found you as his inspiration. You, with kids most of the time, still having energy to take care of him and the house. So, as soon as he changed his clothes after work, he replaced you in duties so you'd have your alone time.

Clayton Beresford who, if you had a son, played all the games the boy wanted. Like toys where the boy came up with some plot, plastic cars, playgrounds outside;

Clay sat on the floor, carefully stacking blocks into a tall tower while his son sat comfortably on his lap, his tiny hands occasionally reaching out to help—or hinder.

"What do you want to eat?" you asked softly from the kitchen doorway, watching the two with a fond smile.

Clay glanced up at you, a playful gleam in his eye. "You?" he teased, genuinely curious about your preference.

But before he could say more, the boy clumsily knocked over the tower with an excited shove, sending the blocks tumbling in all directions.

“Hey! You just destroyed Daddy’s masterpiece,” Clay said in mock offense, though his voice carried a warm, playful tone. He looked down at him, who was dissolving into giggles, his face scrunched up in pure joy.

"Well, I was thinking pasta... I'm really craving it," you said, your giggles mingling with theirs.

Clay's heart swelled as he watched you enjoy the moment just as much as he was. Turning back to the toddler, he gently poked his son’s side, earning more bubbly laughter from the little boy. “We don’t normally allow such behavior in the tower-building world,” he joked, his tone still light before turning his gaze to you "But pasta sounds good tho.."

With a grin, Clay stood up from the carpeted floor, scooping the boy up by his armpits and swinging him side to side, much to the toddler’s delight. "C'mon, you little silly guy, let's go help Mommy with dinner,"

Clayton Beresford who, no matter what interests or hobbies your kids have, is fully supportive. He’ll invest in lessons, equipment, or anything else they need to pursue their passions, always encouraging them to follow their dreams.

Clayton Beresford who, no matter how busy his life gets, always prioritizes family. He ensures that you and the kids know that you’re his number one priority, making time for family dinners, vacations, and just spending quality time together.

Clayton Beresford who propritazed your time together. His kids were important but you were more important. So, regularly he hired a babysitter (a trusted one), and took you out on dates (or on a vacation but then your parents took care of the children) so you could focus on each other and on the bond you share without screaming kids

Clayton Beresford ho didn't mind making you pregnant again (if you even wanted to be pregnant again);

"Fill this beautiful cunt with my seed once more?" He growled, plunging back into you with a single powerful thrust that made you both cry out in pleasure "you want that love? Be pregnant again?"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune (sad about her not being her anymore..) @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

Bunny (P2)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

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

a/n: this is mad cause I said part 2 would take me a while but that message motivated me so here part 2. BAHHAAH. this is gonna be a series so if you'd wanted to be added to the taglist lmk!!! okay p3 will now officially take me a bit of time (this may be a lie idk).

warnings: mentions of alcohol, rafe topper and kelce being rude af

(P1) (P2)

The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting golden rays over the manicured lawns of the country club. Y/N adjusted the tray in her hands, balancing a margarita and beer as she approached a familiar table near the patio. Mr. and Mrs. Harris, long-time members, sat comfortably, the older man flipping lazily through the club’s newsletter while his wife fixed the diamond bracelet on her wrist. 

“There’s our favourite girl”

Mr. Harris greeted her with a knowing smile as Y/N set down their drinks, “Tell me, sweetheart, did you hear about the chaos at the Lewis’ fundraiser last weekend?”

 “Oh, no way- what happened?”

Y/N forced a light chuckle, tucking the tray under her arm. Mr. Harris leaned in, delighted to have an audience to entertain their gossip, “Their youngest daughter got caught sneaking around with that auto repair boy. Can you imagine? In front of everyone…”

“That must have been quite the scene.”

Y/N bit back her smile from spreading too widely across her face. Rich people drama never failed to entertain. Mrs. Harris flashes her a warm smile, taking a sip of her margarita- the diamond bracelet around her wrist catching the light as she thanks the girl for her beverage. Y/N’s eyes catch on the jewelry, and before she can stop herself, she hums in appreciation.

