THE ISLAND LOOKOUT MASTERLIST: - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader
general masterlist ; taglist
chapters
smut - ★ implied/sugested smut or fluff - ☆
intro
- part 1: how it started
- part 2: introductions
- part 3: rumors
- part 4: bonfire debrief
- part 5: 2 to function
- part 6: oops
- part 7: the cut
- part 8: stop being weird
- part 9: midsummer suit ☆
- part 10: get a room ☆
- part 11: midsummers!
- part 12: after ★
- part 13: his room ☆
- part 14: confrontations
- part 15: still silent
their social media pages
- kooked.out, rafe, topper, roni, and sarah's instas
- the pogues instas
synopsis
topper thornton, sarah cameron, rafe cameron, and yn thornton (aka roni, which is what everyone knows her as) have ruled Figure 8 since day one. Known as the "Kook Royals," their families own the island’s top development company, making them the ultimate elite.
But they didn’t start their joined instagram, kooked.out, to flaunt their status. What began as a way to document their carefree lives quickly went viral, drawing fans from beyond the island. They were never A-list celebrities—just teens living their lives, but as their popularity grew, so did the rumors.
The real shift wasn’t them—it was how others treated them. Roni and Sarah began exploring a new side of life with the Pogues, and their friendships with Rafe and Topper got complicated. Love lives, rumors, and gossip—thanks to Island Lookout—started to change everything. Roni and Rafe’s friendship turned into something more, and suddenly, their carefree world wasn’t so carefree anymore.
request? yes! (tagged in comments) warnings: brothers best friend prompt: a collection of stories when rafe and thornton!reader officially start dating
Dating Rafe Cameron was far from easy, and even farther from peaceful. It wasn't predictable like your previous relationships, but somehow, it worked. Even if you did keep your relationship hidden from Topper for the entire first month.
Half of your dates, including the first one, involved sneaking around like criminals. Rafe thought it was funny, you thought it was annoying.
"God, you enjoy this way too much!" You huffed as he dragged you through the back entrance of Tannyhill. "Dude, Topper isn't even here!" You whisper yelled.
"No, but he lives this house over." Rafe rolled his eyes.
"Are you saying you don't enjoy it?" He asked while smirking over his shoulder, escorting you quietly to his room.
"No, but I'm reconsidering revealing it to my brother so he can bury your body somewhere in the marsh." Rafe laughed, affectionately, "Sure, sweetheart. I am sure you believe that."
Rafe was strangely sweet when you two were alone. Everyone thought he was cocky, and angry, like he portrayed himself at parties. But this version? This was not the version anyone talked about. Whenever you were overnight at Rafe's, or his at yours (which was far less common), he'd be sprawled out on his bed, with you tucked against his chest while whatever video you chose played in the background.
This Rafe existed only for you.
He was clingy, would coax you to sleep while drawing lazy circles on your back and run his fingers through your hair.
Sometimes, you'd wake up in a cold bed, the warmth of his body gone. The first time it happened, you worried you did something wrong the night before.
But when you went downstairs, he was making you waffles and bacon, a cup of chilled Starbucks coffee waiting for you in the fridge.
It was the sweetest sight you'd ever laid your eyes on.
Rafe was also really clingy.
You were at a restaurant together, on the nice side of the island, of course, once your relationship had been made fully public (yes, including to Topper, to his dismay.)
"I'm gonna go use the bathroom, I'll be back." Rafe smiled at you and watched as you walked away, taking a sip of his champagne.
When you walked out of the bathroom, you nearly slammed into a tall man, profusely apologizing. But then you realized it was Rafe, and you playfully slapped his chest.
"God, you scared me!" You sighed out, clutching your heart. "People would actually faint if they knew how clingy you are, jeez." You walked back to the table, Rafe trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You sat back down, and he sat opposite to you.
"For the record, I am not clingy."
You raised your eyebrows at him. "You followed me to the bathroom in an extremely nice, high scale restaurant."
He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "You were taking too long."
