#MY FAVORITE LINE USED AGAINST ME BRO......... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whytheylosttheirminds · 3 months ago

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home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus.

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you.

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him.

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip.

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up.

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card.

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy?

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes.

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said.

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.”

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.”

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat.

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you.

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does.

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?”

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down.

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting.

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes.

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket.

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?”

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field.

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway.

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun.

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail.

“Fuck!”

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?”

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life.

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station.

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love.

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it.

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?”

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.”

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him.

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble.

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat.

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice.

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!”

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off.

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard.

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer.

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!”

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas.

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry.

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention.

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time.

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said,

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

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prettygirl-gabi · 1 month ago

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Title: “The Tru Fru Tragedy”

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: Teen

Warning: mentions of monthly periods, theft, Paige not getting called any pet names.., Kayla helping you get your lick back...

Word Count: 1,245

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: you carefully stocked up on all your favorite period snacks—especially Tru Fru—only to wake up and find them gone. The culprits? Paige and KK....

Everything was fine when I went to sleep.

I had my heating pad, my favorite blanket, and—most importantly—my fully stocked snack stash, featuring multiple bags of Tru Fru and the holy grail: Tru Fru ice cream.

I had prepared so well for this period.

Then I woke up.

And my world came crashing down.

I stretched, reaching for my phone to check the time. Paige and KK had left for their pre-game lunch, but that wasn’t my concern right now. No, my immediate mission was to retrieve my Tru Fru and binge some trashy reality TV before heading to their game.

I padded over to my mini fridge, humming to myself as I pulled the door open—

Nothing.

I blinked. Shut the fridge. Opened it again.

Still nothing.

My gaze snapped to the snack drawer. I yanked it open.

Empty.

Oh. Hell. No.

By the time Paige and KK got back, I was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, fuming.

Paige walked in first, grinning. “Hey, babe, you ready to—”

“Paige. Madison. Bueckers.”

The way her smile instantly dropped? Satisfying.

KK, the second culprit, peeked over Paige’s shoulder, immediately sensing the tension. “Uh… what’s going on?”

I stood up slowly, tilting my head. “Where. Is. My. Tru Fru?”

Paige and KK exchanged a look. Paige tried a smile, rubbing the back of her neck. “Okay, so—”

“You ate them, didn’t you?”

Paige winced. “Not all of them…”

KK, not reading the room at all, shrugged. “To be fair, they were really good.”

I turned my glare to her. “Oh, to be fair? You raided my stash while I was asleep.”

Paige took a step closer, hands raised in surrender. “Babe, ma, I didn’t think you’d be that mad—”

I held up a finger. “Don’t. ‘Babe’ or 'ma' me. You and your little accomplice are dead to me.”

KK’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not get crazy—”

I looked Paige directly in the eyes. “I hope Kayla braids your hair extra tight today.”

Paige gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.” I pulled out my phone and texted Kayla right in front of them. Make Paige’s braids extra tight today. She wronged me.

Kayla’s response was almost immediate. Bet.

Paige groaned, running a hand down her face. KK was already halfway out the door. “I want no part in this anymore.”

I folded my arms. “Too late. Kamorea you’re both paying me back in full after the game.”

Paige sighed, stepping closer again. “Baby, please—”

I turned away dramatically. “Don’t ‘baby’ me, Madison.”

Paige let out a loud groan. “You’re really mad.”

“No duh.”

True to my word, I ignored Paige all through pre-game.

I sat courtside, arms crossed, eyes on the court but refusing to acknowledge her existence. Even when she made a huge three-pointer, I only clapped politely.

KK, from across the bench, was dying. She kept elbowing Paige, whispering, “She’s really not looking at you, bro.”

Even Azzi noticed, leaning in to ask, “What did you do, Paige?”

Paige just groaned. “Ate her Tru Fru.”

Azzi stared at her like she had lost her mind. “You deserve this.”

After UConn won, Paige and KK were still on thin ice.

As soon as they found me outside the locker room, Paige wrapped her arms around me, resting her forehead against mine. “You have to forgive me now. We won, and i think Kay pushed my hair line back more than it's already goin.”

I kept my arms at my sides. “Oh, so you win and suddenly I’m supposed to forget about my suffering?”

KK threw her hands up. “Okay, fine! We’ll go get more Tru Fru! Just—please stop torturing us.”

I eyed them both. “…You promise?”

Paige nodded. “Whatever you want, baby. Just stop calling me Madison.”

I huffed. “Fine. But I’m coming with you to supervise.”

Half an hour later, we were back at my apartment, my snack stash restored.

Paige, now finally allowed back into my good graces, sat on the couch, pulling me into her lap. “So we’re good now?”

I hummed, pretending to think. “Almost.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “How about now?”

I sighed dramatically. “I guess I can forgive you.”

KK groaned from across the room. “Thank God.”

I turned to Paige. “Say it.”

She blinked. “Say what?”

I smirked. “Say I was right.”

Paige groaned, but the small smile on her face betrayed her. “You were right.”

I beamed. “Thank you. Now we’re good.”

Paige chuckled, tucking me closer. “Ma, you’re so lucky I love you.”

I smirked. “No, you’re lucky, I put up with your goofy shit.”

She kissed my forehead, smiling against my skin. “Yeah, I really am, now please help a girl out. My head hurts.”

I rolled my eyes and gently ran my fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp. "So ladies what have we learned." I say looking at both girls.

"Don't touch your Tru Fru." They day in unison with a pout in their face, before kk adds "at least without asking, first."

I rolled my eyes "Yeah at least without asking first."

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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digi-diareis · 3 days ago

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Teen MC snapping at Caleb

Context: Yk how when you're teenagers, guys think the only way to flirt with the person they like is by teasing them? Well, imagine if Caleb had an era like this until it went too far and mc finally snapped at him.

Beware: this is gonna be SO BAD. im not a writer at all and english isn't my first language either. its just that i've had this scenario in my head for a few days now and i needed it out of my system. Also, I decided to use they/them pronouns for mc. So its more inclusive that way and also bcs even I personally don't always refer to my mc as she/her. So yeah, for the bitches, bros and non binary hoes.

Imagine this, Caleb and you bantering like usual on your way home but you're having an off day which makes it easier for you to get pissed off and fed up with all the teasing. Unfortunately, Caleb doesn't notice this and keeps teasing you until you just snap.

So mc, exasperated, scoffs at him and turns around to leave with their arms folded across their chest and eyebrows scrunched so hard they almost look like a unibrow.

"I'm done talking you. Go find someone else to pick on, Caleb. I'm not in the mood."

Sensing the sudden shift of mood, Caleb is speechless for a bit and left floundering, looking for the right words to say. He thought this was just your usual banter so why were you suddenly taking the jokes seriously? Hell, he can't let you stay in a bad mood for the entire day because that means he's getting the silent treatment and he'd rather die (well not really but he almost feels like it) than have you completely ignore his entire existence. Again.

He approaches you slowly, using a gentle voice to not alarm you the same way one would with a hissing kitten.

"Pipsqueak? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry... Tell me what it was and I promise I won't say it again. Don't be mad anymore, we don't want you to develop any more wrinkles, do we?"

And oh, the way you stiffened up, very much reminiscent of a stray cat on full alarm against anybody trying to steal its food. Caleb gulps, knowing somewhere along the lines, he triggered a tripwire and a bomb's about to blow.

"Uhm! You know what, nevermind me! How about we go buy your favorite snack? Oh, what a coincidence your favorite stall is right around the corner-"

You turn around with a glare that makes him immediately shut up, looking like you're about to rip him a new one.

"WRINKLES?! First, you make fun of my height. Calling me pipsqueak around everyone and never shutting your damn mouth about how not a day has passed where I was taller than you. Then you start being weirdly aggressive towards my other guy friends, which by the way, what the fuck? Now most of them won't even talk to me anymore! What is your problem?! And now, you're calling me OLD and UGLY?!"

"I-I never said -"

"Shut your damn mouth and listen to me, Caleb! You have been getting on my nerves lately! I've been trying to convince myself that this is all just friendly banter but sometimes, you go too far that I don't even know if I can still laugh it off! We used to be best friends but now, its so easy for you to make fun of me. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this but oh my god, if you hate me this much then just stop hanging around me!"

Mc is heaving by the end of their entire speech, extremely worked up and upset that they're red in the face. They had been bottling this up for the past few weeks so letting it out almost felt cathartic.

Caleb is stuck in place, throat dry and mouth open but words won't come out. Was that how it's been like for you? Had he taken the jokes too far recently? Maybe it was wrong to listen to the other guys in his class who said that teens tend to fall for guys who act terrible, the bad boy stereotype is popular nowadays.

He looks down, feeling guilty and pathetic that he ended up making you feel like you hated him when you were the person who embodied everything he loved. You made him feel like flying and falling, all at the same time. So how could he hurt you like this? He had to make things right before it was too late.

"I'm sorry. Its all my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things to you, even if it was a joke or not. At the end of the day, they hurt you and that's not right. Please believe me when I say that I could never hate being around you. That couldn't be more wrong, not when all I ever want to do is be by your side. So please don't tell me to stop hanging around you, just thinking about it feels like my chest is being squeezed that it hurts. I promise I won't make the same mistakes again, so please forgive me?"

He's nervous, fiddling with his hands while he looks you in the eye. He reminds you of a wet puppy under the rain, begging you to bring him home with you. You knew the moment he pulled those puppy dog eyes that you would eventually lose, you could never say no to him. Not when you were kids and not now.

You sigh, shoulders slumping and the frown gone from your face. Now you just look tired, which only makes him more worried, maybe you're tired of him? No, that can't be. What would happen to him if you decide he's not worth keeping around anymore? He just might stop functioning all together.

You turn your back and start walking home, he feels his heart drop thinking this is it. You're leaving him behind– that is until you turn your head to the side, side eyeing him with a blush on your face.

"What're you standing there for, I thought you were going to buy me my favorite snack? Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not forgiving you just yet. Not until I've had my fill."

After that day, Caleb completely changes. Or maybe its more accurate to say he reverted back to how he used to be when you guys were kids. Doting, attentive and extremely supportive. He still banters with you from time to time but he never goes out of his way to start one. Although, there is one thing that doesn't change and that's how over protective he still is, he's still acting like a guard dog and being threatening towards all the guys in your class but at this point, you're just happy to have your best friend back again.

And just like that, Caleb's popularity spikes in your class because suddenly, every girl wants a guy who comes at their beck and call and attends to their needs. No more bad boy persona for them, they just want someone who worships the ground they walk on the same way Caleb does for you.

#lads caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #l&ds caleb #l&ds imagine #love & deepspace #love & deepsace x reader #i #caleb x mc #caleb x you #they/them mc

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warping-realities · 1 month ago

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2k Special - Coach Knows Best

So, guys, like I mentioned early this month, this year’s been way more complicated than I thought it would be. So much so I didn’t even realize I hit the 2000 follower mark! I had nothing planned for the occasion, but since I can’t let it slide, I whipped up this little story. It’s nothing groundbreaking or revolutionary, to be honest. It’s more of a throwback to my roots—the first stories that pulled me into this world, first as a reader and then as a writer.

My inspirations here are the amazing work of CallMecrazy and Aardvark. 'The Jocking' got me started in this game, and right after that, I dove into 'High School Development.' Also to this day, my all-time favorite story is 'Clifton Jocks: Nick' (though I gotta say, 'An Old Fashioned' is the best thing ever written in our niche).

Anyway, this is my little gift to celebrate with you all. Hope you dig it!"

Coach Knows Best: Finding Brotherhood

Brock woke up kinda groggy after a weird dream where he was on the school debate team. Like that would ever happen. After letting out a half-yawn, half-laugh at the ridiculousness of it, the football jock let out a groan as he rolled out of bed, his massive frame stretching and creaking. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked the clock – 5:30 AM. Time to get his butt in gear for another day of practice. After a cold shower, he admired himself, flexing his boulder-sized biceps and tree trunk thighs.

“Damn, Beef, you’re one fine piece of work,” he muttered to himself, before realizing that if he kept daydreaming, he’d end up running late, and the last thing he wanted was to piss off the coach. He lumbered down the stairs, still half-asleep, trying unsuccessfully not to make noise so he wouldn’t wake his mom. Not an easy feat with his massive size. As he stepped into the small but cozy kitchen, he popped open the fridge, chugging a gallon of whole milk and scarfing down a couple of protein bars and lasagna leftovers, shoveling it all in like a cow chewing its cud. Gotta keep those gains coming, bro, he thought as he let out a loud belch.

After put a sleveeles shirt and a pair of compression shorts he hopped into his late dad's beat-up pickup truck and cranked up the radio, bobbing his head to the rap music as he headed to the local high school, where he played offensive guard for the Oakwood Titans. He couldn't wait to hit the field and ball out with his teammates. Oakwood, was the best, the coaches actually cared about their players and the athletes were treated with respect.

Pulling into the crowded high school parking lot, Brock spotted his bro Trey, another offensive lineman, and they fist-bumped as Brock approached.

"Yo, Beef, you ready to crush some skulls today, bro?" Trey said, his deep voice rumbling.

"You know it, man. Gonna put fear in those punks," Brock replied with a grin, pounding his chest.

