#dad!rafe

[callumsluvr]

dad!rafe is back🤭 this is just a snippet of a little series i want to start of mom!reader x dad!rafe before the babies, but i’ll still write about the girlies and teddy in between!

missed you all and i hope you enjoy 🩷

Rafe had always been in your orbit.

Your parents met through the country club, when Ward and Katherine, Rafe's parents, first joined after Ward's development company took off. They were the first to introduce themselves to his parents, and they had always been the nicest to them. Inviting them to events, holidays, and get togethers, even if the rest of the Kooks didn't take to them very kindly.

Rafe was born first, and you only a year after. To say that it was an arranged marriage might not be that outrageous. But, you'd never known life without Rafe, and you liked it that way. Matching outfits for every holiday. Coordinating Halloween costumes. Attending the same camps. If Rafe went, you went. If you went, Rafe went. Which is how he endured, in his opinion, too many tennis camps, and how you endured, in his opinion, too little golf lessons, considering you were still terrible at it and much preferred talking to every other kid during the lesson, rather than actually hit the golf ball.

When you decided that you were a vegetarian after a science lesson about chickens, guess who stopped eating meat? Rafe.

When he decided that his name was Rafe, like the guy from Pearl Harbor and absolutely not Rafferty, as his parents wished, what did you call him? Rafferty, obviously, because god forbid he tries to be too cool for you.

Did he ever think that he'd become your husband? Surprisingly, not really. He always thought that you'd move away and do much bigger things than he did. But becoming your husband and the father to four children? Never.

[rafeschicana]

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ daddy’s girl 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

dad!rafe x mom!reader

read more of this family here🤍

your favorite reality tv show played in the background as you lay out on the floor playing with your 10-month-old daughter. “those sensory skills are amazing ari girl” you cooed as she stacked the colorful rings on the rock-a-stack. she clapped her hands placing the last one. “ouuuu good job baby!” you joined in on her happy claps.

“wanna go again?” you cracked up as Ari stared at you waiting for you to knock the toy over. reaching over you knocked the toy over with a theatrical “woahhhh” ari full on belly laughed, her tiny legs and hands kicking excitedlyly. “is that funny mi amor” you giggled as you flooded her with belly kissies.

ari’s laughter died down as she listened to the front door knob jiggling. already getting into a crawling position forgetting all bout her toys. ari knew who was strolling through that door and it made her very excited. “who is that baby?” you grinned running a soft hand down her back.

“is it dada?” you gasped when rafe came through the door shopping bags in hand. ari’s squealing was precious, rafe’s head quickly veering around towards the both of you. “my babies were you waiting for daddy?” rafe grinned as he locked the front door back up. ari crawled up to him in what felt like seconds. your babe had the zoomies whenever she saw her papa. her babbles non-stop as if she was informing rafe alll about her day. rafe bent down placing a quick kiss onto her forehead. “one second baby let me go put these groceries down then ill give you and mama all the loving okay?”

ari’s lip quickly constructing in a pout. “aww baby you gonna make daddy cry stop” rafe quickly ran to drop the groceries onto the kitchen counter. ari was now full on sobbing as you soothed her. “baby, daddy is coming in a second” you giggled as she suckled on her paci. “where's my girl?” rafe came back around the corner arms open wide. “she’s such a daddy's girl” you laughed as rafe gently scooped her from your arms. her head instantly resting in the crook of his neck fiddiling with his chain.

“c’mere mama” he rasped. stepping forward your front met his chest. “you smell good” you smiled. lips meeting his in an intimate kiss. his free hand stroking gentle circles on your lower back. pulling away from the kiss when his hand gradually moved down giving your ass a squeeze. “you're so sneaky” you giggled.

“Ari baby if your mama keeps walking around looking this good” rafe licked his lips eyeing you up and down. “you might just get a little sibling sooner than later” ari's tiny hand moving towards her dad’s mouth covering it. “i don't think she wants to share you just yet!” you smirked squishing her cheeks between your fingers “isn't that right baby?” both you and rafe busted out in laughter as ari clapped her hands.

[cameronsbabydoll]

What do military Rafe kids eat? I feel like they’re like their dad and eat a lot

♡ what military!rafe’s kids eat!

🍼 baby / toddler years

they’re big babies — like born in the 99th percentile because Rafe’s gene pool is just straight protein and muscle

first food was probably mashed avocado or banana, and rafe was like:

“that’s it? just… mush?”

(then he fed the baby steak juice off his finger when you weren’t looking.)

uses a camouflage bib, obviously

one of them refuses to eat unless it’s off Rafe’s plate

“daddy’s tastes better.”

“he’s eating the same grilled chicken you are, sweetheart.”

“no. daddy’s.”

🧃 toddler / preschool age

breakfast: eggs, toast, fruit, and at least one bite of whatever’s on Rafe’s plate

“ya want syrup or are you gonna eat it dry like a psycho?” – rafe, talking to a 3 y/o

they steal bacon from each other like they’re feral

lunch: chicken nuggets, mac & cheese, tiny cut-up fruit, and if rafe’s home he’s making it like a lunch tray with sections and all

snacks: protein-heavy stuff like peanut butter crackers, string cheese, fruit leather, and greek yogurt because rafe won’t let them live off goldfish

rafe has big opinions on sugar:

“ain’t feedin’ my kids red dye and high-fructose trash just ‘cause it’s convenient.”

🍔 elementary / big kid years

they eat like mini soldiers but also insist on sitting on your lap sometimes even though they’re huge

“snack” means a full sandwich, two granola bars, and half the fridge

favorite meals are:

bbq chicken + mashed potatoes

sloppy joes (homemade — rafe’s recipe)

burgers on the grill with daddy + popsicles after

they’re obsessed with ketchup. like unhinged amounts. one of them dips strawberries in it once. you nearly faint.

[shrimpybbq]

the cameron's go golfing

synopsis: Rafe teaches Charlie how to play golf, and to everyone's surprise, he is incredibly patient and gentle

On a pleasant spring day, the Cameron family sauntered out onto the Kildare Island golf course, spending the weekend together doing a new activity. New for everyone bar Rafe, that is. Rafe loved golf, and often spent his weekends on the grass doing his best to clear his mind and wipe away the frustrations of dealing with his business partners and their dull chatter. He usually ended up there with Topper and the pair would aimlessly talk shit for a while before ending up at the country club bar with a beer in hand. This weekend was proving to be different, however.

“C’mon buddy, out you go,” Rafe mumbled as he lifted Charlie down from the golf buggy. The small boy was dressed in what was almost a miniature version of his father’s outfit - a pair of khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt, with a pair of white shoes to match. Rafe had rolled his eyes at the sight at first, but later begged his wife to take a picture of the pair matching. The father and son headed towards their starting marker, eagerly watched by the other members of their family. High school gf!reader sat comfortably in the buggy as a sleeping Emmy rested firmly against her chest. She had played golf more than once with Rafe, but today she felt more than happy to watch rather than join in. Even though she had no intent to join the game Rafe had still insisted she wear the golfing outfit he had bought her months ago, demanding that she show him the short white dress. Seeing his pretty wife in such a flattering outfit had certainly put him in a good mood, and if they had not already booked a cart they would’ve arrived later to the course than expected.

Rafe stood with Charlie, placing the tiny club into his hand. He was only 3 but Rafe had purchased the clubs a year ago and was finally glad to have his son practice and experience them. “Ok little man, so you have to stand like this, facing the side. Plant your feet apart like this,” he instructed, making sure Charlie mimicked his actions, “and hold your club up the top.” Watching the boy struggle to figure out his positioning spurred Rafe into action, crouching down by his son’s side and gently repositioning his body into the perfect stance. “There you go buddy, does that feel ok?”.

Charlie nodded eagerly towards his father, his full cheeks pulling into a wide grin. Rafe returned the smile and gestured for him to watch again, “Daddy’s gonna show you how to do it, and then you have a go.” With that, he lined up his shot and with a moment of silence, sent the golf ball flying across the course towards the hole. The loud cheers and squeals that Charlie let out caught the attention of nearby players, one of them being none other than Topper Thornton. As he watched the way Rafe returned to his former crouched position beside his mini-me, he couldn’t help but be surprised. Rafe was a tough guy, or at least that was the act he put on, and even though he had embraced being a father the past two years, he wasn’t known for being an overly soft or affectionate guy. So to see him coddle and nurture his son was almost jarring to his friend, not ever having known Rafe to be patient or gentle with anyone.

Topper watched as the little boy swung and to everyone’s delight the ball travelled a substantial amount. The squeals of joy were again heard but this time, even Rafe let out a cheer. Topper’s attention moved to the figures in the golf buggy, seeing high school gf!reader and Emmy seated comfortably. He almost envied the small family his friend now had, wondering what it would be like to have someone so steadfast by his side. Another cheer broke his thought process, this time seeing Rafe put the ball into the hole, all while Charlie clung to his father’s pant leg. Another two attempts from Charlie had the ball landing in the hole, prompting his mother to clap and shout loudly, “Go Charlie! Great job!”.

All watched as Rafe picked him up swiftly, letting him settle firmly into his arms. As Rafe looked down at his carbon-copy, he couldn’t help but feel so proud of his boy. It had happened before, like when he first walked and talked, but every time his son achieved a milestone his heart just felt so full and like it could explode at any moment. At first it had scared him (and sometimes it still did) but now it reminded him of how far he had come, and how every decision he had made to get to this spot was worth it to be with his family.

“You did great, little man. You’re gonna be a great golfer like daddy, just you wait,” Rafe praised.

Their attention was dragged back towards the golf cart as high school gf!reader called them back, the engine already on in preparation of moving to the next hole. “C’mon, let’s go see your sister again.”

Still watching, Topper could only marvel at the sight of ‘family man’ Rafe Cameron. His friend had really transformed for the better and even if he would give him a hard time for it next time they saw each other, he was secretly glad. Rafe had found his people and that made all the difference in who he was.

This has been sitting in my requests for ages but I finally found the motivation to write it! Imagining Rafe being like this makes my heart swell.

[totalswag]

fourth july — RAFE CAMERON

authors note hope everyones being safe today and having a good time. this is kinda short but hope you lovies like it. summer time in the obx sounds looks so much fun. i don't think i've written about dad!rafe yet or maybe i have but either way, rafe is such a girl dad.

summary spending the summer day with friends and family by the pool, barbecuing, and lighting fireworks at night.

warnings swearing, happy moments, kissing, loud fireworks.

Friends and family were surrounded in your backyard, in the pool, on the patio, with children running around and cooking. It's a lovely summer day in Kildare, where friends and family are gathering.

Today is the Fourth of July. Rafe and you agreed a few weeks ago that you would like to have everyone come to your house by eating, swimming, eating, and then watching fireworks at night.

You were at the shallow end of the pool with your seven-month-old daughter, Layla, her small hands clutching yours as she stamped against the water, making everyone around giggle.

Layla's tiny hands gripped your fingers tightly, her chubby legs kicking up water in all directions. The sheer joy on her face was a delight to see.

"She's a natural," Sarah said from her lounge chair, sipping a refreshing lemonade. "Already a little mermaid."

You smiled, her heart flooding with affection for her tiny girl. "She sure is," you said, adjusting Layla's sunhat to block the harsh sunlight.

Layla was surprised to see kids swimming and bouncing in the water. She drew her body towards the kids as you lifted her up beneath her armpits, drawing her towards them.

You're so cute

I wanna hold her

Layla do you like to water?

Rafe stood nearby, engaged in conversation with Topper and Kelce. Layla had grown tired of the water and was now perched on Rafe's hip, her tiny fingers entwined with his gold chain. She babbled happily, occasionally tugging on the chain, making the guys laugh.

