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cherryobx · 2 years

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𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐑.𝐂.

requested?: hell ye

summary: Rafe steps in when you're fighting with your dad and takes you back to his place to comfort you.

warnings: abusive parent, language, hurt/comfort trope, showering together (it's PG, guys)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: Rafe has his own place. Listened to the song "go to war" by nothing more and i think it fits this fic pretty well.

gif's not mine, creds to the original owner!

Rafe hated when you were at home. Your dad was a bad person. And that was lightly said. He knew from his own experience that parents sometimes weren’t really good at, you know, parenting. He called you every night to make sure you were okay and if you wanted to sleep over at his place.

So a few nights a week you stayed with Rafe. It was good to sleep while actually feeling safe and loved. You felt all warm and protected when your boyfriend's arms were around you, keeping you as close to him as possible. You were tired of staying up all night, too scared to go to sleep because you never knew how drunk your dad actually was and what he was up to. It was terrifying that the person who was supposed to love you the most hurt you instead.

When you were lucky, he was so drunk by the time you got home that he was passed out on the couch in front of the TV. But other times he wasn’t. And that’s when you had to deal with yelling, breaking dishes and furniture and on particularly bad nights even violence.

One night, when you hadn’t shown up at Rafe’s place on time, he got worried. He called you but you didn’t pick up. So he hopped in the car and drove over to your house. He was chewing on his lips, worry getting the best of him.

As soon as he pulled up to the house he noticed that the front door was wide open due to which he heard the yelling all over to his car.

Leaving the car running he ran up to the house, walked right in and followed the noise to the living room. Your dad was in the middle of the room while you were backed up into a corner, a chair in your hands raised as a defence against him. Your nose was bloody and it looked like there was a bruise forming on your cheek.

There was broken glass all over the carpeted floor, probably from beer bottles tossed around before he arrived.

“Get the fuck back! Don’t come closer!” you yelled at your dad, voice breaking.

“I can do what ever the fuck I want, I’m your dad.” He attempted to approach you but Rafe intervened, making himself known in the room. He stood between you and your dad, shielding you from his sight.

“Y/N, get in the car,” he said without breaking eye contact with your father who looked like he was about to explode from anger.

You quickly ran towards the door and Rafe’s car in front of the house.

“No, Y/N, get the fuck back here!”

Rafe swiftly grabbed your father’s throat, pushing him roughly against the wall. “You shut the fuck up before I tear your fucking throat out so you can’t say anything ever again.”

You sat in the passenger seat anxiously, leg bouncing as you couldn’t contain your nerves. You were too high on adrenaline, survival mode switched on, to even register what had just happened. One moment you were sitting on your bed reading a book and the other you were being dragged out of your room. You smelled the alcohol even before he grabbed you harshly, probably leaving behind a bruise in the shape of a hand.

Your dad had never hit you in the face before. It was always places you could cover up and hide. But that night was different for some reason. But you weren’t sure why.

Soon Rafe stormed out of your house and entered the car, immediately backing out of your driveway and speeding away. He looked like he had taken a beating as well.

“You’re hurt.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His both hands were on the wheel, knuckles white from the anger.

“Of course it does. You got hurt because of me. Because I couldn’t protect myself.”

The car came to a halt.

“Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not bleeding right now because of you, even though I would gladly bleed out for you. I’m hurt because your dad’s an asshole who can't keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself. And you’re able to protect yourself, I know you are. But he needed his ass beat for once and I would happily do it again anytime. You did nothing wrong. You got that?”

You nodded, a sob stuck in your throat that you didn’t want to let out. You weren’t weak, you could keep it together.

“Good.” He started driving again.

You turned your head to the other side, looking out of the car window and seeing the scenery you passed, white picket fence houses with happy families living inside.

You saw your own reflection in the window and wanted to break down crying. This girl was as broken as one could be. She looked small, helpless. You didn’t want to look like that, to feel like that.

Rafe parked the car and switched the ignition off and you left the car.

You walked in side by side. You gently slipped your hand in his in search for that comforting feeling he always provided for you. He lightly squeezed your hand in response as he unlocked the door with his other hand. He let you enter first so he could lock the door again behind you two.

As soon as you stepped into his home you finally let your emotions bubble up, explode. You sobbed as you leaned against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed by your outburst.

“Hey.” Rafe crouched in front of you, softly pulling your hands away from your face and raising your chin so you’d look him into the eyes. You could barely see him through the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Let’s go get cleaned up. Is that alright?” His voice was quiet and soft. He hated seeing you like this but wanted to stay calm for you.

You nodded and he helped you off the floor and walked you to the bathroom. He helped you undress and then did so himself. Then you stepped into the shower together.

Gently, he cleaned the blood from your face and then put some shampoo in your hair and then massaged it into your scalp. It felt nice. You felt the hurt, the bad feelings moving to the distant corner in your brain as he rinsed the shampoo from your hair. He then handed you a sponge so you could wash your body as well while he cleaned himself up too.

When he had his head thrown back, rinsing his hair. You wrapped your arms around his torso and just hugged him. He was surprised at first but let you hold him nevertheless. When he was done with washing his hair, he hugged you back, his lips against your forehead.

Everything about it was very intimate but not in a sexual way but more of a spiritual way. Like you were connected on a different level. Like you were one.

“Wait here.” He let go of you and left the shower. Coming back a few minutes later, sweatpants on, he asked you to leave the shower as well. You stepped out and he handed you his clothes to put on, a t-shirt and some comfy shorts.

“Do you want something to eat?”

You shook your head in denial. “Can we maybe just watch a movie or something?”

He smiled softly. “Sure.”

So you cuddled up on the couch under various blankets and put on some movie you weren’t actually paying attention to. You tried but the thoughts in your head were moving 100 miles per hour which made it hard to focus on anything.

“I want you to move in with me.”

That tore you out of the storm that was going on in your head. “What?”

“Move in with me. Like right now. We can go pick up your stuff when your dad’s not there.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, baby. I don’t want you living there with him. I want you to be here with me where you can feel free and safe. I want us to be able to sleep at night with one less worry. Will you? Move in with me?”

“Yes.”

You both smiled widely as the thought settled in. You were going to live together. Away from the shithead that was your dad. Away from the house that you didn’t have any good memories in. It made you happy. And the fact that you got to be next to Rafe every day and night made you finally see some hope for you. It was going to get better. Finally.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #rafe x you #obx #outer banks s2 #obx 2 #tw #tw abuse mention

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rafesthroatbaby · 10 months

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HOTNESS OVERLOAD 🔥

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #FUCK IT UP #i cant fucking breathe #obx 2 #outer banks

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cline-maddie · 6 months

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New photo of Madelyn Cline with the cast of OBX. — Michael Jefferson via Instagram.

