My Fav Hayden Christensen Acc Is Deactivated :((

can u make being lee byung hun’s young non-showbiz gf,, but the oc is like rlly rllly prettyyy ( prolly like alexandra saint mleux she’s so gorg) so there are artists/influencers that are trying to hit on her,, but then lbh posted their pics n like hard launched her n stuff to show that she has a bf ??? 😭🥵🤍

MINE | LEE BYUNG-HUN

PAIRING. lee byung-hun x fem!reader

─────౨ৎ─────

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PAIRING: hayden christensen x pregnant!reader

FLUFF ❦

You’re glaring at your own feet like they betrayed you in the worst way imaginable. You felt humiliated, embarrassed and fat. And you swear to anything that's holy, it does not help you with your hormones that give you a true rollercoaster. While you're in your own thoughts, HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN crouched in front of you, big hands working carefully as he looped your shoelaces together. For the first time since your pregnancy you'd actually let him do that. You'd tried to go with sandals, something light, something easy to wear with no tying, zipping and all that shit you had in your closet. But when the pregnancy started to get more and more serious, when your belly was pulling you back from doing basic things, you had to let him help. Otherwise, how were you supposed to go outside, barefooted?

Your lower lip jutted out as you blinked down at him, sniffling softly, quietly. Hayden, of course, noticed immediately, like he always does, pausing after finishing the knot. He looked up at you, blue eyes warm with concern.

“…Sweetheart?”

Your lip instantly wobbled. “I can’t even tie my own shoes anymore.”

His brows lift slightly, lips twitching like he was trying so hard not to smile. “Well, yeah, baby. Kinda hard with that belly in the way.”

You sniffled harder. The audacity “My belly isn't 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 big.”

He exhaled through his nose; amused yet still incredibly soft with a patience of a saint “You’re literally growing a whole human in there, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms, eyes still locked onto his as he kneeled before you. “But I wanted to do it myself, no help required”

Now Hayden definitely couldn't bite down his smile

He sat back on his heels, resting his palms against your knees, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs. “You want me to untie ‘em so you can do it yourself?”

You gasped. “Dont you dare”

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, adam apple visibly moving back and forth against his throat. The melody of it was so full of love you nearly melted into a puddle right then and there.

“Then what’s the problem, baby?” he asked gently, thumbs still stroking your skin.

Your lips twisted into a more advanced pout “Dont wanna talk about it”

Hayden tilted his head, fighting another grin. “You sure?”

You nodded firmly.

“…You sure sure?”

You shot him a weak glare before it completely fell apart, upon to you just sniffling again, reaching for him, arms looping around his neck as you practically collapse into his warm, solid chest.

Hayden had caught you like it was nothing. Like you don’t weigh anything at all. His hands smoothed over your back, voice dropping into that hushed, soothing tone he always uses when you get all teary-eyed over nothing.

“Aw, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Hormones hittin’ you hard today, huh?” to which you just nodded into his neck, sniffling once more. None had really prepared you for such effects of pregnancy; constant mood swings, cravings, visits to the bathroom each five to ten minutes, having trouble sleeping...

He smiled. “You know I don’t mind tying your shoes, right?”

You squeezed him tighter, wanting to be as close as it's possible to him. “its the principle of it.”

Hayden laughed again, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

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Bunny

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

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

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

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

(P2)

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

Another thing broken. 

Another thing they couldn’t afford to fix.

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

“JJ.” 

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

“Not now, Y/N, alright?” 

“JJ, seriously.” 

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“I’ll figure something out, okay?” 

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

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

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

“Uh… yeah, about that…”

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

 “JJ” 

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

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

“Are you serious?”

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

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

“Jesus, Jay. Do you even care?”

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

“Forget it” 

“Y/N—”

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

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

 "Guess I'll figure it out myself."

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

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

She knew that gait all too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really thinks.

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

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

NOW HIRING

This is insane. 

She shouldn’t be here.

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

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

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

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

“Through there. Ask for Tommy.”

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

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

“You lost, sweetheart?”

“I saw you were hiring.”

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

“That so?”

“Yeah. I—I need a job.”

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

“You ever danced before?”

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

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

“You got any experience bartending? Serving?”

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

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

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

“I’m a fast learner.”

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

“Sit.”

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

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

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

“I need the money.”

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

“That part’s obvious.” 

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

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

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

“No,” she says finally. 

“No one’s coming after me.”