The two hulking teens lumbered into the locker room, the floor shaking with each step. Brock yanked open his locker, the cheap metal creaking, and started suiting up. He pulled on his compression tights, the fabric straining to contain his muscular legs. Next came the padded girdle, the protective cups cradling his package just right. He smirked, knowing he was packing some serious heat down there. He put on his shoulder pads, the familiar weight settling on him, and finally, his jersey – number 72, offensive guard.

Brock and Trey headed out to the practice field, joining the rest of the team for warm-up drills. Coach Steele, a former NFL player with a jaw like granite, barked out commands, and the players moved in sync, grunting and clapping in rhythm. Brock loved this part, the camaraderie and teamwork. It felt like a well-oiled machine, everyone doing their part.

Soon, they split into position groups for more intense drills. Brock lined up against the defensive tackles, his eyes narrowing as he focused. The whistle blew, and he exploded off the line, driving his feet and using his massive frame to shove the defender back. Again and again, Brock dominated the one-on-one battles, his competitive nature fueling him.

"Atta boy, Beef! That's how we do it!" Coach Steele yelled, slapping Brock on the back, making the young man puff out his chest, soaking in the praise. This was his element, where he thrived.

After a grueling practice, the team gathered for Coach's speech. Brock listened intently, absorbing every word.

"Men, you're showing real promise out there. But I know we can be even better. This season, we're going all the way to state. But it's gonna take sacrifice, dedication, and leaving it all on the field. No half-assing it, you hear me? You're dismissed, boys, and behave yourselves. I don't want to hear any complaints about you from the other teachers. And woe to anyone caught messing with the other kids, no matter how weak they are!" Coach Steele's eyes scanned the players, landing on Brock. "Brock, stay here. I need a favor.” Said the older man. And Brock waited curiously while his teammates went to the locker room and the muscular giant moved towards him.

“ Brock, You’re one of our leaders; I expect big things from you, and now's your chance to prove it." Said the coach.

"Yes, sir!" Brock responded, his voice booming. He was ready to do whatever it took to please Coach Steele, he was his inspiration, and football was his life.

"Kid, there's a boy in your class, a new transfer, who's been asking questions he shouldn't. I need you to reach out to him. Gain his trust."

"Yes, coach, who are you talking about?"

"Aidan Trent. I understand he's your partner in science class."

"Aw, coach, that guy's lame, a total nerd."

"Beef, are you gonna go against my request?"

"No, sir, I'll do as you say!"

"Great, who knows, you might find you have something in common?" the coach replied with a mysterious smile.

Brock doubted that, but this was his chance to prove himself, to show the coach what he was made of.

Alone in the locker room, Brock stripped off his sweat-soaked gear, relishing the burn in his muscles. He grabbed a towel and headed to the showers, the hot water pounding on his aching body. He couldn't help but admire himself – bulging biceps, chiseled abs, thick tree trunk legs. This was the body of a champion, a warrior. He flexed, grinning at the way his muscles rippled.

After cleaning up, he pulled on a fresh pair of tight boxer briefs, the fabric clinging to his package, and slid into a pair of faded Levi's. He topped it off with an Oakwood Titans blue t-shirt, the school colors bringing out the intensity in his eyes.

After strutting in front of the cheerleaders, Brock headed to his biology class, where he was paired up with his target: the scrawny kid named Aidan. Even though he had a mission, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, wanting to be around his fellow jocks instead of some scrawny nerd. But the coach's words were law, and he would follow them to the end.

"Dude, you got a problem or something?" Aidan asked, sensing Brock's irritation.

"Nah, man. Just ready to get this over with so I can get back to football," Brock grumbled.

"Football, huh? You must be one of those meathead jocks I keep hearing about," Aidan said, rolling his eyes.

Brock felt his blood boil. "You got a problem with football, shrimp?"

"Relax, dude. I'm just saying, there's more to life than throwing a ball around," Aidan replied, backing down.

Brock clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to pound this scrawny little twerp into the ground. But he knew that would only get him in trouble, and he couldn't afford to miss any games. So, he took a deep breath and tried to focus on the project. He didn't know how to deal with a weakling like that, but if this was Steele's will, Brock would make an effort.

"Man, what do you know about football?"

"That it's a bunch of guys smashing each other over a ball, just to get concussions and die young." Hearing that sent another wave of irritation through the young giant. But he kept his cool.

"Football is way more than that. It's discipline, teamwork, trust, it's brotherhood. Things I bet you don't have with your buddies in the chess club."

"I'm not in the chess club!"

"I bet you're in the choir or some other girly thing..."

"I'm part of the school newspaper!"

"Oh, right, something way more masculine, living off gossip."

"I bet anything with words escapes your ogre brain," the skinny kid shot back just as the bell rang.

At lunchtime, Brock made his way to the cafeteria, his tray piled high with enough food to feed a whole family. He plopped down at a table, right in the middle of the room, greeted by his fellow linemen.

"Yo, Brock, heard you pancaked Tanner in practice. Dude's still picking his teeth up off the field," one of the guys said, laughing.

"Yeah, man. Gotta let these boys know who's boss," Brock replied, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

The conversation turned to the upcoming game against their rivals, the Westside Warriors. Brock listened intently, already visualizing himself blowing open massive holes for the running backs. Just then, a scrawny figure approached with a tray in hand: Aidan. This was his time to shine.

Brock spotted Aidan sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria and decided to join him.

"Sup, Aidan, you mind if I park my big ol' butt right here? I think things got a bit rough between us, and I wanted to make it right."

"Uh, yeah, sure, go for it."

"So, newspaper? What's the deal, man? What've you been up to?"

"Not much, just... some stuff..."

Making a huge effort to seem interested, Brock continued. "What stuff? What you write for that rag?"

"Since you insist, I'm working on a story about the funding differences between the sports teams."

"Funding differences? What are you talking about?"

"Well, it seems like the football team gets way more money than all the other teams combined. I'm trying to figure out why that is."

"Hold up, you saying we get more cash? So what? We need that to be the best."

"I'm not saying you don't deserve it; I just think it's unfair that the other teams don't get the same level of support."

"Unfair? You don't know jack about football, man. This team brings in way more cash and fame for this school than any other sport."

"Look, I just want to understand how the funding distribution works. I'm not trying to attack anyone."

"You're trying to expose us, aren't you? Thinkin' we're doing something shady!"

At that moment, Coach Steele approached, noticing the heated discussion.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?"

"This guy's trying to write a story saying we get more money than we should!"

"Is that so? And why do you think that, son?"

"I just... want to understand better how the funding gets divvied up. I'm not trying to accuse anyone."

"Well, I know things may seem unfair from the outside, but the football team brings in a whole lot more for this school than any other sport. That means more cash, more exposure, more opportunities. But it's not like we're stealing it from anyone. It's all within the rules."

"See? I told you we need that to be the best."

"Easy there, Brock. I get your frustration, but let's keep things civil here. Aidan, if you really want to understand how this works, why don't you come to one of our practices with Brock here to see how it all works, and I can explain it all to you calmly."

"Uh, well... okay, I guess."

"Great. Now, let's all go back to eating in peace, alright?"

Brock and Aidan nodded, still a bit tense, under the watchful eye of Coach Steele.

"Beef with me," the coach said with a stern face, and Brock followed him. "A little more subtlety would have been better, kid, but now I know what the kid was after. And to think I thought he might suspect something..."

"Coach?"

"Anyway, kid, good job, but it's not over yet. You heard what I said; tomorrow morning before practice, I want you to go to Trent's house and bring the kid with you. It's our duty to guide him to a proper understanding of the importance of football, right?"

After school, Brock headed home. Entering the simple house, he exchanged a few words with his mom before flopping down on the couch, flipping through channels until he found a replay of a college football game. Engrossed, he barely noticed the time pass until his mom, a night shift nurse at the town hospital, kissed him on the head and told him that she had left his dinner ready. He scarfed down the massive meal, grateful that his mom knew he needed to keep fueling his body to get bigger and stronger. It was tough for a single mom like her to manage the house and a son with his appetite and needs. But one day, he would repay that. He was going to college for football and become a pro, giving her and the coach all the pride in the world. He was going to be a star, a hero to his team and his community. Brock was going to make a name for himself, and no one was going to stand in his way. And if that meant putting up with the nerd Aidan Trent, so be it.

......

The next morning, Brock woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. He had a mission, and he was determined to make the most of it. After finishing his breakfast, he grabbed his gear and hopped into his truck, mentally preparing for the day ahead. As he drove towards Aidan’s house, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Pulling up to Aidan’s home, Brock took a deep breath. The house looked small and unassuming, a stark contrast to the towering figure of the young man standing outside. He knocked on the door, and moments later, Aidan's father, an older version of the kid, appeared, surprise etched on his face.

"Huh... what brings you here?" asked the lanky man, adjusting his glasses nervously.

"Hello, sir, nice to meet you. I'm Brock Bennett, Aidan's classmate. I came to pick him up so we can go to school together."

"You're a friend of my son's?" the man asked, both astonished and pleased at the prospect. As if the idea of a friendship between the behemoth in front of him and his son was impossible. Something Brock would agree with without hesitation if it weren't for the need to follow the coach's orders.

"Yeah, sure!" he replied with his best boy next door smile. "Could you call him? We're running late for football practice."

"Football practice?"

"Yeah, I said I'd take Aidan with me to help him with a report for the school newspaper, to help him understand the need for the funding we receive and all that..."

"Ahhh... now it makes sense! Aidan, come here, your friend is waiting!" the lanky man shouted for his son.

Aidan appeared at the door, a bit hesitant, but upon seeing Brock, forced a smile in front of his dad, who seemed confused at the prospect of his son making friends with one of the jocks. "Hey, Brock. What are you doing here?"

"Coach Steele sent me to pick you up, man. You were supposed to tag along to practice, remember? And we're already late. If it weren't for having to grab you, I'd already be crushing in the field by now. So, let's go!" Brock replied, gesturing for Aidan to hop into the truck. Once Aidan settled into the passenger seat, they started driving toward school. The initial silence in the car was palpable, with Aidan staring out the window and Brock focused on the road.

"So, Aidan, what do you have in mind for this article? Got any bright ideas?" Brock asked, trying not to sound annoyed like the day before.

"I'm thinking about something on the importance of funding for sports, you know? How it can impact team performance and player morale," Aidan replied, nervously.

"Cool, but don't you think we've already proven we deserve what we got? Football’s a big deal, and we bring fame to the school; we've been state champs more times than any other team," Brock said, trying to make the other guy understand.

"Yeah, but it's also important that other teams get the same support. It's not fair that just one sport gets all the attention and resources," Aidan argued, the fiery passion in his words.

Brock shook his head, a bit frustrated. "Look, I get your point, but you know how things roll. Football is what puts the school on the map. And who doesn't wanna be a star?"

Aidan sighed, looking at his own reflection in the window. "Not everyone has that dream, Brock. Some people just wanna feel part of something..."

Brock glanced at Aidan, surprised. "And what do you think the team is all about, man? What’s it really about?"

"Not everyone has a team to lean on, Brock!"

"Don't you have friends in your newspaper club?"

"I... I've just never been good at making friends... My mom passed away when I was little, and my dad's an accountant who works a lot. He's cool, but he doesn't have much time for me. So, I end up being alone most of the time," Aidan explained, the sadness in his words almost palpable.

Brock felt something unexpected: a pang of empathy. "Man, I'm really sorry to hear that. I had no idea."

"Yeah, it's not easy, but life goes on, I guess. I just focus on school and the stuff I like to do. But you and your friends seem to have it all, you know? Always hanging out and having a blast," Aidan replied, and Brock couldn't help but notice the envy in the other kid's eyes. He was used to that, with others wishing to be in his shoes but not willing to make the sacrifices needed. But this time was different; Aidan wanted things that Brock himself valued the most.

"Yeah, we've got a solid team," Brock said, trying to find the right words. "But it also has its challenges. My dad's not around. He passed away last year. And my mom... well, she works hard to support me. I guess deep down, we all have our battles."

Aidan turned his head, surprised. "You don't have a parent either? I... I didn't know."

"Yeah, it's part of life, right? We gotta deal with it and move on," Brock replied, his voice a bit softer now. "But it's not like I'm alone. I got my friends, and the team is like family."

"That's cool," Aidan said, a shy smile creeping onto his face. "I've always wanted to be part of something like that." Not knowing how to respond, Brock fell silent as he maneuvered the truck into the school parking lot.

Brock and Aidan got out of the truck and headed for the locker room, where the smell of sweat was mixed with the sound of laughter and shouts from the players. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a messy place, with uniforms strewn across the floor and equipment scattered everywhere. The atmosphere was lively, full of energy and camaraderie.

“Hey, Beef! Finally decided to show up, were you giving that kid a blast?” Trey shouted, laughing and making obscene gestures, causing the others to burst into laughter and Aidan to shrink back.

Brock smiled but quickly turned his attention to the approaching coach, his presence demanding respect. Coach Steele had a serious look, but there was a spark of understanding in his eyes.

"Brock!" the coach said in a firm voice. "I'm gonna let this tardiness slide, but only because you brought Aidan. Now, go get changed and put on your uniform, we've got a lot of work to do!"

"Yes, sir!" Brock responded, feeling a surge of motivation at Steele's words. He quickly headed to his locker, grabbing his uniform and starting to get ready for practice. Meanwhile, the coach turned to Aidan.