#madelyn cline #outer banks #obx #obx 1 #obx 2 #obx 3 #obx 4 #chase stokes #carlacia grant #madison bailey #jonathan daviss #rudy pankow #john b routledge #sarah cameron #kiara carerra #pope heyward #jj maybank #cleo #TV AND MOVIE PRODUCTIONS

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nightfire917 · 1 year

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𝓙𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓑 𝓡𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓰𝓮

𝒪𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈

#john b outer banks #obx s3 #outer banks #obx 2 #aesthetic pfp #icons #john b imagine #john booker routledge #john b x reader #john b routledge icons #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge x reader

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clinemezs · 2 years

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sarah cameron 1x01 icons/layouts

like or reblog if you use/save

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ameagrice · 1 year

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night changes ; chapter one

obx || topper x fem reader

If you could change it all, would you? Would swapping your beginning with Topper really make anything better? At one point or another, you’d have to make stupid choices and say stupid things with some boy. You hadn’t ever imagined he’d do something like this.

“You have to tell Rafe,” you implored, hands on his forearms, almost chasing his gaze as he turned his head away. “Tell him to tell the truth!”

Topper sighed firmly through his nose, his face hard when he turned back to look at you. “What makes you think he’ll even do it, huh? What’s done is done. There’s no use in getting us mixed up anymore.”

Your mouth gaped. “There’s no use?! There’s so much use! He’s ruined everything between us and he’s ruined my life here! You don’t know how hard it is to constantly be talked shit about—people give me dirty looks and say things twenty-four-seven! You know I’m not pregnant. Why aren’t you doing anything?”

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” He returned harshly, ripping his arms away from your hold.

“I am! I’m trying! People won’t listen to me. I need your help, here, Topper! You’re a boy, and you’re a Kook and you’re popular; it’s so much better for you! You have more power than you think in this situation—”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that crap—”

“If you don’t tell Rafe, for the last time, I will. And I’m starting to lose my patience.”

“You know what, just go. Go talk to Rafe. If you hadn’t come to find me that night this wouldn’t have happened. It’s your fault.”

He’d never be who you thought he was. Constantly switching around you. And it all started on September 3rd, 2019.

“No. Oh just fuck off already…”

“Who?” The positive voice of Mia piped up at your side, forcing you to sigh. “Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you almost spat, slapping the sheet of paper face-down on the table, hand splayed over it. “Ain’t happening. I’m not doing that.”

“Could be worse,” Mia offered, shrugging. You almost glowered at her. What on earth could be worse than working with Topper Thornton? “You could have Hazel Miriadetchie.”

Topper Thornton was, very easily, a boy everybody knew of but very few knew personally. Unless you were a Kook with thousands of not millions of dollars, you weren’t getting near the guy to so much as breathe. He stayed around his people, was known as a resident class-A jerk and was pretty much your typical ‘popular’ dude. Although why he was popular in the first place was a mystery; nobody liked him.

“I’ll take Hiccup Hazel over tall-ass Topper any day.”

You lifted the paper and turned it over with a heavy heart. The sheet hadn’t even made it over to his side of the room yet, which was probably why he was still laughing too loudly with his friends. Sighing, you read three times the writing in big bold at the very top of the page:

NO SWAPPING PARTNERS.

No. He wouldn’t be happy.

“Hey! Are you gonna keep hold of that forever or?…”

You almost threw it to the girls behind you, who muttered a sarcastic thanks.

“At least your partner doesn’t talk shit about anyone who isn’t mega rich,” you muttered into your hand, resting your chin on it. “You know, those people are dog shit, man,” you imitated quietly. Mia snorted. “Man, I gotta say –”

“Who even is that?”

You paused instantly, tuning in on the boys’ conversations at the back.

“I don’t know. Is she hot?”

Oh, now you were seriously dreading this. Dealing with Topper would have been easy if you had to just talk to him, sacrifice a few hours a week of your time to working together. But you hadn’t thought of how judgemental the type of boy Topper was could be. He’d be judging you on your looks, basing your worthiness of his respect off your features, and you knew it for a fact. Girls who didn’t throw themselves at boys like him were never given the time of day, and would be on the receiving end of backhanded comments. You had felt that hurt personally. If you were normal-looking, averagely pretty, you were overlooked by Topper.

Sometimes you thanked your average prettiness for that.

“How am I supposed to know if I don’t know who the fuck she is?”

A round of snickers and brief laughter started up your nerves. Ughhhhh.

“Alright!” Mr. Vaughn’s deep baritone coveted the other voices in the room. The boys at the back of the room slowly fell quiet. “We have about thirty minutes left, so you need to find the partner you are going to be working with up until Christmas and get started on ideas for your project. As it says on the board, this can be a video, a written paper of a maximum of one hundred pages, or another creative thing you guys come up with. If you wanted you can incorporate everything I just said, but I have to approve of it first. Got it?”

Mumbles agreed around the classroom. It was one of those hot days where the fans only blew humid air, the sunlight was too hot through the roller blinds, and your palms were sticky with sweat that couldn’t be avoided.

The next few moments filled with the scraping of chairs across the floor, the chatter growing louder of people hugging their friends before they moved away, and the reluctant footsteps of people in the same situation as you who were being forced to sit with people they would otherwise never speak to. Your thought process was this: why make people, who have never met, work together poorly, when you could work and complete the work properly with people you actually liked.

Sociology class was always a brain-wringer.

You waited in your seat as people settled, searching for some kind of tell which would indicate that Topper Thornton would not give you shit the second you started heading over.

And you were putting it off.

As Hazel waited beside your desk, looking between yourself and Mia, you had no choice but to stand and move. Your baby-blue dress thankfully wasn’t showing any sweat marks when you stood, hitting your thighs lightly as you leaned over to collect your shoulder bag and oversized denim jacket from under the desk, slinging your bag on to your shoulder and your jacket over your forearms. Anxiety twisted and tingled in your chest as you began walking down the classroom, to the third row from the back, where Topper Thornton’s left side sat unoccupied for once, Kelce Smith having moved to sit with a girl on the other side of the room.

Wordlessly, you slipped behind his desk and dropped both your bag and jacket to the floor, sliding on to the chair Kelce had not pushed in. These kind of desks were a god-send, the kind that could fit two chairs underneath but provided enough space that neither of you ended up squished together. You looked straight ahead, crossing one leg over the other under the desk, and through your peripheral vision, Topper turned his head briefly to look at you. He didn’t say anything—just looked forward again, silent.

Inside your chest, your heart beat away frantically. Was it a good or bad sign that Topper didn’t speak?

Mr. Vaughn, an older man in his fifties with grey hair slicked back and never seen without a shirt and tie, clasped his hands together standing at the front of the classroom. “Great! Okay. So, you guys can go ahead and get started on your projects. I want a title or question relevant to this semester’s topic of environment, again presented however you wish. At the end of the class I need a brie plan written down of yours and your partner’s about your chosen topic and the way you wish to display it.”