You were near all the snacks with your girlfriends chatting it up too.

The three were talking about typical guy stuff.

"She's got a good grip there," Kelce remarked, grinning.

"Yeah, you sure she won't rip it off?" Topper added.

"She knows what she likes," Rafe stated proudly, kissing Layla on the forehead. The sight of Rafe seamlessly mixing fatherhood with his typical friendship was wonderful.

Layla has always had this fascination with Rafe's chain the moment she was able to grab onto things. The main thing is the chain; Rafe has talked about getting her one with her name on it when she turns one in a few months.

As the day progressed into the evening, everybody went from the pool to the front yard. Lawn chairs and blankets were put out in preparation for the fireworks display.

The kids were able to set up s'mores on the side while they sat on the blanket on the grass watching neighbors light their fireworks.

Layla is wrapped in a comfortable blanket and nestled in your arms. She looked at you with her beautiful blue eyes, babbling in baby talk; you responded back even though you dont like what she's saying.

Rafe approached Layla with a pair of baby headphones and carefully placed them over her ears. "We don't want her to be scared of the noise," he murmured quietly, his eyes finding yours with a loving expression.

Layla grins softly at Rafe, hiding her face in your chest when he playfully tickles under her chin.

The first firework launched into the sky, resulting in a shower of bright sparks. The audience cheered, their faces illuminated by the glow. Layla's eyes widened with surprise, yet she remained calm and secure in your grip.

Sarah had her phone out, taking pictures and videos. She caught Layla at the perfect moment, focused on the fireworks and occasionally making perplexed facial expressions in response to particular fireworks.

"Please send that to me as soon as you can," you laugh, pointing at Sarah. "Do not worry, I will send you everything," she says with a smile on her face.

A few minutes later, Rafe approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, and kissing your cheek.

"I love you girls so much."

"And we love you so much, Handsome."

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[rafecameronssl4t]

Two pink lines || dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Getting pregnant at nineteen by Rafe—who was still knee-deep in his issues and drugs—wasn’t exactly on your bingo card.

Warnings: s1rafe…..yeah….. mention of cocaine

Word count: 1,413

A/n: I acc enjoy writing s1!dad!rafe a lot… lmk if u want more!!

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

The two pink lines showed up fast—too fast. You stared down at the test, perched on the edge of your marble bathroom counter, like it might suddenly disappear if you looked away. But it didn’t. The second line deepened, steady, undeniable. Solid pink. Positive.

Your hand shook as you placed the test back down, chest rising in shallow, quick breaths. You were nineteen. Nineteen. You lived in a gilded prison of beachfront houses and Sunday brunches and family names that meant something. You had a trust fund, an inheritance, a reputation to protect.

You were supposed to be the good one, the composed one, the one who didn’t end up barefoot and pregnant like one of the Pogues your mother whispered about behind cocktail glasses. And yet—here you were. Pregnant. Because of one stupid, reckless night.

A night where Rafe had gotten too bold, too desperate, too handsy in the backseat of his truck after a kook party. You’d both been tipsy. Things had gotten heated. You were both tipsy, the windows fogged up, your judgement clouded. There was no condom in the console. He’d promised it would be fine. “Just this once, babe. I swear I‘ll pull out.” You’d let him.

You were drunk on him, his kisses, the way his fingers tangled in your hair like he couldn’t get enough of you. And God, you wanted to believe him. You pressed your knuckles to your lips, trying to stop the bile from rising. This was real. This was happening.

You stumbled back onto the cool tiles of the floor, legs folded beneath you, trying to breathe through the panic clawing at your chest. You didn’t cry. Not yet. You couldn’t. Not until you talked to him. So, you called him. The phone rang twice before his lazy voice answered.

“Babyyy,” Rafe slurred, all soft and syrupy. You could hear the fan in his room spinning. “It’s—what time is it? Why you callin’ me at—” He yawned. “—the middle of the night?” It wasn’t the middle of the night. It was 9:43pm. But you didn’t bother correcting him.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice too shaky. “Are you—are you high right now?” A chuckle. “Only a little bit. Nothin’ serious.” You closed your eyes, pressing your fingers to your forehead. He’d promised he’d stop—at least slow down. But that was always after the fact. Always a “next time.”

“I need to tell you something,” you said. “Yeah? Can it wait, babe? I’m about to pass out, not gonna lie…” “No,” you snapped, and your voice cracked. “It can’t wait.” That made him go quiet. You could almost picture him blinking up at the ceiling, brows twitching slightly in confusion.

“…Okay. What’s goin’ on?” You swallowed. “I’m pregnant.” Another beat of silence. Then: “…Wait. What?” “I’m pregnant,” you repeated, each syllable like a stone in your throat. “I took two tests. I—I’m late. I’ve been nauseous. I’ve never been late. Rafe, I’m pregnant.”

There was a long, slow exhale from the other end of the line. Not panic. Not urgency. Just a half-baked sort of curiosity.“…Damn,” he muttered. “For real?” “Yes, for real,” you snapped. “Jesus, Rafe—this is serious.” He hummed softly, as if he were still trying to wrap his sleepy, high brain around it.

“Well, I mean… it’s not the end of the world, right? I mean, you and me—we’ll figure it out.” You blinked, stunned by the casualness in his tone. “What?” “I’m just saying, like, we’ve been together a minute. You know I love you. This ain’t gonna ruin anything. Don’t freak out, alright?”

You stood up, pacing now, your robe trailing behind you on the tile. “Rafe—we’re nineteen years old. You’re talking like we’re some married couple on the verge of starting a family. We don’t even know what the hell we’re doing tomorrow, let alone—raising a baby.”

“We’ll get help,” he said easily. “You’re parents are loaded. My dad’s loaded—he’ll chill once he knows it’s mine. I mean, you think Ward’s gonna not help with his grandkid?” You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “Rafe, Ward can barely handle you. He’ll lose his goddamn mind. And my parents—fuck, my parents are going to kill me.”

He paused, and for a second you thought maybe something was finally clicking in his head. But then: “Look…you’re stressin’ for no reason. You don’t gotta do anything right now. Just…breathe. It’s you and me, alright? We’ll figure it out.” “No, Rafe,” you snapped, voice rising.

“You don’t have to do anything right now. You get to lay in your bed, high out of your mind, and pretend this is no big deal. But I have to carry this. I have to tell people. I have to be the one to face everyone’s disappointment and judgement and—and—”

You stopped, breath heaving. “I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m really fucking scared.” And that’s when he finally sobered—at least a little. “…Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t know you were feelin’ like that.” You sat back down on the edge of your tub, clutching the phone tighter. “Yeah. Well. I am.”

The line was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said quietly. “I swear I didn’t mean to act like it wasn’t a big deal. I just—I’m not good with this stuff. You know that.” “I need you to be,” you whispered. “I need you to be good at this, Rafe. Because if I do this—if we do this—I can’t do it alone.”

“I won’t let you,” he said, more serious now. “I’ll get clean. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll—I’ll go to that place Rose keeps talkin’ about. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t shut me out.” Your heart ached at the promise. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeated, softer now. “I swear to God, I’ll be better. For you. For the baby.” You stared down at the test again. Two pink lines. Clear as day. “…We’ll see,” you said.

[rafesteddy]

Can we get dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Max lets it slip to rafe that his buddies ogle and find milf!reader so hot when they saw her pick up Max and Winnie from school a few times? You can choose how it goes afterwards!! I love your writing of their fam saurrrrr much

awe thank you bb 💕 I'm so glad you like it 🤭🤭🤭 sorry this one got a little long—but I hope you enjoy 😋💕 This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au.

+18 -> smut

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: teenage boys being gross, jealous rafe, swearing, ownership kink, possessive rafe, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstim., squirting, fingering, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, dirty talk, spanking, lots of cum, female oral (post-shared climax)

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You lean into the counter, absentmindedly squeezing lemon after lemon into the glass pitcher. Cold juices run down your fingers, sticky as it slips into the creases of your palms and drips to your wrists. The whole kitchen smells like sugar and citrus, with that warm, buttery hint of cookies still cooling behind you.

The plate’s already half gone, devoured by teenage boys lounging in the common space: tall, tan, loud, sprawled across your furniture like they own the place.

“Sugar, please?” You ask, gesturing toward Kelce’s son, perched in front of the one cabinet you need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, flashing you a grin as he hops down to grab it.

His hand brushes yours as he passes it off. You smile, polite and sweet as ever, returning to stir the mix.

“Fuck, she wants me,” he mutters to Max—just out of earshot.

Your son groans, tipping his head back against the cabinet. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Why else would she be in here squeezin’ her lemons?” Tripp groans, dragging the sentence out like it’s a double entendre.

“You’re still goin’, huh? Not scared?”

“M’not scared of shit—”

Before Max can answer, the door opens with a thud.

“Hi, Mom!” Winnie calls, sandals slapping the marble as she breezes in. Her boyfriend Jackson’s behind her, arms full, carrying the twins, still damp from the sprinkler, dressed like they’re headed out.

“Is it cool if we take the twins out for ice cream?” Winnie asks. Her tone’s breezy, but she looks sharply toward one of Max’s friends eyeing her up.

That same boy yelps when Max nails him in the arm. “M’gonna fuckin’ kill you,” he mutters, while the kid doubles down, clearly unbothered, shooting his shot at your daughter like it’s all just part of the game.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say, crossing the counter for your purse.

“Mrs. Cameron, really—I’ve got it,” Jackson says, voice firm.

“That’s very sweet. But not necessary… Thanks for taking them off my hands.” You kneel in front of the twins gently brushing back your daughter’s curls; cupping your son’s cheek lovingly. “You two be good for your sister and Jackson, okay?”

You lean in to kiss their cheeks, and without realizing it, your sundress shifts. The neckline dips, your breasts press softly together, the hem lifts just enough to tease. You linger, whispering something about sprinkles and chocolate.

Behind you, the room goes silent.

One boy swallows hard. Another just stares—slack-jawed—like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Max… Dude. This is your life?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Max mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’d move in tomorrow,” Tripp grins. “Be your stepdad today.”

“Bet she tastes like sugar—”

“I said shut up,” Max snaps, louder this time.

Just then, another boy walks in from the hallway, Trevor. He catches sight of you, still bent low in front of the twins, and freezes. Smiling like the goddamn Cheshire Cat, he lifts both hands like he’s gripping your hips and starts thrusting the air behind you in slow-motion silence.

The other boys lose it—coughing, choking on laughter, trying and failing to keep it together.

You straighten up, sundress swaying back into place as you smooth it down with both hands, blissfully unaware.

“All right, go have fun,” you sing out, waving them toward the door.

You turn back to the pitcher, lift it to the sink, and flip the tap without thinking.

Water churns—lemon juice and sugar swirling, rising to the rim—as your gaze drifts out the kitchen window. And then you see him. Rafe…

His white t-shirt’s soaked through, hose in hand as he rinses down the G-Wagon. Sunlight turns the spray to glitter. Water drips down his arms, soaking the cotton clinging to every curve and cut of his chest and abs.

He turns, flipping his hat backward with one hand, jaw flexing as he wipes his brow.

Your thighs press together. Grip tightening on the pitcher just as the lemonade spills over, cold and sticky down your wrist. You fumble the tap, blinking fast, but your eyes don’t leave him.

His shirt clings to his back, practically painted on, while his blue swim trunks ride low on his hips and high on his thighs.

One hand coils the hose, and the other grabs the wash bucket. His chest flexes with every move, muscles rolling under wet cotton like sin in motion.

“Have fun, boys,” you call out, pouring lemonade into a glass, still watching him.