"Aidan, come with me to my office. I want to talk to you a bit before we start," Coach Steele said, gesturing for the young man to follow him.

Aidan hesitated for a moment, glancing at Brock, who nodded encouragingly. It was strange how just a few words had made the other boy look at him with a completely different attitude. Neither of them noticed it, but Steele, an old fox, knew at that moment that things were heading in the desired direction. He then led the smaller boy along while Brock quickly changed.

Brock felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was his moment, the time to show all his potential, any thoughts about Aidan completely forgotten.

As he joined his fellow offensive linemen, Brock exchanged a few back slaps and jokes with his teammates. But he knew that as soon as the whistle blew, the fun would be over. It was time to work.

The warm-up began with the classic push-ups and squats, led by assistant coach Morrison. Brock followed the commands with precision and determination, feeling his muscles warm up and get ready for the challenge.

Next came the line drills. Brock positioned himself at his station, facing the training equipment that represented the defender he would have to face. At the whistle's signal, Brock exploded forward, using his immense strength to push the obstacle back. He maintained the correct position, with squared shoulders, feet firmly planted on the ground, and legs bent. He repeated the movement several times, feeling his body heat up and his determination grow with each thrust.

Then, with Coach Steele returning, the team was divided into smaller groups to practice different game schemes. Brock watched the instructions closely, memorizing the positions and movements he was supposed to execute. They rehearsed some passing and running plays, with Brock blocking defenders with precision and aggression.

During the breaks, Brock drank water and chatted with his teammates. They exchanged tips, encouraged each other, and reminded themselves of the importance of the season. The Titans had a tradition of winning, and in Brock senior year, they would not disappoint.

When practice ended, Brock felt his body tired, but his mind was more focused than ever. He knew that every drop of sweat, every push, every effort was worth it. Brock was part of a team of champions, and he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way. As he laughed and exchanged bravado with Trey and the others, he let all his arrogance and ferocity show.

And then he came face to face with a mesmerized Aidan.

“Hey man, did you watch the whole practice?”

“Yeah! You guys… you are… awesome!” Aidan replied, surprising Brock, but not as much as his next sentence. “I… I want to be just like you… bro!” Said the smaller boy with unfocused eyes and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

What the hell was that? Something wasn't right.

“Coach! Coach Steele, sir!” Brock called out in alarm. “Something's not right with Aidan. He's…” the gigantic young man began to say as the coach approached.

"He's exactly as he should be, my boy!"

"But coach…”

“No arguments, Beef. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“Yes, coach.” Brock replied as he made his way to the locker room accompanied by the stupefied Aidan.

Brock watched Aidan with a mix of confusion and concern as the young man walked beside him, with a glazed expression and a silly smile on his face. Something was definitely not right, and Coach Steele's request seemed increasingly strange.

Upon reaching the locker room, the characteristic noise and smell filled Brock's senses. He greeted his teammates with back slaps and a few jokes, but his attention was focused on his new "friend."

Aidan seemed completely oblivious to the chaos around him, his eyes fixed on Brock with an expression of admiration and devotion. Brock couldn't understand what was happening, but he knew he had to keep an eye on him.

Brock began to undress, taking off his sweaty uniform and heading for the showers. Aidan followed him like a puppy until Brock made him sit on one of the benches where he remained still, but without taking his eyes off the big guy. Brock felt uncomfortable with that gaze but tried to ignore it, focusing on washing the sweat and dirt from practice.

After the shower, Brock returned to his locker, putting on a pair of jeans and a school t-shirt that outlined every detail of his powerful muscles.

"Hey, Brock, who's your little buddy?" Trey asked, nudging Brock.

"Oh, it's Aidan. Coach asked me to keep an eye on him," Brock replied, trying to sound casual.

"Seriously? That's weird. Well, if the old man told you to, you better take good care of your pet, huh?" Trey laughed and walked away, leaving a confused Brock behind. He approached Aidan, who continued to watch him with that disturbing look.

"Hey, Aidan, you okay, man?" Brock asked, trying to understand what was going on.

"Yeah, Brock, I'm great! You're so strong and amazing," Aidan replied, his voice full of admiration.

Brock felt uncomfortable with that reaction, but before he could respond, Coach Steele approached.

"Brock, Aidan, come with me. I have some things to discuss with you," the coach said with a serious look.

Brock and Aidan followed him to the coach's office, where Steele made them sit.

"So, Aidan, what did you think of the practice?" Steele asked, with an enigmatic smile.

"It was amazing, coach! The guys are so strong and skilled, football is awesome, and Brock too! I want to be just like him!" Aidan replied, his eyes shining.

Steele nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"Great, great. I see you've understood the importance of football for this school. And that's exactly why I want you to join us."

Brock widened his eyes, surprised by the proposal.

"But, coach, he doesn't play football. He's a nerd from the school newspaper," Brock protested.

"Exactly, Brock. And that's why I want him to join us. He needs to understand the true value of football, and there's no better way than being on the field, side by side with the players. Don’t take your eyes off Trent. Understood?”

Brock still wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to question the coach's orders.

"Alright, coach. I'll take care of him," Brock said, reluctantly.

"Great. Now, go get ready and enjoy the rest of the day. Don't take your eyes off Aidan, Brock. I want him at your table at lunchtime and tomorrow morning at the usual time, I want you two here, ready to train, understood?" Steele said, dismissing them.

Brock and Aidan left the office, and Brock couldn't stop thinking about what was happening. He couldn't understand why the coach wanted Aidan to join the team, but he knew he had to follow the orders. After all, football was his life, and he wasn't going to risk it all for a nerd, he justified to himself.

The morning went relatively normal if it weren't for the new adoring shadow Brock had over him in the form of Aidan. Although as the hours passed, the other boy seemed more normal. If Brock had paid more attention, he would have realized that the behavior he was taking as normal was expected for jocks like him and not nerds like Aidan. He only noticed the extent of that change when it came time for lunch when he found himself forced to share the table with Aidan and the football team boys.

During lunch, Brock found Aidan eagerly waiting for him at the football players' table. The skinny and awkward boy looked out of place among the muscular giants, but his posture and facial expression had changed drastically.

"Hey, Brock! Saved me a seat, bro?" Aidan said, in a deeper, more confident voice than Brock was used to hearing.

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Brock replied, still a little confused by the sudden change in behavior.

Aidan sat next to Brock, his tray overflowing with food, just like the other players. He began devouring the food with the same voracity as his teammates.

"Wow, Aidan, you're eating like a horse!" Trey commented, laughing.

"Yeah, man, gotta keep these muscles fed, right?" Aidan replied, patting his abdomen.

Brock widened his eyes, realizing that the boy was not only imitating the players' manner of speaking but was also bragging about his "muscles," something that definitely did not match his physical appearance. Or was it? Looking closely at the boy, he no longer seemed so skinny. He hadn't obviously reached the muscle mass of the team boys. But compared to most of the nerds at school, he was light years ahead.

"Seriously, Aidan, are you okay?" Brock asked quietly, so only the other boy could hear.

"Of course I'm okay, Brock! Never felt better. This football thing is awesome, man. I don't know how I lived without it until now," Aidan replied, laughing deeply.

Brock remained silent, watching Aidan interact with the other players. He joined in, made jokes about flatulence, and even started telling stories about his conquests with girls, which left Brock speechless.

"Hey, Aidan, I heard you're hitting on Brittany. Didn't know you had game, dude!" Connor the quarterback said, giving him a friendly nudge. Since when did those two know each other?

"Oh, you know, I've got my mojo. That blonde can't resist my charms," Aidan replied, winking.

Brock couldn't believe what he was seeing. That wasn't the same Aidan he knew. The skinny and shy boy had been replaced by a caricature version of a football player, complete with bravado, arrogance, and even romantic interests—everything Brock himself was. So why did it seem to bother him so much?

While the other guys laughed and continued the conversation, Brock remained silent, analyzing the situation. Something was very wrong, and he had a feeling Coach Steele was behind it all.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Brock turned to Aidan.

"Hey, Aidan, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, in a serious tone.

"Sure, Brock, what's up?" Aidan replied, with a confident smile.

Brock pulled him aside, away from the other players.

"Man, what's happening to you? You're not like this, what did the coach do to you?"

Aidan looked confused for a moment, but then his face lit up with a smile.

"Happening to me? Nothing, Brock! I finally realized how amazing football is. And all thanks to you and Coach Steele. Now I want to be part of it, be one of you, brothers!"

Brock frowned, unconvinced by the explanation.

"Aidan, I know you're not like this. You're a nerd from the school newspaper, remember?”

“Nah, man, just because I write for the paper doesn't make me a nerd. If things don't work out with football, I'm gonna be the next Adam Schefter, we even share the same name! Me, a nerd? You're a jokester, bro! I gotta go, see you tomorrow morning. Get ready 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna show you my skills.” Said the not-so-small boy as he walked down the hall while a stunned Brock stayed behind.

Still dazed, Brock headed to his next class, but his mind was far from there. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened at lunch and Aidan's strange words. That sudden transformation left him uneasy.

During class, Brock tried discreetly to contact Coach Steele, but his messages went unanswered. He needed to understand what was going on, but the man who should have the answers seemed to be avoiding him.

At the end of the day, Brock ran to his car, determined to find out what was behind that bizarre situation. As soon as he got home, he threw himself on the living room couch, opening his laptop and starting to research.

His searches led him to stories about the "Stepford Wives," a fiction novel that talked about a community where women were replaced by perfect, obedient, and submissive replicas. Brock couldn't believe the similarity between that plot and what was happening with Aidan.

Could Coach Steele be involved in something similar? Was he turning the boys at school into idealized versions of football players? The mere thought made Brock feel sick. He didn't want to believe that his mentor, the one who inspired him so much, could be involved in something so dark.

Confused and worried, Brock eventually fell asleep on the couch, his mind restless with theories and speculations. He knew he needed to act, but he wasn't sure how to proceed. After all, Steele was his idol, and he didn't want to believe that the man who helped him become the player he was today could be involved in something so disturbing.

.............

The next day, after a restless night's sleep, Brock felt like a wreck. However, he still decided to train. Upon arriving at the locker room, he was approached by Trey and the other players.

"Hey, Brock, what's up, man? Where's Adam? Coach Steele is gonna be super pissed when he finds out you didn’t bring him.”

Brock felt a knot form in his stomach. What if Steele finds out Brock suspected something was wrong?

"I... I don't know, Trey. Something very strange is happening with Aidan, and the coach seems to be involved," Brock replied, hesitantly.

"Man, are you serious? The coach? No way, he's the man, our mentor. You're tripping, Brock, and it's Adam, man! I thought you were the guy's best friend!” Trey said, laughing.

Brock wanted to insist, he wanted to convince his friend to believe him, but before he could say anything, Steele himself entered the locker room, his demeanor serious.

"Brock, my boy, where's Adam?” the coach asked, his voice firm.

"I... I don't know, coach. He hasn't shown up yet," Brock replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the presence of the man who until a day ago had been his idol.

“If I recall correctly, you were supposed to have picked him up at home and brought him to practice? You disappointed me!” Responded the coach, making a feeling of shame arise in Brock's chest, after all, despite his suspicions, Steele was still the great example for Brock.

"Relax, coach. I took the opportunity run a little to warm up,” said a deep voice. Turning towards it, Brock was taken by a huge shock. It was Aidan, but it wasn't. Before him stood a man who had familiar features in a gigantic muscular body. As if someone had fused Aidan with a muscular man.

"Brock, my boy, you should have picked up Adam as I asked," Steele said, with a serious tone. "Apologize to your teammate."

Brock swallowed hard, feeling ashamed. "Sorry, Aid… Adam. I... I forget you were coming."

"It's all good, Brock. I get it," Adam replied, with a confident smile. "The important thing is that I'm here now, ready to show what I can do."

Steele nodded, satisfied. "Great, great. Now go get changed, we have important practice ahead."

Brock and Adam headed to their lockers, starting to gear up with their game uniforms. Brock grabbed his number 72 jersey, the padded pants, and the protectors. Putting on that uniform always made him feel part of something bigger, a team of brothers.

While changing, Brock watched Adam out of the corner of his eye. The boy seemed so comfortable, as if that environment was his natural habitat. He put on the uniform with ease, adjusting the protectors precisely.

"Hey, Brock, you ready?" Adam called, already fully equipped.

"Ah, yeah, I'm coming," Brock replied, finishing getting dressed.

Together, they left the locker room towards the field, where the rest of the team was already warming up. Brock could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the desire to show all his potential returning with full force.

As soon as they arrived, Trey and the other players greeted Adam enthusiastically.

"Hey, Adam, ready to show your worth?" Trey said, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"You know it, Trey. I was born ready," Adam replied, with a confident smile.

Brock watched the interaction, still a bit confused. How had Adam integrated so quickly into the team? Could Steele really have something to do with that transformation?

Before he could think more about it, the coach's whistle blew, signaling the start of the warm-up. Brock positioned himself, ready to give it his all. He couldn't let his concerns distract him. After all, the football field was his domain, and he wasn't going to disappoint his team brothers.

Throughout the practice, Brock watched Adam's performance closely. The boy seemed to have become a completely different person, with agile movement, strength, and determination. He stood out among the others, and Brock couldn't understand how that was possible.

During the first break, Brock tried to talk to Adam, trying to understand better what had happened. But the boy seemed absorbed in his own world, focused only on improving his performance.