He settled back behind his desk as the classroom erupted into excited talk of all things imaginable in life. You turned your head to Topper, to make the first move in this since you knew he just wouldn’t, only to find him turn completely away from you, your eyes drifting across the classroom to the boy he called for.

“Hey, Kelce! So you know how I was saying about it before?”

“Oh, man, I ain’t ever getting over that!”

They rattled on as if you weren’t even there. In a way, you were grateful; maybe this meant it was possible to choose everything on your own and work by yourself. Topper nearly deafened you calling across the room, and eventually he got up and went over to Kelce and his partner. She was fully involved in their conversation, leaving you to yourself. Your eyes drifted up to Mia, who was already looking at you. Beside her, Hazel was talking animatedly and writing shit down. Mia raised her hand and, faking a cough, made a gesture across her throat, sticking her tongue out sideways.

You snickered to yourself quietly, leaning down and pulling your notebook and a pen from your bag. If Topper didn’t want to help you, then you’d get it done yourself.

In capital letters at the title top, you wrote your question and free-handed underlining it.

WHAT EFFECT DOES THE ENVIRONMENT AND ITS STRESSORS HAVE ON HUMAN BEHAVIOUR?

Good enough for a random, off-the-top-of-your-head thought. You supposed you could alter it or rephrase the whole thing later at home if you wanted. But for now, it would do. Displaying it in writing, as a research paper or essay, would probably work best here. You could split it all in sections and maybe add some fancy words here and there…

The chair beside you screeched as someone sat down too quickly on it. You looked up. Topper leaned back in his chair, against the table behind you, one foot on the edge of your desk to hold himself there and his phone in hand. He was smirking, typing quickly. You didn’t even want to know

“So you’re doing the writing, yeah?”

You tried hard not to show on your face the annoyance you felt, but you were pretty sure it was obvious. What could go wrong here if you spoke your mind? Topper not speaking to you? Tough shit. Good riddance. You were eighteen and in your last year of highschool. Who cared.

“Right now, yeah” you answered snarkily. “Because you’re not doing a thing.”

Topper looked up from his phone, shock showing lightly on his features. “What?”

His tone said what did you say to me? While you couldn’t care less.

“Right now I’m doing the work but I am not doing it all by myself.”

He pulled a face you could only describe as disgust; his nose pulled slightly, and his brows frowned. “Whatever. What’s our question?”

You read out what you’d written and were met with silence. “That alright?” it was going to be alright whether he liked it or not. No contribution; no changing it.

“Sure.” His reply was snipy.

This project was sure to suck big time.

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nymphie-mama · 2 years

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RIGHT HERE

PAIRING: jj maybank x ex girlfriend!reader

SUMMARY: in which JJ never got over his ex.

WC: 500+

Almost a year ago, you and JJ dated. Only a for a few months. They’d been some pretty great months, but so were any other moments between you and JJ.

Nothing had changed after you broke up; it was a simply mutual thing. You’d been better as friends. He’d even dated someone else from your high school. But you couldn’t help but be jealous of her.

The problem was that after you broke up, almost nothing changed. Except then, he wouldn’t hold your hand in public or kiss you when he walked into the chateau. You were his best friend, and anyone could see that. But even after a year’s passing, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that settled in your stomach when JJ flooded into your mind.

He wasn’t bothered at all. He’d clearly moved on, as he’d dated or flirted with any girl on the cut; let alone all the tourons he’d fuck or amuse. He barely shot you a second glance when you entered the room.

“Princess?” he said, breaking the silence while you two layed on the hammock together. Pope and Kie were working and JB was in the house. His hand wrapped around your ankle, just a sweet touch youd been longing for. The pet name mixed with the feeling of his calloused hands sent a shiver through your body, even in the North Carolina heat.

“J?” you responded, squinting up at the sky.

“I miss you,” he said. He let go of your ankle and moved it up your leg briskly.

“What? I’m right here,” you replied, laughing without a second thought. He said up and you copied, but his hand never left your leg.

“I miss having you.”

“I’m right here. You have me, you’re my best friend.” Only a partial lie.

“But you’re not mine. I think about kissing you the way I used to every single day. I don’t want to see you with another guy,” he said, eyes tightly shut. You were in serious disbelief. What does that say about the other girls he’d been around with?

“But what about-“

“Who cares? None of them were you. None of it was right; not the way it was with you.”

You gaped stay him, almost biting back a laugh. It had been almost a year. There was zero way you wouldn’t have noticed if his feelings were still there.

“You must be lonely,” you said, trying to brush it off or excuse it, “If you want a quick fuck, go find a touron.” You brushed his hand off of your leg and brought your knees to your chest.

“I’m lonely until you walk into the room. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too, I see the way you look at me. Please, Y/N, I-“

“You what?”

“I just want to try again. If it doesn’t work then I’ll move on, I’ll fucking leave if I have to. Just let me try again, please.”

You smiled at him and he smiled back. It took some convincing, but you could tell he meant it. He may have been the group’s liar, but this was no lie. The stars were aligning again.

You brought your forehead to his and kissed the tip of his nose, “I’ve always been yours.”

Needless to say, that night was one to celebrate.

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skyebounded · 2 years

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Is That What You Wanted to Hear Part 3

Masterlist

premise: “This isn’t a good idea, right…right?”

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Smuttttttt! (fingering, vaginal sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex(I think that’s all))

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Hello Lovelies 💙 I am so sorry that this took me as long as it has, but here it finally is. Some closure for those of you who have been wanting it. I actually really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you guys like it! Thank you, guys for holding on and being patient with me, I love you guys!!!

“Rafe, I…” You stop in your tracks, your heart beating rapidly as you take in the sight of him. Scared, shoulders hung low, and a deep pleading in his eyes. Your lip quivers as you think of what you needed to say. “I don't know what to do..”

Rafe runs his hands over his face, taking a deep breath, he looks back at you.

“What does that mean?”

Your nerves were building, your chest heavy, and your head foggy, jumbled, as you try to process everything you were thinking. You were scared of it all, scared of what might happen next.

“What if this is a mistake? You ask, bringing your lips to form a line. You wanted so badly for him to tell you that it wasn’t, that you were overthinking. You wanted to be convinced that it was just you being scared, and not some logical idea that just formed in your head.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is shaky, and it makes your heart clench. A look of utter disbelief and distaste fills his face.

“Rafe, think about it…” you start, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. Rafe throws his hands up, his frustration starting to take over.

“I am, that’s all I've done, is think about it, about you, I don't ever stop.” he rants. You take a shaky breath, slowly shaking your head as you back up into the wall, and he follows. “You are all I think about, how could you say this? Now of all time?”

“We can't,” you mutter softly, not sure if you wanted it to be heard, not sure if it's what you want to say. Your back hits the kitchen wall, halting your movement, as you bring yourself to look up at him. A single tear falls down his cheek.

“Why not?” he asks, his voice growing stern, and his body growing tense. Rafe stops inches in front of you.