You two had a lot of... run-ins with being caught by other people. Not because your relationship was a secret, but some moments were best kept private.
One of the worst happened at your house.
Rafe was in your bedroom while Topper was downstairs watching football with Kielce, which already should have been enough to make you nervous.
"Relax," Rafe murmured against your neck as he kissed you.
"Rafe, my brother is literally downstairs."
"And?" He asked while nipping at your earlobe.
"And if he walks up here and sees this, you die."
He grinned lazily, kissing your cheek. "Worth it."
"You are unbelievable, Rafe Cameron."
"No, you just look really pretty right now. Can ya blame a guy?"
"Yes, I can absolutely blame you, and very easily, in fact-"
Rafe kissed you, shutting you up, while Topper came and knocked at your door. "Yo, can you make that really good pastry it is you make? Whatever the fuck it is, me and Kelce are hungry." He yelled through the door. Thank God he didn't just burst in.
"Later, I'm.. busy." You said breathlessly while Rafe put his hand up your shirt, and you shot eyes of daggers at him, warning him to stop.
"What are you doing? I'm coming in." Rafe ran into the closet. Topper was fine with you guys dating, but sneaking around in Topper's own house? A fight would surely ensue. Rafe got in there just in time, the doorknob turning.
Topper walked in suspiciously, "Why do you look weird?"
"I always look weird."
Topper's eyes narrowed. Then from inside your closet, came a very loud thud. Your soul left your body.
“And that was…?”
You answered way too quickly, "Nothing."
Another pause. Then Rafe sneezed. Topper's face went slowly, horrifyingly blank.
"Oh my God." He covered his face as he looked at you, disgusted.
The closet door opened, and Rae Cameron looked deeply annoyed, a box of all your old letters had toppled over and scattered on your closet floor.
Topper stared at him.
Rafe stared back, then nodded once.
"...Hey man." He muttered, a shit eating grin on his face.
Topper lunged for him instantly.
By the end of the endless summer, Rafe had to learn to deal with being long distance-- not something he handled well. At all.
You had only been in California for six weeks before he started losing his damn mind.
"So there's like fuckin', shirtless surfer guys everywhere?" He asked on FaceTime one night.
You blinked. "Rafe. It's California."
The cross country distance was harder than either of you expected. Between your classes, his chaotic schedule, and the three hour time difference, you'd only FaceTime for thirty minutes, or every other day. But when you did, he secretly loved hearing about your classes, your new roommates, the library... every detail. It made him feel included in a life he couldn't physically be apart of.
Until one day, he flew to you, and surprised you at your favorite coffee shop that you were always at Friday mornings. Rafe was sitting there, pretending to be nonchalant, wearing sunglasses indoors, and a buzz cut.
"Rafe!" You yelled, and he stood up just in time for you to hug him, pummeling him back down to the booth he was at. You kissed him all over his face.
"I love the buzz cut." You whispered as you hugged him tight.
"Yeah?" He asked. "Yeah."
"You're supposed to like, be working! What are you doing here?!"
He shrugged casually, "Missed you and shi'. i guess."
"Oh shut up!" You kissed him.
"You flew across the country just for me?"
He looked at you thoughtfully. "Technically drove some of it."
"You're crazy."
"For you?" He shrugged. "Always."
When you saw him again a few months later during winter break, it was like seeing him for the first time all over again.
Winter break in Outer Banks always felt strange, though. The island quieted down when tourists disappeared, there were no more boat parties, and the ocean was gray under the cold December sky.
New Year's, however, was a different story. Especially with Rafe and your newfound friend group that combined pogues and kooks (every time Rafe complained you'd smack the back of his head and he would promptly shut up."
The party was loud and booming. Everyone was drunk. Sarah was on John B's lap, telling everyone how much she loved them. Topper was scoffing at her in disgust.
Rafe took your hand, leading you to a hidden place on the beach, away from the party. It was quiet and peaceful.
Just waves, wind, and him.
"You cold?" Rafe asked, as you sat down, a perfect view ahead of you to see fireworks.