And truth is Brock was impressed with Adam's performance on the field. The two seemed to communicate without words, anticipating each other's moves with impressive synchronicity.

When the coach yelled a play, Brock and Adam positioned themselves instantly, knowing exactly what to do. They blocked the defenders with precision, opening holes for the runners to advance. The offensive line worked like a well-oiled machine, with each piece fitting perfectly.

Adam's confidence was contagious. He moved with agility and strength, overcoming his opponents with ease. Brock felt motivated to give his best, wanting to be on par with him.

In one of the breaks, Brock couldn't contain his excitement:

"Damn, Adam, you're flying out there, man! Never seen anyone integrate into the team so fast."

Adam smiled, giving Brock a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, you know, I've always be a good player. Just needed a chance. And Coach Steele gave me that opportunity."

Brock nodded, impressed. He couldn't understand how it was possible, but he couldn't deny that Adam's performance was exceptional.

"Hey, you and I are a scary duo, huh?" Brock said, with a smile.

"You bet, bro!" Adam replied, excited. "Together, no one can stand against us."

Brock felt more confident than ever. Having Adam by his side made him feel invincible. They were a force to be reckoned with, an unstoppable duo.

As practice went on, Brock found himself focusing more and more on the game, setting aside his worries. The synergy with Adam helped him forget the doubts about Coach Steele and the strange transformation of the kid.

When the final whistle blew, marking the end of practice, Brock felt exhausted but extremely satisfied. They had given it their all, and the result was evident.

As they headed to the locker room, Adam looked at Brock with a confident smile.

"Hey, man, you really are an amazing guy. I'm glad to be on the same team as you."

"Thanks, Adam. I'm happy to be part of this too," Brock replied, with the same smile, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to. However, those concerns came rushing back as soon as they entered the locker room. Seeing Adam strip down made Brock question his sanity for the thousandth time that day. It was impossible—Adam, Aidan! His name was Aidan! And It was impossible for him to have that body. Before him was a man with broad shoulders, a defined chest, and arms full of muscles. The tanned skin only enhanced the imposing nature of his physique.

"Holy crap, Adam! You're a beast, man!" exclaimed Trey, giving the new player a pat on the abs.

"I know, I know," Adam replied, laughing heartily. "No wonder the girls drool over me."

"I only see Brock drooling over there, huh?" Connor nudged Brock with his elbow, making the others laugh.

"Ah, shut up, man!" Brock tried to hide his embarrassment, averting his gaze.

"Ah, leave Brock alone, he's just jealous of my bod," Adam said, doing a flex, making his muscles pop.

The other players applauded and whistled, impressed with the display.

"Damn, Adam, you think you're CBUM!" Trey commented, laughing.

"It's not that, it's you guys looking like a bunch of nobodies next to me," Adam retorted with a confident smile, while hugging Brock completely naked.

"Hey, knock it off, man!" Brock replied, lightly pushing his teammate.

"Chill, Beef, don't get jealous, bro. You're a prime specimen too," Adam said, giving a friendly elbow to Brock.

The other players laughed at the joke, and soon the conversation turned into a typical teenage banter, with jokes and bravado about who was the strongest, fastest, or most attractive.

After showering, Brock and the others got dressed, donning their school uniforms. Adam flaunted his new body with pride, intentionally wearing tight shirts and pants to highlight his muscles.

"Hey, Adam, you're more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey," Trey commented, laughing.

"Hey, man, gotta keep this bod on display. After all, the chicks love a hot athlete," Adam replied, winking.

Brock watched the scene, still unable to believe what he was seeing. That wasn't the Aidan he knew. That was a football player in every essence, with the same arrogance and confidence that Brock and the others displayed.

While the other boys bragged and joked, Brock remained silent, his mind racing. As they left the locker room, Brock noticed that Adam seemed to have won the admiration of all his new teammates. They laughed and joked with him, treating him as one of their own. Brock, on the other hand, felt increasingly distant, his doubts and worries isolating him from the rest of the group.

As they walked, Brock couldn't help but watch Adam closely. The man seemed so confident and popular, greeting all the classmates they passed by. It was almost as if he had been part of that group his whole life.

When they reached the classroom, Brock noticed Adam's behavior. He sat next to Brock, but instead of grabbing his class materials, he started taking selfies, showing off his muscles in different poses.

"Man, have you seen how many likes I got on this pic?" Adam said, showing his phone to Brock.

"Uh... no, I haven't," Brock replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh, you gotta see! It's blowing up, everyone's commenting on how ripped I am," Adam continued, not taking his eyes off the phone screen.

Brock watched the scene, unsure of what to say. The skinny, studious boy had been replaced by someone who seemed to care only about his appearance and popularity.

When the teacher finally entered the room, Brock tried to focus on the lesson, but his attention kept straying to Adam. The kid wouldn't stop fiddling with his phone, taking more and more photos and updating his social media.

"Hey, Brock, you think this pose looks better?" Adam whispered, leaning closer to Brock.

"Uh... I guess so," Brock replied, unable to hide his discomfort.

"Cool! I'll post this one later," Adam said, smiling with satisfaction.

Brock shook his head, still unable to believe what was happening. He glanced sideways at the teacher, who seemed to completely ignore Adam's behavior.

Did nobody else notice the drastic change in the kid? Or was everyone simply accepting that transformation as something normal?

During lunch, the table was full of laughter and lively conversations. The Oakwood Titans football players gathered around a table, with trays full of food, ready to discuss strategies and share dreams.

"So, what's your favorite NFL team, Adam?" Connor asked, while biting into a burger.

"The Chiefs, no doubt! Mahomes is a beast! I'd love to be part of his offensive line," Adam replied, his face lighting up as he talked about the quarterback he admired so much.

"Oh, you and Brock with that obsession over the guy. But he'll never be a Brady. There's only one GOAT. And I'm gonna be the one to take that spot from him! I want to be the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys and take them back to the top! Imagine me playing for the packed crowd at AT&T Stadium! Connor Walsh making The America’s Team Great Again!” Connor exclaimed, gesturing enthusiastically while the others booed and threw food at him.

Adam, who had cheerfully thrown an apple core at Connor, nodded, laughing before continuing. "It'd be awesome to play alongside Brock on the Chiefs' offensive line, man! We could dominate any defense!"

"For sure, Adam! And you could protect Mahomes while I make the plays! It'd be a perfect combo," Brock said, feeling increasingly comfortable with the new Aidan/Adam.

"By the way, wouldn't it be great if we could all be in the NFL someday?" Trey commented, a hopefull smile on his face. "Imagine us four, playing together on a real team!"

Brock started laughing, imagining the scene. "That'd be epic! What could go wrong? A team of linemen ready to crush anyone who crosses our path!"

"Yeah, and we'd still have to fight for that chance, right? It's not easy getting there," Adam added, his eyes shining with determination.

"But who says we can't do it? We have the skill and the strength!" Connor said, pounding the table to emphasize his point.

As the conversation flowed, Brock let himself be carried away by the excitement and camaraderie. He was genuinely having fun, laughing and sharing stories with Adam and the others. For a moment, the doubts he had about Aidan's change disappeared, overshadowed by the energy around him.

"I remember the last time we played against the Warriors," Brock began, laughing. "We crushed them! It was a real show of strength."

"Yeah! And that touchdown you made? It was insane! I almost fell off the bleachers with excitement!" Adam exclaimed, laughing along with the others.

"That's right! And I still have a video of it! Brittany sent it to me. Too bad you weren't playing with us yet. But now I'm gonna post it in our group for everyone to see!" Trey said, grabbing his phone.

“Hey man, not cool!”

As the group continued to chat, Brock realized he was genuinely enjoying himself. He liked the new Aidan—Adam—and the way he fit in with the team. It was a relief to see that even with the strange transformation, the boy seemed happy and confident. But deep down, Brock knew something wasn't right. Aidan's change wasn’t natural, but at that moment, surrounded by his friends and immersed in conversations about football, he decided to set aside his worries.

"So, who's ready for the next game? Let's show them who's boss!" Brock shouted, raising his diet soda cup in a toast.

"I'm in! Let's crush them!" Adam replied, raising his cup as well.

The table filled with cheers and laughter, and Brock felt that, for a brief moment, everything was as it should be.

Brock and Adam left the cafeteria table, laughing and chatting animatedly about the upcoming practices. As they walked down the hallway, Adam suddenly stopped in front of a large mirror, adjusting his hair with his hand and admiring his reflection.

"Hey, man, could you cut it out with the vanity? You're not a runway model," Brock joked, giving Adam a pat on the back.

"Ah, shut up, Beef! I just want to look presentable. A football player has to take care of himself, right?" Adam replied, winking at the mirror while running his hand through his hair again.

"Take care of yourself? You seem more worried about that than the next game!" Brock laughed, amused by the scene.

"Relax, I just want to make sure I'm ready to shine on the field. And you should worry more about your image too!" Adam retorted, pulling Brock in front of the mirror.

Brock hesitated, but Adam had already grabbed his phone and positioned himself for a selfie. "Come on, smile! One, two, three!"

Brock made an exaggerated face, and Adam enjoyed the image. "Perfect! Now I'm gonna post this!" He quickly added a filter and before Brock realized, he was typing the caption.

"Rivals to brothers!" Adam said, with a satisfied smile as he pressed the button to post.

Brock was confused. "Rivals to brothers? Why'd you put that?"

Adam looked at Brock, surprised. "You're kidding, right? We’ve been playing as rivals our whole lives! And now we're on the same team! That's a big deal, man!"

Those words hit Brock like an arrow. He had forgotten for a moment that this bro wasn't real. Now, that post, the idea of being "brothers" on the team made his concern return.

"Wait a minute, Adam. You really don't remember anything, don't find anything... strange?” Brock said, trying to find the right words.

Adam frowned. "Strange? No, man! This is just what happens when you finally find your place. Football is my passion! And you should feel that way too, right? Don't tell me you're having an identity crisis!"

Brock didn't know what to say. Adam's transformation was so drastic that he couldn't ignore it. "No, it's not that... I just... just…” Brock mumbled. He knew something was wrong and couldn't let it pass. "I need to talk to Coach Steele," he decided, determination growing within him.

"Talk to the coach? About what?" Adam asked, his eyebrows raising.

"About you. About this strange transformation. It doesn't seem right, Adam," Brock responded, feeling more firm in his decision.

"Transformation? What the hell is that? You're out of your mind, Beef! The coach is amazing! He only wants the best for the team. Don't get carried away by silly thoughts!" Adam exclaimed, a tone of concern beginning to emerge in his voice.

Brock looked at Adam, and for a moment, he saw the boy he knew before—the nerd who cared about school and writing. But now, the image he saw was of a vain football player, completely different from the Aidan he knew.

"I need to go," Brock said, determined.

"Go where? Brock? Brock???" Adam asked worriedly, but Brock was already walking away, ignoring his friend.

As he walked towards the coach's office, Brock felt adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was about to uncover a mystery that could be affecting not just Adam, but the entire team. He needed to know the truth. No matter what happened.

Brock knocked on the coach's office door. "Coach Steele, I need to talk to you!" He announced, his voice firm.

"Come in, Brock," replied the coach, his expression serious but welcoming.

As soon as Brock entered, he closed the door behind him, determined to find out what was going on. He faced Steele, who looked at him with a mix of expectation and curiosity.

"Coach, I... I don't understand what's happening with Adam. He's not the same, and you seem to be behind it!" Brock said, frustration evident in his voice.

"Oh, Brock... you really got worried about that?" Steele responded, his voice calm and controlled. "Don't you see that this is for his good? For the good of all of us?"

"For his good? He's becoming a version of himself that I don't recognize! This isn't right!" Brock exclaimed, feeling anger growing within him.

“This isn't right, coach. He's not being himself!"

"You don't understand, Brock. Football is a game that requires strength, courage, and confidence. And sometimes, that means leaving behind who we were before. Adam was a threat and now is an essential part of our team," Steele replied, his voice firm.

"But at what cost? What are you doing with him? This isn't natural!" Brock insisted, feeling the conversation was intensifying. “And why me? Why use me to do this to him?”

"Because I needed a catalyst and you were perfect for that, boy. Understand, you're dealing with a new world, Brock. A world where the weak have no place. And I'm doing nothing but what's necessary to ensure our success. You should focus on what matters: winning," Steele replied, his expression unwavering.

Brock fell silent, the coach's words echoing in his mind. He was about to lose everything he had fought for—his friendship, his identity. And now, what was more important? Victory or the truth?

“Let me help you understand better, son. Changes are necessary for us to be the best version of ourselves, Brock. You've been through it yourself," Steele said, his gaze penetrating.

“I... what? No, that's not true, I would know…”

“Just like Adam knows? You want to take the risk? I can reverse what happened to him, but by doing so, I'll do the same to you. So, boy, what's your choice? I leave it in your hands. What do you say?”

“I… I prefer to stay as I am.” the boy replied.

"I thought so. Now, so they don't say I'm a monster, relax, boy, I assure you everything will be fine."

….

Brock woke up the next morning, the sun's rays peeking through his bedroom curtains. He stretched his muscular arms and legs, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. As he got out of bed, he couldn't help but admire his physique in the mirror - the chiseled abs, the bulging biceps, the powerful thighs.