“Because….becu..” you sigh, trying your hardest.

“Why not?!” he asks, pushing you like he knows how to do. You shake your head, letting tears stream down your cheeks.

“Because, Rafe! What if it doesn't work?!'' you pause, watching as his features soften in realization, you were scared. “What if we don’t work, and everything falls apart? What if I lose you!” You throw your arms up in anguish, the tears falling freely from your eyes, staining your heated cheeks. Rafe takes a step back, shaking his head slowly.

“What if we aren’t meant to be anything but friends, and doing this ruins everything. If we stop now we can…we can.. We can still be friends.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, “Please, don’t say that..”

You swallow hard, all the worries and concerns building in you, growing louder in your head.

“No, Rafe, this could ruin everything. It isn’t a good idea,” you gesture to the counter, to him, at what you just did with him. Your voice is cracking, betraying you.

He doesn’t say anything, he just shakes his head in denial.

“This isn’t a good idea, right…right?” You ask, your voice wavers, as you look to him for some reassurance.

“Don't try and push me away again..”

The pained look on his face was heart wrenching. You didn’t want to push him away, you didn't want him to leave, but for some reason, it was the only thing that made sense in your head.

Rafe moves closer to you, and you freeze, “why?” he whispers, trying to make sense of all of it.

“Things are going to change, we are going to end up fighting all the time, and we're going to lose each other…what happens when you grow tired of me, or what happens if I hurt you more?” you rant. “What if…..what if..”

“Nothing is going to hurt me more than this right now.. Please stop saying these things.”

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You wipe away the tears from your cheeks, taking a deep breath.

“It’s a bad idea…” you murmur, nodding as if trying to convince yourself.

You watch Rafe’s eyes fall closed, and his shoulders fall. He opens his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. He lets out a shaky exhale. His hands come up and cup your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Look at me…look at me and tell me that you don't want me, don't want us, and I’ll leave..” he pauses, searching your eyes for any semblance of the truth. “Tell me you don’t want to at least try…”

Your breaths grow heavy and your eyes fall shut. You needed your thoughts silenced, all the worries and doubts. Your head falls back against the wall.

“Tell me you don't want me..” you feel his lips brush the corner of your mouth as he speaks. Your eyes flutter open, tear-filled, to meet his. His breath fanning across your face. All you wanted was for him to hold you, kiss you, and make all the worries disappear until nothing was left. With a shaky breath, you say, “I’m scared.” Rafe’s lips turn up in a soft smile.

“I know…I know,” he whispers, closing the distance between your lips, and pressing a kiss to yours. His hands come to cradle your neck as he deepens it, pulling you into him, giving you a sense of security. You open your mouth to him, letting his tongue in. Your eyes fall shut again, as you melt into him, letting him take charge, to hold you. Your knees beg to give out, and he knew. He wraps his arm, around your waist holding you securely.

Your thoughts silence, the worries dissipate, as you lean in closer to him, wrapping your hand around his shirt, clinging to it as if your very being depends on it, as you pull him impossibly closer to you.

Rafe pulls away, resting his head against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek gently.

“I’m scared too, but its just me and you, okay, we will figure this out, I promise.”

He tilts your head up, his finger resting just below your chin. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, and I’m not going to let you go without a fight, you hear me?” He smiles.

You don’t say anything, you can’t, all you can do is nod slowly, and that's enough for him. He pulls your face back to his, sinking back into the kiss.

******

Fifteen, fifteen minutes behind schedule. You both had agreed that you would be ready to head out fifteen minutes ago, and yet here you were. You were only dressed in an oversized t-shirt, and your hair wrapped tightly in a towel, nowhere close to being ready.

“Rafey?” You call out, looking around the empty room, that not but two seconds ago he was in. You unwrap the towel containing your hair, letting the mess of it fall to your shoulders.

“Oh, now that’s a beautiful sight.”

You jerk your head towards the door, which had been closed, but now stood open to reveal a tall handsome Rafe. He looked too damn good standing there, leaning against the door frame in his basketball shorts, and pristine white shirt, that was a size too small.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his comment.

“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically.

Rafe approaches you, shutting the door in the process. He reaches out, grabbing your baggy-shirt hugged hips, and pulls you into him. The smile on your face grows as he leans down and brings his lips to caress yours, biting at your lower lip for entrance. You let your mouth fall open, granting him access, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

You could absolutely melt into his touch, let him do whatever he pleased.

His hands slink up under your shirt, his knuckles grazing your soft skin as he brings them to rest on your waist. You pull away looking at him, your brows raised and your mouth slightly slack.

“We have to leave, so what are you doing bub?’ You ask.

He pulls back to look at you, his all too well-known smile taking over his perfect lips.

“Admiring you,” he responds.

He loved you, more than you know and it warmed your heart to know it. His hand comes up to your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he smiles at you. Heat creeps to your cheeks at his words, as you smile back at him. “Besides, I think the fair can wait a little longer.” he adds with a wink.

Giggling, you lean up to him, crashing your lips against his once more. His hand slides up the skin of your bare back, his fingers tracing the curvature of your spin, while his other hand caresses your jaw, as he pulls you closer to him. You would never get used to how amazing it felt to kiss him. Your hands find their way to his hair, fisting at the brown strands, as you smile into the kiss. Rafe leans down, picking you up, and you wrap your legs around his torso, letting him hold you like you weighed nothing to him. He pulls you onto the bed with him, bringing you to straddle his lap.

“Is this my shirt?”

You look down at it, seeing the plain pattern before you look back up at him. Your eyes meet his beautiful blue ones.

“No, it's mine,” you smile.

His brow raises, a look of intrigue forming on his face. He knew it was his, he wore it all the time, but he played along.

“You sure? Because I have one just like it,” he pauses, his hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer to him, “And come to think of it, It’s missing.” His eyes narrow on you, and you can’t help but let out a giggle.

“Hmm, that is strange. Yeah, nope this one is definitely mine.”

Rafe hums, nodding his head slowly as he waits for you to break.

“Very strange,” he mumbles, “I think you’re lying to me.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head slowly, trying to convince him that you aren’t, but it was too late. Rafe had you flipped, your back against the bed as he hovers over you, his arms caging you as he stares down at you intently.

His hand slides back up underneath the fabric, fingers ghosting over your skin as he traces the side of your body.

“I’m not lying,” You laugh when his fingers glide over a sensitive spot of skin.

You see his face light up when he realizes it tickled.

“Prove it.”

He looks at you with a challenge in his eye, which you return.

“How am I supposed to prove it, Rafe?” you ask, twitching as his fingers make their way back down over that spot. He purses his lips, putting on his best-thinking face.

“Tell me where you got it from then, if it's not mine.”

A look of panic takes over. You had no earthly idea where he’d gotten it from, and he knew that. You put your acting skills to the test, grabbing at the hem of the shirt.

“Ohh, you’re talking about this shirt? Oh no, this shirt is yours, yeah my bad I thought it was a different shirt.”