“That’s gorgeous,” she says, nodding towards it. 

“Is it new?”

The older woman practically beams, lifting her wrist to give Y/N a better look. “Oh, you noticed! Yes, it was a gift from Reggie,” she says, casting a pointed look at the older man in front of her, who merely chuckles and shakes his head. Y/N teases lightly, hand coming out to pat his arm,

“You spoil her, sir,” 

“Only because she lets me” 

Mr. Harris says with a wink, making his wife laugh as she waves him off playfully. As Y/N picked up their empty plates placing it on her tray, from the corner of her eye she watched as Mr. Harris pulled a crisp fifty from his wallet and tucked it onto her tray. 

“For keeping us entertained.”

“You’re too kind Mr. Harris, enjoy your drinks!”

Y/N accepted it with practiced ease, flashing a grateful smile as she turned away. Making her way back toward the bar, she spotted Sofia behind it, stacking glasses. Y/N made her way over, letting out a sigh as she leaned against the counter.

“You’re their favorite,” Sofia comments, smirking as she nudges Y/N’s arm. “They practically light up when they see you.”

“Please, they just like that I actually listen to their gossip.”

Y/N snorts, leaning against the counter for a brief second before swiping a cool glass of water. Sofia hums, her tone teasing. 

“That, and you’re a kiss-ass.”

Y/N gasps dramatically, placing a hand over her chest, “Excuse me, I provide an excellent guest experience? Some of us have to work for our tips, Miss ‘My Customer Just Slid Me a Twenty for Smiling at Him.’”

“What can I say? I have a very approachable face Y/N.”

Sofia grins, shrugging as she picks up her tray. Y/N rolls her eyes but laughs anyway, feeling a brief moment of normalcy in the otherwise long day. They’ve been working side by side for years now, Sofia being one of the only reasons Y/N hasn’t completely lost her mind at this job.

“So, what’s our bet for today?” Sofia asks, lowering her voice as they both glance around the club’s patio area. “Who’s going to cause a scene first? My money’s on Calloway- she’s already on her second mojito- and she asked for a double.”

Y/N bites her lip, pretending to consider it, “Tempting, but I think Jacobs is gonna start yelling at the golf caddies again.”

“Hmmm” Sofia considers before she smiles, “Loser buys dinner from the wreck after our shift?”

“Go on then”

Y/N grins, picking up her own tray just as a new table waves her over. As she walks away, she hears Sofia call out, “Hey, if the Harrington's try to marry you off to their nephew again, let me know- I wanna watch this time!”

 “As if they’d mix their pure blood with a dirty Pogue.”

Y/N jokes as she glances over her shoulder with an amused smile. Sofia bursts out laughing, nearly spilling a drink off her tray. Y/N just shakes her head, biting back a smile as she heads to her next table.

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

The two girls had slipped away from the chaos of the bar, taking refuge in the quieter space near the staff lockers at the back of the club. The noise from the restaurant faded, replaced by the hum of the kitchen and the occasional sound of clinking dishes. Sofia leaned casually against one of the lockers, a playful smile stretching across her face as she crossed her arms.

"So..." Sofia started, her voice light and teasing as she glanced at the girl, "tell me… who's got your attention these days?"

"Nothing to tell, Sof"

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes with a small smile. Sofia raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying into her friend's deflection of the conversation. "Come on, there's gotta be someone. Or are you too busy with all the rich Kook’s checking you out at the club?" Y/N let out a dry laugh, her expression shifting to a bit of an eye roll. 

"Please. They only like me when I'm serving them drinks, Sofia."

"Well, why not date one of them?" Sofia teased, her grin widening.

 "I mean, might as well elevate the Pogue name, right?"