"Nah."
"You're shivering."
"I'm committed to the aesthetic."
He laughed quietly, and pulled you into his grasp, both arms wrapping around your cold body.
"Last New Year's we weren't even together." You murmured against his chest, barely audible.
Rafe hummed, thinking about the comment. "Worst year of my life."
"You're dramatic." You rolled your eyes.
"You love it."
"I love you." You whispered and then fireworks exploded across the sky. Midnight. His hands framed your face like a starved him, and he kissed you, like he really really loved you. You knew it was hard for him to say it back, so you'd take the gesture instead.
"Happy New Years, baby." He said against your lips, and you nuzzled your face into the crook between his neck and shoulder.
"Happy New Years."
back to masterlist... more rafe imagines... part one
A/N: hope you love this more fluffy not angsty and not plot twist-y store :)))
NOTES ★.ᐟ reader is toppers younger sister, william is an added character - topper and & readers older brother (22)!!
WORD COUNT ★.ᐟ 607
AUTHOR'S NOTE ★.ᐟ likes, reblogs, and requests are encouraged and appreciated🫧 (i’m such a sucker for when it comes to family friends/childhood friends/brothers friend tropes)
The Thorntons’ dock creaked with the weight of footsteps as the summer sun sank into gold. You sat cross-legged at the edge, dipping your toes into the warm water, while Sarah lay beside you flipping through a magazine. From behind, you heard the low rumble of voices- Topper’s loud laugh, William’s teasing drawl, and Rafe’s quieter interjections. They’d all just come back from riding out on the boat, and judging by the clatter of beer bottles in the cooler, they’d started early.
You didn’t turn at first. This was routine - weekends where the Camerons and Thorntons blurred into one extended family. Sarah slept at your house more than her own. Rafe and Topper crashed on each other’s couches so often that you sometimes wondered if they had an unspoken timeshare agreement. For as long as you could remember, you were just there - the younger sister tagging along, orbiting the boys who thought they ran the island.
“Oi, Thornton,” Rafe’s voice carried down the dock, sharp but teasing. You turned your head to see him, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair still damp from the water. “Your little sister stealing all the dock space again?”
Topper chuckled, tossing an arm around your shoulder from behind as he passed. “Yeah, don’t mind her. She’s Sarah’s problem.”
“Hey!” you protested, shoving his arm away, though you were smiling.
Rafe smirked like he always did, but this time his eyes lingered. They didn’t flick away when you caught them. They traced: down your sun-warmed shoulders, over the hem of your shorts, and back up until you felt heat rise beneath your skin. You told yourself it was the alcohol, the golden hour glow, the anything but what it looked like. Because Rafe Cameron didn’t look at you like that. Not you.
Sarah sat up, oblivious. “Come sit, guys. The water’s perfect.”
Topper and William busied themselves with the cooler, leaving Rafe to saunter closer. He dropped down beside you, stretching his legs long so they brushed against yours. You went still, pulse quickening, but you forced your voice casual.
“Thought you were too busy showing off wake tricks to hang with us.”
Rafe tilted his head, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I was. Didn’t see the point once you weren’t watching.”
Your heart tripped. It was a throwaway line- cocky, typical- but the way he said it… it didn’t sound like the usual Rafe. He was looking at you, not through you.
“You’ve lost it,” you muttered, grabbing Sarah’s magazine to hide your face.
But Rafe leaned in just enough that you felt the heat of him, smelled salt and cologne lingering faintly. “Or maybe you’re finally worth showing off for.”
Your laugh came out too sharp, covering nerves. “Smooth.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” he murmured.
And you hated that it had. Because suddenly every childhood memory - birthday parties in each other’s backyards, late-night bonfires, shared inside jokes-felt like it had been leading here, to this charged space where your brothers’ voices faded and Sarah’s chatter blurred, and all you could focus on was Rafe Cameron seeing you not as Topper’s little sister, not as Sarah’s best friend - but as you.
When William called from the deck for someone to grab more beers, Rafe stood slowly, gaze still locked on yours. “Coming,” he said, though his attention hadn’t wavered.