You try your best to sound convincing, but there is no point, he’s got you now. Rafe just nods along with your excuse, humming along as you continue.

“I must have just gotten them confused,” you try.

Rafe’s hand stops on that sensitive spot of skin, his fingers toying with it as you squirm around underneath him. Your laughter quickly fills the room, as he picks up the pace of tickling you.

“Oh, no I believe you,” he coos, completely satisfied at your reactions to him.

“Wait-t, R-afe,” you laugh, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp, but with no success.

He lets up, letting your laughs die down while you collect yourself, keeping his gaze fixated on you, a smug look on his face.

“Yes, angel?” he mumbles, leaning down closer to you, his lips just inches from yours. Your breath hitches as his hand slides up further up your shirt.

“We can share it,” you say, your chest still heaving. He pretends to think it over quickly before he shakes his head.

“Nah, I want it back, it's mine.” He kisses you quickly as his hand comes up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You let out a small whimper against his lips at the touch, arching your chest into his hand. You feel Rafe’s thigh move between your legs, rubbing against your bare heat nicely. Another small whimper at the sudden neediness for him, the need for some friction. You slowly find movement against his leg, sending shocks of pleasure to jolt through your body. Rafe, sensing your movements, pushes his thigh harder against you, causing you to let out a moan.

“Always so fucking needy.” he smirks.

His tone is soft yet gruff, as he whispers in your ear, nipping at it with the last word. You draw your lips into a thin line, as he moves to look at you, his face inches from your own.

“Please,”

“Please what..hmmm?” his breath fans across your face, his thigh bouncing slightly to give you a little more friction.

“Please.. M’need you,” you whisper. You watch his tongue tracing his teeth, the grin growing on his face, the way his eyes look down to see you grinding against him before they come back up to look in your eyes again.

“Yeah? Need me to do what?” He cocks his head slightly. You grab ahold of the shirt that he’s wearing and pull him down closer to you, “I need to feel you, Rafe,” you bite down on your bottom lip with a grin.

Rafe simply chuckles, rolling his eyes as he pulls back slightly from you. He sits up and pulls his shirt off over his frame, throwing it to the ground. You sit up, reaching for your own shirt to pull it off, but Rafe’s hands grab yours, holding them at your sides, his eyes dark and mischievous.

“Did I say you could take it off?”

You felt the heat in your cheeks, at his question. You shake your head, with a cheeky grin. After a moment he lets go of your hands, content when he knows that you’ll obey. He pulls off his pants slowly, almost as if he was trying to torture you.

“Rafeee! If you don’t hurry the fuck up-”

Your sentence is cut short as soon as you feel his deft fingers running through your folds, just before he sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, bringing them to pump slowly inside of you. Your hand falls to the sheet on the bed, gripping it tightly. Mouth wide open, forming the perfect ‘o’ as soft pants release from it.

“What were you saying, angel?” Rafe coos, bringing himself to lean over your frame. His eyes held a sinful exposure to them, and his lips, a wicked grin. Finding yourself at a loss for words, you simply look at him, brows knitted together as you feel his fingers, brushing over your sweet spot, nothing less than teasing. Your body shutters at the feeling, the way he moves his fingers, curling them to add to the pleasure building just inside you.

“Hmm?” he teases. You pull your lip between your teeth, biting down on it. Wiggling your hips, hoping to find more friction. More pleasure, more of him. Rafe, sensing this picks up his pace, but only slightly, content with the neediness from you.

“You are so damn beautiful like this, with my fingers inside of you..”

You were too distracted by the growing ache to pay much attention to his words, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hear them, if anything they only added to the agony. Rafe leans down. Pressing open mouth kisses to your delicate skin, along your collar, neck, up your throat. Claiming you in his wake as he reaches a particular sweet spot on your neck.

A feeble whine pushes past your lips at the addition of his thumb on your bud, circling it to the rhythm of his fingers inside you. Your eyes screwing shut as the sensation of it all, building itself up.

“Rafe, please don’t stop.”

Your moans serve only as encouragement for him to keep going, his pace never faltering, as he continues to kiss you, sucking purple welts into the skin on your neck. He pulls some of your damp hair, giving him more access to your neck, as he continues his assault on it. You feel the burning sensation rise and rise, holding you just on the edge of ecstasy, your walls clinging to his fingers, afraid to lose them.

“Come for me, angel.” He whispers in your ear.

Just like that you take a leap, falling over the edge letting the waves of pleasure consume you. Your nerves buzzing, your skin tingling as the satisfaction rolls over you, again and again. Your fist clinging to the sheet, begging for something to ground you as you lose yourself. Your other hand finds the nape of his neck, pulling him to seal it all with a kiss. His lips press to yours, his tongue moving against yours. He pulls his fingers from you, only to leave you feeling empty and needy for more.

“Rafe, I want you…Now,” you moan against his lips.

He sits up, pulling off his boxers before rejoining you, perfectly between your open thighs. It takes him no time to line himself up to your entrance, slowly sinking into you. Your mouth falls back open as you take in the delicious stretch of him, only to have his lips meet yours again, swallowing the moan that leaves you as he bottoms out inside of you. A sweet pleasurable pain taking over. He bits at your lower lip, drawing himself out only to thrust back in with a force, setting a slow pace at first but quickly picking it up.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, “Always so damn tight, angel.”

Your only response, a pathetic mewl as you delight in the drag of his cock, hitting your sweet spot with great precision. There was no way you were going to last, not with the way he was currently looking down at you. Blue eyes sparkling with sin and lust, and yet adoration and love. The grin he wears is one of mischief, like always. You could already feel your release building once more. Rafe’s hand moves to the apex of your thighs, expertly finding your aching clit, as he begins to mercilessly massage it, coaxing sweet sobs from your lips. You feel your wall clench around his length, causing him to groan into the crook of your neck at the feeling. He loved the way you fit so tightly around him, the way you would grip him when you were reaching your climax.

“Fuck, angel.”

You could tell Rafe was closing in, the way his muscles tighten, his thrusts becoming sloppier. Your hands find his back, pulling him closer to you. With one more perfectly angled thrust, you were done, coming undone as the euphoria took over. Your nails dragging down his back, clinging to it as you fall apart beneath him. Your body goes limp, nothing but incoherent sounds leaving you. Your eyes fall shut as you revel in the feeling of it all.

It takes him a mere moment before he finds his release, spilling into you, coating your exhausted walls. He moans out a string of curses, slowing to a few more lazy thrusts before he’s pulling out of you, collapsing by your side. He reaches out and pulls you into his embrace. He presses a few kisses to your damp forehead, resulting in a satisfied hum from you.

You open your eyes, looking up at him, wondering how he had only ever been your friend. You had never thought of what it would be like to be with him, and yet here you were, indulging in the very reality of it all. You knew, looking at him that all of your previous worries meant nothing, that there was absolutely no reason to be scared of the future because regardless of everything, you knew he would always be by your side, and nothing felt better.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a hint of worry in his tone, and you can’t help but smile.

