bsf step bro!rafe & stepbro!topper x oc!reader jia.
TW : horror, gore, violence, smut, overprotective rafe & topper, pet names : rafe & topper calls jia "angel", a bit of age gap ( topper & rafe are 19 & jia’s 17 ), harassment, murder, langage, slut shaming, use of drugs & alcohol, mature content, inspired by Scream.
Summary : Going from a Pogue to a Kook was weird. Having Topper Thornton as a stepbrother was even weirder. But nothing compared to the murders that started spreading across Outer Banks after Jia moved to Figure Eight and the dangerous attention from Rafe Cameron.
when jia found out that her mother was seeing a kook, she was shocked. but when, only a few months later, she learned they were getting married — and that she’d have to move to figure eight — jia didn’t know whether to be angry, disgusted, or just numb. because no, to her, this wasn’t some new “opportunity.” it wasn’t a step up. it was a betrayal.
she was leaving everything behind — her friends, her neighborhood, her world. most of all, she was leaving lia, her best friend since forever, the only person who truly got her. and for what? to live surrounded by the same people who used to sneer at her when she passed by their side of the island?
jia hated figure eight. she hated those fucking kooks who lived there — their perfect lawns, their shiny cars, their empty smiles. all they cared about was money, reputation, and how many people they could fuck before the weekend was over. it was disgusting. they weren’t real people. they were masks.
and now, somehow, she was supposed to become one of them.
her relationship with topper was… strange, she guessed.
she wouldn’t say she saw him as a brother — not really — but she liked him. more than she expected to. he wasn’t like the others. he wasn’t shallow, or arrogant, or cruel just for the fun of it. he was just… himself. honest, a little messy, the kind of guy who didn’t care what people thought. maybe that’s what made him different.
sometimes, jia wondered if she was just seeing what he wanted her to see — if the kindness was a mask, the easy smiles another kook performance. but whenever he looked at her, it didn’t feel fake. it felt real. and that scared her a little. because with topper, she felt safe.
no one had ever made her feel that before. not even her mom, not really. with topper, it was like the world slowed down. like the noise of figure eight faded when he was around.
from topper’s side ? it was simple — he adored her.
he loved having a little sister. fragile, delicate, and soft-spoken, yet with a spark in her eyes that made her impossible to ignore. jia didn’t talk much, but when she did — especially when she laughed — it was like something inside topper loosened.
she was so different from everyone else in figure eight. there was no performance with her, no fake smiles, no competition for attention. she was quiet, observant, and real. topper had grown up surrounded by people who wore masks — friends who only cared about status, parties, or who they were seen with. but jia… jia was genuine. and maybe that’s why he wanted to protect her so badly.
he wanted to be one of the people who made her smile, one of the reasons she felt safe here. he liked the way she relaxed around him, the way she trusted him enough to share little things about her old life — about her best friend lia, about how she missed the sound of the ocean from the pogue side, about her father who left.
he wanted to tell her she didn’t have to miss any of it anymore. that he’d take care of her now.
sometimes, when she fell asleep on the couch next to him, topper would just watch her for a while — the rise and fall of her chest, the soft rhythm of her breathing. he’d pull a blanket over her body carefully, almost afraid to wake her. he didn’t know when it started feeling like more than just brotherly affection. maybe it was that moment when they were both sitting on the still-warm sand of the beach after midnight, and she confessed that she felt safe when she was with him.
maybe that was the moment something in him shifted. because after that, every time he looked at her, he felt it — a pull, quiet but constant, like gravity itself was trying to keep them close. and he didn’t know how to resist.
and he knew he wasn’t the only one caught in this mess.
the day he introduced jia to his closest friends, he hadn’t expected that reaction — least of all from rafe cameron. rafe, who hated pogues with every fiber of his being. rafe, who used to sneer at girls like jia, calling them boring, stuck up bitches, and not worth a second glance.