"Alright, time to get this day started," Brock said to himself, heading to the bathroom to start his morning routine. He brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and then made his way downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting through the air.

In the kitchen, Brock's mom was busy cooking up a hearty meal - scrambled eggs, bacon, and fluffy pancakes.

"Morning, sweetie," she greeted him with a warm smile. "I made your favorite. Gotta keep those muscles fueled, right?"

"Thanks, Mom," Brock replied, sitting down at the kitchen table and digging in. He savored every bite, knowing he needed the calories and nutrients to power him through another intense football practice.

After breakfast, Brock headed outside to his truck, ready to make the drive to school. As he pulled out of the driveway, he felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. Football was his passion, his purpose. He couldn't wait to get on the field and prove himself once again.

Brock pulled up to Adam's house, ready to give him a ride to school. As he approached the front door, it swung open, and a tall, muscular man stepped out. Brock immediately recognized him as Adam's father, although he looked vastly different from the lanky, bespectacled man he had met just a few days earlier. not that he had any memory of that encounter.

"Brock! There's my boy!" the man exclaimed, his deep voice booming. He strode over to Brock and enveloped him in a bear hug, slapping him firmly on the back.

"Mr. Trent, good to see you," Brock replied, a bit taken aback by the man's enthusiastic greeting.

"Please, call me Hank. We're practically family now, with you and Adam being such good friends and all," Hank said, flashing a wide grin.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Hank. Is Adam ready to go?" Brock asked, glancing past the muscular man.

"Adam! Your ride's here!" Hank called out, and moments later, Adam emerged from the house, a confident grin on his face.

"Brock, my man!" Adam exclaimed, jogging over and exchanging a fist bump with Brock. "Ready to crush it at practice?"

"You know it, bro," Brock replied, still a bit bewildered by Adam’s father.

Hank chuckled and placed a heavy hand on Brock's shoulder. "I've been hearing all about your football exploits, Brock. Sounds like you boys are gonna have one heck of a season, eh?"

"Yeah, we're really looking forward to it," Brock said, nodding.

"That's what I like to hear!" Hank boomed. "You know, I used to play a little ball back in the day. Maybe I can give you boys some pointers, huh?"

Brock's eyes widened slightly. "You played football, Hank?"

"Sure did, son. Defensive end, back in my glory days. Though these days, I'm more focused on keeping the town safe as a firefighter," Hank said, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Wow, that's really cool," Brock replied, genuinely impressed.

"Yeah, Dad's a total badass," Adam chimed in, grinning.

" I'll remind you that you said that the next time you call me out and call me cringe, dude! Yeah, I miss my glory days, but one upside of quitting gaming was I could dive into amateur bodybuilding and finally focus in becoming shredded as hell. Now you and Adam don’t have to stress about that just yet, you need to be the biggest and badest player on the field or my fellow defensive line brothers will eat you alive. But from what I see around the house, and looking to you son looks like you guys are totally in the loop about it. Anyway, you should probably get going, Boys. Don't want to be late for practice."

"Right, of course. It was great seeing you, Hank," Brock said, shaking the man's hand.

"Likewise, Brock. Take care of my boy, you hear?" Hank said, winking.

Brock nodded and headed towards his truck, Adam falling into step beside him. As they climbed in, Brock couldn't help but feel a bit more at ease. Hank's warm, fatherly presence remember him of something he hadn't received since his father's death, and he hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"So, your dad's a firefighter, huh?" Brock asked, glancing at Adam.

"Yeah, man, he's the best. Always been my hero, I want to be exactly like him." Adam replied, his eyes shining with admiration.

"That's cool. I almost can see the resemblance if we take off some grease from you."Brock said, chuckling.

Adam laughed heartily. "Hey, Aren't you listening to him? We gotta keep up our physique, you know? Gotta be ready to tackle anything, on and off the field."

Brock nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. As they drove towards the school, the two chatted about the upcoming game and their plans for the season. Brock couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Adam, a feeling he hadn't expected to have for a former rival.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, he could already feel the energy and excitement in the air. The sounds of laughter and the sight of his teammates gearing up for practice filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Alright, Beef, let's do this!" Adam exclaimed, jumping out of the truck and heading towards the locker room, Brock following close behind.

In the locker room, they joined the other players, all pumped and ready for another day of intense training.

"Yo, Beef, did you see that pic I posted yesterday? It's blowing up on Insta!" Adam said, giving Brock a friendly nudge.

"Yeah, man, it's blowing up for real! You're looking like a pro athlete already," Brock replied, laughing.

The other players gathered around, all with big smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Brock, Adam, ready to smash the Westside guys on Friday?" Trey said, high-fiving both of them.

"You know it, Trey, we're gonna make them beg to leave the field!" Adam replied confidently.

"Damn right, bro! Let's show them who's boss!" Connor chimed in, pumped up.

Brock watched the interaction, feeling like part of something bigger. These guys weren't just his teammates; they were his brothers. He belonged to this group, this family.

"You guys ready to kick those punks' asses?" Brock said, joining in the excitement with his friends.

"Of course, Beef! Let's crush them!" Adam responded, pounding his chest.

The players continued to get ready, cracking jokes and hyping each other up. Brock felt more confident than ever. This team was his second family, and he would do anything to protect it and lead it to the top.

When Coach Steele entered the locker room, everyone fell silent, knowing it was time to get down to business.

"Great work this week, boys. You're showing you've got what it takes to go far this season," Steele said, his gaze sweeping over the players. "I want to see that same effort out on the field today. I expect nothing less than your best. Now, go warm up!"

The players charged onto the field, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Brock and Adam lined up side by side, ready to give it their all.

The practice began with the usual warm-up drills, and Brock lost himself in the rhythm, focused solely on executing each movement to perfection. Nothing else mattered but becoming the best player he could be.

When it came time for the line drills, Brock and Adam took charge of opening gaps for the runners. They worked in sync, predicting each other's movements and crushing any defender who dared to get in their way.

Brock felt the sweat pouring down his body, but he ignored the fatigue. All that mattered was victory. He needed to prove to himself and the team that he was worthy of being part of this champion squad.

During breaks, Brock and Adam chatted animatedly about the plays, exchanging ideas, complimenting each other, and joking around.

When practice ended, Brock felt exhausted but satisfied. They had given it their all, and he knew they were more prepared than ever to face their rivals.

As they headed back to the locker room, Brock looked at Adam, who seemed radiant.

"Man, you're flying today! We're getting more and more in sync," Brock said, giving Adam a friendly nudge.

"That's right, Beef! Together, no one can stop us," Adam replied, with a confident smile.

When they reached the locker room, the other players were already hurrying to shed their sweaty uniforms. Brock and Adam joined them, laughing and sharing stories about practice.

"Did you guys see that play Beef made? That was awesome!" Trey exclaimed, giving Brock a slap on the back.

"Ah, man, it was nothing. You guys were killing it out there too," Brock replied, feeling proud.

"No way, Beef! You're the man, dude!" Connor joined in, giving Brock a friendly punch on the arm.

At that moment, Coach Steele gathered the players in the locker room.

"Boys, you did great out there today. I'm proud of you," Steele said, his penetrating gaze sweeping over the athletes. "But we can't stop there. This season is gonna be the toughest you've faced yet."

The players listened in silence, knowing the coach was about to deliver one of his motivational speeches.

"You need to be willing to sacrifice everything—your comforts, your personal interests, even your social lives—for this team to reach the top. There's no room for ego, no room for laziness. You're a family now, and family comes first."

The players nodded, their faces filled with fierce determination.

"So, I want to see you give your blood on that field. I want to see you surpass yourselves every day, every game. I want to see you become champions!"

"Yes, sir!" the athletes responded in unison, their shouts echoing through the locker room.

After the coach's inspiring speech, the players began to strip down and head to the showers. Brock and Adam walked side by side, chatting animatedly, completely naked, without the slightest bit of shame. They were brothers.

As they approached the showers, the sounds of banter and laughter filled the air. The players, now naked, examined one another, comparing muscles and sizes.

"Hey, Trey, your leg looks like it's getting thicker. You been doing extra squats, huh?" Connor said, giving his friend a friendly elbow.

"Oh, yeah? Well, check this out!" Trey replied, flexing his bicep.

Soon, all the players were laughing and teasing each other, showing off their muscular bodies.

Brock watched the scene, feeling increasingly integrated into that group. He knew these were not just his teammates but his brothers. They would fight together, sweat together, and, if necessary, die together in pursuit of victory.

While showering, Brock felt the tension in his muscles dissipate. He knew that with this team by his side, nothing could stop them. They were invincible.

After the shower, the players left the locker room in a group, chatting and laughing animatedly. They walked through the hallways, drawing the attention of other students with their imposing presence.

As they walked, other players joined the group, high-fiving and greeting each other enthusiastically.

"Hey, QB's getting stronger, huh?" Lance a running back said, admiring the quarterback's muscles.

"You got it, man! I need to show these guys who's boss around here," Connor replied, smiling.

The group grew as they moved through the hallways, attracting curious and admiring glances from other students.

"Hey, did you see those cheerleaders over there?" Connor said, pointing to a group of girls.

"Of course I did, man! Brittany's dying for me to ask her to the homecoming dance," Adam replied, with a mischievous smile.

"And I'm tagging along with her friend, Brie," Brock added, laughing and being joined by his friends, their deep and powerful voices echoing through the hallway. The cheerleaders watched them with longing looks, some waving and smiling at the athletes.

"Hey, Beef, you're on fire, huh?" Trey said, giving Brock a nudge.

"You know it, man. We're the best," Brock replied, laughing and heading to class.

At the end of the day, Brock and Adam were surprised by a request to meet with Coach Steele and made their way to his office, curious about what he wanted to discuss.

Upon entering, Steele greeted them with a serious demeanor, but his face soon softened into a smile.

"Brock, Adam, I'm glad you came. Please, have a seat."

The two athletes obeyed, settling into the chairs in front of the coach's desk.

"Well, boys, I called you here because I want to know how you're feeling about all this. I know things have changed a lot since Adam joined the team, and I want to make sure you're comfortable with the situation."

Brock exchanged a look with Adam before responding.

"Look, Coach, I trust you and your decisions. I know you always do what's best for the team. And Adam's arrival has only made our squad stronger."

"Great, so nothing's bothering you, kid?"

"Other than the fact that we haven't crushed the Warriors yet, there's nothing wrong, Coach!"

Adam nodded, laughing and adding:

"That's right, Coach. I know my coming here was unexpected, and Beef and I had a rivalry, but that's in the past. I feel completely integrated into the team now. All the guys welcomed me with open arms, especially Beef, and I couldn't be happier to be part of this family."

Steele observed the two athletes attentively, satisfied with their responses.

"I'm glad to hear that, boys. You're key pieces of this team, and I want to make sure you're fully engaged and committed to our goal. Now, Adam, about your article. I understand it comes from a good place, but perhaps it's best not to stir up controversy."

"Article? What article?" Brock asked, confused.

"Mr. Trent here is also a member of the school newspaper, Beef. And he wrote an extensive piece explaining why the football team needs more funding. Which is admirable, Adam, but raises questions that are best left alone. Which I trust you will do."

"Yes, Coach, your word is law," Adam replied, while his friend looked at him with a mocking gaze.

"Hmm, newspaper? Didn't know you were such a nerd, Trent."

"I'll show you who's a fucking nerd, Beef!"

"Boys, enough. Now I suggest you go home and rest because tomorrow is the big day."

After the conversation with Coach Steele, Brock and Adam left the school and headed to Brock's house in the old pickup truck.

During the drive, the two guys sang rap songs loudly, each defending their favorite artist.

"Man, there's no way around it, Eminem is the greatest of all time!" Brock exclaimed, pounding the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

"Ah, come on, Beef! Kendrick Lamar is way cooler than Eminem!" Adam retorted, giving his friend a friendly punch on the arm.

"Are you crazy, man? Eminem is a legend, the guy's a lyrical genius!" Brock countered, turning up the radio volume.

The debate over who was the better rapper continued throughout the drive until it eventually shifted to their favorite topic.

"So, Beef, who do you think is the GOAT of football? Tom Brady or Mahomes?" Adam asked, curious.

Brock thought for a moment before answering.

"Ah, man, that's easy. Tom Brady, no doubt. The guy's a legend, got an insane resume. That dude is the standard of excellence in football."

"Seriously? I think Mahomes is getting close to surpassing him. The guy's a phenomenon, plays like a beast!" Adam said, excited.

"No way, man. Brady's unbeatable. How many Super Bowls has Mahomes won? Three? Brady's got like, seven!" Brock retorted, laughing.

"Yeah, but Mahomes is younger, he'll get there. And the way he plays is way more exciting than Brady's!" Adam insisted.

"Excitement is good, but titles are what matter, brother. And Brady's got more than double Mahomes'. He's the GOAT, no question!" Brock concluded, giving Adam a slap on the shoulder.

The two continued debating the merits of the two quarterbacks until they arrived at Brock's house. Even with different opinions, it was clear that their friendship had grown stronger.

As soon as they entered, Brock tossed his backpack into a corner and went straight to the fridge, grabbing some drinks and snacks for them to share.

"Alright, Beef, now that we're here, tell me, are you really cool with me joining the team?" Adam asked, looking at his friend seriously.

Brock thought for a moment before answering.