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

“Alright, Y/N… I’ll give you a shot.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, thank you.”

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

“One last thing, sweetheart.”

She glances back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, did the money help.

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

JJ :  Staying at John B’s 

JJ  :  See you tmr

JJ  :  Good luck at work!!!

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

Guilt won’t pay the bills.

“Busy night, you think?”

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

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

“Yeah, real lucky.”

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

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

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

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

“Everyone’s in a generous mood hmm.”

 “Looks like it.”

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

“Knock ’em dead, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe Cameron.

And he’s looking right at her.

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

He knows exactly who she is.

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

“You have no idea.”

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

Fucking hell.

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

“Jesus, Tommy.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing- It’s nothing.”

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

“Someone put in a request for you.”

“Who?”

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

“Rafe Cameron.”

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

“Something I should know about?”

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

“—I know” 

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

“But I thought you—”

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

“I—” She clears her throat. 

“It’s fine.”

“Good. He’s waiting.”

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

Watching. 

Waiting.

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

“Hey there, Bunny.”

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

“Cameron” 

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

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you here"

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

But she doesn’t. 

Because she can’t.

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

“ 'ight I’ll leave you to it,” 

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

"No, no—stay man."

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

But this- this is different.

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

Her whole body tenses.

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

"There’s a no-touching policy."

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

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

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

“That so?”

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

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

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

It’s in his nature.

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

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

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

Like he’s enjoying this far too much.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s none of your business.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She likes it.”

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

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

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

He’s close now.

Too close.

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

“I’d be real careful, Bunny”

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

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

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

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

“Open up”

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

“Atta girl”

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

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

But then- she feels it.

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

And Rafe?

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

She’s never hated anyone more in her life.

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

about me!

abby. 8teen. she/her. latina/québécoise. media student.

NAVIGATION: masterlist ⋆ wattpad

BACKUP BLOG: @hollywoodmaneaters

requests!

i am always open for requests but just know that I have a tight school schedule. therefore, I might not always answer them fast enough. you can request whoever you like!!

I usually write reader as a female but you can always request for reader to be male or nonbinary!

side note!

english is not my first language. therefore I ask of you to be kind and if you see any mistakes let me know!

Answer this ― Hayden Christensen

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

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

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

Word count: 2159 words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bunny (P2)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

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

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

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

(P1) (P2)

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

“There’s our favourite girl”

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

 “Oh, no way- what happened?”

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

“That must have been quite the scene.”

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

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

“Is it new?”

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

“You spoil her, sir,” 

“Only because she lets me” 

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

“For keeping us entertained.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That, and you’re a kiss-ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on then”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing to tell, Sof"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Yeah- but I’m fine."

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

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

"Don’t worry about it. Really."

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

"Hey, Jay. Everything okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

"JJ..." 

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

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

"You’re not real."

"So, you’ll help me out?" 

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

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

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

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

"I promise- Thanks!" 

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

“He’s not paying you back.”

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

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

Jesus Christ. 

Are you serious?

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

"What can I get you guys?"

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

"What do you recommend?"

"The menu is right in front of you Thornton"

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

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

"Everything is fine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "You think I cook the food?"

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

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

"Is that all?"

"How about a smile, hmm?" 

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

"Better?"

"Drop the attitude too"

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

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry!" 

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

“What a klutz”

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

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

"Uh, where's mine?"

"I only have two hands" 

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

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

“I need tomato sauce” 

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

 “Actually, I also need ranch.”

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

“Oh, and mayo?” 

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

“Will that be all, Topper?”

“Sure thing babe.” 

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

Just a few more hours. 

Just a few more hours?

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

Rafe.

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

"Are you done with your meals?" 

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

“I’ll get you the bill—”

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

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

“A beer.” 

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

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

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

“Are you gonna apologize for our inconvenience?”

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

“What is this?”

She blinked, “Your beer?”

“Yeah, who the fuck poured this?” 

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

“I don’t pour the drinks—”

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

“Go get me another one.”

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

“This shit is warm. Are you serious?”

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

“Cut the fucking attitude, alright?”

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

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

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

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

 “Or are you too dumb to do that?”

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

She was going to lose her fucking mind.

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

“Oops” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay here?”

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

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

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

“Clean it up, Maybank.”

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

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

“I said, clean it up.”

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

“You want me to call your manager hmm?”

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

Not with the leverage he had over her.

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

She hated him.

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

“Wrong job, princess.”