and yet, the moment rafe saw her — really saw her — something in him shifted. it wasn’t curiosity. it wasn’t attraction. it was something far more dangerous. because rafe wasn’t just interested in jia. he was obsessed.
not in the sweet, movie kind of way — not flowers, not love notes, not nervous smiles. no. his obsession was sharp and possessive, the kind that made your skin crawl once you realized you were being watched.
topper noticed it immediately — the way rafe’s gaze lingered on her too long, too often. the way his voice dropped whenever he said her name, like it meant something sacred. the way he’d always find a reason to be near her, to talk to her, to touch her.
at first, topper thought it was just rafe being rafe — another girl, another game. but this wasn’t the same. jia wasn’t another girl. and rafe wasn’t playing this time.
topper didn’t know whether he should stop him… or let him. because part of him understood. jia had that kind of quiet magic — the kind that slipped under your skin and stayed there. the kind that made even someone like rafe cameron lose control.
he watched when rafe made jia laugh — that soft, genuine laugh that always made both of them smile without meaning to. he watched the way rafe’s hand would settle protectively on the small of her back when they walked her to the front of her school, as if he was silently warning the world to stay away. he watched how rafe’s eyes followed her when she was doing something, completly in her little world, tracing every move she made like he was memorizing her.
and jia, completely unaware, just kept being herself. her laughter, her quiet voice, her kindness — it all fed into something rafe couldn’t control anymore. he knew rafe would never admit it, but jia had become the only thing that calmed him down and the only thing that made him lose his shit. she was his favorite drug — and rafe was an addict who didn’t want to get clean.
topper kept telling himself that rafe wouldn’t cross a line. that he was just… protective. but deep down, he knew better. and topper wondered how long it would take before rafe snapped.
because if anyone hurt jia, or even made her cry…
he wasn’t sure who would spill blood first — him who swore he’d protect her or his best friend, who swore he’d probably kill someone if he ever saw even a hint of sadness on her face.
jia hadn’t told anyone. not about the constant whispers that followed her through the hallways, not about the looks that burned holes in her back every time she walked by. ever since she’d become a “kook,” everything had changed — the way people looked at her, the way they spoke her name like it was an insult instead of a person.
she hated this school. she called it a prison sometimes, or “that shitty school,” half-joking but always meaning it. the students there didn’t see her as one of them. to them, jia was just a poor pogue who got lucky — a girl whose mom married rich. a girl who didn’t belong.
the rumors only grew worse with time. they called her names when they passed her in the hallways. they whispered about her mother, called her a gold digger. they shoved her into lockers, laughed when her books fell. sometimes they’d hiss words like whore or pogue trash just loud enough for her to hear.
jia pretended she didn’t care — she’d smile, straighten her uniform, keep walking like it didn’t sting. but it did. it stung so deeply it left marks no one could see. every word, every push, every cruel laugh pressed heavier and heavier against her chest until breathing felt like a chore.
they sat on the beach one night, far from figure eight’s glowing mansions, the waves dark and restless under the moonlight. jia hugged her knees to her chest, still in her uniform, tears slipping softly on her cheeks. lia didn’t interrupt — she just listened, eyes soft, heart breaking.
“they make me feel like i don’t belong anywhere,” jia whispered, her voice trembling. “like i’m not a pogue anymore, but i’ll never be a kook either. i’m just… nothing.”
lia reached out, brushed a tear off her cheek. “you’re not nothing, jia. you’re the only real person in that whole damn place.”
jia smiled weakly at that, but her eyes stayed on the horizon — where the sky met the sea, endless and empty.
lia knew her best friend trusted her. but she couldn’t just sit there and watch those fucking kooks tear jia apart, piece by piece. she couldn’t watch them destroy her, not when jia had already been through enough.
so she made herself a promise — she’d talk to topper.
if only lia knew how far things would go. if only she knew that soon, the ones who called jia nothing would start disappearing, one by one.