"Man, I'll be honest. At first, I was a bit skeptical, after all, we were rivals and all. But now, after all the dedication you've shown, I can't imagine the team without you. You've proven to be a brother to us, and I know that together, no one will be able to stop us."

Adam smiled, giving Brock a friendly punch on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man. I don't see myself outside this family either. Let's show those Westside guys who's boss!"

The two guys clinked their zero-sugar soda cans, toasting to their brotherhood and the victory that awaited them.

While Brock and Adam chatted in the living room, Brock's mom walked out of her room, all dressed up and elegant. She was carrying a bracelet and struggling to fasten it around her wrist.

"Sweetie, can you help me with this?" she asked, approaching Brock.

Brock looked at his mom, surprised by her appearance.

"Sure, Mom. You're all dressed up today. Something special going on?" he asked, fastening the bracelet on her delicate wrist.

"Well, actually, I swapped my shift at work tonight. I have an appointment," she replied, with a slight smile on her lips.

Brock raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"An appointment? What kind of appointment?"

Brock's mom let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm an adult woman and single. I'm allowed to have my own appointments, don't you think?" she said, giving Brock a kiss on the cheek.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.

"That must be my date," Brock's mom said, quickly fixing her hair before going to answer the door.

Brock stood there, watching his mom walk away, with an expression of surprise and confusion on his face. So, she had a date? His mom, the woman who always seemed dedicated only to him and her work, had a personal life?

He exchanged a quick glance with Adam, who also seemed intrigued by the situation.

"Hey, Beef, is your mom going on a date?" Adam whispered, with a mischievous smile on his face.

Brock shrugged, still trying to process everything.

"Looks like it, man. I didn't even know she was seeing someone."

The two guys stayed silent, listening to Brock's mom's footsteps and the voice of a man in the house's entrance. Brock felt a twinge of curiosity, but also some concern. After all, his mom was everything to him. He let out a long sigh.

"Man, this was unexpected," he commented, still processing it all.

Adam chuckled, giving his friend a pat on the back.

"I can't even imagine my dad going on a date with someone, dude."

The two guys exchanged nervous smiles as they listened to the conversation at the entrance of the house. Brock couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension upon hearing the man's voice accompanying his mom.

When Carol returned to the living room, she was accompanied by a tall, muscular man, whom Brock immediately recognized as Hank, Adam's dad. The shock was evident on Brock and Adam's faces, and an awkward silence fell over the room.

"Dad?" Adam exclaimed, with a look of surprise.

"Adam… Brock?" Hank responded, equally surprised. "I had no idea you were Carol's son!"

"Wait, Mom, you're going out with Adam's dad?" Brock asked, trying to process the situation.

Carol and Hank exchanged glances before starting to laugh, breaking the tension in the air.

"Well, it seems we have a little coincidence here," Carol said, smiling. "Hank and I met when he brought a patient to the hospital. We talked a bit about our kids, but we never imagined… this.”

"This is kinda... strange, but funny too," Adam commented, scratching his neck.

"Yeah, I guess life has those surprises," Hank added, still laughing. "But don't worry, guys. It's just a casual date."

Carol nodded, looking at the two young men. "We're just getting to know each other better. Who knows what could happen, right?"

Brock and Adam exchanged glances again, still trying to get used to the idea.

"Well, be good boys and don't make a mess while we're out," Carol said, giving Brock a kiss on the cheek before leaving with Hank.

As soon as the door closed, Brock and Adam exchanged nervous laughs.

"That was totally unexpected," Brock commented, still laughing.

"Totally! But, hey, if things work out, we could end up being real brothers," Adam said, winking at Brock.

"Yeah, that would be pretty crazy, but also pretty cool," Brock agreed, feeling a strange sense of happiness at the thought. Having a badass stepdad like Hank and a brother like Adam would make his life even more perfect than it already was, eliminating one of the few worries he had, which was his mom's loneliness. And if there was one thing Beef hated, it was worrying and overthinking. That's what he had Coach for, and things were better that way.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #jockification #musclegrowth #my story

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side-shuffling-hyperfixations · 2 months ago

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Is it just me or do 2003 Leo and Raph have the best relationship out of all the iterations? It's my favorite, at least. Like they do get snappy with each other sometimes but their spats aren't nearly as often, as intense or festering as long as some others I've seen.

It was refreshing that Raph didn't challenge Leo's position as leader nearly as much. Sometimes he would challenge the decisions he made while leading but not undermine his position. He learned and mostly accepted that Leo would be a good leader in childhood and he backed him up nine times out of ten (even when Leo didn't know it: e.g. the "If Leo needs us, we're here. But let's see what this is all about." An instance of Raph pulling a Leo-type move, hanging back to recon rather than rushing in, while Leo's judgment was clouded. Learning from each other and supporting even from a distance)

How ready they are to be there for each other? How openly protective they are of each other? Like they're not as coy or begrudging or emotionally constipated as others about showing how much they care. Small gestures, big gestures, it doesn't matter. Leo's having trouble focusing on a plan because of the noise? Raph makes the noise go away. Wasn't Raph the first one who wanted to look for Leo when his morning training (getting ambushed by the Foot) ran unusually late? Or the scene where Leo's suddenly getting pulled away by an unknown magical force and he calls out to his brothers in alarm. Don cries, "Oh, no!" as he and Mikey stand there and watch; they freeze up. Raph dives headlong after him instantly.

And how they take it when they can't be there for each other? He dove headlong and he didn't actually make it in time to grab Leo's hand before he's gone. Master Splinter has to physically hold him back as he's still shouting and fighting to get to him (and then he has to be restrained again by magic when it looks like Leo's in danger in the 1v1 he was pulled to. Screw the fact that he's obviously outpowered by the almighty binding rules of the duel, he'll go kicking and screaming anyway, that's his bro!) And the scene where they're on top of a moving car, Leo loses his grip on Raph and he falls and from Leo's POV, time slows until he sees Raph land alright. Raph facing his fear ick about bugs, jumping down to defend Leo from the big boss bug with no hesitation when he sees him get stung? And of course when he cries just the once (as far as I recall) in the whole series when Leo's seriously hurt. How he makes me cry in SAINW as he crawls to Leo's side, reaches out for him, calls his name with his dying breath, his last word is his brother's name as he falls beside him, hand against his??? And that was after being estranged in that what-if future! LIKE BRO THAT SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM

Even just the two or three lines where Leo's waxing poetic about their family, being completely sincere, and Mikey bursts out laughing and teases him for being a sap. Raph immediately tells Mikey to lay off and that Leo's got a point.

They're just so good. They have a few arguments like all siblings do but there is zero doubt that they love each other to pieces and they don't hesitate at all to show it on the regular. And outside of that estrangement timeframe where they were traumatized and grieving and in a literal apocalypse where they lost all hope, they didn't let their relationship fall apart the way some other iterations did. (Like I love 2007 but that fight on the rooftop? Where Raph could have killed him? I watch it and I can't help but think to myself, "2003 Leo and Raph would never." We saw them have a tussle on a rooftop and the moment there was a possibility he put Raph in real danger, Leo came to his senses and dropped everything to make sure he was okay. I dunno)

Asfjskjfks this is all just biased four AM rambling. The point is I love them, your honor, best/closest/healthiest R&B dynamic duo forever in my heart <3 (Natural disclaimer: I don't say any of this to crap on any of the other iterations. I like them all! I just like 2003's portrayal the most)

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #agh my heart #my boysss #brotherly love #do not tag as ship #i wish i didn't have to specify that but y'know #r&b bros

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aryomengrande · 1 year ago

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aryomengrande’s 127 squad (2023 division) ᕦ(ò_ó)ᕤ

2024 division →

i reached my favorite milestone last year which is 127 (it’s also my angel number ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝) but hardly had time to make this. i planned to post this by january 27 (which is 1/27) but didn’t finish it on time but ig today is fine (02/07). basically, these are the characters featured in my top 1, 2, and 7 most liked posts here on tumblr last year—seishu inui taking the 1st place, kokonoi hajime in 2nd place, and kakucho in 7th place. i really enjoyed making these, so i’ll do this every year except i’ll pick the top 1, 2, and 7 most liked posts across all my platforms instead of just tumblr. all of these reference nct 127’s albums (for those who aren’t familiar, nct 127 is a subunit of the kpop group nct), and i will continue to do so to uphold the 127 tradition (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ* thank u to my 127+ followers and thank u to everyone who showed these posts a lot of love ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ stoked to see which ones place 1st, 2nd, and 7th place this year ! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

more details about these pieces under the cut (bc i’m a detail whore)

the album reference for inupi is neozone (n ver.). i changed the yellow into a warmer tone that’s closer to toman’s golden yellow.

i switched the nct 127 emblem into a shape that resembles a basketball bc inupi’s special skill is ball games. i also changed it to the 1st album (instead of 2nd album) to reference his top spot as my most liked post last year.

the member i used for reference for inupi and koko is lee taeyong bc ‘yong’ in korean means ‘dragon’ and both inupi and koko are part of black dragons. inupi’s drip is taeyong’s drip in nct 127’s single ‘kick it’ from the neozone album.

the album reference for koko is sticker (sticker ver.). i also changed the album order from 3rd album to 2nd album to reference him being second to inupi as the most liked post here on tumblr. i picked sticker for koko bc bro rly stuck w inupi through thick and thin. like a stickaaa stickaaa *insert whistle tones* lmao

the numbers in the barcode are the number of likes he got from each platform—215 upvotes from reddit, 269 likes from tiktok, 577 likes on tumblr, 2.2k likes on twitter/x, a total of 3261 likes.

and finally, the album reference for kakucho is fact check (storage ver.). kakucho my beloved, the brawler, is canonically a prodigy who can even go up against the invincible mikey. don’t believe me? check the facts go check that!! (¬◾_◾) i also changed the album order from 5th album to 7th album in line with kakucho being featured in my top 7 most liked post here.

the reference for kakucho is jung jaehyun in ‘fact check’; his drip kinda resembles kaku’s tenjiku’s uniform, the pants specifically.

i switched the vault safe door into a metallic yin yang to reference tenjiku’s emblem and i also like that the storage version of fact check is grey, which is his image color! ⋆˙⟡♡

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bby-blu-swirll · 1 year ago

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" i know that you got daddy issues, and i do too " - todoroki x reader

it's not a song fic i just have a really messed up relationship with my dad lol - i don't have a lot of direction for this, it's just a little lazy & venty,, we'll see where it goes ♡

it was one of those nights where 1-a was all tired from the long school week, but not enough to fall asleep. they happened every once in a while, and always resulted in the majority of the class hanging out together in the common area doing whatever together until they all crashed for the evening.

the open downstairs was filled with the sound of idle conversation and super smash bros, but most of everyone's attention on the ladder. it started with just the bakusquad, but once katsuki ran undefeated, almost everyone else in the class took it upon themselves to try and overthrow the king. so far, nobody was successful. ururaka came close, but to no avail. she took the defeat like a champ, though.

while most everyone huddled around the tv, yelling things like "KICK HIS ASS" and "SHUT UP YOU BASTARD I'M TRYING TO FOCUS" (yeah), there were a few who had strayed from the pack. tokoyami and shoji were over by the dining tables playing a game of chess, and kouda was reading a book on a couch off to the side, using his classmates as white noise.

and then there was you.

you were settled on top of the kitchen island, legs crossed, with one earbud in. it wasn't that you didn't want to be around your friends, you had grown slightly overstimulated and needed a moment to recollect your thoughts.

you rolled a lollipop of your favorite flavor around in your mouth, absentmindedly scrolling through pinterest. your mind was on anything but aesthetically pleasing pictures, brows furrowed as your thoughts wandered back to your family. you sighed and squeezed your phone for a moment before turning it off and setting it down next to you. you just needed to distract yourself. something more.

in that moment, one of your classmates strolled into the kitchen. you looked up at todoroki, who was holding an empty mug.

"hey," he smiled at you softly as he made his way over to the stove. "what are you still doing in here?"

"ah, iida hasn't noticed me sitting on the countertop yet." you chuckled at your own joke, feeling the smallest butterflies when he grinned back at you. "what about you?"

"just getting a refill." he said, picking up the kettle of tea momo had put on earlier (omg.) and filling his mug. "and checking on you."

"oh-" you looked up at him in surprise, cocking your head to the side slightly. "really? for why?"

"you didn't look like you were doing too well earlier." he said bluntly, leaning against the counter facing you and taking a sip of his drink.

"ah... yeah," you looked away and laughed awkwardly, playing with your rings.

"are you?"

"am i what?"

when you turned to look back at him, his expression had changed. less neutral, more... worried. compassionate.

"are you not doing well?"

you opened your mouth to say something. "i'm fine, thank you though!" was was you had always answered with. you were tired, or you were just zoning out, anything but not okay. yet the way he looked at you made you hesitate. saying you were doing just fine was so second nature, but it was almost hard to lie to him.

before you could actually answer, your phone started to buzz softly. you both turned your attention to it, reading the name in the caller id line.

"dad"

you bit your lip and furrowed your brow. it continued to vibrate in your hand a few more times, before you declined the call. you quickly set your phone down and looked straight ahead. you have no idea why, but your eyes began to water. you took a shaky deep breath, and made an attempt to spell out your thoughts, something you learned earlier in life to help keep from crying.

"y/n..." todoroki set down his mug and took a step towards you, carefully.