Then, just before he turned, he bent low enough that only you heard it:
“Don’t worry, Thornton. I won’t tell anyone you’ve been staring back.”
Your breath caught, but he was already gone, leaving you with a racing heart and a truth you couldn’t laugh off anymore.
✮⋆˙ bbf!rafe decides to lend you a helping hand relieving the stress of college.
warnings — 18+ MDNI. perv!rafe, brother's best friend trope (reader is topper's sibling), manipulative tactics for sex, fingering + naive/inexperienced reader.
cherie's note — best friend's brother!rafe is so yummy i had to try writing for him
the creak of the old hardwood floors were barely audible as the tall blond wandered the dimly lit hallways of your home, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes. he wasn't sure why he was awake — maybe the lingering effects of the party earlier, or the exhausting heatwave humidity that flooded the outerbanks.
he passed by a door, half-open. he had been here hundreds of times, his best friend topper, your brother, inviting him over to your home since before the pair were in middle school. he knew whose door it was before he even had to look.
yours.
leaning against the doorframe, he peered in, careful not to make a sound. you were lying on your stomach, completely focused and unaware of who creeped through the cracks, your laptop casting a faint blue light over your features. headphones in, brow furrowed, fingers lazily twirling a pen between them.
rafe smirked. of course, you were still up.
you were such a good girl. rafe knew this better than anybody — taking any chance he could to just watch as you stayed up for hours studying. unlike your brother, you hardly went out to the parties, or the bonfires — more concerned with the previous lecture or some stupid upcoming test.
for a second, he considered just watching — just like every other time. but the temptation was too strong. he rapped his knuckles lightly against the oak door of your bedroom.
"you always stay up this late?" his voice was low, rough from sleep.
your head snapped up, eyes widening slightly before you pulled out an earbud. "jesus, rafe." you huffed, setting your pen down. "what are you doing?"
he shrugged, testing the waters by taking another step closer, leaning against the doorframe. "couldn't sleep." his gaze flickered over your screen before settling back on you.
the loose pajama shorts tickled against the soft skin of your plump thighs, leg hoisted up just enough for rafe to see that lacey pair of panties hidden below. it was much more than your brother's best friend should ever see, but that was the last thing on your mind as your head pounded from all the homework. his blue eyes filled with exhaustion and curiosity at your state, taking another step onto the fuzzy carpet rug of your room.
"i'm uh-" you stutter, heart thundering against your chest at the advance, "i've been studying, s'why i'm still awake."
rafe quirked an eyebrow, finger dancing along your dresser — littered with trinkets of all sorts. his eyes linger on one item in particular, familiar to him as he remembers the time he had stolen a cheap hand carving at the flea market and gifted it to you. he could still remember the day he had gotten it for you — after finding out how your recent obsession was centred around seahorses, when his young eyes captured sight of the hand carving, he knew the goal in mind. after all these years, he was surprised you still had it.
"studying, huh?" a teasing smirk played at the corner of his mouth as his gaze dropped briefly to the scattered textbooks and notes covering your desk before meeting your eyes again, "at this hour? you're a real diligent student."
he stopped at the foot of your bed, hands shoved casually in the pockets of his low slung sweatpants. the thin fabric did little to conceal his strong, lean physique. up close, you could see the glint of mischief in his sleepy blue eyes.
"i know you've got a big test coming up soon..." he dragged out the words teasingly.
"mhm," you hum, scrolling through what felt like hundreds of digital pages of notes. your gaze flickers nervously between the laptop, and the man stood in front of you. "been studying for it all week, brain is starting to mush."
rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "mush huh? well, we can't have that..." in two long strides, he closed the distance between you, reaching out to gently shut the lid of your laptop. his fingertips brushed against yours, sending an unexpected shiver up your spine.
