#rafe headcanons

– blue collar!rafe who… is always using your nail glue to seal up the bad cuts he gets at work. won’t go to urgent care, won’t let it “air out,” just grabs the pink bottle that he keeps in his truck. you surprise him one day—show up with his lunch, catch him mid-squeeze, glue sealing a split across his palm. he barely looks up, flexes his bleeding hand, and says, “ain’t that what it’s for?”

– bluecollar!rafe who… has hands that are always rough, calloused, and covered in fresh cuts—dirt under his nails, knuckles scabbed from who knows what. you wince every time you take them in, but he just shrugs, flexing his fingers like it’s no big deal. “just means i’m gettin’ work done,” he always tells you. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… is quietly saving cash in the safe to buy land and build your dream home. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… constantly brags about his “old lady” even though you are much younger than him and it makes you frown. “don't matter,” he says, mouth full of your homemade dinner. “you keep the house runnin’. I ain't got shit without you.”

– bluecollar!rafe who… never lets you take your car to the shop. check engine light? car making funny noises? he pulls codes with a handheld scanner he swears paid for itself. oil change? brake pads squealing? he’s already outside in the garage, sleeves rolled up, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, “why the hell would you pay some guy when you've got me, huh?” slamming the hood shut like it's personal. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… always leaves nails, screws, folded receipts, and random bills in every pocket. when you fish out a crumpled $50, it goes straight into your pocket. 

– bluecollar!rafe who… keeps a jar in the laundry room labeled “Rafe’s Hardware Fund”. and one day you're just so overstimulated you throw it out. he doesn’t say anything at first, just walks in, opens the empty shelf, and stares at it. “you seen my jar?” you don’t respond. his argument? “those were perfectly good roofing nails in there. You tryna sabotage me, sweetheart?”

– bluecollar!rafe who… doesn't give a damn about OSHA’s safety guidelines. you’ve given up lecturing him about safety gear—he just smirks, “baby, I’ve been doin’ this shit forever. OSHA ain’t gonna tell me how to work.” 

thank you to @cherrywriterrr and @moondustbaby who inspired me to obsess over bluecollar!rafe. and thank you to the blue-collar loser i was engaged to for 2 years for inspiring most of these (i hope you have the day you deserve. which hopefully is terrible!)

tagging my baby girl @rafesbabygirlx

You gave his forearm several taps as you both approach the classroom's door. Rafe, though still sulking, put on a charming smile and one last deep breath. He was tense, you could feel it. Oddly enough, more tense than he usually is before business meetings. On the contrary, you were such at ease, rocking on your heels just a bit out of excitement at this chance.

"Okay... Don't forget to smile!" You practiced your cheerful tone.

Rafe's words came out in a mutter, "I fuckin' am."

Your smile falters just a bit, shooting him a warning glare. "And wipe off the attitude." You said before putting the smile back on as the door in front of you opens.

The moment the homeroom teacher left the two of you in the room with all the kids, Rafe only got more tense, nudging your back a tad bit as if signaling you to take the lead in talking, coughing a bit and darting his eyes away from the kids and to the ceilings as if the spider web on the corner was more interesting. He was such a pathetic coward outside of the business world, you might as well smooch him on the spot.

Then, both Rafe's and your eyes met your daughter's, who was sitting close to the back, standing up and waving both of her cute arms at you two, "Mommy! Daddy!" She cheered before sitting back down and bragging to her friends that you were her parents.

You spot Rafe's shoulders relax, a wide, happy smile appearing on his face as well as yours.

A small laugh escapes your throat, "Morning, everyone." You greeted them with waves, "As you can already tell, we are... izzy's parents." You shot Izzy a wink as you pat Rafe's shoulder, "And today... we will be your teachers."

Rafe didn't know what you had in plan for today nor what you had in the large paper bag you've been carrying all the way from home, but he surely didn't expect you to pull out two large sturdy wood boards out of it.

"Today, we're making ocean dioramas!" You cheerfully announced, smiling even wider when all the kids started jumping around in excitement while several others asked to their friends; "what's a diramama?"

Rafe chuckled softly, seeing how happy you were to know the kids were excited. Then, his smile dropped when you added, "We'll be splitting into two teams! Mine and Izzy's daddy's! Let's see who can make it better."

"What?" He uttered out, grabbing your arm with wide, panicked eyes. "I love you, but no."

"Scared?" You taunted and smirked, "Loser cooks dinner tonight."

He let out a scoff, a small grin on his lips despite being frustrated, clearly amused by your playfulness as always. "Game on, gorgeous."

