Rafe Cameron Imagines//Oneshots

Too Young ⚠️

Summary = Y/n and Rafe get into conflict involving the age gap between their relationship. 

The bonfire flickers against the dark shoreline, casting warm, orange light on faces half-hidden by shadows. 

Music thumps softly from someone's Bluetooth speaker, mixing with the sound of waves lapping at the sand. 

The party should feel relaxed, fun—but it doesn't. 

Not for you. 

Not with the tension coiling tighter with every passing second.

Rafe is sitting farther back from the fire, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his knees. 

His drink dangles loosely from one hand, but his sharp, watchful eyes are locked on you. He doesn't need to say anything—you know that look. 

You feel it like a hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to remind you he's there.

You try to shake it off. You came here to have fun, to breathe for once. And you're determined to do just that.

Adam, one of your oldest friends, throws an arm casually around your shoulders as you laugh at something he says. The warmth of his body next to yours is familiar, easy. 

But you know Rafe sees it differently.

"Come on," Adam teases, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. "You gotta admit, you'd be the fastest one out there. You always killed it at the lake. What do you say? You coming out this weekend?"

You smile, trying to act like you don't notice the way Rafe's stare burns a hole into you from across the fire. "I'll think about it."

Adam grins and tightens his arm around you, giving you a friendly squeeze. It's nothing—it's how he's always been. But to Rafe, it's everything. "Does he always look at you like he owns you, if he was nicer it wouldn't be weird he's a bit older you know" Adam shrugs sounding slightly slurred in his words from the half empty beer in his own hand. 

The age gap between you and Rafe didn't go unnoticed by anyone,especially your friends and family, you didn't mind yourself, it was more than a few years though so other people felt free to share their thoughts. 

Rafe doesn't care, well that's how he acts but you know it causes some deeper issues for him time to time, including now...

You feel the shift before you even look up. Rafe rises from his chair, the drink in his hand forgotten as he stalks over to you. 

There's a quiet intensity to the way he moves, like a storm rolling in—silent but inevitable.

"Rafe," you warn quietly, but it's too late.

He steps right between you and Adam, forcing space where there wasn't any. "Get your arm off her," Rafe says, low and measured, but there's steel beneath it.

His voice is firm but matches the lsur in adams, he's had a few drinks too many to be arguing with other guys at the same level. You always hated drunk men fighting, despite them only being buzzed or tipsy it always had the same effect. 

Adam blinks, taken aback. "Chill, man. We're just—"

"I said," Rafe cuts him off, his jaw tight, "get your fucking arm off her."

Adam glances at you, confused, before slowly letting his arm drop. He holds up his hands, trying to keep things light. "Alright, alright. No need to get all worked up."