boy mom || rafe cameron · Y/n story by @beebs

The sun was barely up, a soft golden glow bleeding through the curtains of the master bedroom. Somewhere in the house, a crash sounded.

Rafe Cameron

mumbling into the pillow S'fine. He's fine.

Rafe's arm tightened around your waist, his voice thick with sleep, face half-buried in the crook of your neck. He didn't even flinch.

Rafe Cameron

lifting his head just enough to grin at you, eyes still heavy Told you. He's fine. Probably found the pots and pans again.

His hand slid up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing idly along your jawline.

Rafe Cameron

Or the Tupperware. That's his favorite.