So you spent the next hour doing precisely that, in that same classroom. The class was divided into two, your team taking the space in front of the classroom while Rafe's team, which includes Izzy, was all the way in the back, his eyes never stopped darting towards your team, hoping to see you looking back at him and realize he needed help, only to find you completely in your own world with the kids.

There you were, smiling and happily braiding a little girl's hair just so her hair wont get in the way while painting the diorama. He could hear so many of them giggle every now and then, sounding completely infatuated by you.

Despite being stressed out, he still found the sigh of you being so motherly even to children that weren't yours to be very... heartwarming.

"Mr. Cameron?"

He snapped out of it, eyes flickering to the little boy that have scooted closer to him on the floor, holding an adorable little paper fish in his hands and happily presenting it to him, wide smiled with several teeth missing.

Rafe's eyes soften, chuckling lowly. "That's really good, buddy... Here, let me help you put it on the diorama." He said, taking the fish gently.

"Mr. Cameron, what d'you do...?"

The man pauses, still trying to put the fish onto the diorama. "Like for work?" He asked, glancing back at the boy to find him nodding enthusiastically, "Well... I run and manage a development company." He explained, "We uh build and develop homes." Rafe smiled.

The little boy's eyes lit up, "So you must be rich, sir!"

It was only when a little girl chime into the conversation did he realize his whole team was listening into it, "Mrs. Cameron must be very lucky and happy all the time!" The little girl said.

Rafe let out a gentle laugh, cheeks warming up as he glance at you again, "Yeah, kiddo?" He smiled sheepishly, "Well, I'd say I'm the lucky one." He said, "Mrs. Cameron is way more than what you see. She's responsible for all of my happiness and success. A lucky charm. A really really cool lucky charm."

Izzy raises an eyebrow at her dad, who didn't even notice she was spreading a thin layer of glitter glue on the back of his hand. "Daddy, you called her scary last week."

He shot a playful warning glare at Izzy, "Scarily amazing, sweetie, keep up." He poked her nose and turned back to the other kids listening, specifically the boys as he say, "So, boys... when you grow up, choose a woman like Mrs. Cameron, yeah? No matter how wealthy you get, a woman like her is the true treasure." He explained, grinning proudly at himself.

A boy let out a hum as he think, "So... Like Izzy?"

"No."

On the other side of the classroom, your team was doing perfectly well at creating the diorama, already on finishing touches. The kids were adding more elements to make the diorama much more alive while you were helping on painting the background, successfully capturing the ocean ambiance.

"Mrs. Cameron, you're very good at painting." The little girl sitting beside you said, smiling sweetly as she glued a seaweed onto the base of the diorama.

You return her smile, chuckling, "Why thank you, sweetie. I must say, I can never make a whale as good as you did though." You pointed to the clay whale she had made previously.

The girl giggled softly before gasping when she saw your manicured nails, "Whoa... Cool nails, Mrs. Cameron!"

"Thanks!" You laughed softly, "I did them myself."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up, before dimming yet again, "I wish I could... Even if I could, my mommy wouldn't let me..."

Your heart softens at her pouty face, "Well... your pretty face will outshine your nails either way." You smiled and mover her bangs to a better position.

The smile returns to her face, turning her head away as she giggled softly yet again, flattered by your words. "You know, Mrs. Cameron... I know a secret." She said, looking at you with enthusiastic eyes as she lean up to whisper into your ear, "I know Mr. Cameron loves you very very much... He have been looking here again and again..." She whispered.

As she lean back and continue her work giddily, you raise your eyebrows in amusement and stifle a laugh as you glance over at Rafe's team to seek for confirmation, eyes immediately meeting his- to which he reacted to by quickly turning away and helping the kids.

As the day ended, you ended up with glitter all over your hair from some of the kids that were playing, while Rafe had paint on his pants- done when he accidentally wiped off his hands on his thighs out of reflex. The two of you walk behind Izzy towards your parked car in the school's parking lot, arms linked together once again as you try to peel off the glitter glue Izzy had previously spread across Rafe's hand, trying to get them all of in one go for your satisfaction.

"I'm telling you, our diorama had a meaning." Rafe grumbled out, "Your team's just artsy and perfectionist." He complained to the fact that the classroom had all mutually agreed that your team had the best diorama.

"Rafe, I told you, I'll still cook dinner. No one wants to eat your cooking anyways."

"Ouch- OUCH!" Rafe yanked his hand away when you rip the dried out glue off roughly.

Laughter erupts from both you and Izzy, amused by Rafe's typical frustrated face: eyebrows sewn together and his lips in that disgusted scowl.