dressed in a short denim shorts and a black hoodie pulled over her head, lia stood in front of the thornton house — her eyes wide as she took it all in. the place was huge. the kind of house you only saw in magazines or on tv. clean, perfect, expensive. and to think jia lived here now.
she exhaled slowly, trying to steady her nerves. she just needed to talk to topper. that was it. five minutes, maybe ten. she prayed it would be him who opened the door — not jia’s mom, not his father ready to question what a pogue was doing on his precious porch.
with a deep breath, she pressed the doorbell. the sound echoed through the house, far too loud for her liking. she shifted on her feet, glancing around nervously. every second that passed made her more aware of where she was — out of place, unwanted, exposed. the last thing she needed was for someone from figure eight to see her here and start talking.
she didn’t want the same rumors that haunted jia to start following her too.
and then, the door opened. lia froze, lips parted.
a young man stood in front of her — messy hair, naked chest and glistening with sweat, his breathing uneven like he’d just finished working out. his blue eyes met hers, puzzled but sharp. it took her half a second to realize who he was.
she recognized him instantly. she’d spent the summer working part-time at his family’s property, trimming hedges, mowing the lawn, pretending not to notice the kooks lounging by the pool while she tried to earn enough money to help her parents. she’d seen him a few times back then — always surrounded by people, laughing, confident, untouchable. she doubted he’d remember her face.
but now, here he was, standing right in front of her, sweat still rolling down his neck, looking at her like he was trying to place where he’d seen her before.
“uh… can i help you?” his voice was rough, still heavy with breath.
lia hesitated, pulling her hood a little lower. “yeah, hum.. i’m jia’s best friend.. lia. ”
topper raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. his eyes scanned her from head to toe, making her even more nervous. "lia, huh ? yeah, i remember.. she told me about you."
lia smiled faintly, her eyes dropping on his toned forearms before remembering why she was there. yeah, topper was handsome — more than handsome, actually. the kind of guy who looked like he was built from every bad decision a girl could make. his toned chest, the veins running down his forearms, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. but she couldn’t let herself think like that. she was a pogue.
why would he be interested in a girl like her?
so she cleared her throat and forced her gaze away from his body. “well i needed to talk to you.. it’s about jia. ” she said, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be.
his expression changed instantly. the casual look vanished, replaced by something sharper. concern. maybe even fear. he glanced past her shoulder, checking the street before stepping aside.
“come in,” he said quietly.
lia swallowed hard and stepped inside, her sneakers brushing against the spotless floor. the air smelled like pine and money — too clean, too perfect.
as the door shut behind her, the noise of the outside world disappeared. and for the first time that day, lia wasn’t sure if coming here had been a good idea. topper’s sudden voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “come with me,” he said, his voice still rough and slightly tired now.
lia nodded, still nervous as she followed him toward the living room. topper grabbed a shirt from the back of the couch and pulled it on quickly, the scent of sweat and cologne lingering in the air. he motioned for her to sit, but lia stayed standing, her fingers twisting the edge of her hoodie pocket.
"jia’s not okay." lia cut him off, her voice shaking slightly. she lifted her gaze to topper, waiting for him to say something, but he just watched her, emotionless, waiting for her next words. she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “she’s being bullied… at her school. the kooks hate her. or maybe they’re just jealous of her… what i mean is they’re making her life a living hell and i can’t just stand here doing nothing. she needs help, topper, and i know you can help her—”
"who ?" he asked finally, his tone sharp and bitter.
lia swallowed hard, trying to remember the names jia had given her. only a few had stuck, but they lingered in her mind like small, sharp reminders. the memory of jia sitting on the sand that night, cheeks streaked with tears, hit her again.
“there’s this blonde everyone loves… madison clarke,” jia had said. “she’s like… the american dream or something. but she’s awful, and no one sees it.”