"how about you take a break, hm?" his voice was a low rumble, almost hypnotic in the quiet of the night. "i bet all this studying has you wound tighter than a coil. might do you some good to... relax."
the suggestive edge to his tone doesn't go unnoticed, "it's late, rafe..." you practically stutter, crimson blush flooding your cheeks at the thought of spending time with rafe alone. "besides, top's probably gonna be wondering where you are, soon."
rafe's lips curled into a roguish grin at the mention of your brother, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "topper? nah, he's dead to the world right now. passed out cold after that last beer."
his hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering to trace the delicate shell. "plus," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave, "what top doesn't know won't hurt him. it'll be our little secret."
the air between you crackled with tension as rafe's gaze raked over your form, taking in the way your thin pajama tank top clung to your curves. he licked his lips unconsciously, "c'mon, sweet girl, live a little. promise i don't bite."
the moment of hesitation is apparent on your face — wide doe eyes staring back at the man who waits almost painfully for you to say something.
"alright," you start, voice a little too timid, unsure of yourself, "what do you have in mind?"
rafe's grin widened at your question, a flash of triumph in his eyes. "well, for starters..." he reaches out to trail a finger along your jawline, tilting your chin to meet his heated gaze. "how about i help you work out some of that pent=up tension? i've got a few ideas that might clear your head better than cramming."
his other hand found its way to your thigh, squeezing gently as he inched higher. "we could start with a nice, relaxing massage. get rid of all that stiffness from hunching over your books all night." his voice vibrates through you in a low purr, dripping with suggestion.
this felt wrong — so wrong. having rafe's hands on your bare skin, knowing your brother, his best friend, was only a few bedrooms down, the heat within your stomach pooled as the thrill of anticipation roared throughout your entire body. his touch was hot against your skin, leaving burning fingerprints in its wake. still, as his hand trailed up your thigh, you felt your body relax as you gave in to his suggestion.
his touch was electric as his hands began to knead the tense muscles of your shoulders and upper back. he worked slowly, deliberately, thumbs digging into knots you hadn't even known existed. leaning down, his breath ghosted hot air against your ear as he whispered, "that's it, just relax. let me take care of you."
his fingers traced the line of your spine, slipping beneath the thin straps of your tank top. with agonizing slowness, he pushed the flimsy material down, exposing more of your soft skin to the cool night air and his heated gaze.
continuing his sensual massage, his wandering hands seemed to 'accidentally' brush against your most intimate areas. his fingers grazed the curve of your ass as he reached for the small of your back, calloused fingers kneading deep within the plush flesh of your body.
lost in the new sensations, you barely register the inapprorate touches — his knuckles so clumsily skimming over your clothed mound, the brief contact sending a jolt to your core. too inexperienced to realize the significance, you had only played it off as a 'mistake', but rafe knew better.
the whimpers you let escape were hardly recognized internally as his calloused hands dug into the dimples of your back, working his magic at releasing the tension built up within your overworked muscles. each purr out of your throat had his hands slipping further and further, just like he had planned.
unbeknownst to you in your innocent state, rafe allowed his touch to linger longer on your clothed mound. his palm grazed the front of your panties as he adjusted your position, applying the slightest bit of pressure.
there was nothing wrong with this, you thought — rafe was helping you. his hands worked skillfully against the soft skin, eliciting the most delicious moans out of you with each touch. he was giving you a massage, this was as innocent as it could get, right? it wasn't like he gained anything from helping you out.
wrong. the foreign feeling of his fingers rubbing against your covered cunt, rubbing the slit between your puffy lips had your eyes shooting open in confusion, head rounded to look at him from over your shoulder, "rafe?"
rafe froze for a split second when you stuttered his name, fingers stilling against your clothed sex. but then, emboldened by your lack of immediate protest, he pressed on. his middle finger began to trace slow, deliberate circles over your covered pussy, feeling the heat emanating from your core.