The front door clicks shut as you step outside barefoot. The grass is crisp beneath your feet; sun shining hot on your shoulders.

Rafe looks up the second he hears you. His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh shit, pretty,” he drawls, eyes dragging down your body. “That for me?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, offering him the glass—but he doesn’t take it. He steps closer, warm, wet arm curling around your waist, pulling you flush to him like he can’t help it. His mouth finds yours instantly—hot and slow. Your fingers hook behind his neck, greedy for more.

You giggle into the kiss, breathless. “How much longer?”

Rafe pulls back just enough to smirk, water dripping down his temple “What? You want somethin’, baby?”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ 15 minutes earlier…

The garage is quiet at first—just the clatter of golf clubs and the squeak of a sponge as Rafe scrubs the green off his chipping wedge. The radio hums softly from the corner, low and easy. But that peace doesn’t last.

Beer bottles clink inside the fridge; ice rattles in the machine. And just around the corner from where Rafe sits, the boys start talking their shit like they don’t have a care in the world.

“I’m done,” your son mutters—tone flat and fed up like he’s been saying all day.

“Not my fault your mom’s hot as fuck, Maxi.” One of the boys fires back, voice deep and smug. “M’just waitin’ for the day she gets stuck in the washer. I’ll pound her shit right there—”

“Fuck you,” Max hisses. There’s a sharp thud and a groan; Max hits his friend hard enough to give him a moment's peace from him, but it doesn’t stop the rest of them.

“Did you see her in that swimsuit the other day? Playing with the twins? That bikini? She’s still got an ass on her. Those tits too?” Trevor chimes in, practically drooling. “I wanna play with her twins. Slide my dick right between ‘em—”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Max growls.

“Hey, you fucked my sister, Max. Both of ‘em. Think I get to tug one to your mom… every night—”

“She’s so hot, bro. Like stupid hot,” another pipes up. “Your dad doesn’t deserve that. He can’t keep up. Can’t handle all that. His stamina’s gotta be shot.”

“She made me cookies like it was foreplay,” one of them says, breathy and laughing. “You think she ever looks at us and wonders…”

“She made cookies for my dad,” Max mutters.

“Yeah. That’s what I said—”

And then Rafe clears his throat, loud and measured. The sound slices through the room like a blade. So quiet you could hear the soft clink of a stolen beer cap hitting the concrete.

The boys scatter like mice out the side door and back into the house. Their smug laughter from moments before dies on their lips, replaced by frantic whispers of “do you think he heard” and the squeak of boat shoes skidding across the floor.

“Come here,” Rafe says, low and calm.

Max exhales hard, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. His shoulders drawn up to his ears as he drags himself across the garage floor.

“You wanna explain what that was?” Rafe asks without looking at him, voice steady as he cleans his club.

Max shrugs, sullen. “I mean, you heard it.”

“Yeah… I heard everything—”

“Every fuckin’ day,” Max mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anytime we’re at the house. I try shutting it down—it’s impossible.”

“They were talking about your mother,” Rafe says. “You just gonna let that fly?”

“They’re fuckin’ idiots,” Max scoffs. “Just givin’ me shit. They’re not gonna do anything. And what am I supposed to do, huh? Beat the shit out of every guy who opens his mouth about mom?”

“Nah,” Rafe says, smiling without humor. “They’ll get the hint some way or another.”

“Well that’s not horrifying,” Max mumbles, giving him a side-eye—because he knows damn well Rafe might handle this himself.

“She’s not just your mom, you know. She’s my wife,” Rafe says, nodding toward the garage door. “So yeah. I know exactly how hot she is.”

“Ew.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rafe grins. “I just had to listen to that perverted pissin’ contest over your mother. And Trevor’s sister? Really?”

“…Sisters,” Max murmurs, not meeting Rafe’s eye.

He cringes, face twisting in the exact same way his son’s had moments earlier. “Aren’t you dating Top’s daughter?”

“They’re Trevor’s sisters,” Max repeats. “Doesn’t count.”

Rafe stares at him. “And what’s the math on that? It doesn’t count? You serious?”

Max shrugs, then deflects. “Hey—remember who the enemy is here, alright? He was talkin’ about Mom.”

That earns a dry laugh. Rafe crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, still giving Max a look like this conversation’s not over.

“I like that excuse better,” he breathes. “Y’all headin’ out?”

“Mhmm,” Max hums, already inching toward the door like he’s trying to disappear. “Just gonna grab some snacks.”

“Yacht Club?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, eyes on the exit.

“Be safe,” Rafe says, a little quieter now.

Max mumbles something back as he pushes into the house, and the door shuts behind him with a soft thud.

Rafe doesn’t move. He just stands there for a second, staring at nothing, letting the quiet settle. He knows what he feels. Always has. He just doesn’t always want to name it.

He used to love the attention. The looks. The envy. Part of him still does. When you were younger, his friends couldn’t keep their eyes off you. Couldn’t help the comments, the sideways glances. And he loved it—loved knowing that no matter how many mouths whispered your name, it was his bed you came home to.

You were his. All his. Always. But this? This was different. Hearing that kind of shit from teenagers—his son’s idiot friends, their mouths full of his food, beers stolen from his fridge, spending long, lazy days on his boat—no. It didn’t feel flattering. It felt like a fucking insult.

The way they talked about you was like you were some option. Like if given half a chance, they’d step right into his role. As if they could touch you. As if they could handle a woman like you. His wife. It pissed him off. And he knew it shouldn’t—not like this.

It wasn’t new. It wasn’t shocking. But today? It got under his skin in a different way. Raw and hot and fucking personal.

He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. This is what happens when your wife is you. People want you. They always have.

He laughs under his breath—half at himself, half at the absurdity of it all—and reaches for the sponge and bucket again. He wasn’t gonna fight them. He didn’t need to. There were better ways to remind them where they stood.

They wanted to act grown? Act like they could love you, care for you, fuck you like a man? Fine. Let them watch. Let them see what a real man does.

Rafe lets the door swing shut behind him and strolls across the drive, relaxed, deliberate. His gaze lifts straight to the window above the sink—and there you are, stepping into frame like you were waiting for your cue.

Rafe squeezes the hose handle, blasting water against the side of the G-Wagon. He shifts a little closer, just enough to let the spray bounce back misting his skin, ricocheting off the glossy paint.

The sun is hot, but the water is cool against his skin. The soaked fabric clings to the muscles of his chest and abs. He tugs his shorts a little higher on his thighs, watching the droplets slide down his body.

Then he smiles again—cocky and quiet—as he pulls the oldest trick in the book: flipping his cap from front to back like he’s not thinking about it at all.

Next, his shirt. He peels it off slowly and casually and tosses it aside, revealing his tan, chiseled frame. The gold chain with your initial catches the light.

“Five… four… three…” Bang. The door claps shut. He chuckles to himself, smug, reading you like a favorite book. He doesn’t even have to look to know it’s you. But he does.

Rafe glances over his shoulder as he hears your bare feet brushing through the grass; sundress swaying in the summer breeze. And then he sees you, glass of lemonade in hand, eyes already locked on him like he’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

“Look at you,” he mutters, watching you float closer. You took the bait. You always do. And he lives for it.

He spots movement through the glass, Max’s friends still inside, lingering, pretending not to watch.

Rafe praises you as he always does, a breathy “mhmm” buzzing past your lips is the only thing passing before he’s kissing you deep, hot, and possessive—right there in the driveway, letting them see. Letting them know who you belong to. How good you fit in his arms. How easily he could take you wherever and whenever he wanted.

He pulls back just enough to breathe you in; Rafe brushing his lips across yours like he can’t stop touching you. His big hand drifts lower, sliding over the slight curve of your back before grabbing a handful of ass—firm, slow, and so intentional it makes your breath catch.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You laugh quietly, barely holding it in. His shirt’s been tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm and bare against yours, that heavy gold chain glinting faintly against his chest.

The teenage boys barrel out of the house, faster than usual. Lugging the cooler through the grass as they look anywhere but at you.

“Where are you headed?” Rafe calls out, still holding your waist.

“Told you—yacht club,” Max grits, like a chore.

“Yacht club, huh?” Rafe echoes. “Sounds real productive. Why don’t y’all finish cleanin’ the car before you go burnin’ my gas?”

“Dad, seriously?” Max groans, letting the cooler drop to the grass with a thud.

“You’re about to torch another five hundred dollars of fuel,” Rafe says, grinning as he jams the sponge into one of the boys’ chests hard. “Don’t even get me started on yesterday. Three-fifty in food, six bottles of cheap-ass liquor—none of which I’d let past my lips or hers… It’s the least you can do.”

“Pretty sure that was all Winnie—”

“Spare me the bullshit,” Rafe drawls, his Southern accent soaked in judgment, cutting like his smirk.

“Since when are you washin’ cars anyway?” Max mutters, dunking a sponge into the soapy bucket. You try not to giggle but you can’t help it. Rafe’s flair for the dramatics is so visible in Max it’s like looking in a mirror.

Rafe laughs as well, already turning back to you. He reaches up, wiping a drop of water from your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips—gentler this time, like he’s taking back the moment before their arrival.

“Now what did you need, baby?” Rafe murmurs as the boys start scrubbing the truck. You glance up at him, feeling nothing but butterflies. Rafe bites his lip slightly, head tilted slightly, making your brain short-circuit. “Name it, princess,” he mumbles, thumb tracing slow, possessive circles on the small of your back.

“You.”

That one word has him grinning, dark and knowing. “You want me, huh?” He mutters, voice dropping an octave. “Alright. Do somethin’ for me.”

“Anything…”

“Go on back inside. Head to the guest room. Get on the bed, just like this. Don’t take a single thing off,” he adds. “I wanna take it off you. You think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah… yeah, baby,” you murmur, lifting up just enough to press your mouth to his.

He leans in, lips lingering like he’s already counting down the seconds. “Beautiful,” he mutters, voice low, that crooked grin spreading as his hand lands on your ass with a lazy smack. “I’ll be right behind you— ”

“Love you, Max! Have fun, boys. Be safe,” you call out, voice bright and sweet as you disappear toward the house.

The driveway shifts the second the door closes, all the sunshine snuffed out the second you’re gone. The boys go silent, scrubbing like their lives depend on it.

Rafe’s shadow stretches long across the driveway. He folds his arms over his broad chest as he surveys the group, his gaze unreadable—far colder than anger.

“Yacht club, huh?” He says, nodding toward the cooler. “Gonna load up the boat? Burn my gas, drink my liquor, make some memories? I hope y’all have fun,” Rafe adds, and if they didn’t know any better, they might think he means it.

“Thanks, Mr. Camer—”

“Maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Rafe cuts in, clean and easy. “Pick up a few country club girls: pearls, spray tans; the kind who won’t notice your hands shakin’ while you fumble with their bras.”

A nervous chuckle slips out, quickly catching Rafe’s glare, his lips curling into a fake smile.

“You’ve seen my wife, yeah?” He asks casually. “Beautiful. Fuckin’ stunning actually. Prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

He looks back at the house giving the boys a moment to breathe before shifting his sights to them again.

“I’ve been working since I was eighteen. Built this house. That boat. Everything you boys use like it’s yours.” He leans in slightly, voice tightening. “And even after all that—I don’t deserve her.”

That hits. You can see it land—all of them blinking like they’ve just been slapped across the face.

“So what makes you think you do?”

“We were just joking, Mr. Cameron. I swear—”

“That’s my wife,” Rafe snaps. The words hit like thunder in their chests. “Mine. Always has been. Always will be. And I don’t give a shit if you go home and jerk off thinkin’ about her—hell, that fantasy’s older than any of you.”