“then there’s that freaking creep, james smith. he tried to touch me without my consent, but a teacher saw him, so he backed off…”
lia cleared her throat. “madison clarke and james smith. i don’t think they’re the only ones, but those are the ones she talked about.”
topper’s jaw tightened. his blue eyes darkened, storming with something lia couldn’t name at first. anger? disbelief? something deeper, sharper, like a blade barely restrained. he ran a hand over his face, shaking his head slowly.
“madison clarke and james smith,” he muttered, almost to himself. "gonna fucking kill them.."
"what ?" lia said, furrowing.
topper lifted his head toward her, letting out a sigh as he started to think. “nah, nothing, it’s just.. she didn’t tell me any of that,” he muttered finally. “not a word.”
“of course she didn’t,” lia said quietly. “that’s what she does. she hides it. she doesn’t want to look weak or to worry someone.”
topper’s eyes met hers again — cold, unreadable, but full of something heavy. “and you came here alone to tell me that?”
lia hesitated. “yeah. i had to.”
he nodded slowly, stepping closer. “you did the right thing.”
but the way he said it — calm, low, too steady — sent a chill down her spine. because he was standing too close now.
their breaths mingled in the small space between them, heavy and uneven. lia’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to speak, to ask something, but the words never came.
topper’s smile was faint, teasing, almost unreadable. he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “you’re brave,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, not gentle in the slightest. “coming to figure eight… walking into a world full of men like me.”
lia’s chest tightened, her heartbeat stuttering in her throat. she felt her gaze drop involuntarily to his lips, the way they moved with that quiet confidence, and a tremor ran through her body. “what do you mean…?” she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear.
topper’s smile widened just a fraction, enough to make her stomach knot. then, without another word, he gripped the back of her neck, pulling her in with a strength that was almost violent. his lips crushed against hers.
lia froze for a split second, shock and heat coursing through her. her mind screamed, this is wrong, he’s jia’s step brother.. but her body betrayed her, leaning into the pressure, caught in the force of his kiss.
topper’s hands held her firmly, controlling, possessive, and yet there was something else there — an undercurrent of need, of warning, of a claim being made without words. the kiss wasn’t soft. it wasn’t tender. it was an assertion, a challenge, a danger she could feel radiating from him.
when he finally pulled back just slightly, enough to let their foreheads rest against each other, his blue eyes held hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “don’t tell jia, would you ? ” he murmured, voice low, gravelly.
lia swallowed, her pulse racing, trying to find words, trying to find herself in the whirlwind of heat and tension. but she only nodded.
and that’s how she ended up bent over topper’s kitchen counter, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and glassy, spit dripping down her chin as topper’s cock thrust roughly into her, her moans echoing through the young man's large, empty house.
should she feel disgusted with herself? embarrassed? maybe. but in the moment, she just felt... privileged.
"such a filthy slut.. fucking with her best friend’s step brother, huh ?" topper said breathless, thrusting harder when he saw her tears spilling on her cheeks."what would think jia if she saw you like that, mhm ?"
lia let out a broken sob as her fingers dug into the edge of the counter, knuckles white, trying to maintain balance even though topper held her tightly. he was relentless, his body a force of nature against her back. his hands roamed her curves, gripping her hips, pulling her closer, his big cock twitching into her cunt.
"damn it.. didn’t know the pogues girls were that slut.."
the cold marble of the countertop pressed against lia’s stomach, a stark contrast to the burning heat blossoming between her legs. each thrust sent a shockwave through her body, a mix of pleasure and a strange sense of power. because it wasn't just anyone who was fucking her... it was a fucking kook. topper thornton. she felt so privileged that she had almost forgotten that anyone could come in and see them like that.
and by anyone, she meant jia.
speaking of jia, she had just gotten out of class and was sitting on a bench near the school, waiting for topper to answer. something felt off. normally, she wouldn’t have even needed to call him — topper would already be parked in the lot, leaning casually against his car, waiting for her like he always did. but today, for some reason, he wasn’t there.