"just relax, princess," he cooed softly, free hand sliding up to rest on your hip, holding you in place. "let me make you feel good."
he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, tongue darting out to taste your skin. all the while, his finger continued its maddeningly slow movements, rubbing you through the dampening fabric of your panties. the rough pad of his fingertip caught on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.
the whine you let out was almost feral, worry spreading through you quickly at the thought of your own family walking in and seeing the situation in front of them. “t-this feels wrong, rafe..” but it felt so right at the same time.
a dark chuckle rumbled in rafe's chest at your conflicted words, his finger never ceasing its torturous dance over your weeping pussy, as if studying the anatomy of your body. "wrong?" he murmured huskily against your ear.
to punctuate his words, he hooked a finger in the waistband of your panties and tugged them aside, finally making direct contact with your slick folds. rafe groaned at the feel of your wet heat, stroking through your arousal with teasing lightness. "fuck, sweetheart... you're so wet already. your body knows what it wants, even if your pretty little head is confused."
his other hand slid up your torso to cup your breast through your tank top, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbled beneath the thin fabric.
you knew the blush on your cheeks was bright red as the warm feeling flooded your cheeks. it felt so foreign — his fingers exploring your sloppy folds, thumb occasionally sending firm strokes against your swollen clit.
"i-" you begin, the words breathy which each word you spoke, "i've never done this before, rafe."
your eyes meet his, blue eyes dark and blown with anticipation, with pure lust. he groans out at the confession, a wicked grin spreading across his face, "never? fuck, you're like the perfect little virgin sacrifice."
his fingers continued their relentless exploration of your untouched folds, circling your clit with the pads of his two fingers, applying just enough pressure to have you practically squirming beneath him. his free hand pushed the fabric of your tank top up to expose your breasts, his head dipping to capture one rosy peaky between his teeth, sucking greedily as he rolled the other nipple between his fingers.
"don't worry, baby. i'll teach you everything," he promised darkly, working to slowly pump two fingers inside of your tight pussy. "gonna ruin you for anyone else. by the time i'm done, this sweet cunt will only crave my touch."
moaning out at the sound of his words, his hand roughly slaps against your mouth, hips rutting desperately against yours as his thick fingers continued to fuck into you, "they'll hear us if you keep that up, angel. gotta be quiet for me, can ya do that?"
his thumb found your clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he curled his fingers just right inside of you. he groaned out at the feeling of your walls pulsing around his digits, cock hurting against the fabric of his boxers at the feeling of how tight you were. rafe swallowed your needy whimpers with a deep, filthy kiss, tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.
you nodded frantically at his question, almost desperate. the chuckle he lets out is dark and primal, coming from a place of pure ego. nevertheless, the walls of your cunt fluttering and clenching around his plunging fingers. he wanted nothing more than to push you over the edge, to watch you come undone completely. he craved the feeling of freeing his aching cock and burying it deep inside your tight, virgin heat.
but even in his lust-addled state, rafe recognized the risk you were taking, hand still clamped over your mouth tightly to drown out the sounds of your pathetic whines. he could tell you were close, the way your eyes rolled and you clung onto his wrist — he was going to make damn sure he'd never forget this sight.
"you're so fucking wet for me, baby," he murmured appreciatively, voice low and husky. "this pretty pussy is practically begging for my cock."
despite his earlier restraints, rafe found himself unable to resist your needy pleas. he increased the pace of his touches, fingers pumping steadily in and out of your tight heat as his thumb rubbed firm circles on your poor clit. the obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he fingered you, the obsessive mixture of squelching and subtle whining ringing through his ears like a song, destined to bring you closer and closer to the edge.
"feels so fucking good," you moan out, hand trailing down your soft body to make contact with your own clit. the action sent a groan through the man, adorning the way you worked yourself out of pure desperation for him.
"yeah?" he rasps, curling his fingers inside of you once more. "fuckin’ filthy slut, getting off with your brother's best friend? dirty girl..."
one of rafe's hands slid up to cover your mouth again, ready to muffle any loud cries as he pushed you over the edge. you were experiencing pure ecstasy, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his warm breath tickled your neck. his hips rocked subtly against yours, seeking some much-needed friction for his own aching arousal.