"hmm?" your voice was tight as you avoided eye contact, trying to keep from blinking, afraid it would push a tear out.

you took on last deep breath and spelled out one last phrase, before you felt your eyes finally dry. you sighed and put your lollipop back in your mouth, facing him with a smile like nothing had happened.

"i see."

you cocked your head to the side in confusion, watching as he pulled himself up onto the counter and sitting across from you. you pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin atop them. he noted your look of curiosity and held out a hand to you. you hesitated for a moment before carefully placing your fingers to his palm. he shifted until he was sitting close, holding your hand in his, tracing over your bones and knuckles softly, fiddling with your rings.

"i understand, i mean. i think." his voice was low and soft. anyone standing further than a few feet away would have a hard time hearing him. "whatever your reason for ignoring that call, whyever you did it... i've got dozens of calls from my old man i never bothered to pick up."

when you looked up at him, you saw his eyes glues to your fingers tangled with his. he touched your hands so delicately, as if you were made of glass. he was so full of care. his touch, the way he looked at you, all of it. it was all so full of the most tender affection.

"you don't need to talk about it, if you don't want to. God knows it took me forever to open up to midoriya," he smiled a bit. "i just wanted you to know the offer is out there, if you need it."

you bit down on your lollipop to try and hide how big that'd made you smile. the second you opened your mouth to say something, you heard iida begin to raise his voice, something about curfew and going to bed.

both you and todoroki turned to see him coming into the kitchen, stiffening when he notices you.

"both of you should get off the counter right now! this is living space, for goodness sake! and still school property."

you chuckled and waved a hand at him, already climbing off. "alright, class rep, don't get your panties in a twist. we're going." you tossed your sucker in the bin as todoroki stepped onto the floor, too.

"good. now get some good rest tonight, we've all had a long week and you've earned it. sleep well, both of you."

"you too, iida."

you and todoroki offered him tired smiles as you made your way past him to the elevator. when you got inside, you practically collapsed against the wall with an exasperated sigh. todoroki went ahead and pushed the button for his floor, but not yours. you didn't question it, maybe he'd forgotten. so instead, you pushed yourself off the wall and moved towards the panel. your outstretched hand halted to a stop when you felt arms wrap around your torso. before you could turn, you felt todoroki's nose nuzzle into your neck. he took a deep breath that made you shiver.

"come over, to my room. we can talk. or not. i can distract you, do whatever you want. i'm not tired yet."

feeling his breath on your skin practically made your heart leap into your throat. you stood, frozen for a moment, gasping softly when his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. you wondered if he could feel your heart beating, with how close he was to your main pulse points. his lips, so close...

you leaned back into him and put your hands over his, wrapped around your waist. "yeah... me neither."

you could practically feel him smile as another small exhale of his grazed your neck, making you shiver. "i'll play with your hair if you want, play with your fingers... just hold you."

as if his words hadn't already done it, you practically melted in his hands when his lips pressed against your neck for a long second. you hummed in response, blushing furiously.

"just relax pretty girl, i promise i'll be there for you however you need me."

idk man its wtv !

i'm officially out of ideas right now, requests are open to anybody, feel free to be as specific or detailed or even vague as you like and please please please don't be shy <33

i love you sm okay bye !!

#shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #shoto x you #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fic #bnha fanfiction #escapism #daddy issues #hurt/comfort #light angst #sprinkle of angst for you #ily all

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justpuppylove · 2 years ago

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HIII WELCOME BACKK!! WE MISSED YOU!! NOW IM GONNA NEED MORE OF THAT STEP BRO WILBUR MHM MHM 🤭

Sh~ Stepbrother Wilbur soot smut

Stepbro!WilburSoot x afab reader smut

Kinks/warnings: Stepcest [PLEASE DONT FUCK YOUR STEP-SIBLINGS OR PARENTS. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS.], degrading, begging, marking

A/N: HIIIII AND OFC :3

If you were completely honest, you didn’t like Wilbur. Your mom started dating your stepdad and after about a year he moved in, he brought Wilbur with him. Wilbur was honestly kind of a prick, he always made such snarky comments and was always teasing you. You always had to put up with him, especially on holidays and for special events. It just so happens that your mom and stepdad wanted to go on a date, and Wilbur decided to come bother you.

“What’s up dickheadddd” Wilbur says as he busts into your room. You let out a gasp and jump a bit, not expecting him to just barge in. You roll your eyes, “What is it Wilbur, don’t you have anything better to do?” Wilbur looks at you with a stupid smirk on his face. “What? Can’t I hang out with my favorite sibling?” He asks as he walks over to your bed where you’re sitting. He towers over you as he looks down. You feel a bit flustered as you look away; avoiding eye contact. He grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “You’re not blushing, are you?” He asks as he studies your face, that dumb smirk still plastered across his face. “What? No.. of course not, dumbass.” You respond as you shove your face away from his hand. “Awe you are, admit it” he says, placing his leg on the bed as he partially climbs on top of you. You feel your face heat up as he positions himself over you. You keep quiet as Wilbur grabs your face once more. “Admit it.” He says as he slightly squeezes your face. “Fine. Yes, I am.” You say as you look up at him reluctantly.

He moves himself over top of you as he moves his hand from your face to your neck. He kisses you and you feel yourself melt into his touch, you’re a bit surprised but you let it happen. His hand moves down your body and you spread your legs open, inviting him in. He smirks against your lips as he sees how needy you are. “You’re such a slut” his words ring through your ears as his hand meets with your core. You still had your shorts on but you were soaking wet. Wilbur was obviously quite surprised by this, he teases you by trailing his fingers over your shorts; making you whine. “You’ve needed me so bad hm?” He asks teasingly, all you can do is nod. “You don’t even care that I’m your stepbrother?” He asks as he slides your shorts off and takes off his shirt. You trace his muscles with your eyes, not paying attention to his questions as he unbuttons his pants. His bulge is very apparent against his boxers as he kisses your neck. He fingers once again meeting your core. He slowly pushes his fingers in, which causes you to let out a moan. You grab the back of Wilbur’s head, your fingers combing through his hair, as he leaves a hickey on your neck.

He lines himself up with your entrance, tapping his hard dick onto your pussy. He slides himself up and down your wetness as you get needier. “Please just fuck me” you say as Wilbur looks down at you. “How bad do you want it?” Wilbur says, wanting you to beg. You almost let out a scoff before realizing that would just postpone your pleasure even more, “Please~ I need you so bad. I need you to fuck me Will” you say pleadingly. Wilbur seems pleased with your response because he slowly slides into you. You let out a whine as you try to adjust to his length. “Sh~ I know baby” he says as he gives you a second to get used to him. He starts slowly moving inside of you, letting out a few groans as you clench around him. After hearing your moans he speeds up and begins slamming into you roughly. “Fuck~ Wilbur~” you moan out between whines. “Yeah? You like that?” He says as he slams into you, making the bed hit the wall. He lifts your legs up over his shoulders and grabs your hips, his nails pressing into your thighs. “Such a dirty slut~” he says, you clench around him as you hear his words. As he feels this he moves one of his hands to your clit, skillful circling it. “Please~ can I please cum~” you beg Wilbur as he continues slamming into you. “Cum for me, only I can make you feel this good.” Wilbur says, possessiveness swimming in his tone. Once you get permission you feel yourself release on Wilbur’s dick, your clit throbbing as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. “Ah~ Wilbur~” you moan out, gripping onto his wrists. His grip on you tightens more as he slams into you even harder. With a few more thrusts his seed spills out onto you.

You both pant a bit as you come down from your highs. Wilbur cleans you both up and helps you put your clothes back on. You both settle into your bed together and turn on your tv. You both watch some movies together before Wilbur gets a message from his dad. “They’re coming home..” he says, “you should do something about that.” he finishes as his eyes dart to the huge hickey on your neck. Your face heats up as you scatter to the bathroom.

#dsmp #justpuppylove #dsmp smut #smut #wilbur soot #wilbur soot smut #mcyt x y/n #mcyt smut #mcyt #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x reader smut #wilbursoot #stepbro!wilbur #Stepbro!wilbursoot #stepbro smut

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lol-jackles · 2 months ago

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I was pursuing your “Destiel” tag (thank you for posting it for that anon, btw, and bringing it back to my attention), and came across this statement from you:

“As a result, douchy Jensen + going off script = other actors trying to cope. My favorite was 2016 because that was when my girlfriend leaned close to the screen and said, "Jared, blink twice if you're being held against your will". Since then Jared had figured out how to handle these ~unscripted~ moments, but Misha hasn't.”

What was the moment in particular at 2016 JIB that made your girlfriend say that? Or what was Jensen going at that one? Wasn’t Gen at that one, too?

Also, what would you say Jared’s strategy has been in dealing with Jensen (when drunk) on stage at JIB? And why does Jensen seem “meaner” to Jared at JIB than at CE or AHBL cons? Which is closer to thier actual dynamic, do you think?

And I just have to add, it was pretty amusing seeing Misha momentarily (sadly not longer) regret his life choices at, was it 2019 JIB, where he pointed out the Destiel shirt and Jensen yelled about “where is it real?” Do you think Jensen was actually annoyed in this panel? I say yes, but my brother says no.

Jensen seems to keep it together more at JIBs post pandemic, but I was at JIB 13, and he gave off a huge air of just being over the whole thing by his solo Sunday panel. And he and Rich were essentially running out the clock by being loud idiots (my ears still hurt from being near a speaker).

They all claim to love JIB, but they also all seem pretty over it come Sunday.

Sorry that got long. Would love to see your response to any parts.

This was the first time I briefly talked about the infamous Jib con. Back in 2016 I used to think their co/dependent friendship was doomed at the 10-year mark because when one isn’t adjusting to the changing time, then the idolatries friendship can’t last more than 10 years at best. I listed a few examples (X) from a feminist blog about women ending their female friendships, a woman ending her friendship with a male friend (X) Oliver Broudy’s story of ending his 10-year friendship with a college friend (X). These friendships ended because one of them was stuck and making more and more demands on the unstuck friend. We know happened after season 10 wrapped up (X) (X).

Anyways, what got my girlfriend's attention was Jared looking like a tug of war rope between Gen and Jensen and the boys. Regular corporate SPN cons in the U.S are already a male-dominated atmosphere bordering on frat boy shenanigans. At least there are corporate handlers and security to help keep the actors in line, plus alcohol are banned for actors. Jib cons are fan-run with no handlers and alcohol are allowed, and usually there are no actresses because the cost of the extra Jensen/Misha and Jared/Misha panels means some actors are going to get cut out and it’s usually the actresses. Without female colleagues around, the men really rile each other up at Jib cons, it’s part of their bonding and one-upmanship rituals. I think why Gen rarely participated in SPN cons is because she didn't want to be around all that dude energy. But 2016 was different because I think she blamed herself for leaving the 2015 British con early and is still traumatize that she nearly lost Jared few days later, so Gen agreed to let Jared drag bring her to Jib con. Men don’t like wives/girlfriends homing in on their bro times and Jensen was noticeable irritated that Jared’s wife was there and during the closing ceremony Jensen used air quotations marks while talking about Gen’s marriage to Jared who had his arms wrapped around her. He looked peeved at Jensen and then then laughed it off because what else could he do on stage?

(Side note: it’s not easy for men to find male friends and keeping them. I hated the movie I love you, man because it was too familiar, and Paterson made me uneasy because Adam Driver's character has no male friends and he's more than okay with that because he has a wife.)

Jensen seems "meaner" not just to Jared but to every actor there, especially Misha. At these fan-run conventions, there are no "scripts" (guidelines actually) to follow. Most actors were still going by the guidelines from corporate-run conventions when they're on stage, but not Jensen because it's part of his upmanship as a way to both bond and dominate others. It's a Ryan Seacrest and Brian Dunkleman type situation. Maybe Jensen learned this trick from Ryan who used to be his roommate. Misha is not a natural improviser, his guest appearance on Whose Line Is it Anyways shows that, so he's the least apt at handling Jensen's off script moments. Half the time Jensen wasn't actually drunk but acts like it to avoid the inevitable asinine Destiel-loaded questions from the hellers in the audience.

Jared's strategy was about the same at pre-2016 JIB cons and CE cons because he's pretty apt at smoothing things over between Jensen and the fans. At the infamous 2013 New Jersey con a self-claiming bisexual girl tried to ask Jensen a loaded Destiel question and he snapped at her with, “don’t ruin it for everybody” and Jared immediately calmed Jensen down and salvaged the rest of the experience for sane fans.

Stuff like this is closer to their real life dynamic as the Giver and the Taker. If you read the "codependency tag", Jared the Giver cleans up the messes the Taker make. Givers think they're helping but they're actually enabling and don't improve things. Jensen's reputation took a slight hit, and it took a few years for the New Jersey con to be memory-holed. Apparently Jensen didn't learn from this and 3 years later mocked a girl wearing a "Destiel is real" shirt at the 2019 JIB. Misha told Jensen to not “fight with fans” and Jared was gesturing to a fan in the front row as if saying don’t look at me look at him. That may answer your question, Jared stopped trying to calm Jensen down and instead focus on heading off fans who gets too snippy at Jensen, like at a DC con few years back where a girl was trying to look cool but came off sounding hostile towards Jensen, so Jared left the stage and hugged the stuffings out of the girl, deflating her hostile-sounding voice.