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

“Go get me my bill”

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

“What’s Rafe got against you?” 

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

And then he turned with that look.

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

Rafe smirked.

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

The total: $150.

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

Drop the attitude, Bunny.

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

$1.00.

Fucking asshole.

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Love, Mum and Dad - Harry, James x reader

summary: Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had. (angst/fluff) wc: 2.8k

Sirius didn’t know if it was the time to give Harry the memory book. The gift you’d planned on building until Harry was 17, when you’d finally give it to him. At James’s bachelor party — a small gathering between him, Sirius, Frank Longbottom and the Prewett twins (You had claimed Remus for your bachelorette), James had excitedly revealed what you’d told him. “She said, I want to start collecting all our memories from when we started dating to make a memory book. A memory book that we can keep making until our future baby is an adult, and then we’ll give it to him.” The boys had all cheered, giving James a few pats on the back. “So apparently she wants us to have a son, and I know exactly what I want to name him.” He had joyfully laughed along with the others, refusing to reveal the name of his future boy, claiming that it’s somehow bad luck.

Now that Harry was actually here at Grimmauld Place, even at the age of 15, Sirius knew he had to give him the book. Sirius knew Harry was insecure, doubting that anyone loved him at all, and especially facing such dark times, he knew Harry could use the love of his parents, a love that had saved his life once before.

Harry was a wanderer, he couldn’t sleep at night, so Sirius was not surprised to find him in his family’s make shift library, scanning through all the outdated titles. Sirius made himself known by clearing his throat from where he stood in the doorway. Harry jumped, spinning around to look at Sirius, who held the memory book in his right hand. Harry’s godfather told him to follow him to a private room, one with a pensieve he hadn’t seen before. “This is from your parents. They wanted to give it to you when you became an adult, but given the circumstances…” Sirius averted his teary gaze as Harry took the book in his hands, flicking through the pages, his breath becoming heavier as he caught glimpses of moving images in the book.

“Each and every memory… Just don’t forget to put them back.” And with that, a teary eyed Sirius left Harry alone. When Harry properly opened the first page of the photo book, he found small tubes with glimmering memories next to each photo. His breath shook. He looked at the first picture.

The first image of you and James had been taken from afar, as though someone had been spying on you. When he released the memory into the pensieve below, he quickly learned that Sirius and Remus had been the ones spying on you, on your first date. Harry had laughed, listening to Sirius constantly narrating everything to a muggle camera he held, watching as he and Remus quickly ran behind people to avoid being seen by you. Harry quickly learned through these memories that not every memory would make him laugh, and that he would actually shed a few more tears than intended.

This next memory was different than all the other celebrations — the anniversaries, the weddings — Harry realised, as he watched you nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. You were in the kitchen of the house you and James had just moved into. It wasn’t decorated yet, with the exception of a single image of you and James on your wedding day. Your entire house was barely furnished, with James taking on all the building due to the growing baby in your belly. Harry jumped up on the counter to watch the scene in front of him unfold. You had a worried crease between your eyebrows, and you leaned back on the counter, staring at the warm batch of cookies you had baked. James walked in front of you with a smile, his arms sliding under your sweater to rest on your small bump — one Harry hadn’t realised was present until James brought it to his attention. Harry hopped off the counter, taking slow steps towards you to admire your baby bump. He tried reaching out to touch it, but his hand went right through you.

“What if they say no James, what if they don’t want to?” You asked worriedly, looking up at James. “Baby,” James started with a chuckle, “They’re going to be the most excited people on earth.” You huffed doubtfully, a small pout on your lips that James happily pressed his lips to. “James.” You muttered, but before your new husband could reply, the front door slammed open. “Honey, I’m home!” Sirius loudly called, causing you and James to laugh, though you had clear distress laced in your voice. “I really don’t know why we keep apparating outside your front door when we just end up barging in anyway.” Sirius announced as he walked into the kitchen. “Oh hey, cookies!”“I for one, suggested to knock.” Clarified Remus as he followed his boyfriend into the room. James moved from where he stood in front of you so that your best friends could see you.

James tutted, snatching the plate of freshly bakes cookies from the table just as Sirius reached out to take one, causing the boy to frown. “In the living room.” The two boys went silent, Sirius running a hand through his hair as Remus nervously tugged on the sleeves of his sweater. James gestured to the door, letting the boys wander out so that he could wrap his free arm around your waist, tugging you close to his side to kiss your cheek.