His smile returns, slow and razor-sharp. “But if you say another word—if you breathe another comment about something you’ll never fuckin’ touch…”

He steps forward, and they shrink; stepping toward Max is self-preservation. His eyes zero in on Trevor. The kid nods before Rafe says another word, like he’s praying it’s enough to stay alive. “I’ll make sure the only thing you’re sliding into is a fuckin’ ditch. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Trevor stammers.

Rafe claps a hand on his back hard. The slap echoed through the grounds, making the boy stumble forward with a wheezing gasp.

Then, just like that, Rafe turns and walks away. Calm and steady, like it didn’t happen. He passes Max on the way back to the house, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Love you, kid.”

“L-Love you too,” Max mutters, the lot of them holding their breath until he’s gone for good.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴

You shift on the bed the second he walks in, soft and shy, biting your lip as your eyes meet his. His gaze darkens instantly, heat rolling off him like a wave.

“I know I changed…” You murmur, voice gentle as a pout tugs at your lips.

The robe’s already falling off your shoulders. Just hanging there. Lace underneath—barely visible, but that’s the point. One leg crossed, stockings tight on your thighs, garters showing just enough to make him stop breathing.

Rafe’s tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip as his eyes roam over you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

He’s already hard, straining against the front of his swim trunks, jaw tight as his fists curl at his sides—like it’s taking everything in him not to rip that robe off you.

“Baby… Don’t apologize. Not when you look that fuckin’ good for me.”

Rafe steps closer, making your thighs part without thinking, giving him room, inviting him in. His hands slide up your legs—rough palms dragging higher—his thumbs hooking under the garter straps, snapping them against your skin.

“You bought this for me, didn’t you? Knew I’d lose my mind over this. Fuck, you know me too well…”

Your pussy clenches at the raw need in his tone. You toy with the satin belt at your waist, slowly teasingly letting the knot fall loose. The robe slips open completely as you lean back, arching your back, tits round in the pretty lingerie.

“Fuck... You don’t even realize what you do to me. The way you picked this out thinkin’ of me? Wantin’ me to see you like this?”

He kisses you, soft and slow, then starts to trail lower—his mouth brushing along your jaw, every touch unhurried, deliberate. His hand glides up your thigh and grips tight, spreading you open. His eyes are sharp, blue, and hungry—fixed on yours.

“Rafe…” You whine, already feeling your thoughts blur.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you for them,” he groans, hardly holding himself together. “Make sure they never look at you the same. Make sure they know it’s me in your head when you close your eyes. You know what they’ll never have?” He whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“This. This soft little mouth. These legs wrapped around them. This sweet pussy drippin’ for them.” His voice drops even lower. “All mine.”

You blink up at him, a little crease forming between your brows like you’re trying to figure him out

He lets out this low breath, almost a laugh, but not really. “Fuck, you’re perfect… You don’t even see anyone else, do you?”

“Who, baby?” You whisper.

He scoffs, low and humorless as he tugs down his trunks, tossing them to the floor. “You should’ve heard what they were sayin’ about you.”

“Rafe…” You blink. “Is everything okay?”

Your words tip up into a gasp as he pushes you back suddenly, one knee sinking into the bed, his body climbing over yours. “Those boys,” he mumbles. “They want you.”

“Max’s friends?” You gasp as your face twists in disgust; eyes flicking toward the door.

Rafe grabs your cheeks, forcing your focus back to him. His fingers slip under the lace and he groans—low and guttural—when he feels how wet you are.

“Already soaked,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’ve been sittin’ here all sweet and innocent, like nothin’s goin’ on—when your pussy’s this fuckin’ desperate for me. Say you're mine… Who do you belong to?”

You whimper, breath hitching as he slips your panties to the side and drags two fingers through your slick slowly, savoring every second.

“Say it,” he demands, his forehead pressing to yours; hand working you open.

“You,” you whisper. “I belong to you—”

“That’s right… Mine to spoil. Mine to love. Mine to fuck.”

You go to touch him, but he grabs your wrists before you get the chance. Forces them up over your head, holding you there. His body presses into yours and when his hand slides down your thigh, it pulls a shiver straight out of you. “Uh-uh, angel. Not yet.”

His fingers curl just right, pressing into that spot that makes your hips jolt off the sheets. He keeps it slow, steady—watching your face with quiet adoration. He’s memorized every flutter of your lashes, every soft gasp that slips from your swollen lips. He knows what it takes… what you crave. And he knows you’re close.

“You’re gonna come for me, pretty,” he murmurs. “Just like this—”

You nod rapidly, falling apart not a moment later. “Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, trembling as your pussy clenches around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps working you through it, fucking you with his fingers until you’re gasping into his mouth, thighs twitching, hips jerking away from the overstimulation. You reach for his wrist, gripping tight, trying to slow him down—but he groans against your lips, loving how little it takes for him to unravel you.

He catches the lace of your panties and rips them clean off, the tear sharp and sudden. The sound snaps through the room, and your legs twitch from the jolt.

Rafe pulls you off the bed, guiding you right where he wants you, not wasting a moment. “Hands on the glass,” he says, voice rough as he unhooks your bra with one practiced flick. His other hand clamps around your waist, steadying you.

You press your palms to the glass, cool beneath you. Your reflection stares back: hair a mess, lips wet, chest rising fast—tits bare as you beg for more, fighting to keep your eyes open already as they flutter shut.

“Eyes on me,” Rafe whispers roughly, his chest pressed to your back now; hips flush against your ass.

He pushes into you slowly, giving you every delicious inch, your greedy pussy pulling him in. “Shit, baby… You’re tight.” Rafe grinds in deeper, hand splayed across your stomach as he holds you there, impaled on his thick cock. “This,” he pants, dragging back and slamming in again. “This is my pussy. My house. My fuckin’ wife.”

Rafe sets a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, lewd and filthy. He spanks your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward into the glass.

“Let ‘em hear it,” he growls. “Let those little bastards outside hear what I do to you.”

Your body trembles with every ruthless thrust; the mirror rattles under your grip, the sharp slaps of skin echoing round the room.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Rafe grits out, voice rough and hoarse.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice breaking as the knot in your belly coils tight, ready to snap.

“Yeah?” He growls, dragging you closer, rough hands holding you right where he wants you. “Then fuckin’ give it to me.”

One arm binds around your waist while the other slips down, fingers working your clit in rough, relentless circles that make your legs shake. “Show me what I do to you.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your body jerks—cunt clamping down around him. You peel your eyes open, desperate to see him. And there he is in the mirror behind you: jaw tight, lip caught between his teeth as his hips slam into you again and again.

“Good girl,” he snarls, not letting up for a second. “You ain’t done yet.”

Rafe yanks you upright, chest to back, one big hand wrapping gently around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw as he fucks you deep and hard—so deep it’s almost too much.

You break with a choked sob, another orgasm tearing through you so hard your vision blurs. You go limp in his arms, legs shaking, body spent. He doesn’t let go. Just grunts out a rough “Fuck, baby,” right against your neck as his hips pump forward. One last thrust and he’s coming, cock throbbing inside you, breath hot on your skin.

You feel every pulse of it, thick and messy, spilling deep as he holds you there, buried and shaking, not ready to move.

Rafe nuzzles into your cheek, soft kisses dusting your jaw as your breath comes out in shattered little gasps. He listens to every sound. “You still with me, baby?” He murmurs, peeking over your shoulder with a teasing smirk.

“Barely,” you whisper, still catching your breath as you slump into his chest.

He lets out a soft laugh, mouth skimming the edge of your lips. “That smile,” he mutters, voice thick. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let your eyes fall shut, head resting against him.

He slips out of you slow, gentle to the last second, then gathers you up without a word. Carries you back to the bed like you weigh nothing, sets you down easy, and smooths your hair from your face with the back of his hand. Just stands there for a beat, staring like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Rafe…” you breathe, voice soft and pathetic, so sweet it nearly breaks him. He smiles, crawling between your thighs. “You gonna tell me you can’t take another?” He whispers, hands sliding under your knees, pushing your thighs open wide. “Yes, you can… You always do.”

Rafe kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, mouth warm against your sex. His stubble drags across your skin, rough enough to make your lip tremble.

Your hands shoot to his hair the second he dives between your thighs. His tongue works you over, lips locking around your clit as he sucks hard. You cry out, fingers gripping his hair, and he groans into you, the sound vibrating so deep it makes your legs shake.

Rafe’s fingers slide inside without warning, drilling his cum back into you until your back bows and your eyes blur with tears.

You sob, thighs quivering as your heels dig into the mattress, your body barely able to take it anymore; your brain not able to think of a single coherent thought.

“Give it to me. Let ‘em know who owns this fuckin’ bed, aight. You and me… You. And. Me.” A scream rips from your throat, so cock-drunk you cum without warning, soaking his hand, his face, the sheets beneath you, everything drenched in the proof of your pleasure.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Rafe sighs in relief, licking and kissing through the mess, savoring every drop. He slaps your pussy once, firm and wet, just to hear the sound of it. “Atta baby. That’s what I fuckin’ needed… So damn good to me.”

He drags his mouth up your body. Every touch lingers, every breath shared. He settles over you, wrapping you up in him.

You reach for his face, thumb stroking along his slick jaw. He leans into your touch, his mouth just a breath from yours.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Rafe’s leans in, resting his forehead against yours. A quiet smile breaks across his face.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he says, low and steady. “Always have. Always will.”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ the next morning

“I warned you,” Max mutters.

Tripp doesn’t reply—just stares into the void like something sacred was taken from him last night. Trevor’s slumped next to him, hoodie up, eyes hollow, chewing his thumbnail.

“Warned us?” Tripp breathes, voice shot. “About the wet bed? The screaming? The headboard hitting the wall like a metronome set to ‘destroy pussy’ all night long?”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bauer adds, thumping his fist against the kitchen table. “All damn night.”

Max shrugs, calm as ever. “I told you not to talk about my mom.”

“…She was crying about it,” Bauer mutters. “Crying about dick—”

“Enough,” Max snaps.

Tripp rubs both hands over his face. “I’ve got PTSD. Did you sleep?”

“You think I slept?” Trevor huffs.

“You could’ve knocked,” Max says casually, sipping his orange juice.

All heads turn to him fast. “Knocked?” They spat in unison.

Max shrugs again, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “Could’ve asked to crash in my room. I slept great.”

You walk in like it’s any other morning—light on your feet, humming under your breath, dressed in a tiny pajama set that has no business existing in a house full of teenage boys. Your tank’s stretched snug across your chest, love bites just barely visible where your robe slips open at the collar.

You pull the cinnamon rolls out, set them on the counter, steam rising fast. Without thinking, you grab the icing, swipe some with your finger, and lick it clean. You smile, small and sleepy, still feeling kind of floaty from the night before.

And for the first time in god knows how long they sat there in silence.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Tripp whispers as heavy footsteps echo down the hall.

And then—Rafe.

No shirt, just his signature gold chain catching the light as it rested against his chest. His skin was tanned, muscles cut sharp, and those sweats hung low on his hips like he’d just rolled out of bed—or hadn’t bothered to pull them up all the way.

“Mornin’, baby,” He murmurs, already reaching for your waist.

“Good morning,” you hum, letting him pull you into him—cinnamon roll tray still in your hands—as he kisses your skin; fingers curling around the handle of the fresh cup of coffee you poured him, steam rolling over the rim of the handmade Daddy mug from a Father’s Day past.

“For me?” He asks softly, like the entire house isn’t holding its breath.

You giggle, warm and syrupy. “Made your favorite.”

“Already had my favorite last night.” It’s a whisper meant just for you, but every boy hears it.

Rafe grabs a roll, swipes his thumb through the icing, and licks it clean like he’s still tasting you. He sips his coffee slowly, his focus unwavering.