Y/N couldn’t help but snort at that. "Yeah, maybe you can do that first," she shot back, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm too busy trying to make money right now."

"Whatever. But you know you can talk to me, right?" 

Her tone shifted, softening just a bit. There was a concern in her eyes that Y/N wasn’t used to seeing, a genuine care that made her hesitate. She’d known Sofia for ages- she was basically her best friend. Yet she could never bring herself to tell her about her problems as she knew the girl had burdens of her own. Y/N’s smile faltered for a moment, and she glanced down at the floor, fighting the subtle shift in her mood. After a beat of silence, she forced the smile back.

 "Yeah- but I’m fine."

"You know you can’t lie to me, right?"

Sofia studied her carefully, then leaned in with a knowing look.  Y/N chuckled, though it was light and forced. She shrugged, brushing it off with a quick wave of her hand. 

"Don’t worry about it. Really."

Sofia lingered for a moment, looking at her, her smile soft and understanding, she didn’t push further though, sensing that the girl wasn’t ready to open up. The brief silence between them was interrupted by the sudden buzz of Y/N’s phone in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing down at the screen. The name on the caller ID made her relax a little- JJ. Without thinking, she answered the call, her tone shifting instantly to something lighter.

"Hey, Jay. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s great!" JJ’s voice came through the phone, a familiar mixture of excitement and laughter in the background. "I just wanted to uh- check in. How’s the shift going?"

Y/N smiled softly as his voice flooded through the small speaker of her cracked up phone, "Same old, same old- serving drinks and pretending to care." JJ laughed, the sound of music and voices rising in the background. 

"Sounds fun- uh anyways, I need a little favor." Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, "What’s up?" There was a brief pause before Jay’s voice grew a little more pleading,

"Uh, I was wondering if I could borrow some money?"

Y/N’s stomach tightened at the request, but she was already too familiar with this routine. She groaned lightly, her hand coming up to rub her eye, and she couldn't tell if it was from irritation or from exhaustion.

"JJ..." 

"Please Y/N, you know I’ll pay you back! I’m literally begging you on my knees right now- but you can't see cause well you're on the phone but uh- Hey Pope! Come take a picture of me man-"

Despite herself, Y/N’s lips curved into a small smile at his stupid behavior. She shook her head, the playful warmth in her expression impossible to hide as she rested her chin on her hand, arm being propped up on her knee as she sat on the small bench near the lockers. 

"You’re not real."

"So, you’ll help me out?" 

JJ asked, practically bouncing through the phone. Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist. "Fine. Go home, go into my room, and in the back of the cupboard under the bottom shelf, there’s a small jewelry box with flowers on it. Open it and you’ll find cash in there."

"YES- yes okay, I love you sis, you’re the best"

JJ’s voice immediately brightened and Y/n could hear a chorus of ‘thanks Y/N!’ being called out from around him, and she didn't need to think hard to guess who they were coming from. Y/N smiled softly, her heart lightning just a little. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t blow it on something stupid, okay?"

"I promise- Thanks!" 

He replied, and the line went dead with a click. Y/N sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in her hand. She could feel Sofia’s eyes on her, watching with that quiet understanding that only a real friend could have. After a moment, Y/N let out a breath, rolling her eyes as she tucked the phone back into her pocket and Sofia’s voice called out to her,

“He’s not paying you back.”

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

Y/N walked back toward the bar with Sofia, her fingers idly flipping onto the page of her writing pad. She lets out a breath as she approaches her next table, scribbling down the table number as she speaks, eyes still lowered. "Hi, I'm Y/N, I'll be your server—" Her tone drops as she finally looks up. "—tonight."

Jesus Christ. 

Are you serious?

Sitting at the table, looking like they own the place, were Rafe, Topper, and Kelce. All three of them already smirking, like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment. She straightens her posture, pen tapping against the notepad. 

"What can I get you guys?"

"I dunno," Topper hums, leaning back lazily in his chair, arm crossing and eyes darting down to the menu on the table. 