Harry eagerly followed you all into the living room, which he noticed looked painfully bare. It looked like something that was becoming a family’s first home, though it wasn't quite there yet. There were so many pictures laid out on the coffee table, empty picture frames stacked beside them. In a corner of the room, tools were scattered on the floor, wooden parts and instructions beside them. Harry theorised that it might be a crib in the making.

“Okay, sit down, have a cookie.” You said, hands clasped in front of you. You took in a deep breath as Remus and Sirius both cautiously reached for a cookie, watching as James hugged you from behind, his hands snaking around your waist to rest on your stomach. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and decided to take initiative when you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. “So you guys know we’re having a baby.” The two boys nodded, and Harry watched closely as Sirius put a hand on Remus’s thigh. “We want you guys to be the godparents!” You squeaked loudly, physically cringing as you revealed the information.

“Shut up!” Sirius screamed, immediately jumping up on his feet with a giant smile on his face as he ran up to hug you. James threw his hands up in the air jealously, watching his best friend hug his wife, and accepting the hug Remus offered him. “This is what you baked cookies for?” Remus asked with a smile when he let go of James to wrap his arms around you tightly. You nodded, tears filling your eyes, and Remus pulled you close to his chest as you sniffled. “So is that a yes?” Your question was immediately answered by the two boys, with Sirius saying “This calls for drinks!” before apologising profusely as he immediately realised that you could, in fact, not drink. This time when you laughed at his words, it was genuine.

Harry was smiling widely, desperate to join in on the shared hugs when he took notice of the lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow. Not wanting to cry, the teenager left the memory, returning it to its glass tube before putting the next one in the pensieve.

This time, Harry is somewhere new. Somewhere he’s never been before. A warm house, with a similar atmosphere to the Burrow. There’s bustling energy, and a special kind of joy in the air. The only person Harry recognises in the room is Sirius, who leads a woman into the living room of the house with an arm familiarly thrown over her shoulder. The woman looks like someone he knows, but he can’t tell who. It’s only when the mysterious woman is led towards an unknown man that it clicks for Harry. His father is the spitting image of the man in front of him, and therefore, so is he. “Oh Euphemia, I can’t believe we’re meeting our grandbaby.” The man says, hugging his wife tightly. The pair doesn’t look nearly old enough to have grandchildren, they barely look like they’re in their 40s. Someone comes in from the garden door, saying “I’ve picked the apples for you Mrs. Potter, is there anything else I can do?” But she only thanks Remus, who's wrapped in countless warm layers of clothing, asking him to put the apples in the kitchen.

There’s two soft knocks on the front door, and the entire room goes silent as James’s parents rush to open the door. James shyly smiles at them, his arm protectively wrapped around your side. Euphemia immediately bursts into tears when her eyes land on you and your newborn baby, only a few days old. Fleamont wraps his arms around his son, who instantly begins crying like his mother, and Remus ushers you into the house, closing the door behind you to protect you from the chilly weather. Euphemia wants to hug you, but she's too busy wiping her tears away as she asks questions about your health and delivery, making sure you’re okay. You nudge your husband’s side, and he happily takes Harry from your arms, showing him off to the other three men in the room.

Euphemia hugs you tightly before leading you to sit down and instantly handing you some tea. She lets the men rave over the little baby boy, but she’s concerned for the new mother's health. It doesn’t take long for James to come back to your side carrying Harry in his arms, and he takes his mother’s place next to you on the couch. He doesn’t let anyone hold Harry, too happy to finally be able to hold him himself after you've spent nine months doing so. Present Harry walks across the room, between Sirius and his grandfather, over the gifts on the floor and past his beautiful grandmother to sit on the arm of the couch next to you. He looks at his young sleeping figure, only born days ago, and knows how much he is loved. By his parents, grandparents, godparents, and all your friends and family.

And he knows it’s too much. All Harry ever wanted was for his parents to be alive, and the thought of the life he could be living with them right now makes him feel as though his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He would do anything to be back in that position again: in his parents’ arms, a joyful family around him. He didn’t even need his grandparents there; you two would have been enough.

Harry needs to take a moment for himself when he finally breaks away from his memory. He leans on a table for support, taking in heaving breaths as he sobs and sobs, tears dripping on the ground. The small glass tube containing the memory rolls onto the floor and Harry dives to catch it, holding it close to his chest as pain runs through his entire body. These memories should have made him happy, he thinks, so why do they hurt so much? Harry gasps for oxygen, trying to urge his panic and sadness away, trying to turn it into happiness for the things he had, for the love he still has. Slowly, he pushes himself off the ground, moving all the way to the last page of your memory book and taking out the corresponding tube.