“Breakfast on the porch, baby?”

“Yeah,” you smile like he asked you on a date.

Then finally, with one last glance at his house, his wife, and the group of broken boys who will never forget last night, he mumbles, smug as ever…

“Ya’ll have a great day. ”

[cute-sucker]

note: this is an unofficial part 2 of this boxer!rafe and his sweetheart <3

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

boxer!rafe can't stop thinking about you pregnant, and some would say he got more protective when you did get pregnant.

you weren't showing yet, but he was always keeping a watchful eye on you, protective hand wandering to your midsection.

after the scare you gave him at the games, he watched you all the time, willfully bringing home more food than was needed, feeling willing to come back home when he heard your whines through the phone, and buying you the most beautiful sundresses ever.

sometimes the two of you would spend more time together, looking out the balcony as he smoked a cigarette, and you looked outside with a dazed expression, hand stroking your stomach. he watched the way your nose wrinkled when a trendil of smoke reached your nose.

you made a screwed face, and then looked back at rafe with a pointed look, "i don't like that."

the next day all the cigarettes in your house were gone, and he went back to boxing. it was sweet the way your small proclamation could command him to do anything. sometimes you couldn't help but test it. test how much he loved you, and how willing he was go to. you knew it was bad the way you were acting, but you ached for the attention.

so it was all to plan when you woke up craving a burger.

not just any burger. it needed to be homemade, or even one of the burgers that rafe had made you during your first date. you remember it so clearly, the way his hand scimmed past your back as he helped you chop the cucumbers, a soft hand twirling a tendril of your hair.

it was all in your head, and suddenly you needed the burger with your life. you were pawing at his chest, soft whines leaving your mouth. he woke suddenly, taking a deep inhale of air.

"what's wrong?" he muttered, words slurred with sleep. you couldn't feel but feel bad as you pouted at him. you were wearing a pretty nightgown with a bow at the top. you watched him scan your swollen body.

you were pulling all the routes as you lowered your voice, "i need a burger."

he looked at you incredulously, eyebrows raised putting his rough hand on your shoulder, "right now?"

you frowned, before rubbing your stomach, "yes."

he groaned, falling back to head head first. you bit your tongue to stop giggles from spilling out of your mouth. he was so soft with you now, and you knew that months ago he would never act like this. but you couldn't help but tug at his arm as a grunt fell from his mouth.

"do you really need it, mama?"

now you couldn't stop your smile. you loved it when he called you 'mama,' and you loved the gentle tilt of his mouth when he called you that. and you rested your head back, nodding. finally, he gave an annoyed sigh before getting out of bed.

"goddamn it," he groaned, pulling a cleaner shirt up his head. you rested at his feet watching him put on his clothes. there was something so domestic about the whole scenario. tanyhilll was full of pictures of the two of you, small pieces of the two of you.

finally, as if he realised you were watching him, he scowled looking at you. still in your nightgown with a frenzied look on your face, he seemed to sigh again.

"ah, don't you think you should change?" he murmured, hands skimming over your top. you melted at his touch, practically hopping into his lap with eagerness. he let out a laugh before gently pushing you away, "listen. you gotta change out of that. can't have you looking like that."

you gave him a cheeky smile as if it was the middle of the day instead of three in the morning. somehow you found increasing amounts of energy and rafe was always confused about how you did it all.

"look like what?"

he shook his head, eyes flashing with slight annoyance, "nah. 'm not doing that today. get up bun, 'n go change."

although he sounded demanding you couldn't help but feel your heart drum harder at his words, biting your lip as you pulled on one of his old sweatshirts.

that night you got your burger, and he got you.

please let me know if you'd like to added to the boxer!rafe taglist!!

[rafelandia]

Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.” 

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[sematarygirls]

   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

[callumsluvr]

okay i don’t think writing is for me😭 i need to work on it, so instead of a series, i’m going to just give a cute little timeline of events. okay love you all🩷

- you were born the year after Rafe

- basically an arranged marriage

- Rafe got “too cool” for halloween when he was 11, but some notable matching halloween costumes you had before that is: pumpkins (age 1 and 2), peter pan and wendy (ages 6 and 7), and a princess and prince (ages 8 and 9)

- you remember his mom, but not as well as you’d like. however, you’d always been there for Rafe, even when he was dealing with her death

- your parents took Rafe in whenever he needed a break from home

- you and him had your first kiss during your freshman year ski trip during winter break

- after that, you went to every school dance with him and midsummers

- you never technically dated until senior year, but you definitely didn’t date anyone else either

- you both had a falling out in junior year when he started choosing other friends and partying over you

- Rafe threw a graduation party during your senior year and you reconciled, but that was about it. you decided that you’re still friends, you just have different priorities, and didn’t want to go to college mad at each other

- ironically, you both end up at UNC, and end up in the same orientation group

- after that, you and Rafe go back to normal and realize that you feel a lot more than friendly

- freshman year of college, you and Rafe end up dating

- then, he’s stuck with you 😛

- during your junior year, you move in with each other in a cute, cozy apartment

- the year after you both graduate, Rafe proposes in the backyard of Tannyhill

- then he tells you that Tannyhill is your home now. if you want it.

- you both get married in a gorgeous backyard wedding of Tannyhill. don’t think because it’s in a backyard that it’s cheap. unfortunately for Rafe, it wasn’t.

- you honeymoon in Italy

- after that, at 22, Vivienne Katherine Cameron is born

- then at 24, Charlotte Marie Cameron is born

- 25, Summer Jane Cameron is born

- and at 28, when you and Rafe decide you’re done, Theodore Joseph Cameron makes his appearance. now, Rafe is done for good.

hated this, but whatever

better things coming soon, hopefully. let me know if anyone wants a more elaborate explanation for any of the scenarios!

[cameronsbabydoll]

Military Rafe way of having fun with his kids is by him doing something like military boot camp with them

Ex: he runs around the backyard while they chase him (but he runs super slow so they think they’re fast)

Learning how to avoid mines? Nah they playing the floor is lava

Learning to walk in formation? It’s just them playing red light green light

He probably even calls them cadets but he probably never yells at them, the kids just end up being super active because of him

👨‍🦲 Anon

military!rafe’s "boot camp dad" activities

🪖 backyard training sessions.

he’s in full dad mode, whistle around his neck, hat turned backwards, yelling like a drill sergeant:

“cameron team! target acquired! move, move, move!”

he runs around the backyard with the kids chasing him, but he’s going slow as hell — making a show of how fast they are. falls down dramatically just so they can “tackle” him and win.

“damn, you got me, soldier! you’re fast as lightning, huh?”

🧼 chores = missions.

cleaning their room?

“this is operation tidy base, recruit. failure is not an option.”

he’ll even give them little checklists like:

make bed, collect toys, report to the kitchen for snack rations

🚦red light / green light = formation drills.

but he adds hand signals like a real drill sergeant.

“what did i say about that left foot dragging, son?”

the kids eat it up — they take it so seriously and he loves every second.

📢 nicknames like ‘private’ and ‘captain’.

calls his youngest “lieutenant giggles”

and his oldest “commander bigfoot”

📸 makes them little 'dog tags'.

laminated with their name, “rank,” and a picture — hangs them on their backpacks like they’re part of his unit.

🥹 when he kneels down and tells them seriously:

“you’re the most important mission i’ve ever had.”

and gives a tight, chest-rumbling hug. the kind that makes them go breathless in his arms.

[shrimpybbq]

rafe experiences the comfort of a mother

synopsis: rafe appears on his girlfriend’s doorstop, badly burnt and in need of care and affection

Rafe stood in front of the guest room, body stiff and hand frozen against the wooden door. He wanted to knock, he really did, and yet he was hesitant. Only the day before had the couple fought, screaming and shouting until both were out of breath. Rafe had watched his sweet girl leave with teary eyes and he’d felt bad, his heart twisting as she had slammed the door in his face. It was the same door he finally knocked on after realising he’d been motionless for too long. The rap of his knuckles echoed and for a moment, he wondered if she wouldn’t answer the door at all, until a creak sounded. Rafe raised his gaze to see his girlfriend standing in front of him, her fists rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“R-rafe? What are yo-”, she began to ask, voice heavy with tiredness, the hour late. It wasn’t until she looked at him properly that she paused, taking in his entire state. Rafe was standing there, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. It wasn’t the childlike pose that caught her eye though, no - it was the way Rafe’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and his bottom lip wobbling ever so subtly.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, as if she were talking to their son. Rafe could only shake his head side to side, slowly pulling his arm away. At the sight of the red and blistering flesh, she gasped loudly, “Oh my god! What happened?”.

“I-uh, I got into some trouble,” Rafe responded timidly, full of shame and in pain.

“Come here,” his girlfriend said, gently ushering him into the guest room, “sit down. Have you cleaned this?” She asked. Again he shook his head, leading her to hum lowly. “Ok, I’ll need to clean it. Gimme a sec.”

Rafe sat on the bed patiently as he took in the room. He’d never been in there since she began sleeping in there, now taking in all the little trinkets she had lying around. He had been trying to get her to move back into his room but she still refused, and the pair used the nursery as a mutual zone.

His musings were cut off by a gentle voice questioning him.

“What happened Rafe?”

“It’s nothing, just an accident, you know?” Rafe grumbled out as she began to wet antiseptic pads in front of him. She looked up at him, gaze incredulous.

“This is bad, Rafe. You don’t just get something like this accidentally! You said you got into trouble before - what did you mean by that?” She questioned. Rafe sighed, having underestimated just how much she would question him, but he should’ve expected that, he thought to himself. When he didn’t answer, she began to clean his arm.

The sharp stinging sensation that travelled through him as the antiseptic touched his burn made Rafe jump, his voice exclaiming in shock. It was that sudden pain that caused the unshed tears in his eyes to spill over, and it was like once he started he couldn’t stop. All his pain and worries spilled out of him, the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh baby, it’s ok, come here,” he heard her say, cleaning forgotten as she pulled his head into her chest. Whenever she had comforted Rafe in the past, this had been his favourite position, curled up against her chest and having his hair stroked. So she did just that, soothing his heaving sobs with each pass through his hair. “It’s ok Rafe, you’re ok here baby. I’ve got you, ok? Breathe, Rafe.”

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his sobs wetting the fabric of the tank top she wore. He’d almost completely exhausted himself by the time his sobs stopped, only able to breathe deeply now. It was then his muffled voice could be heard, “it was Barry.”

He felt her stiffen before she tentatively probed further. “Barry, your dealer?”

At the feeling of him nodding, she pulled him away from her chest. Her voice was stern, as if she was talking to a small child,

“Rafe, why is your dealer burning you? What did you do?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looked just a like their son, she thought, his features so innocent and needy.

“I-I couldn’t pay him back in time… I tried, I really did, but I had this thing and I couldn’t get it all there in time, and I said- I said to him I would get it bu-but he didn’t care,” Rafe began to ramble, his voice pleading with her to understand him. He had been trying to do better, for her - for his family. He watched her sigh, before she returned to clean his wound in silence. Rafe wanted to speak, to explain himself more but he didn’t know what to say, and the idea of her disappointed gaze upon him once more sealed his lips. The feeling of her fingers smoothing a burn cream over his wound tenderly had him curling back into her chest.

She began to card her fingers back through his blonde locks, feeling Rafe relax against her. When he was upset he would be one of two ways: angry and reactive, or clingy and touch-starved. Today, it was clear he was the latter. She couldn’t bare to leave him alone like this, and so she gently whispered,

“Come here baby, let’s get you into bed, ok?”

Rafe pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked up upon her face.

“Here?”