"c'mon, be a good girl and cum on my fingers," he urged in a low, commanding tone. his words alone were enough to elicit that delicious high out of you, whines muffled against the warm palm of his hand. he held you tightly as your body shook and convulsed with the throes of your first orgasm, fingers still buried deep inside your tight velvet walls. he swallowed each keening cry that fell from your swollen, plump lips, muffling the sounds of your pleasure. rafe's own hips jerked involuntarily, grinding against your thigh as he watched you come undone.
"that's it, baby. cum on my fingers, just like that..." he praised breathlessly, voice strained with barely contained desire. even as your climax began to subside, rafe continued to slowly pump his digits in and out, drawing out every last wave of bliss.
finally, as your breathing stilled, he carefully withdrew his fingers from your overstimulated folds, coated digits slipping past his own lips as he made a show of licking them clean. your poor cunt clenched around nothing at the sight, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his sweats.
tugging your hand suddenly, he brings your open palm to the prominent tent below his torso, groaning at the contact. "feel what you do to me? how fucking hard i am for you?"
his hungry lips capture yours once more, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth like he was on a feverish mission — breathy sighs falling from his lips each time you stroked him through the cotton fabric of his sweatpants.
with great effort, he practically dragged your hand from his straining erection. his lips pressed a soft kiss to your warm forehead, dipping his head between your thighs to place the softest kiss to the tender, sensitive skin of your inner legs.
the mattress shifts underneath you, rafe standing back on to the fuzzy carpet of your bedroom. a pout flooded your features at the lack of sudden satisfaction, your body already eager for more. "i'll text you, yeah?"
it wouldn't be for a few days later that you'd receive that infamous, long-awaited text from your brother's best friend — audibly gasping as your eyes land on the perverted video of himself he had filmed for your eyes only.
The heat of the party still buzzed under your skin as you walked toward Topper’s car, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. It was past 3 AM, and the air was thick with humidity, the scent of salt and alcohol lingering in the night. You had spent the evening dancing, laughing, pretending not to notice Rafe’s eyes on you.
It wasn’t new. He was always watching, always lingering just close enough to make his presence known. But when he finally approached you earlier that night, it had been the same as always—a sharp comment disguised as a joke, something about how “little Topper” was finally getting attention. You had just rolled your eyes and walked away.
Now, standing by the car, you hesitated. Kelce was already sprawled in the middle seat, and on the other side sat Rafe, arms crossed, staring at you with that unreadable expression.
“What am I supposed to do?” you asked, looking at Topper.
Before he could answer, Rafe shifted, leaning forward slightly. “Just sit on my lap,” he said, his voice smooth, his hand extended toward you like it was the simplest solution in the world.
Your breath caught.
You hated him. Or, at least, you told yourself you did. You had the biggest crush on him, mostly growing up, but that feeling never went away. What else never went away was his constant taunting. You hated the way he talked to you, the way he made you feel small, the way he had gone from the boy who once held your hand when you scraped your knee to the guy who made fun of your every move. And yet, you still felt the heat in your stomach every time he was near.
You exhaled sharply. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” he said, his lips twitching like he was enjoying this.
Kelce snorted. “Come on, just sit down, we don’t have all night.”
You hesitated for a second longer, then scoffed under your breath. “Fine.”
Sliding into the car, you perched yourself carefully on Rafe’s lap, trying to put as much space between your body and his as possible. But it was pointless—his arm rested lazily on the back of the seat, his other hand coming down instinctively to your waist as Topper pulled onto the road.
You swallowed hard.
Rafe was warm, his chest firm against your back. Every breath he took pressed against you, and you could feel the rise and fall of it, the heat radiating from his skin.
“Relax,” he murmured, his lips just inches from your ear. “I don’t bite.”
You turned your head slightly, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me.”
His grip on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. “You were ignoring me all night,” he said, his voice low, almost accusing.
You scoffed. “Maybe because you never have anything nice to say?”
For a second, something flickered in his expression. It was gone before you could place it. He smirked, tilting his head, his breath fanning across your skin.
“You’re really gonna act like you don’t like it?”