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already,” you reply.

He raises a brow, but gives in, bringing his lips to meet yours once more. Holding them captive in a slow and sensual kiss.

“I love you.” you smile.

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babeydollx · 2 years

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Honestly one of my favorite scenes of JJ in season 2 I don't know why.

JJ Maybank

Outer Banks Season 2 🏄‍♂️

(My first set gifs 🙈)

My giphy

#Yammy's Gifs 🍑#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank gifs #obx 2 #obx season 2 #jj maybank season 2 #rudy pankow #obx gif #obx gifs #jj maybank gif #rudy pankow gif #rudy pankow gifs #giphy

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thenerdygorl · 1 year

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ok if the rumors are true and it is kiara and rafe kidnapped together in the bahamas, i hope we get a split second of "you have got to be kidding me" because you know they hate each other's guts 😭 i have no doubt it'll become a friendship though — i love enemies to allies more than enemies to lovers!!!

#obx spoilers #outer banks spoilers #outer banks 3 #obx 2 #obx3 #rafe cameron #drew starkey #madison bailey #kie #kie carrera #kiara carrera

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givingairtomymouth · 15 days

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Probably it's a hot take, but I don't think the problem with jiara is that Kiara could have been lesbian and JJ a bi mess. I don't blame it on "the straights", also because we have all supported John B and Sarah, or at least Cleo and Pope I imagine, ain't no problem with those ships being straight. Personality is not sexuality anyway, and I would have preferred both to remain single regardless. Also, jiara could have been nice for diversity points I guess.

My problems with this ship are the complete butchery of the characters that it brings and the complete lack of chemistry. That's it.

And to me it's far more relevant.

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loveyatopluto · 2 years

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Watching OBX with my brother

~end of s2 ep9~

Bro: what if Ward is alive and on the boat, that’d be funny

Me: yeah… so funny…

Bro: (sees ward is alive) *throws pillow* I was FUCKING KIDDING

#obxhub #outerbanksedit #episode 9 #OBX #obx 2 #obx3 #Jiara #jarah b #jj maybank #kiara carrera #john b routledge #pope heyward #sarah cameron #ward Cameron #brothers #lol

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nightfire917 · 1 year

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𝓢𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓱 𝓒𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷

𝒪𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron obx #obx s3 #obx 2 #outer banks #sarah cameron icons #sarah cameron x reader #sarah Cameron x reader #sarah cameron imagine #icons #aesthetic pfp

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clinemezs · 2 years

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madelyn cline layouts

like or reblog if you use/save & give credits to @selstarkey on twitter . . . ♥︎ !

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ameagrice · 1 year

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night changes ; chapter two

obx || topper x reader

Sticky weather brought out all kinds of attitudes from people. Some complained, some found excuses to drench people with their water bottles, and others—the more normal kind—tried to get through their day as calmly and without fuss as possible, determined not to make themselves even sweatier and hotter.

You were the last kind of person. Wiping the sweat on your forehead with the back of your arm, you got on with writing websites and books you’d need to reference. You were thinking maybe actually visiting some of these places you’d looked at would be beneficial; hands-on research would mean proving your point and could get you both some kind of extra credit. The fact that you had about eighty dollars in the bank was the issue.

Topper huffed slowly, tipping his head back, arms crossed loosely. Showing skin around Topper wasn’t something you were overly excited about, but in this kind of sticky heat where the fans in the room weren’t doing a thing, you didn’t give a shit anymore. You’d settled for denim white and grey striped shorts and a black oversized tee loosely tucked in. You almost said something—how could he look and sound done in when he’d done nothing since this two hour class began this morning but scroll on his phone.

For the first time since the semester started, the classroom was pretty much empty. Besides the two of you, Mia and Hazel, and three girls at the front, it seemed everyone else had taken the sweltering day off. In a way it was sort of relaxing having an emptyish classroom. Topper being the only boy in the room must have felt at least a little out of place. If he did, he didn’t show it.

“So how are we doing this?”

Your hand stopped, and you looked up. “Doing what?” You frowned.

He gestured to the paper briefly, like you were stupid. “This. This topic thing. How are we starting. If I don’t pass this class my mom’s gonna kill me so, you know, explain away.”

You still panicked when he talked to you. Topper was always someone you heard of but never spoke to. Someone you got near to but never close to. Now, beside you, you felt slightly claustrophobic. He was intimidating despite looking lean rather than firmly strong. His whole vibe was mean, rich boy.

You cleared your throat gently, looking down at your papers. “I was thinking a research paper type thing.” You shrugged. “Just get a load of information and shit and put it all into an essay.”

“That’s boring,” he sighed.

“Well you haven’t been much help,” your shot back.

“We should do a video like Vaughn said. Less effort and a lot faster.”

“A video of what, though?”

Topper actually sat up properly, leaning over you to pull your notebook. He slid his phone on the table and held the notebook in both hands, leaning back again with one foot on the table to hold there. “The effects of environmental stressors on human behaviour. We’ll find some dodgy places, research the area, get a couple photos or videos as proof and you can do your thing. Put them together. Extra credit. You can thank me later.”

Doubt began to creep up your veins. “Dodgy places? Like…?”

He actually snickered. “Skid Row? Look, I don’t know. I’ll find somewhere and then get there.”

“With what money? I’ve got like eighty dollars.”

“When did I say you were coming?”

Your mouth shut instantly. He hadn’t actually mentioned bringing you with him. Did that mean it didn’t hurt? Talk about humiliating. A twinge ran through your stomach like a jolt, and you picked up your pen again, crossing out a line you weren’t fond of. Your cheeks were hot.

“I’m going. I’m not sitting here for another hour.”

You could have laughed then. “I’m not doing this on my own. It’s way too much to get done before—”

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. Mia turned her head to look at him. Topper kicked his chair under the desk and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “If you’re that bothered, Pogue, I’m just gonna go. If you care so much fucking text me or something instead. I’m not sitting around with you.”

His tall figure was out of the classroom before you had a chance to ask just where the hell you were gonna get his number from. He let the door slam loudly behind him, and you dragged his chair over to you to put your feet up as you wrote.

-> ->

“What the hell was all that about?”

Yourself and Mia trekked across the playing field under the sun. Since the boys who typically played football at lunch had taken the day off, it was practically empty besides others with the same idea to sunbathe or sit and eat.

“What?” You raised your brow.

“Mr. ‘I’m gonna storm out of this class like a douche’.”

“Oh,” you mouthed. “Topper being Topper, I guess.”

“You say that like we know Topper.”

She sat down on the grass, and you followed suit. Pulling out a water bottle, you unscrewed the cap, shrugging. “I’m gonna have to get to know him,” you realised.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

You flayed your hands, accidentally throwing water. She yelped. “I don’t know what to tell you! Just Topper being Topper!”