She nodded and began to pull the covers away, creating a space for him to shuffle in. Rafe allowed himself to be guided under the quilt and he couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of her fingers tenderly brushing his messed-up strands away from his forehead. As he made space for her beside him, Rafe watched his girlfriend pull away from the bed.

“Nononono-” he began to mutter, only to be cut off. His hand was outstretched pathetically to try and keep her by his side, scared to be alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m just going to the nursery. I thought you’d want him to stay with us tonight,” she soothed, watching surprised as Rafe shook his head in response.

“No, let him sleep. Just c’mere,” he mumbled, dragging her into his side and under the blankets. Within seconds Rafe had found his position for the night, curled up into her side, his head resting on her chest once more. He was so sullen and quiet as he listened to her heartbeat, hands clutching at her waist.

“Goodnight Rafe,” she uttered sleepily, the events of the night catching up to her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against her chest. He didn’t say it often, preferring to show his love for her through actions, but she always knew it. With a soft kiss against the crown of his head, she echoed those words back to him, before slipping into unconsciousness,

“I love you too, baby.”

[totalswag]

farmers market ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note hii lovies! hope you are all doing great and had an amazing weekend. this idea came into mind one day and i needed to write it. feedback is always appreciated <3.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary attending the local farmers market as a family of four and bumping into family later on.

warning(s) none!

It was a glorious bright day in Kildare, with blue skies and a hint of clouds. Rafe turned the corner towards the parking lot, and the streets of downtown were already bustling with activity. There were white tents lined up in orderly rows, each filled with colorful fruit, homemade crafts, or fresh pastries. The scent of warm bread, freshly made coffee, and luscious peaches filled the air. A local band set up near the gazebo played slowly, while somewhere nearby, bees hummed gently amid flower vendors.

Whenever spring comes around, the local outdoor farmers market opens till the end of summer. Opened every saturday⎯8am to 12:30pm. Everybody attends and leaves with a smile on their face. Rafe and you started going together when you were pregnant with your first born, Hayes, who’s now four years old. 

You get out of the car, the air scented with honeysuckle and sunscreen, and walk around to the passenger side. With a faint creak, the back door opens, revealing your baby girl, five months old and just waking up from a car nap. Her eyes flutter, her cheeks full and rose-colored, and one small fist curls near her mouth. Her pink romper is somewhat bunched, and her soft headband has slid over one ear.

"Hi sweet girl, you look like you had a good nap," you say with a hint of laughter, and Paisley grins, kicking her little legs. 

Rafe and Hayes were unloading a two-seat stroller. Haye knelt down and gently helped Rafe unwind the stroller. "You're doing great, bud," he replies with a smile before high-fiving him. "I'm a big boy, daddy," Hayes smiles.

"All good?" he questioned. 

"Yep," you replied, brushing a crumb off Hayes' shirt. "Coffee first?"

"You know me too well."

First stop being coffee is a must⎯always. This coffee truck that always parked at the far end of the market⎯old but charming, with bright teal paint and string lights curling around the window. You ordered something different this time, a lavender honey cold brew with oat milk.

Your eyes expanded with the first sip, "babe, you need to try this!"

Rafe's brow furrowed with curiosity before leaning in and sipping through the straw, "Oh yeah," he murmured, "that's dangerous." He closed his eyes and pointed to your drink several times. 

You began laughing at his reaction⎯his facial expression showed his eyebrows raised as he looked at you⎯amazed and secretly wishing he got the same order. 

Hayes, now holding your hand, softly tugged. "Mama, can we get the fruit now?"

"You read my mind," you remarked, grasping his small fingers as the four of you moved down the row of produce tents.

Rafe walked beside you, gently pushing the stroller, while Paisley sat with her head slightly angled and a small fan attached to the cover. Her little feet kicked gently, and she looked up at Rafe with the cutest gummy smile.

He grins down at Paisley, kneeling as he walks, "You're already giving me that adorable smile, huh pretty girl," his soft kind tone melting your heart.

Hayes came to a halt in front of the tent that had captured his attention. You never let go of his little grasps as he guided you across the small space. 

Paisley’s cooing in the stroller as you walk. Rafe’s pushing her along the cobblestone path while you hold Hayes’ hand, guiding him through the crowd. Vendors are calling out deals on peaches and homemade jams, a guitarist strums a soft tune near the corner flower stand, and the whole market feels like a movie scene.

Stacked strawberries, blueberries, cherries, peaches, and other fruits. The veggies were on the opposite side: lettuce, tomatoes, and carrots. You wanted all of them to go home. Once Hayes and you had chosen your fruits, you pulled out some cash and presented it to the older gentleman.

You carried the bag over to Rafe and Paisley, kneeling on one knee, putting them at the bottom of the stroller. “Find everything you need?” Rafe softly asks, looking down into your eyes as you stood up, “oh yes we did.”

Paisley started squirming about in the stroller, suggesting that she wanted out. She began to fuss as you crouched down to unbuckle her. Her gestures made it little difficult as she sobbed, "I know princess, mommy is getting you out" you coo, raising her up and caressing her cheek⎯Paisley lets out a sigh of relief once she's in your arms.

You passed by small business tents next, admiring handmade soaps, macramé plant hangers, and soft baby clothes. There was one tent with toys that Rafe felt Hayes would like⎯he got two toy cars⎯and you helped in finding another toy Hayes might like, but once he makes his decision, he won't look back.

"Hayesy, do you like this dinosaur toy?" You asked, kneeling at his eye level. He turns around, exclaiming, placing his palm over his mouth, "it's so cool mommy," taking it in his small ones⎯Rafe and you exchange glances, knowing Hayes is debating whether or not to take it. 

He lets out a quiet sigh and hands you the dinosaur, saying, "It's okay, mommy, I have more at home," before taking a dinosaur position.

After walking around for some more, you bought a small floral bouquet⎯dahlias, sunflowers, and tiny white blossoms—and tucked them into the stroller’s basket. Lately, the house was missing new flowers and since the market has all you could ask for, you bought them. Rafe and Hayes got you your⎯aren’t they so cute.

So far, the morning has gone smoothly. The weather was pleasant, with intermittent chilly breezes. Hayes grew tired of strolling and sat in the front seat of the stroller. Paisley in your arms, safely facing forward⎯seeing what you see. She'd kick her legs out of nowhere and laugh out of nowhere. 

There was an open seating area under a tree. Rafe and you decided to have a quick snack and take a rest break before returning to the car. Hayes sat in the chair next to Rafe, eating his meal. Paisley sat on your lap, babbled, and looked around.

"Today has been good, don't you think?" Rafe asks: peering at Paisley, who is pulling herself toward him, seeking out for him to hold her. "Definitely a good day, and we got out of the house," you smile, kissing Hayes' top of head.

Hayes smiles and leans into you.

"Y/N, Rafe!" You hear your names shouted out by two recognizable voices.

Rafe frowns and turns his entire body around; Sarah and Wheezie walk over, Ward and Rose trailing behind them with smiles on their faces. Hayes looks at both of you, unclear, until he turns around to see his aunts heading your way. 

Hayes quickly puts his sandwich down and runs to the girls.

“Look at you bud” Wheezie chimes, softly nudging him, “getting all big on us.” 

Hayes puts both hands on his hips, “I’m a big boy, Auntie Wheezie!” A look of proudness at his age amazes you and Rafe. For the longest time, he couldn’t wait to be four. 

Ward and Rose walked in your direction⎯you bring Rose in for a warm hug then Ward. Both of you weren’t expecting to see each other here but it’s always good to run into family at the farmers market.

“Paisley, are you so happy to see your grandparents?” You happily ask her as if she can fully understand you but she can only beam with a loud squeal⎯forming her hands into a fist, extending her legs before kicking them with excitement.

Rose chuckled, “take that as a yes.”

You guys catched up for a bit before heading towards the parking lot⎯Hayes was having the time of his life with his aunties and Paisley fell asleep in Ward's arms. It was a perfect day.

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[rafecameronssl4t]

Golf day || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: INSPIRED BY THIS TIKTOK

Warnings: pure fluff hehehehe

Word count: 497

A/n: if anyone has any tiktoks that they want me to turn into a Rafe fic, send them thru pls!!!! I love finding random vids on my fyp that are so Rafe coded. ALSO BEGGING FOR MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTSS

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Do you think she’ll enjoy it?” Rafe questions, turning his head to you, his eyes lingering on Mabel, comfortably nestled on your lap. He looks genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know she loves watching you do anything,” you reply with a reassuring chuckle, trying to soothe his anxiety. As you adjust the tiny hat on your daughter’s head, you can’t help but smile at her innocent excitement.

It was Mabel’s first time at the golf course, and Rafe had been on edge all morning. He’d peppered you with questions like, “Don’t you think it will be too hot?” and “What if she gets bored?” His nervousness was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

You had spent the morning reassuring him, reminding him repeatedly that Mabel would be perfectly fine. You knew she would be thrilled just to watch her dad play golf, her eyes following his every move with awe and admiration.

“Do you think she’ll like this spot?” Rafe asks as the golf cart comes to a gentle stop under the shade of a large oak tree. “Babe, you’re the one playing,” you giggle, enjoying his overprotectiveness. Rafe laughs softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Mabel, do you like it here?” he asks, his voice tender as he tickles her chin. Mabel responds with a delightful giggle that melts your heart.

You adjust Mabel on your lap so she’s facing Rafe, her wide, curious eyes tracking his every move as he unloads his golf clubs. The sun casts a warm glow over the course, and you can’t help but admire how handsome Rafe looks in his golf gear. “Doesn’t Daddy look so handsome, Bels?” you murmur to Mabel, pressing light kisses on her rosy cheeks. She giggles uncontrollably and tickling sensation.

Rafe turns at the sound of her infectious giggles, a broad smile lighting up his face. “You girls doing alright?” he calls out, his eyes sparkling with joy. You chuckle, giving him a thumbs-up and lifting Mabel’s tiny hand to wave at him.

Remembering that Rose wanted a video of Mabel’s first time at the golf course, you quickly pull out your phone and aim the camera at Mabel’s expressive face. She’s watching Rafe intently, her anticipation palpable.

As Rafe lines up his shot, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The moment the club makes contact with the golf ball, sending it soaring through the air, Mabel flinches in surprise. You can’t help but laugh, immediately clamping your hand over your mouth, feeling a bit guilty for laughing at her reaction.

Rafe shields his eyes with his hand, squinting into the distance to see where the ball landed. Satisfied with his shot, he turns back and walks towards you and Mabel, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Daddy’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Rafe chuckles as he reaches you, gently lifting Mabel from under her armpits and pressing a loving kiss on her round cheek.

You quickly snap a photo of the sweet moment. Their joy is infectious, and you can’t help but chuckle as you send the video and picture to Rose. Mabel’s earlier reaction to the sound of Rafe hitting the ball plays in your mind, making you smile.

Rafe notices your amusement. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his curiosity piqued as he sees you smiling at your phone. You glance up, grinning, and show him the video of Mabel’s startled reaction to his golf swing.

“Aww, I’m sorry, babygirl,” Rafe says with a laugh, his eyes softening as he watches the video. “I’ll let you know when I’m going to hit the ball next time.” Mabel, already captivated by her dad’s presence, giggles and reaches out to touch his face, her earlier surprise forgotten.

Rafe’s heart melts as he cradles Mabel in his arms, swaying gently. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice filled with love. Mabel coos in response, her tiny hands grasping at Rafe’s shirt.