When Harry is sucked into the pensieve again, the atmosphere has completely changed. He’s located back at home again, in Godric’s Hollow, where you and James had built your forever home. The sole sight of the homey and safe atmosphere has tears clouding Harry’s vision again, but his feet bring him further down the entryway and into the living room of your house. The first thing Harry does is take in the sight of the decorated house, made to look like his very own heaven. The lighting is warm, photos of family and friends hung up on the wall next to the fireplace. The room is filled with plants, and a small crib was placed next to an armchair. And here you are: sat there with James on the couch, sharing a passionate kiss. The moment is intimate, with your legs tangled up and James’s hand cupping your jaw, but Harry can’t bring himself to look away from you. “James.” He hears you mumble in the kiss, eyes fluttering open as you let James’s familiarity envelop you. “My sweetheart.” James echoes, his eyes still shut as he immerses himself in the moment.

Harry gulps loudly, harshly wiping a tear off his cheek as he watches his dad’s eyes slowly open, a wide smile forming on his face when he finds your eyes already on him. You laugh softly as your husband kisses you again, but you instantly pull away from him, eyes going wide with alert. Harry frowns, his expression matching his father’s, and that’s he he hears it: the soft padding of feet on the floor, and a quiet call of “Mama?” Harry’s eyes are instantly glued to his younger self, appearing around the corner on wobbly feet.

Your body runs past him in a flash, travelling across the living room on quick feet to kneel in front of your son. Young Harry makes grabby hands at you, and you immediately scoop him up in your arms, speaking to him in a soft whisper. “What’s wrong sweetheart? You hungry?” You ask, cradling him in your arms. Young Harry makes an incomprehensible noise, and Harry laughs in adoration. He has to be a year or two in this memory. Harry glances back to where James now stands up, walking over to his family, where he wraps his arms around both of you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Think he’s hungry.” You tell your husband, who hums, leading you to the couch to sit down. James helps you pull your jumper up just enough for baby Harry to latch on to your breast, humming in innocent satisfaction. You smile down at him, running a hand through his soft short hair. James carefully wraps an arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as you blink tiredly. Harry stares at the perfect image of the family in front of him, and soon enough, realises he’s not the only one crying. James is sniffling next to you, taking in shaky breaths in a poor attempt not to disturb you or baby Harry. You lift your head off your husband’s shoulder to look up at him, and smile lovingly at him, a hand lifting off the back of Harry’s head to wipe at James’s tears. “James.” You whisper, and he instantly opens his mouth, voice breaking as he says “I love you both so, so much.” And his words have a sob wracking out of present Harry’s chest.

He floats out of the memory just as you bring James into a short kiss, the sight of him being loved by his parents the last thing he sees before finding himself standing at the foot of the pensieve again. Harry shuts the memory book, closing his eyes tightly — it’s enough for one lonesome night. But something catches his attention as his hand rests on the back of the book. An odd texture under his fingertips, forming crevices into the leather. Harry’s eyes flutter open, and he notices a gold engraving into the book. Engravings that form letters, words. A note.

Dear Harry,

You’re finally an adult!!! You can do anything you ever wanted, even without our permission. And move out if we’re too annoying sometimes, though that feels wrong to write with you sitting in front of us as a little baby boy. We just wanted you to know that no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, we’ll always support you and be here for you. And not just us, everyone in this book, everyone who forms your family.

We love you so much Harry, and even though you’re all grown now, you’ll always be our baby, just like in these first memories.

Love,

Mum and Dad

To say the least, Harry doesn't sleep that night.

Ive never related to a song more than this one.

HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE ┆ meeting reader ✶

❝ not all quite there . . .

. . . crazy with a wrench ❞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More teen!dean please ?

⋆˙⟡ milkshakes & car dates,

summary. skipping school with dean is always a great idea

pairing. teen!dean winchester x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 895

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

The school day drags like wet paint.

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

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

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

You nearly drop your pencil.

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

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

And honestly? You are.

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

And weirdly… you kind of think he means it.

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

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

Your girl. Your stomach flips.

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

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

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

“No I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I had fun,” you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Best. Shake. Ever,” he says.

“You didn’t even finish it.”

He grins wider. “Didn’t need to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

He smirks. “Not if I see you first.”

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