"What do you recommend?"

"The menu is right in front of you Thornton"

She deadpans. She knows exactly what they’re like, thinking of the smallest things to make her life more difficult as if working a 12 hour shift wasn't enough. Kelce snickers, while Rafe just watches her, eyes practically burning into her.

"Mmm, yeah, but, like, what’s good here?" Topper presses, tapping the menu against the table like it’s a drum. Y/N clenches her jaw, her patience thinning by the second. 

"Everything is fine."

"Fine? That’s not reassuring" Kelce says, shaking his head teasingly, "I think we need a little more detail Y/N."

"Are you actually going to order, or are you just gonna waste my time?"

She grits her teeth, looking at the three of them expectantly. Topper raises his brows, amused at her small outburst. 

"Damn, someone's in a mood today- you on your period or what?"

"You’re making it worse," she mutters under her breath, flipping her notepad open again. Rafe finally leans forward, elbows on the table, drawing her attention whether she likes it or not. "I’ll take a burger," he drawls, "medium rare. No pickles, extra onions. And make sure the fries are crispy, not soggy." Kelce hums, “I’ll do the same” then he sits up slightly like he’s just remembered something, "Oh, yeah, and no tomatoes on mine. Actually- no, extra tomatoes. But, like, not too much. And ranch on the side." Topper drums his fingers against the table. 

" I think I want the chicken or- nah, maybe the steak. Is the steak good today?"

Y/N stares at him blankly as the three of them ramble at her, her wrist hurting a little from scribing their over complicated orders down furiously down on the notepad.

 "You think I cook the food?"

"Fine, fine. Chicken. But if it's dry, I’m sending it back."

Topper just grins as he shoves the menu in her direction. She exhales sharply through her nose, taking the menu that was seconds prior shoved into her face. 

"Is that all?"

"How about a smile, hmm?" 

Rafe tilts his head, eyes practically devouring the irritation on her face as he lifts his drink to his lips, his voice smooth, "not very welcoming are you." Her grip tightens on the menus in her hand. For a second, she debates telling him exactly where he can shove them- but she can't. Not here, not in uniform, not at her actual job. So instead, she forces out a tight, practiced smile, her teeth clenched behind it. 

"Better?"

"Drop the attitude too"

Rafe smirks, tilting his glass towards her. Her smile drops immediately. She spins on her heel before she can stop herself from rolling her eyes, making her way back toward the bar to place their orders. She makes it back to the kitchen, her jaw tight as she punches in the obnoxiously complicated order. The machine beeps as she keys in the final modifications- extra ice in his lemonade, but not too much, a lime wedge, not a lemon, sauce on the side of Kelce’s plate but not in a separate dish. She exhales sharply, rolling her shoulders before spinning on her heel to head back to the floor. She’s barely a few steps out when she collides with someone. A clatter fills the air as metal cutlery spills across the floor, scattering in every direction.

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry!" 

Y/N blurts out, slapping her hands over her face before immediately dropping to her knees, helping the dishwasher- who looks just as startled as her- to gather the mess. The entrance to the kitchen is already chaotic, the sound of orders being called, plates being stacked, and oil sizzling only adding to the overwhelming noise. Her cheeks burn, humiliated, as she hurriedly stacks the forks and knives back onto the tray. She doesn’t even have to look up to know she has an audience. From across the room, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce sit at their table, watching it all unfold. Rafe has a slow smirk stretched across his lips, a lazy amusement glinting in his eyes as he leans back in his seat. He’s eating this up- seeing her flustered, on her knees, scrambling to pick up silverware like it’s the most humiliating thing she could be doing.

“What a klutz”

He says as he watches, head tilting slightly, gaze locked on her flushed face as she hurries to her feet, murmuring another apology to the dishwasher before brushing her hands off on her apron.