[rafesteddy]

Omg DILF!RAFE and MILF!READER’s recent post was so good, imma need you to consider maybe making one where they’re on vacation and some younger guys try flirting with her, thinking she’s around their age (20’s) and Rafe stepping in. UGH you write beautifully I just can’t

Hi bb!!! Thank you for your ask 🤭💕

+18 -> smut | the two of you steal a night away in Miami. One dinner, one dance, and it all comes rushing back.

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: slight physical violence (not toward the reader), coarse language, pet name, unprotected p in v, possessive rafe, rough sex, breeding kink, jealousy, ownership kink, teasing, wet and messy, mentions of drinking, POV shift for smut, + dirty talk.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

Ｎｉｋｋｉ Ｂｅａｃｈ Ｒｅｓｔａｕｒａｎｔ…

Rafe still couldn’t believe you were here. Miami. Same streets, same salt in the air, same stretch of beach where he used to watch you run circles around him with that mouth of yours and those damn cutoff shorts.

It’d been years, decades even. Four kids later. Half a life lived. And somehow, even today, you still had him looking at you like a fucking lovesick idiot.

You’d spent the whole day on the beach, just the two of you. Max and Winnie had the twins, and he hadn’t asked twice. He needed this. Needed you. The sun. You in that tiny black swimsuit, laughing in the surf, making him ache like he hadn’t been married to you for almost twenty years.

Now, the sky was going dark, and you were sitting across from each other in one of those restaurants you loved. Five stars, full white linen, candles flickering. You in that red dress.

He felt like he was twenty all over. Shit, younger than that. His palms were sweating. Ridiculous, really. Just watching you lift that damn glass to your mouth like you hadn’t already ruined him hours ago.

You sat by the window, bathed in the last stretch of sun, skin glowing, hair falling soft around your shoulders. Every time you smiled, it did something to his chest. Like his lungs forgot what they were supposed to do. And when you shifted in your seat, crossed your legs, glanced his way—he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t even try.

Shit.

His hands dropped to his thighs. He couldn’t get a grip. Not with you looking like that. You were his wife. He had no business feeling this nervous. Your husband. Your safe place. The father of your kids. But here he was—nervous. Damn near vibrating with it.

It felt like your first date. Like if he said the wrong thing, you might just laugh and walk away.

Except you wouldn’t. You were his. He knew that in his bones. Had known it for years. But it didn’t stop the rush of it now—watching you sip that drink, those bare shoulders catching the light.

Whatever he’d ordered, he couldn’t taste it. Could barely remember what they’d ordered.

The sunset was sinking fast behind you. Throwing everything around you into this perfect glow that made his chest ache. He motioned to the waiter, sharp and distracted.

“Rafe? Are you okay?”

“Not upset, baby. Promise… Just gotta do something.” And he meant it, because if he didn’t get you out there on that beach, in that red dress, with that sun sinking behind you—if he didn’t catch this moment, keep it somehow—he was gonna lose his goddamn mind.

But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Not yet. Not until he had you exactly where he wanted you.

You were already giggling by the time he stood, napkin dropping carelessly on the table.

“Rafe,” you laughed, grabbing your clutch. “What’s goin’ on?”

He didn’t answer—just took your hand, lacing your fingers tight, tugging you gently toward the door. The host caught his eye, nodded with a knowing smile. Rafe hardly noticed. His pulse was still going—loud in his ears, steady, but off somehow.

The air outside hit different. The air had cooled. Still salty, but heavier now—like something was shifting, even if he couldn’t name it.

The sky was already losing color. That soft pink sinking into gray-blue in patches, uneven and fast.

Down near the water, two people walked the edge of the tide, saying nothing. Just dragging the moment out, maybe. Or maybe they weren’t ready to leave yet.

“Rafe,” you said again, each breath coming shallow, chasing the last, laughing even as you kicked off your heels onto the sand. “You’re acting like—” But you cut off when he let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet and lifted his phone. “Oh my God,” you gasped, cheeks warming up as you realized what he was doing. “Baby—”

“None of that, pretty,” he said, thumb hovering over the screen. “C’mon now. Don’t start.” His voice caught a little, that shaky edge of pure want bleeding through. “You look like a goddamn dream right now. Let me have it.”

You covered your mouth, blushing harder, shaking your head in the softest, sweetest way. But it only took you a second. Because he was looking at you like that—like you hung the damn sun yourself—and his voice was full of it, that heat that never failed to melt you straight through.

“Please, baby,” he said again, softer this time. “Need this. Just you. Right here, alright?”

And that was it. Your hands dropped and your smile bloomed as you started to pose—light at first, playful, laughing between shots as the wind caught your hair and the hem of your red dress.

Rafe could barely breathe, thumb snapping the shutter as fast as he could, desperate to catch every second.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “You don’t even know…”

But you caught the way he was looking—eyes dark, mouth parted just a little—and your smile shifted, just a touch. A tilt of your head. A sway of your hips. A glance through your lashes that had heat licking straight through his veins.

“Fuck, baby… There she is—” Rafe’s grin hit slow and crooked, heat sparking all the way to his fingertips. "How are you so perfect?”

Every pose, each shift of your hips, and glance through your lashes, you knew exactly what you were doing, and your husband was helpless to it.

“One with you too, baby,” you smiled, extending a hand. His breath caught. He tried to play it cool, huffing a soft laugh.

“Yeah? Yeah, of course.” He cleared his throat, stepping toward you, phone in hand, pretending like this wasn’t unraveling him by the second.

You reached for him, fingers curling in his shirt to pull him in beside you. The camera clicked, barely. You turned before the shutter had even finished, like it didn’t matter, like you already knew what came next. Your lips brushed his jaw—light, quick, but it stopped him cold.

He didn’t think. Just reacted. Mouth on yours before either of you had a chance to speak. He barely even noticed the phone—just shoved it in his pocket, hands already back on you, sliding down to your waist, gripping like he didn’t want to risk letting go.

Everything else blurred. The ocean. The quiet voices nearby. All of it faded the second your lips touched his. There was no restaurant, no phone, no years between you. Just this. Just you, pressed up against his chest, warm and breathless and smiling into his skin like nothing had changed. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe after everything, you were still those same two kids who couldn’t go five minutes without needing each other.

He kissed you like he meant it—like if he held on tight enough, the world might stop right here.

Ｂａｉａ Ｂｅａｃｈ Ｃｌｕｂ Ｍｉａｍｉ…

The air changed the second you left the beach—hot and heavy, thick with sweat and rum. It clung to him, soaked into his skin. Music was already pounding through busted speakers, something old, too loud, and then there was you, walking in like the night was yours.

You didn’t wait. As soon as the bass hit, you took his hand and pulled him in, laughing, already moving, your body catching the rhythm like it was built into you.

Rafe just stood there for a second, watching. Throat dry.

He wasn’t a dancer. Never had been. But for you? For this—this one damn night that felt like college all over again—he’d do it. Easy. Anything for you.

So he followed you into the crush of bodies, hands finding your hips like instinct.

You started slow, teasing him as you always do, rolling against him in time with the beat, hips grinding back into him, arm slipping around his neck, mouth grazing his ear.

Rafe let you take over, didn’t care who saw. He closed his eyes for a second, pulling you in tighter. It hit him like déjà vu—that first summer in Miami—sneaking out when you’d found a babysitter, slipping into clubs just like this one, you laughing against his neck while he pretended to hate dancing and really just wanted you like this… It hadn’t changed. If anything, you looked better now. Stronger. Warmer. Somehow even more his. Like you didn’t see the tired in his eyes or the gray at his temples. Just him. And maybe that’s why it ruined him even after all these years, you hadn’t stopped choosing him.

You tipped your head back to smile up at him, face flushed, eyes bright with it all.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” you said, your fingers brushing his chest without really thinking.

He blinked, still a little dazed. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll grab a table.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, watching as you disappeared through the crowd.

Rafe made his way off the floor, weaving between groups of bodies until he found an empty booth near the edge. He slid into the booth, chest still warm from the floor, from you. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling his phone out without thinking.

Wallpaper? Changed—immediately. That shot from the beach, you in that damn dress with the sun behind you. Christ. He didn’t even hesitate.

He shot a quick text to the kids—Goodnight. Love you. Be good.

He glanced up—and there they were. Frat boys packed in by the taps, loud as hell, tossing arms over each other like they ran the place. Rafe just shook his head, couldn’t help the smirk. Same Greek letters from his old house. Hell, they probably knew his name, even if they didn’t know they knew it.

And then—you came back out. You had a whole group with you now, girls barely old enough to drink, laughing like you were one of them. And you were right in the center, flushed, glowing, smiling that smile, lighting up your whole face.

You caught his eye, gave a little wave toward the booth, but one of the girls tugged you toward the bar, mouthing ‘just one drink’.

Rafe leaned back, arm slung over the booth, watching. That old twist pulled tight in his gut.

It started slow. One guy at the bar caught sight of you, elbowed his buddy. Then another. The second one’s jaw actually dropped. Rafe saw it. The third leaned in, whispering behind a grin. A couple more straight-up turned around to watch you walk.

His hand curled tighter around the table’s edge. He exhaled, slow, steady. Yeah, he was proud. Damn proud. You looked… unreal. That glow, that dress, the way you moved—no one in the room could ignore you. But that didn’t mean it was easy to watch.

That old edge crept in—possessive, sharp. He’d felt it before. Years ago. Weeks ago. Days even… Too many times to count.

How many nights had it been just like this? You turning heads without even trying. And him standing there, the guy who got to take you home. Except now, there was a diamond on your hand and a couple of kids with his eyes asleep at home.

He laughed to himself—quiet and dry. Took a long drink just to cut the heat. And then he saw the kid. One of them broke off from the group—broad-shouldered, all confidence, that smug, slow swagger of someone who thinks he’s God’s gift.

Rafe clocked him instantly. President type. Probably the type who gave pep talks about leadership and thought a wink and a beer could get him whatever he wanted.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. He stood up, easy, but with purpose. Eyes locked. Let the kid try. Just once.

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓟𝓞𝓥 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

You barely made it to the bar before the girls had you fully pulled into their circle—arms linked through yours, laughing, warm and tipsy already.

“We loved your lip combo,” one of them gushed, tugging your wrist toward her. “Tell me what that is—seriously. I need it—”

“—Wait, no, first you have to do my hair. I’m hot as fuck.”

Without thinking, you were sliding your fingers into her curls, twisting them up like second nature.

“There,” you smiled. “Perfect.”

“She’s ours now,” one girl grinned. “Not yours.”

You were mid-laugh, drink halfway to your lips, no idea what was heading your way until it was already there.

You looked up—and that’s when he walked in. Tall, tan, broad through the shoulders. Hat turned backward. Shirt clinging to him, far too tight. He smelled like sweat and weed, cheap cologne layered on top like that could fix it.

Two of his buddies flanked him like backup. One already smirking. One fixing his chain, sizing you up like you were something to claim.

“Hey,” the tallest one grinned, eyes dragging over you. “Didn’t think they let models in here.”

“Ewww,” one of the girls drones. “Leave, thanks. She’s with us—”

“She looks like she could use a real drink,” one of the boys shoots back.

Another cuts in, leaning way too close. “You come here with anyone, princess?”

The tall one grabs your arm this time, wanting you closer. “What’s your major, sweetheart?” His voice dipped, slow, like he thought he was already halfway there.

“I—I don’t go to school here.”

“No way,” one said. “C’mon. Don’t play—”

“FIU? UM?” Another tossed out. “You totally look like a UM girl… That vibe.”

“Yeah, you party here a lot?” The third cut in, resting his hand on your lower back. You opened your mouth, about to answer, but the girls weren’t having it—one shoved a shot in your hand with a wink.

“Take this,” she whispered. “Quick, before they ask if you live in the dorms.”

You barely caught the glass before a voice cut through the crowd—low, sharp, cold enough to crack ice.