“Alright! Geez, woman, is he that annoying?”

“Yes. Yes, he is. The man doesn’t like to work.”

“I wouldn’t either,” she said, leaning back, skin slightly pink from the sun. “If I didn’t have to. Which speaking of, I’m supposed to be in at four tonight but I don’t know if I can bear listening to rich kids moan that it’s too hot when they’re sipping on iced lattes.”

You dug around your bag, looking for your lunch. It had gotten squished under your three water bottles—spares, in case you ran out—and found a slip of paper you couldn’t recall putting in there this morning. You fished it out from between your bottles, flipping it the right side up. On the ripped slip of uneven edges, blue pen scrawled a number.

And underneath that, a single word. A name.

TOPPER.

-> ->

If school was stuffy, your bedroom at home was even worse. Your mom had been at work and shut your bedroom window before she left, it seemed, so opening your bedroom door to your curtains closed and the room like a sauna that had been ramped up to four times it’s normal heat had not been a pleasant surprise.

Now, stripped down to socks, a tee, and your pants, you lay with your feet up on the wall at the head of your bed, the slip of paper from Topper in one hand and your phone in the other, looking back and forth as you put his number in your contacts list.

Do I text? Give him a call? No…I’m not calling…

Your thoughts came quickly, but you wondered. You were partners in this test of patience. He’d given you his number so you could work together on the project. A part of you wanted to wish he’d given you his number for another reason, but you realised quickly: this was Topper Thornton, and he didn’t so much as treat you kindly. Why would he want you as anything more than a project partner?

In the end, you tapped on his contact and tapped the text option.

Your thumbs held over the screen, moving slowly as you thought.

Hey, thought I’d give you a text so you have my number too :)

Instantly your heart plummeted after the text turned blue, delivered appearing underneath. Regret began to creep up.

At first you thought he wouldn’t reply at all. You wouldn’t expect a boy like Topper to give you the time of day.

Your phone buzzed, your hand falling from your hair to pick it up. Holding it above your face, you pressed the home button to light the screen up.

Topper Thornton

Is this that sociology girl?

Oof. How many girls did he give his number out to? Scratch that, you didn’t even want to know.

You waited a little bit before texting him back.

Yeah.

-> ->

Sometimes, it was as if the universe hated you. Had you done a terrible thing in a past life? Were you so lucky in it, instead, that this time you deserved to struggle? If God existed, you felt he hated you the most some days.

Because he sent Topper Thornton and his family into The Whitehouse. A fine dining restaurant serving flame-grilled steaks at ridiculous prices and funnily expensive drinks and deserts all at over $30 each.

A perfect place for a perfect, rich family.

A place called…your work.

As if seeing him at school wasn’t enough, you were on reservation and bar duty tonight. Living in Kilsdare County, it wasn’t uncommon to see people from school. The Outer Banks was a wide place. But at the end of the day, there was only one high school, and a few select places everyone could go to. Tonight would be good, you’d thought. You’d take people over to their seats and take drinks over from the bar. An easy night. Or so you’d wished.

In a white polo shirt with some logo on it in fancy blue writing you didn’t recognise, and expensive-looking jeans, Topper had sauntered in first, holding his arm over his mom to get the door for her. Her, wearing a red shirt with gold lining and black pants and heels. His dad wore a silver Rolex watch on his wrist and had his hair slicked back. Topper resembled his mother the most. He’d taken on her loose hair, at least—tidy, very blond, and soft-looking.

Your uniform began to grow uncomfortable—a white collared shirt with silver buttons and a fitted black skirt and tights. You’d decked out and broke your pockets for the loafers you wore, shiny and black and very uncomfortable. At your interview months back, the owner had made it clear the look here was clean, tidy, and spotless. You’d fit the description so far, she said, you just had to find shoes that fit your uniform. And based on what everybody else wore, you couldn’t be the odd one out. The silver bar across the front of each even had to be polished.

Wasn’t there some way out of this? The three of them stood waiting at the small Japanese-inspired waterfall that doubled as a ‘wait here’ monument to be seated. Beside it, almost hidden, was a small stand holding a white, sleek laptop for bookings. Topper’s mom tapped her foot impatiently while Topper spoke quietly with his dad, looking around as he did so. You turned back to the bar, considering going over and beginning for someone to take your place just this once.

Your manager was helping herself to free drinks, while you stood dying for one, and watched you carefully.

Sighing, with your stomach tugging itself, you began to head over, throwing a polite smile on your face. As if she could sense your presence, Topper’s mom turned her head, following you.

“Hi, can I take a name—”

“Do you know it’s rude to keep people waiting?”

You blinked, hand paused on the laptop mousepad. “Sorry about your wait—” although you were barely waiting at all, you wanted to say.

“That isn’t the point!” She snapped. Irritation built in your body, and you had to look away. You knew by now Topper must have noticed you.

Deciding to ignore her anger, you looked back down at the laptop. There, at the very top, sat the name Thornton, with the time of their booking set for fifteen minutes from now. You turned your head to the right, checking the elevated area. You almost wanted to cry. You had a seriously angry lady here, your project partner beside her, and their booked table was still in use.

“Can I take a name?” You asked again, trying furiously to prevent your voice from shaking. You glanced up. Topper was staring at you.

“It’s Thornton,” his mom said with a bold laugh, as if everybody should have known it. Her face showed what was almost disbelief. “Table for three.”

Table 15. Which, when you turned your head again, was still in use by a couple with a baby. You were not kicking them out for this woman.

You bottled your nerves as best you could and met her eyes again. “So, you’re a few minutes early which means I can’t seat you yet--”

She gasped a laugh mockingly. Topper’s dad came to her side. And Topper behind her? He looked almost embarrassed. And no matter what, he couldn’t meet your eyes, finding interest in the floor or the ceiling, hands stuffed in his expensive-looking pockets.

“Look,” his dad said firmly. You swallowed hard, finding your throat was beginning to clog up. “We booked a table and you’re holding us up.”

“There is--”

“I don’t give a damn if there is already someone there. Just put us somewhere else.”

“Are you new?” his mother cut in, stepping closer. She looked absolutely disgusted and your heart plummeted. You tried so hard to hold back the angry tears. Who did these people think they were, giving you shit for something you couldn’t control. It wasn’t the confrontation bothering you, it was the sheer audacity they had to speak to you like garbage and demand things you’d get in trouble for giving. As if they couldn’t use their eyes, the restaurant was nearing full, hence having to book a table.

Finally, when his mother opened her mouth again, Topper came to your defence, shocking you. He placed his hand on her arm. “Mom, come on, we’ve only got like ten minutes to wait.”

“I’d like to talk to your manager,” she decided. You nodded, not even willing to put up a fight. She’ll just say the same thing as me, you thought.

“Of course,” you locked the laptop screen and began walking to the bar. Your manager had already stood, putting down her iced drink in its fancy triangular glass on the bar, making her way around.