Now balancing two plates in her hands, Y/N strides back to the table, keeping her expression neutral despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. She carefully places one dish in front of Rafe, the other in front of Topper, before Kelce leans back in his chair, arms crossed. 

"Uh, where's mine?"

"I only have two hands" 

Y/N says, voice tight. Rafe tsks, shaking his head, "Talking to him like that- reeeealll unprofessional."

Her eyes snap to his, burning with frustration, but she swallows down the urge to say something she’ll regret. Instead, she presses her lips into a thin line before spinning on her heel, marching back to the kitchen. She snatches Kelce’s plate from the counter with a little too much force, returning to the table and placing it in front of him. He doesn’t even bother to say thanks- typical. 

“I need tomato sauce” 

Topper pipes up, waving a fry lazily in the air. Y/N exhales sharply through her nose but nods. “Sure thing.” She turns back toward the kitchen retrieving the sauce, and places it in front of him. Topper barely acknowledges it before adding,

 “Actually, I also need ranch.”

She forces a pleasant hum, her fingers gripping her notepad as she walks off again. She can feel their eyes on her back, the smug expressions radiating from the table. Grabbing the next bottle from the kitchen, she strides back out, setting it down a little harder than necessary.

“Oh, and mayo?” 

Topper asks just as she’s about to leave. Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek, forcing a neutral expression. She exhales slowly, then pastes on a saccharine smile. 

“Will that be all, Topper?”

“Sure thing babe.” 

He grins, winking at her. Y/N turns stiffly, heading back to the kitchen, but from the corner of her eye, she catches Rafe reaching under the table, slapping his hand against Topper’s with a smirk. They’re all laughing quietly, thoroughly enjoying their little game at her expense. Her blood simmers, but she forces herself to keep moving, keep smiling. 

Just a few more hours. 

Just a few more hours?

The night had already drained her, but the final straw came in the form of a screaming toddler at table five. His mother looked exhausted, his father seemed more interested in his phone than the mashed potatoes his son had just flung onto the floor, and Y/N had been the unlucky one stuck cleaning it up. She crouched down, scraping the mush off the floor while the mother muttered a halfhearted apology. Y/N only nodded, brushing it off, but by the time she was back on her feet, her patience had worn dangerously thin. Now, balancing a tray of drinks, she made her way toward another table when a sharp whistle cut through the air and her head snaps around.

Rafe.

Sitting there, completely at ease, his smirk carved deep into his face as he tapped at the expensive watch on his wrist, she clenched her jaw. God, she hated him. Still, she forced herself to finish up at the other table, dumping their drinks off quickly before she had no choice but to approach him.

"Are you done with your meals?" 

She asked flatly, not bothering to sound sweet anymore. She was tired, her shift was almost over, and she just wanted to go home. She reached out, grabbing their plates, stacking them with ease as she muttered, 

“I’ll get you the bill—”

“—No. We’d like some drinks actually.”

Rafe cut her off smoothly. Her grip tightened around the plates, but she forced her lips into something resembling a smile. “Sure, what can I get you?” She flicked open her notepad, pen poised, waiting.

“A beer.” 

Rafe said easily, his eyes dancing with amusement. Kelce and Topper rattled off their orders- both opting for a whiskey. She jotted it all down, lips pressed into a tight line She returned a few minutes later, balancing the drinks on a tray as she weaved through tables. Her feet ached, her patience had now become nonexistent. Sure enough, the moment she set Kelce’s whiskey down, he scoffed. 

“What, did you brew his beer yourself? Took you long enough.”

Y/N said nothing, pressing her lips together as she continued placing the rest of the drinks down. Topper leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. 

“Are you gonna apologize for our inconvenience?”

Her eye twitched, but she plastered on the fakest, most saccharine smile she could muster. “I’m so sorry for your inconvenience,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It won’t happen again.” Rafe only hummed, reaching for his beer, but before he could even take a sip, his face twisted in displeasure, eyes focused on the pint glass in front of him.