“Baby—”

Everyone turned and there was Rafe. Broad shoulders cutting through the bodies, jaw tight, eyes hard as glass. No smile. No play. Just pure, protective heat rolling off him in waves.

One of the guys let out a short, nervous laugh. “Oh shit. Is this your dad?”

Rafe’s brows pinched tight, nostrils flaring in disgust, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the question as one of the girls gasped, clutching your arm. “Damn, babe, is that your dad?” Her voice, intrigued, way too interested if the answer was ‘yes’.

You were buzzed, breath short, pulse hammering—and when you saw him, the grin just happened. You tilted your head toward Rafe, voice sweet as sugar. “No, hun,” you said, laughing softly. “That’s my husband.” And just like that, the air behind you shifted.

Rafe’s arm came around your waist, hard and fast. No sweet little touch. No show for the crowd. His hand spread on your hip, fingers digging in like even air between you might kill him.

You sank into him without thinking—whole body going soft against his chest. Your heart was thudding, your smile stretching so fast you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

“Damn,” the frat boy grinned, not an ounce of sense left in him. “You’re married to that?” He tipped his chin at Rafe, lifted his fist like he expected a bump.

“Well, fuck me,” another laughed. “You don’t look like a wife.”

“You a mom, baby?” One slurred, loud enough to turn heads—voice slick and drunk. “Shit... That’s even hotter.”

Rafe’s laugh broke out sharp and mean, no warmth in it. “She’s got four,” he said, voice low and sharp enough to cut.

“Well, sweetheart… if you ever get bored—” CRACK. It landed clean, fast, and final.

The frat boy staggered, one hand flying to his cheek, eyes wide—like he’d just been snapped out of a dream he had no business having.

Rafe didn’t follow up the slap. Didn’t move. Just stood there, calm and steady, like he’d barely spent the energy.

“You don’t talk to her again,” he said, voice flat and even. “You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her.”

No threat. No raised voice. Just fact.

He turned to you like none of it mattered. Like the moment was already behind him.

The second his eyes landed on you, something shifted—locked in, grounded. His hand found your waist, pulling you flush to him, thumb dragging slow against your ribs.

“You alright?” He asked, voice low, warm, only for you.

You gave a small nod, still a little dazed, breath catching as it hit you.

“Good,” he murmured.

Then he kissed your temple—slow, steady—his mouth trailing down to your jaw like he needed the reassurance just as much as you did.

His hand found yours next, fingers curling around it gently before he lifted it, slow and deliberate, like showing the world mattered just as much as holding on. The ring caught the light.

“You see this?” He said, voice low and scraped raw. “That means she’s not lookin’. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“We’re sorry—”

“Open your mouth again,” he said, cool and razor-sharp, “it’ll be your last.”

Your breath caught. Your hips shifted instinctively into his hold, body already giving in to him without thinking.

He moved in slow, hand sliding into your hair, mouth brushing your ear. His voice dropped, rough and close. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His hand tightened in your hair—firm and steady—just enough to keep you right there. “And these boys?” He growled, low and rough. “They can sit here all night with their dicks in their hands thinkin’ about you. Won’t change a damn thing.” He dragged his mouth along your jaw, slow. “You’re gonna be in our bed, takin’ every inch of me. Full of me. Understand?”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Just looked up at him—flushed, giddy, heart pounding out of rhythm.

A helpless smile bloomed across your mouth, too soft and full to hide.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, voice breath-worn and thick. “Let’s get you the fuck outta here.”

Ｔｈｅ Ｌｏｅｗｓ Ｍｉａｍｉ Ｂｅａｃｈ Ｈｏｔｅｌ…

The door hadn’t even shut all the way before Rafe had you; arms wrapping around your waist, spinning you so fast your shoulder thudded against the wood—sharp enough to knock a gasp out of you.

And then his mouth collided with yours, stealing whatever breath you had left.

You whimpered, one hand fisting in the front of his shirt like you were trying to hold your ground, the other already in his hair, tugging hard. He groaned into your mouth. Hips pressing into yours, craving the friction.

He groaned deep into your mouth, grinding his hips into you. “Mine,” he muttered, breath hot and jagged against your lips. His forehead dropped to yours, voice shaking as he growled, “You belong to me, you hear me?”

You could barely speak; barely breathe. Every inch of you was aching. “Yours,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Always yours.”

Then you were in the air. Rafe scooped under your thighs, the other braced tight across your back. You gasped, arms flying around his neck, your heart pounding like it was trying to escape your ribs. “Rafe—”

“— Shut up, baby,” he rasped, lips brushing your cheek as he carried you deeper into the room. “Been waitin’ all fuckin’ night.”

Your panties were already soaked, body burning, barely sure you’d even make it to the bed before he took you. But he made it—barely. He carried you through the room, tossed you down, and mounted you in one fluid motion; knee driving into the mattress, his big body looming above you, hands spreading wide across your thighs.

You looked up at him, breath shallow, chest heaving. And Rafe stared back—like he could never get used to seeing you like this, like he’d never be done worshipping you—it stole your breath, cleaned out your lungs.

“All night you just… Fuck, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse and thick, “You sat there all fuckin’ night lookin’ like this. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about your mouth. The taste of you…”

You whimpered, legs falling open on instinct.

“Want you naked,” he said, eyes dark. “Need to see all of you.”

You reached for the hem of your dress but he caught your wrists before you could move; his grip was firm and possessive. “That’s mine to take off.”

You nodded fast; your whole body humming with need as his hand slid slowly up your inner thigh. Rafe paused at the edge of your panties, fingers trapped between skin and lace, tracing just enough to make you tremble.

When he brushed the fabric and you felt him stop; the breath hitched in his chest as he rolled out his neck. “Fuck,” he muttered, eyes locked on the damp spot already bleeding through the fabric. “So damn wet…”

You arched toward his touch, hips shifting like they had a mind of their own.

“M’I teasin’ you, princess?” He asks through a teasing sigh, tracing the wet with his eyes set on yours. You bit your pouted lip, eyes pleading with his. “Hmm… I’ll make you a deal then, yeah? You stop bein’ so wet for me. And, I’ll stop teasin’ you,” he taunts as he peels your panties down slowly—agonizingly so—dragging them over your thighs inch by inch, eyes fixed on every part of you he uncovered. “We both know that ain’t gonna happen,” he mumbles as he tosses them to the floor, his palms coming right back to your skin, sliding up, chasing the heat.

“Arms up,” he murmurs. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

You obey, lifting your arms as your dress bunches higher. Rafe pushes the fabric up slowly, pausing to kiss your stomach; to stroke his tongue along the curve of your breast, savoring every inch. When he finally tugs the dress over your head, and flung it aside, your whole body trembled beneath him.

He sat back on his heels, eyes sweeping down you like he was trying to memorize the way you looked. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his voice raw. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. My girl.”

Then he stood, hands going to the buttons of his shirt. Your mouth went dry.

He caught the look on your face and smirked. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he said in that low, Southern drawl that always got to you. “Wanna watch me undress?”

You nodded, lips parting. “Good girl,” he hummed.

One button. Then another. He yanked his shirt off without thinking, undershirt right after, like he couldn’t get them off fast enough. You watched the whole thing—watched the way his skin caught the light, the way his chest rose with each breath.

He watched you watching him, grin darkening. “Love the way you look at me,” he murmured. “Like you’re starvin’.”

You reached for him, needing to touch something but he just smirked, stepping back a little as he undid his belt with one hand, slow like he had all the time in the world. The leather hit the floor with a low thunk, and you whimpered.

“Can’t even sit still, can you?” He teased, unzipping his pants slow as sin. “Barely even touched you yet.”

Rafe dragged them down, boxers clinging tight, cock already straining. When he pushed them down and stepped out, your breath caught.

Thick, flushed, his cock hung heavy, and you whined at the sight of it. His gaze darkened. He didn’t speak. Just climbed back over you, slow and controlled, body sliding between your thighs like it belonged there.

He bit down gently beneath your jaw, making you arch into him. “How the hell did I get so lucky, huh?” His hand moved up between your legs—fingers slicking through your folds, slow and teasing. You gasped, thighs jerking. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Please—”

His fingers circled your clit, barely brushing, just enough to make you reel. “Not yet,” he breathed. “Gotta be quiet for me, baby.” His mouth brushed your ear. “You remember this is a suite, yeah? Everyone’s asleep. But I know how fuckin’ loud you get when I make you cum.” You nodded quickly, breath ragged, hips twitching. “Can you stay quiet?” He asked, voice like gravel. “Can you be good for me?”

“Yes—Yes, I’ll be good.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, lips at your temple. “You say that now…”

You reached for him again—traced your fingers down his abs, caught the muscles flexing under your touch.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he rasped, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit, watching your body jolt.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asked. “Want this cock?”

“Please,” you gasped. “Rafe, please—I need it—”

He lined himself up—pressing just enough for you to feel the stretch—and held still.

“Eyes on me,” he growled. “Wanna see you fall apart.”

You forced your gaze up, lips parted, eyes wide.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pushing in slow—inch by inch—stretching you open. “So tight, baby. Made for me.”

You sobbed, nails digging into his back as your body fought to take him.

“Shhh,” he whispered, mouth hot at your ear. “You promised me.”

You nodded fast, lips parted, breath held, just trying to be good. Trying so hard not to make a sound.

“That’s it,” he hums, voice low and rough. “You’re doin’ so good. You’re my good girl, remember?”

Another thrust—deep and slow—dragging a choked cry from your throat.

He growled, hips rolling. “You feel that? That’s me, baby. Deep in this perfect little pussy—right where I fuckin’ belong.”

Your body arched, shaking, overwhelmed.

“Please,” you sobbed. “I need—”

“You need it?” He rasped, pace beginning to pick up. “You’ll fuckin’ take it.”

He drove in deep, grinding against your clit, hips slamming again and again.

“Wanna be loud?” He taunted, breath hot against your cheek. “Wanna let ‘em hear? Want every fuckin’ man in this hotel to know who owns you?”

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

“Shhh,” he murmured, gentler now. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Just stay with me.”

You nodded fast—submissive, desperate, right on the edge.

“That’s my girl,” he breathed, driving deeper. “Take it all for me. Let me see how sweet this pussy is.”

Your whole body locked—hips jolting, back arching, your orgasm tearing through you hard and fast.

He felt it—felt your cunt clamp down tight, fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “That’s it. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you.”

He didn’t stop. Just kept fucking you through it. “Wanted this, didn’t you?” He growled. “Wanted me to fill you up?” You sobbed against his palm, overwhelmed. “Take it,” he groaned. “I’m gonna give it to you, baby. Every fuckin’ drop.” Your vision blurred, heat crashing through you in waves. “Gonna fuck a baby into you,” he growled. “Keep you full for days.”

Your walls clenched again, another wave building, sharp and uncontrollable, and Rafe snapped. He groaned loud, hips grinding deep, cock twitching as he spilled into you. “Take it all,” he growled, staying buried, driving so deep your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut. You whimpered, too spent to move, body trembling under him.

His breath came hard against your neck, his voice softening with every second. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “You hear me? Fuckin’ perfect.”

He eased his hand from your mouth to brush your cheek with his thumb as he tilted down and kissed you slow. You kissed him back, never more satisfied, still full of him, clutching onto his body, not wanting to let go.

And he didn’t move—not yet. Just held you open, his cum warm inside you, his voice gentle in your ear. “Gonna keep you like this,” he murmured, smiling against your skin. “Full of me. Just the way I like you.”

You shuddered under him. And in that moment—with his hands on your body, his breath in your ear, and his body still one with yours—you had never felt more his… More Rafe’s.

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