"Calm down, princess." You teased as you take his arm in yours again, rubbing the back of his hand with your fingers to soothe the pain, still snickering quietly. "You'll live."

Rafe looked at you, silent for awhile before letting out a deep and dreamy sigh. He leaned in a bit before he started whispering, "You were really good with the kids today." He whispered, smiling, "Maybe we can make-"

"We're not making more."

Rafe let out a short sigh, "Worth the try."

----

"Come on, baby. Just once. Just let me feel you."

It had been Rafe's favorite thing to beg for since the start of your relationship. His obsession. His mission.

Every time he had you underneath him, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his hands gripping at your waist or your wrists or your throat—he'd ask. He'd plead. He'd run his lips over your ear, whispering filthy promises about how good it would feel, how much better it would be, how you’d never want to go back.

And every time, you told him no.

You liked making him work for it. You liked the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip got tighter, the way his frustration seeped into every rough thrust. Because Rafe Cameron didn’t lose, and telling him no? That made him desperate to win.

But tonight?

Tonight, you felt mean.

Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night, the way his hands had barely left your body, like he was starving. Maybe it was the way he pulled you onto his lap the second you got to his house, hands palming your ass, lips dragging along your jaw. Maybe it was the way you wanted to ruin him.

So, when he kissed you breathless and muttered against your lips, "Please, baby, just once," you smirked.

"Fine."

Rafe froze. His pupils dilated so fast you thought he might pass out. His lips parted, brows pulling together like he was trying to process what he just heard.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "You heard me."

And then?

He lost his fucking mind.

The second his cock pressed inside, with nothing in between, he let out a sound you’d never heard before. Like an actual, feral groan, deep in his chest, his body shuddering against yours as he bottomed out.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping his head to your shoulder. His hands gripped your thighs like he wanted to bruise them, like he needed to ground himself. "Fuck. You feel—Jesus."

His breath was hot against your neck, his whole body shaking with restraint. Like he wanted to ruin you, but he was trying—failing—to keep himself together.

"You good?" you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

Rafe let out a low, humorless laugh before he pulled back to look at you. His blue eyes were dark, wild, possessive.

"Oh, baby," he rasped, voice dripping with something dangerous. His hand slid up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat, tilting your chin up. "You just fucked up."

Rafe didn’t move for a second. He just stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him. Like he was already dreading the moment he had to pull out.

“Holy shit,” he rasped, voice all shaky and breathless.

You smirked, just a little, running your hands up his arms. “What? You’re not gonna punk out on me, are you?”

That snapped something in him.

Rafe let out a choked laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way he gripped your waist. “You think I’m gonna tap out? Oh, baby.” His fingers dug into your skin, holding you down. “I’m just trying not to bust the second I move.”

You laughed, but the sound cut off when he rolled his hips—just once, slow, deep.

His whole body shuddered. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing into yours, his jaw clenching like he was physically fighting his own body.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts, and his grip on you only got tighter. “Oh my God, this is—this is so much better—”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, dragging your nails up his back. “C’mon, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “I thought you were dying for this. Don’t tell me you can’t handle it.”

That did it.

Rafe’s hands jerked your hips up, making you gasp, making you feel just how hard he was struggling to keep it together.

“You love running that mouth, don’t you?” he gritted out, glaring down at you. “Think you’re so fucking funny.”

You smirked up at him, dragging your fingers through his hair. “You begged for this, Cameron. If you can’t handle it, just say so.”

That was the final straw.

Rafe let out a sharp breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still talking, still teasing him when he was this close to fucking losing it.

“Okay,” he muttered, half to himself, like he was officially done playing nice. His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you into the mattress, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes when he said—

“Don’t fucking move.”

Then, he pulled out—all the way—before slamming back in, forcing a gasp from your lips as he stretched you again.

Rafe let out a broken groan, his body shuddering as he tried—tried—not to let it get the best of him. But you were so tight, so fucking warm, and there was nothing, nothing, in between.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Baby, I swear to God, I can’t—”

You laughed, breathless. “Already?”

His grip tightened around your throat in warning. “Shut up,” he muttered, voice shaking.

You did, but only because you were too distracted by the way he was trembling above you, holding himself back, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw popped.

You could feel how desperate he was. You could see the way his abs tensed, his muscles flexing as he fought for every ounce of self-control he had.

He wanted to ruin you. He needed to.

But he was so close, and it was killing him.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, glaring down at you. “I hate you,” he muttered, his voice all breathless and wrecked.

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

And then, you moved. Just a little. Just enough to make him jerk inside you, to make his whole body seize up.