she tried not to worry. she could always take the bus. that wasn’t the problem. the problem was the three guys a few meters away, laughing and glancing at her with those smug, cruel smiles that made her stomach turn. what if they followed her? every instinct screamed that she shouldn’t be here alone. she needed topper to respond, or she might be heading straight into another nightmare.
then an idea hit her. her thumb hovered over the call button as she exhaled slowly. should she call him? after all, he had always said:
“if you have a problem, you call me directly, jia. i’ll always be there.”
maybe it had just been words. maybe he’d said it to make her feel safe. maybe he wouldn’t come. but she had no other choice. the three kooks were staring harder now, their eyes tracing her every move like predators circling prey.
taking a deep breath, she pressed call, hoping he’d pick up before things escalated. the phone rang once, twice… her heart thudding louder with every second.
his low, rough voice made her chest unclench slightly. relief rushed through her — he had answered.
“rafe, sorry to bother you, but—”
“you never bother me, angel.”
she swallowed hard and let out a small, nervous laugh, only stopping when her eyes flicked to the three guys still hovering a few meters away.
“you okay? where are you? i hear cars around you,” his voice asked, sharp and concerned.
“actually… i’m still in front of the school. topper hasn’t come to pick me up. it’s weird.”
“what? that idiot forgot you?” she could hear the rustle of clothing, the jingle of keys, as if he was already getting ready to leave.
“yeah… i guess, but it’s not really his fault. he’s probably just tired—”
“are there people around you? you alone? i’m on my way, j.”
“yeah… well, a few students, that’s all… don’t rush, i can wait.”
“i’m already in the car, angel. i’m coming, okay? don’t talk to anyone weird.”
jia chuckled softly and nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “yes, sir.” she hang up and stood up from the bench.
she felt a small spark of safety, knowing he was coming for her. but the three boys were still there, their eyes sharp and predatory, and her nerves started to spike again.
she grabbed her bag tighter and took a step closer to the street, trying to make herself more visible to anyone passing by — anyone who might scare the kooks off before rafe arrived.
moments later, the roar of a car engine drew her attention. her stomach flipped as a sleek black car pulled into the parking lot, tires crunching on gravel. the driver’s side door opened, and rafe stepped out, his stormy blue eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto hers.
“jia,” he called again, his voice low and dangerous now, like a warning. the three boys froze. something about him made it clear — they were trespassing, and he wasn’t someone to mess with.
jia’s chest tightened, but a strange sense of calm settled over her. he was here. he’d never let anything happen to her.
before she could finish, rafe was already in front of her, fists clenched, eyes darting over his shoulder toward the three boys who, as if on cue, were now walking away.
“did they do anything to you?” he asked, voice low, sharp, protective, still watching them.
jia followed the boys’ retreating figures before shaking her head. “no… just… weird. thanks for coming, rafe.” she gave him a small, soft smile, letting him take her backpack and lead her toward the car.
“i tried calling top too, but he didn’t answer. that’s not like him,” rafe said, opening the passenger door for her. jia murmured a quiet “thanks” as she slid inside. he placed her bag carefully on the back seat before returning to the driver’s side and settling behind the wheel.
“he’s probably asleep,” jia said simply, trying to downplay the situation, hoping to reassure herself more than anything.
rafe didn’t respond immediately. his eyes stayed on the road for a moment, jaw tight, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. finally, he spoke, voice low but firm: “jia, listen to me. if anyone ever makes you feel unsafe again, you call me first. you understand?”
jia turned her head toward him, frowning slightly, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw as she sighed. “i don’t need protection, rafe. i’m not a little girl.”
he let out a short, humorless laugh — the kind that carried more frustration than amusement. “you think i didn’t see the way those assholes were looking at you? what if i’d gotten there a minute later?” he shot back, his voice rough, the anger under it barely contained.
jia stayed silent, the weight of his words settling over her. the car filled with the low hum of the engine, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance.
after a moment, she said quietly, “you can’t protect me from everything.”
rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “i can try,” he muttered.
the conviction in his tone made her look at him again. there was something in his eyes she couldn’t quite read — not just protectiveness, but something deeper, darker. something that scared her a little because it didn’t sound like a promise. it sounded like a warning.
they drove in silence for a while, the tension between them thick but unspoken. jia’s gaze drifted to the window, watching the blur of trees and ocean beyond the glass.