“What is this?”

She blinked, “Your beer?”

“Yeah, who the fuck poured this?” 

He lifted the glass, examining it like it personally offended him. The foam had settled at the top, maybe a little too much, but it was nothing dramatic. Y/N fought back the urge to roll her eyes- she very clearly isn't the bartender. 

“I don’t pour the drinks—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he cut her off. 

“Go get me another one.”

Her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she turned on her heel, biting her tongue to stop herself from snapping at him. She took the beer back to the bar, inhaling deeply as she watched the bartender pour a fresh one, and by the time she made it back to the table, she was barely holding it together. She placed the new beer in front of him, her fingers itching to just throw it at him, but she forced herself to keep it together. Rafe lifted it to his lips, took a sip, then frowned.

“This shit is warm. Are you serious?”

 “I just told you, I’m a waitress, I don’t pour your drin—”

“Cut the fucking attitude, alright?”

Her jaw clenched so tight it hurt. She could feel her manager watching from the bar, could see him keeping an eye on the interaction, and she knew if she said anything back, she’d be the one in trouble, because everyone who worked at the club knew that - the customer is always right.

“Get me another,” Rafe said, tilting his head, eyes locked on hers, that same cocky smirk playing on his lips.

 “And don’t make me send you back again.”

She reached for the glass, barely restraining herself from throwing it at his head. Rafe leaned back in his chair, eyes still on her.

 “Or are you too dumb to do that?”

Kelce and Topper sniggered beside him. Y/N forced her lips into a fake smile letting out a small hum at his words, grabbing the beer and spinning on her heel.

She was going to lose her fucking mind.

When she came back, her jaw locked so tightly it ached, she was surprised her teeth hadn't fallen out yet. She didn’t even bother to mask the anger burning in her eyes as she slammed the beer down onto the table, the liquid sloshing over the rim and splashing onto Rafe’s lap. His head snapped up, his jaw clenching, eyes darkening with irritation.

“Oops” 

She said, voice laced with mock innocence. Rafe pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as he shot up. Before she could step away, his hand snapped around her wrist, yanking her closer.

“What the fuck are you playing at huh Maybank?” 

His grip was firm, fingers digging into her skin just enough to make it ache. She could sense the two other boys gazing at them amused, speaking in hushed murmurs. Y/N yanked at her arm, glaring up at him but his grip around her didn't loosen. 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking dick—”

He scoffed, his breath fanning against her face as he leaned in slightly, grip tightening. She refused to flinch, refused to give him the satisfaction, even though her pulse was hammering harshly in her ears. Then, his voice dropped, lowering into something only she could hear.

“I think you’re forgetting what I know hmm... bunny?”

She froze as the word passed his lips, eyes flickering over his face. Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, his thumb pressing against her wrist. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmured, “So stop being such a little bitch and—”

“Is everything okay here?”

Her manager’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, and Rafe immediately let go, his expression shifting in an instant as he turned to face them. “Oh yeah, man,” he said, all faux innocence. “Just had a little spill, didn’t we?” Y/N was still stiff, her wrist burning where he’d grabbed her, but she forced herself to clear her throat, nodding quickly. 

“Yeah- um, yes. I was just going to get some tissues.”

Her manager gave her a lingering look, as if trying to assess the situation, but eventually just nodded before walking off. Rafe sat back down, picking up his beer as if nothing had happened. Y/N exhaled sharply before stalking off to grab some napkins. When she returned, she slapped them onto the table, using one to wipe up the spill on the surface.

“Clean it up, Maybank.”

“What do you think I’m doing, Cameron?”

Rafe grinned at her evident distress, leaning back in his chair as he watched her. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he snapped his fingers in front of her face a few times and pointed down at his lap, where the beer had splashed onto his trousers.

“I said, clean it up.”