Your pulse stuttered.
“Like what?” you challenged.
“The attention,” he murmured.
You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly, but that only made the situation worse—his hands gripped your hips to steady you, and you swore you felt his breath hitch.
“You’re delusional, Cameron,” you muttered.
His thumb brushed the curve of your waist, slow, deliberate. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe you’ve just been running from the truth.”
Your breath caught, and for once, you had nothing to say. He laughed softly and tighten his arm around your waist and you felt something poking beneath you. You looked back at Rafe, down, and back up only to see him staring back at you with that smirk that always annoyed you.
By this time Kelce had already passed out and Topper and Sarah were too wrapped up in each other in the front of the car, not paying attention to either of you.
"You sure you don't like the attention, Cameron?" you whisper to him.
He moves in closer to your face, his breath is hot against your ear, "I've always loved the attention from you, clearly."
As the car rolled on, the silence between you and Rafe grew heavier. His thumb never stopped tracing slow patterns on your waist, and you could feel the subtle tension building between you two. You had always told yourself you hated the way he treated you, the way he’d pick on you for no reason. But now, with him so close, his touch lingering just enough to send chills down your spine, you started to wonder if there was something more behind it.
You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way his fingers seemed to burn into your skin and the way his hard on poked into your ass.
"Why are you doing this?" you finally blurted out, the words escaping before you could stop them.
He was silent for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at you with a strange intensity. “Doing what?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his tone quieter than usual.
"Picking on me all these years... acting like you can’t stand me and then—" You cut yourself off, unsure of where this was going. “Then acting like this," motioning to his crotch.
Rafe’s gaze softened for just a second, before his usual smirk returned. But there was something different about it now. “Maybe I’ve always liked to get under your skin,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Guess it worked, huh?”
Your heart pounded in your chest, the air suddenly thick with something you couldn’t quite name.
“You’ve always had a way of getting under mine,” you replied, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.
Rafe’s hand slid from your waist to your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine. “I think I’ve always liked you, you know,” he muttered, the words so casual that they almost felt like a lie. But there was no mistaking the look in his eyes now.
Your breath caught in your throat. “What are you saying?”
He hesitated, his eyes flicking to yours. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been a little... hard to read.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But I guess, I don’t know how to do this. How to act around you when I’ve always felt like this.”
The words hung between you two, heavy and thick.
You swallowed hard, a mix of confusion and something else swirling inside you. "You’re serious?"
Rafe didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he stared out the window for a moment, like he was thinking through his next words carefully. When his eyes finally met yours again, they were more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.
“Yeah," he said softly. "I’m serious. I’ve always been serious.”
You felt your heart race again, but this time, it wasn’t just from the tension. It was from the realization that maybe, just maybe, the feeling had been mutual all along.
"You've been a jerk for so long, Rafe," you said, your voice shaky. "Why didn't you just—"
He interrupted you with a quiet laugh, one that was more frustrated than amused. “I was trying to figure it out, okay? I didn’t know how to stop acting like a dumbass around you. And now I’m just... here. Still trying to figure it out.”
The car swerved slightly as Topper made a turn, breaking the intense moment. But you couldn’t shake the weight of what Rafe had just said. There was something raw in his words, something real. He held you close to keep concealing what was happening below.
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say next, but in that silence, you realized something: Rafe had always been this way because he didn’t know how to handle the emotions he’d been hiding for so long. And now, they were out in the open.
Topper finally pulled up to Tannyhill, Sarah jumped out, waiting for Rafe. Neither of you have broken eye contact. You turn and open the car door, hopping out.
"I'm staying here tonight Top, see you tomorrow," you don't give him a second to answer before you pull Rafe out with you and slam the door shut, making your way to the homes entrance.
a/n: one of the requests I wanted to do before I took my break. I loved it too much to hold off on. *scheduled post*
K but how haven't we discussed Sarah x Thornton!Reader? She's maybe like a year or two older than Topper and Sarah finds herself thinking about her when she's trying to hook up with him 👀🤭