“you’re quiet,” rafe finally said, his voice softer now.
“i’m just thinking,” she replied.
“about how different everything feels,” she said. “since i moved to figure eight. people look at me like i don’t belong. and sometimes…” — she hesitated — “i feel like they’re right.”
rafe glanced at her, his expression softening for just a moment. “you don’t need them to tell you who you are, jia.”
she smiled faintly, eyes still on the window. “that sounds like something topper would say.”
he didn’t respond to that. his jaw flexed again, and he stared straight ahead.
a few minutes later, they turned into the thornton driveway. the house was quiet, lights off except for a faint glow upstairs.
“looks like he’s home,” rafe said, his tone unreadable.
“see? told you he was probably just asleep,” jia said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“yeah,” rafe murmured. but he didn’t sound convinced.
he got out first, waiting for her to follow. she grabbed her bag and walked toward the door, rafe behind her, feeling his gaze on her the whole time — heavy, protective, unsettling. when she turned to say goodnight, he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on her like he was memorizing her.
“thanks again for coming,” she said softly.
“don’t thank me,” he replied. “just don’t make me have to come again.”
jia frowned slightly at his tone, unsure whether he meant it as a joke or a warning. but before she could ask, he gave her a small nod, turned back to his car, and drove off into the night.
she watched his taillights disappear down the road, a strange unease curling in her stomach. something about rafe cameron terrified her — but it was that same something that made her feel safe.
later that night, when the whole house had gone quiet and the only sound outside was the wind brushing against the trees, topper slipped out of the house without a sound. the headlights of his car cut through the darkness as he drove toward tannyhill — toward rafe.
his thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning. the image of lia kept flashing in his mind like a film he couldn’t turn off. her voice, his hands on her, the way she’d looked at him right before everything went too far. he gripped the steering wheel tighter, jaw clenched, shame burning in his chest.
he knew lia wouldn’t tell jia — not because she wanted to protect him, but because she was scared. or maybe just embarrassed. either way, topper wasn’t going to say anything either. he couldn’t. he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing that disgusted look on his stepsister’s face.
by the time he pulled into the camerons’ driveway, his heart was racing. the house loomed in the dark, its windows glowing faintly. he killed the engine, got out, and quietly made his way to the back door. the spare key rafe had given him still hung on his keychain.
the door creaked softly as he pushed it open and stepped inside. faint music drifted from the lower floor — that familiar low bass rafe always played when he didn’t want to think. topper followed it down the hallway until he reached the private room.
rafe was there, half sprawled across the leather sofa, one arm hanging loosely over the edge, a joint burning lazily between his fingers. smoke curled above him, the air thick with the smell of weed and cologne.
topper hesitated in the doorway before finally speaking. “man,” he spoke up, his voice cracking slightly, “i messed up.”
rafe looked up, his stormy blue eyes half-lidded but sharp. he took a slow drag, then exhaled a thin line of smoke before saying flatly, “yeah? what else is new?”
topper stepped inside, running a hand through his hair. “jesus christ, i fucked jia’s best friend.”
topper’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw. for a moment, rafe didn’t move — didn’t even blink. the joint burned slowly between his fingers, smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. then, finally, he turned his head toward topper, eyes narrowing, voice low and with disgust in his tone.
"you fucked a fucking pogue ?"
that was it. that was all he seemed to register. not the guilt in topper’s tone, not the regret flickering in his eyes — just that single fact.
topper let out a frustrated breath, pacing across the room. “that’s what you got from that? jesus, rafe— it wasn’t like that, alright? it just… happened. i didn’t mean for it to.”
rafe’s stare sharpened. “you don’t ‘accidentally’ fuck someone, topper.”