You stood on the corner of the bar with one of the other girls, Sandica, who watched the scene with you.

“Dr. Thornton,” she muttered. “She’s a total bitch. Can’t count the amount of times she’s nearly gotten me fired from this place.”

“If she’s that much trouble why don’t they just bar her?” You wondered, crossing your arms and leaning your elbows on the bar, head turned to watch.

Your breathing froze momentarily, as Topper looked at you. He didn’t show anything on his face, but shrugged lightly. Was that a sorry or a you got what you deserved shrug?

“I think that’s her son,” said Sandica. She began polishing glasses, and you set about helping her. Anything was better than having to wait on the Thorntons. “Think he was two grades below me.”

“He is,” you confirmed. “He’s my project partner in sociology at school.”

She whistled. “Sucks to be you. What’s he like?” “Rude. Likes to let me do all the work. His friends are horrible. I wouldn’t speak to him ever if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I bet. Rich boys always have the worst attitudes. It’s like they feel they’re better than everyone, when really, barely anyone likes them.”

You wished her words were the truth. But the truth was, Topper Thornton was well-liked by his peers. There was a reason he came to places like this, and could talk to anyone he met. Topper was confident, rich, and well-mannered. You could dislike him for his money or his attitude, but in actuality, the boy was popular for all the wrong reasons.

You watched them be led over to a different table and your heart sunk.

“So now I’m gonna go over there and have to serve them after not letting them take another table.”

“Anything goes when you’re the manager,” Sandica sighed. “We get in trouble for shit she tells us not to do. It’s like she’s just going back on herself.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “And we get the shit for it.”

Policy stated you had to give customers at least ten minutes before going over and asking if they were ready to order. In those ten minutes polishing at the bar, you had thought of ways to get out of this:

1. Hide out in the toilets and blame it on girl problems.

2. Just refuse to go over.

3. Quit your job.

Ugh, you couldn’t do that. Your mom would kill you three times over.

You slapped the rag down you’d used for polishing on the bar, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Wish me luck. I’m off.”

“If you don’t come back alive, can I have your earrings?”

Topper was talking animatedly with his mom, you saw as you neared. She laughed at something he said while he just blinked at her, unmoving.

And then...

You stopped in front of their table, and only Topper and his father looked at you. Your hands shook, so you held the iPad against your stomach in front of you.

“Are you guys ready to order?”

“Yeah.” Topper briefed, shifting in his seat. “Mom, you wanted the salad and caviar, right?”

“Not from her, no.”

You rolled your eyes. You just couldn’t help yourself. How could a grown woman twice your age at least, be acting like a child?

Topper didn’t say anything about your eye roll. “She’ll have the caeser salad and caviar with a side of prawns. Dad?”

You swiftly typed it all on the iPad, watching the bill rack up instantly from twenty dollars exactly for the salad to thirty. Fine dining was a massive joke.

“I’ll take the glazed confit duck leg with braised sweetheart cabbage and red pepper gastrique.” He closed his menu, looking to Topper as you did.

You’d expected him to make your life difficult when his parents seemed dead set on doing so.

He flipped through the menu for a moment, the sleek, black book with fancy lettering and written in both French and English.

“Uhh, I’ll have rolled sage and onion pork with fondant potato.”

Without missing a beat, you rambled on almost automatically, having it all memorised by now. “Are we thinking of ordering deserts yet?”

“No deserts,” his mother snapped. “We won’t be here that long. Can we get the bill, please.”

Please? Who knew that word could be in her vocabulary.

“So your total comes to sixty-five dollars and eighty cents, whenever you’re ready.”

His dad simply whipped out a plastic card without looking your way. “And we’d like a receipt.”

-> ->

There was a wait time on food.

You screamed into your hands, mouth tight so it muffled. Sandica laughed and fell to her knees behind the bar.

“They already hate me!” You expressed, removing your hands from your face. You shook your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You have to!” She stood, wiping her eyes and still laughing. “Otherwise they’ll complain.”

You waved a hand firmly in their direction. “They complain anyway!”

She laughed even harder, but wandered off to the other side of the bar to serve customers. It left you polishing menus with a rag and strong-smelling liquid.

“Can I add something to our order?”

You put down the menu and rag, smiling politely before you even saw who it was. “Yeah, the—”

You stopped short. Topper leaned on the bar facing you to your right, his eyes moving across your face. Clearing your throat, you carried on. “There’s about an hour wait from now. Your order’s being cooked but there’s still about forty minutes left to wait.”

He clenched his jaw. “You wanna tell my mom or should I?”

“You, please.”

The words slipped out before you could stop yourself. Eyes widening, you looked away from Topper. He shocked you when all he did was grin crookedly.

“She can be a lot but, uh,” he turned his head to the bottles of alcohol in the optics on the mirrored wall. “She’s pretty harmless.”

“I’ll let you do all the talking.”

Silence overcame you both, and you turned the cleaning bottle in your hands. Topper sighed, and reached his arm up to scratch his neck awkwardly. You watched while he didn’t look at you.

“I’m sorry about, like, before. She can get like that.” He said.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s restaurant work. I’m used to it.”

Were you really standing here and talking civilly with Topper Thornton?

A line settled between his brows. “You just let people speak to you like shit?”

You huffed a laugh. “Like I have a choice. They can talk to me how they want but if I say anything back it’s me being ‘disrespectful’. I’d lose my job.”

“Damn,” he muttered, his blue eyes once again shifting over you. “That’s shit.”

You nodded your head and pressed your lips together. “Can I get you anything, anyway?”

As if snapping out of a trance, Topper stood to his proper height, taller than you, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “My dad wanted desert. His friends just bailed anyway so I don’t think we’ve got a reason to be in a hurry anymore.”

You walked round the bar, picking up Sandica’s iPad and logging in with your code. You put in what Topper wanted, feeling under scrutiny as he towered over you on the other side.

“Anything else?” You selected his table number and put the order on. When he said no, you told him the remaining price and he handed over the cash.

Before he walked away, and after you’d set the cash in the till, he leaned on the bar again, and held out his hand for you. You blinked at him unsurely.

“Take the tip,” he demanded softly. “And shut up about it.”

You didn’t say a word as you carefully took the notes from his hand, tucking them in to your shirt pocket quickly. For some reason, you felt odd about this. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he huffed, and pushed off the bar, heading back over to his table.

Once out of sight, you pulled the cash out of your pocket and sifted through the three notes. Thirty dollars, your mouth gaped. Not bad at all.

Rich boys could surprise you, you thought.

finally got this one finished! I thought about adding some more but figured it’s long enough lol.

tagging:

@totallynotkaibiased

#topper thornton x reader #topper thornton #rafe cameron #jj maybank #john b routledge #pope hayward #obx #obx 2 #obx 3 #outer banks #outer banks series #outer banks x reader #fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader

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