Y/N let out a sharp scoff, eyes narrowing at him in pure disgust. Rafe only smirked, leaning back leisurely in his seat. He lifted his hand, fingers tapping against the side of the cold beer glass, which now had a small ring of condensation pooling around it.

“You want me to call your manager hmm?”

She could feel the heat of Topper and Kelce’s stares, the way they were barely holding back their laughter, waiting to see what she’d do. Her fingers curled around the napkin in her hand, nearly tearing it in frustration. But she contemplated her next move- she realised she didn’t have much of a choice.

Not with the leverage he had over her.

Biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper, she forced herself to move forward, lowering herself slightly as she brought the napkin to his lap, pressing it against his upper thigh. The fabric was damp beneath her fingertips soaking into the tissue, and she felt the way his leg tensed slightly beneath her touch. Rafe didn’t shift away though- no, he only watched her, his lips curled in satisfaction as she dabbed at the wet patch on his trousers.

She hated him.

Hated the way he was enjoying this. Hated the way her skin prickled with embarrassment, the heat of his gaze locked onto her every movement. Then, just as she started to move her hand up slightly to cover the rest of the spill, his voice dropped into something condescendingly smooth.

“Wrong job, princess.”

Her head snapped up, and for a moment, she just stared at him, her expression twisted with nothing but pure, seething hatred and Rafe just smirked, tilting his head at her like he was daring her to really react.

“Go get me my bill”

Y/N clenched her fists so tightly she swore her nails would break skin. But she didn’t argue. Didn’t snap back. Because she couldn’t afford to. Because if she stepped out of bounds one more time, she didn't want to know what he’d do with the ‘information’ he had. Without another word, she turned on her heel toward the bar to retrieve the check, her hands trembling with the effort of restraining herself. Then she came back with the bill, placing it down on the table without a word. She didn’t wait around for them to check it, didn’t even spare Rafe another glance as she turned and made her way straight back to the bar. Sofia was already there, leaning against the counter, watching her approach. As soon as Y/N let out a long breath and dropped her head into her hands, fingers pressing against her temples, Sofia raised an eyebrow.

“What’s Rafe got against you?” 

She asked, voice light but laced with curiosity. Y/N just exhaled, shaking her head slightly as she mumbled, 

“I don’t know.”

Sofia clicked her tongue, watching Rafe over the girls shoulder, “He’s an privileged Kook living off of his daddy’s money. Don’t let him get to you, Y/N.”

Y/N only hummed in response, too drained to say anything else. Instead, she watched as Rafe got up, tilting his head back as he downed the rest of his beer in one go. Topper and Kelce were already heading toward the door, pushing past a couple of other customers on their way out, but Rafe lingered for just a second longer. 

And then he turned with that look.

The one that sent a slow, crawling chill up her spine. His eyes locked on hers, dark and unreadable, amusement still tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knew something she didn’t. Like he enjoyed getting under her skin. Y/N didn’t waver. Didn’t blink. Just stared back at him, her expression twisted with nothing but pure hatred.

Rafe smirked.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out after his friends. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, rolling her shoulders slightly as she straightened up. A minute passed before she finally made her way back over to their empty table. It was a mess- napkins shifted across the table, now empty glasses with rings of condensation staining the wood. And in the middle of it, the small, folded wallet that held their payment. Y/N reached for it, flipping it open, eyes scanning over the receipt. Her lips parted slightly,

The total: $150.

She glanced at the stack of bills tucked inside- multiple fifties, covering the full price of the meal. And then, nestled between them, a single one-dollar bill. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a pit of frustration already bubbling in her stomach, but when she shifted her gaze lower, she saw the note. Written in the same blue ink as the receipt, scrawled in lazy, careless handwriting:

Drop the attitude, Bunny.

And at the bottom of the final receipt, where the tip amount had been written in: Y/N stared at it for a long moment, jaw clenching, the paper crinkling slightly between her fingers as she tightened her grip.

$1.00.

Fucking asshole.

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