“i know,” topper snapped, voice cracking. he ran both hands through his hair, his pulse hammering in his throat. “i know. but it’s not what you think. i didn’t plan it. it just—” rafe cut him off, bitterly. "so you forgot to pick up your sister.. because you were fucking a bitch ?"
topper lifted his head to meet rafe’s stormy gaze, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “lia’s not a bitch,” he said, voice low but firm, trying to steady himself against the heat rising in his chest.
rafe let out a harsh, humorless laugh, dragging the tip of his joint across the edge of the ashtray, tapping it until the embers went out. “so now you’re defending pogues?” he said bitterly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “is that new, topper? since when do you give a damn about them?”
topper’s hands clenched at his sides, his gaze sharp, unwavering. he took a step closer, voice dropping, heavy with conviction. “have you completely forgotten, rafe? jia is a pogue too. before her mom married my dad, she was one of them. and if it had been her — my stepsister — if it had been her i’d fucked-?”
rafe slammed the bottle of whiskey he was holding down onto the glass coffee table with a force that made the glass tremble. topper instinctively backed away, heart racing at the raw intensity in his friend’s eyes. the room went quiet for a moment, the air thick with smoke and tension, the faint hum of music beneath it all.
"don’t say shit like that, topper."
topper didn’t speak for a long moment. he just stood there, staring at rafe, the storm in his eyes barely contained. his fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white, and the air between them felt suffocating, thick with tension. the room seemed smaller, heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for the next move.
rafe exhaled slowly, a low, tension-filled sigh that seemed to shake the air between them. he pushed himself up from the sofa, moving with deliberate calm toward the pool table at the center of the room. topper’s eyes followed him, sharp and unblinking, as rafe arranged the balls with a meticulous precision that made the clatter of the ivory spheres sound almost ceremonial.
rafe picked up the cue stick, rolling it between his hands, the faint smell of smoke and cologne clinging to him. he glanced at topper over his shoulder, his stormy blue eyes dark and unreadable. “you want to play a bit?” he asked casually, though the tension in his voice betrayed the undercurrent of something dangerous—anger, possessiveness, maybe even fear.
topper’s jaw tightened, and before he could answer, the words burst out of him like a gunshot. “jia… she’s being harassed at her school.”
the room went quiet. rafe froze mid-motion, cue stick suspended in the air, and topper felt the weight of his own confession hanging in the space between them. it wasn’t just a statement. it was a warning, a declaration, a plea all wrapped into one.
rafe’s eyes narrowed, the faintest shadow of a snarl tugging at his lips. he set the cue down carefully, the clack of wood against the edge of the table echoing in the stillness. “what kind of harassment?” he asked, voice low, controlled, but there was an edge there—a dangerous edge that made topper swallow hard.
“bullies. madison clarke — that bitch — and james smith. he tried to touch her,” topper said, running a hand through his hair, voice rough with frustration. “that’s why lia came to my place today. saying shit. said jia’s being… harassed. and i totally lost it, man.”
rafe didn’t move at first. he’d had a feeling earlier — the way those assholes had watched jia had been wrong, too hungry to be dismissed as teenage hormones. they weren’t innocent; they were part of what was tearing her down. and the worst part? he hadn’t done anything. he hadn’t gone after them. he should’ve. he should’ve gone and ripped them apart.
jaw clenched, rafe turned away from topper and crossed to the cabinet by the bar. topper watched him, brow furrowed before the pieces clicking into place. when rafe opened the cabinet and topper saw what he pulled out, a small, dark smile ghosted across his face. in rafe’s palm lay the ghostface mask, cold and familiar, and he brushed its edge with one finger like someone handling a promise.
“time to make some noise again, top,” rafe said, the smirk cutting across his face.