I don't think I've seen Jensen's solo panel at JIB13, but he's usually looks like he's watching the clock during his Jared-less panels so that's nothing new. It's been the case for many years and a common complaint by fans, it's why CE stopped having solo J panels early on because Jensen needs a scene partner. It goes back to why Jensen works better as a scene-stealing supporting actor instead of a leading man. How Jensen made Dean Winchester have memorable moments was by putting his focus on the other person. By using this method, Jensen can stop worrying about how he’s going to say his lines and speak intuitively, this helps make Dean appear truthful to the audience. It may be why Jensen doesn’t read scripts ahead of time. Jensen doesn’t go into a scene looking to do a scene, instead he goes in looking to be open and give over to how the other person (in this case, Jared playing Sam) makes him feel. This method worked great for Jensen when his character has Sam to focus on, and Jensen has Jared to react to. It’s why Dean’s dying moments with Sam in the barn works so well in the series’ finale.

You probably heard of the saying, “acting is reacting”.

A demon’s acting philosophy in The Good Place: “Demons have to learn that Acting Is Reacting. And Reacting Is Pre-acting. But Pre-acting? Well, that’s just being.”

While “acting is reacting” gets mocked in the acting community because it’s a trap alot of actors fall into by adjusting their truthful inner life to their assumptions about the text. Good acting is adjusting the text to your authentic emotion which is the result of the other person. This where Jensen’s good acting comes from and it’s become his comfort zone and made him a multimillionaire by his mid 30s. He’s in what my acting coach calls “the truthful contact”, it’s where actors are taught the first stage of authentic acting. The next stage is “crafting”. When you’re working solo without a screen partner, your skill at crafting becomes vital. Crafting means anywhere from ability to endow meaning to objects so they have emotional meaning is important, or effectively get across justifications and point of views.

#j2 #jibcon

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babydollmarauders · 1 year ago

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MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 19)

au masterlist

notes: this is late and short and i apologize for that! i’ve had such a busy few days

y/ndevils00

liked by nicohischier, dawson1417, and 462,921 others

y/ndevils00 WE WON!! WE ACTUALLY WON!!

i mean… yeah, it’s cool, we won.

with the return of my absolute favorite captain (sorry Quinnifer), the devilish whores won 7-2 against the swords!

we kicked off the scoring just a minute and a half into the first with a goal from Holtzy, and almost 10 minutes later, got a goal from uncle Toffee to give us a 2-0 lead!

but that’s not all! just 4 minutes later, captain slut got his first goal back!! GO NICOLAS!!! and in true boyfriends fashion, he acquired his first goal back the same way that Jacky did; on his first game back, in the first period of the game, with a goal that had to be confirmed by officials that it was a good goal! how utterly boyfriends of them! they definitely planned that!

and to end first period, we got yet another EVEN strength goal (no power play goals yet here!) from Pally Pocket!! giving us a FOUR goal lead on those bitches from buffalo!

in second period we got yet another goal from Tyler the creator, just 2 minutes in! bringing the score to 5-1! thank you, queen! and then the rest of that period was boring af

BUT THIRD PERIOD! OH I LOVED THIRD PERIOD! we opened that period and made it our bitch with a goal from MY best friend in the whole big wide world, Dawg-son Mercer!! EVERYBODY CHEER! WOOOOO!!! (with an assist from my lovely pain in the ass, babygirl!)

AND LASTLY, WITH OUR ONE AND ONLY POWER PLAY GOAL, WE HAVE MY (hopefully) FUTURE LITTLE BROTHER, LUKEY ‘SMUSH’ HUGHES!!! LET’S GO, BABY HUGHES!! SHOW ‘EM WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF!!

i’ll see you guys on tuesday after we play the long island iced teas!

tagged holtz_10, tofff73, nicohischier, pally_18, jackhughes, dawson1417, and lhughes_06

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john.marino97 i don’t even get my own pic tonight?

y/ndevils00 i only have so many spots Jonathan! what am i supposed to do, you didn’t score a goal! do you want me to just take someone’s pic away to fit you in?!

john.marino97 1. not my name. 2. yes

y/ndevils00 NO! stop being greedy— jesus you’re like a stray cat, i feed you love once and you never leave me alone again

john.marino97 one could argue that you’re actually the stray cat

y/ndevils00 am i the one begging for your love right now? no!

john.marino97 i could post a photo of what you’re doing right now and it would suggest otherwise…

user29 what’s she doing right now?!

lhughes_06 @/user29 john is giving her a piggyback ride throughout the empty arena because she wouldn’t leave him alone

jackhughes how tf did you get the last picture from the press box?

y/ndevils00 ✨zoom✨

jackhughes well i need you to ✨zoom✨ out and stop camera stalking me while i’m on the bench. WATCH THE GAME.

y/ndevils00 don’t tell me what to do?

jackhughes you’re right, i’m sorry for telling you to do your job

y/ndevils00 you should be. thank you!

nicohischier you called me anything but my name

y/ndevils00 obviously? do you not see my gag here Nicole?

nicohischier i see it, i hate it, i ask you to do better

y/ndevils00 HEY DON’T TAKE MY LINE!

nicohischier too late. took it. made it my own.

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes PUT YOUR BITCH ON A LEASH

jackhughes but you’re my bitch?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes take that back right now

jackhughes or what?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes or i’ll tell Sid?

jackhughes consider it unsaid 🫡

user01 NICO AND LUKE GOALS AND WE WON

user63 “bitches from buffalo” is how i’ll be referring to them now tysm

holtz_10 please leave me out of this

y/ndevils00 you’re part of the team, are you not? you’re briefly photographed and mentioned just shut up and say thank you

holtz_10 for what? you didn’t even congratulate me

john.marino97 bro, it’s not worth the fight, just say it

holtz_10 thank you?

y/ndevils00 you’re welcome, swedish meatball!

tofff73 thank you and you’re welcome, queen!

y/ndevils00 TAKE NOTES PEOPLE! THIS IS WHAT YOU DO!

dawson1417 you’ve been here for like 2 months and you already make the rest of us look bad, Toff

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 you could NEVER look bad to me, honey bun! the others, however, could use some work

lhughes_06 i’ll be your future brother if i have any say in it

jackhughes but you DON’T have any say in it?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes that’s what YOU think

jackhughes i- what does that even mean?

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes wouldn’t you like to know

jackhughes i’m pretty sure YOU don’t even know

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes you can’t prove that (i don’t)

dawson1417 CHEERING!! WOOOO!!! YAY ME!!

y/ndevils00 alright london tipton, let’s tone it down a little before somebody thinks you’re conceited

dawson1417 you’re right, sorry, GO TEAM!

y/ndevils00 there we go!! (we can cheer for just you off insta! nobody else matters!)

dawson1417 can we go out for drinks to celebrate me?

y/ndevils00 are you buying?

dawson1417 sure?

y/ndevils00 then ABSOLUTELY!!

user87 so are we just gonna breeze past “Pally pocket” … like polly pocket?

y/ndevils00 i liked to chew on the clothes <3

jackhughes i’m concerned for your well being

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes you keep me sane 🥰

jackhughes well it’s a lot of work and i don’t think i’m doing a very good job

#media management au!#media management series <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s insta edits <3 #faithlynn’s writings <3

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alyssawritcs · 1 month ago

Text

SUMMER HOUSE ( a rafe cameron au fanfic ) . chapter one .

love interest : au!rafe cameron rating : pg - 13 … for now ( drinking , tension ) wc : 5.2k author's note : eep , first chapter for this . obv inspired by summer house / summer house : martha's vineyard . lmk if yall want a full cast list for the other members of the house or anything like that ! i hope you enjoy <3

The trill of the phone ringing as it was propped up against the window allowed for Tae to put herself directly in line with the Hamptons sun streaming through. That seven step skincare routine was showing the fuck out at the moment. She’d have to keep her phone here after she hung up with her cousin in order to get some selfies off for her IG Story later.

Distracted by her own reflection, she almost jumped when her image shrunk and Pope’s replaced it. “Cuzzo! Damn, you made it up there fast as shit.” He was eyeing the lush background she was standing in front of. He’d seen it plenty in their various FaceTime calls over the last four summers.

“Unlike the rest of you heathens, I wake up with the sun as the good Lord intended.” And as was hammered into her head by their shared grandmother. Tae and her mother had lived in Nana Joy’s house for the majority of her childhood so waking up at the crack of dawn to the sounds of BeBe and CeCe Winans was her default. “You what, an hour out?”

“That's what the GPS says. You shoulda stayed with us this summer, I know you ain’t even wanna be around them.” Tae rolled her eyes, though Pope was not wrong. Four previous summers at the 115 House (as the returning summer residents liked to call it) had convinced her that this would actually not be that bad, despite the circumstances.

“Wait, they’re all still going there?” Came another voice on Pope’s end of the line. She recognized it as his good friend JJ, a long time background listener of Tae’s various problems. They had been roommates when she attended Morehouse and they were running amok at UNC Chapel Hill so when she called her favorite cousin Sunday mornings to rant and rave about whatever new person had done whatever shiesty shit, JJ was always there listening. Tae wasn’t particularly shy about letting him listen in on her shit. Very little had changed in the seven years since, even after all of them had moved to New York. The two of them were still roommates and Tae still talked to Pope about her problems on Sunday, only this time she did it on his couch, while they ate bagels (with the occasional guest appearance by JJ).

“Yes, bro. Shit is weird, why would they even wanna share a house with you after all that?” Pope replied and she shrugged.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out my damn self. With Duke, I can sorta see it but Jalen’s being a weirdo - as per usual.” Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she let out a long breath. “Did I show you how he was blatantly ignoring me in the groupchat? I literally would write something for us to do, he would say nothing. Then I had Fallon or Isaiah write the same thing and suddenly, ‘oh that’s a great idea guys hell yeah’. If I could reach through the phone ...” She let the sentence trail off as she made a choking motion with her hands. Pope chuckled.

“See? I told yo’ ass, you do not need to be around all that weird ass shit. Come stay at ours.” She thought about the proposition for a second but almost immediately shook it off.

“Nah, I’m not leaving my primary bedroom privileges to go share a room with your funky ass.”

“Funky? Never been that, don’t try to play me.”

“Whatever, I’ll just suffer in silence. You know me, I hate to complain.”

“Is this a new development? Because ...”

“Shut up!” The timer on the oven dinged, letting Tae know that the baked treats she’d set to start baking when she first got to the house were now officially done. She slid out the first tray, regular chocolate chip and placed it on the counter to cool, followed by a tray of chocolate raspberry crinkle cookies and then lemon tarts.

“You stress baking, huh?” Her cousin grinned knowingly. She flipped him off as she removed the oven mitts. “You mixed all that shit that fast?”

“There’s two mixers here and the third is my own two hands.” She wiggled her fingers. “I want everyone to have a cute little snack when they get here. You can have some too.”

“In your words, pur!” Pope laughed as Tae threw her head back in a cackle, watching her move around the kitchen to get some plates for the treats. “Rafe, lemme change the address in the GPS, we gotta stop at 115 first.”

“Cool man.” Tae’s head snapped up at the phone so fast, she nearly got whiplash.

“Pope, I thought it was just you and JJ in the car.” She rushed over to the phone.

“Nah, Rafe is driving us. He’s the one with the Cayenne, we wanna arrive in style, girl. It’s the Hamptons!” He set the phone on some kind of stand, allowing her to finally get a full view of the inside of the car. Cherry red interior, she almost moaned out loud. JJ was in the backseat, Pope was passenger princess’d out, even nearly fully reclined, and the buff ass arm of their friend Rafe trailed up to his very handsome face. She could’ve died right there and then.

“Hi Taelor.” He smirked at her and she gave a small smile and waved back. “Who’s Jalen?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

“He’s my ex ... fling, I guess you could say? Okay so basically, two years ago, I spent most of the summer here hooking up with one of my roommates, Duke. He had just gotten out of a relationship, I was single, cool, whatever. It was just someone to have on the weekends up here and we sorta both understood that. He let me know, after Labor Day, that he had had dinner with his ex and they got back together. Okay, I’m cool with that. The next summer, last year, he and her decide that they’re gonna spend it out west with her people and I’m happy as a clam because no potential awkwardness. I’m chilling here and Keith, one of the other roomies, brings along his friend Jalen who proceeds to spend most of the summer all up under me, flirting with me, and leading me to believe that he wants me, right? Silly me, the boy tells me he wants me and I believed him!” Rafe snorted at that and she mentally patted herself on the back for making him laugh. She moved around the kitchen again, beginning to plate the cookies.

“So what did he do wrong that he’s now ignoring your messages?” He asked.

“You were listening for real, for real!” She grinned. “I didn’t wanna hook up with him that summer because I didn’t want a repeat of the Duke incident to happen, like I was actively avoiding that shit. However! He took me out on a couple of dates in the fall, in the city. I was literally one date away from taking it to the next level when he sent me a text ... A TEXT! Saying oh ‘my ex is back, she wants me again, sorry babe’. Could you fucking imagine how I felt reading that? I almost threw up!”

“That’s actually foul, Jesus Christ.”

“That’s what I said!” She sighed, organizing the plates on the counter and returning to her phone. “Anyway, now Duke is coming this summer and so is Jalen, and their girlfriends, and I’m Little Miss Rebound Girl that’s just gonna look like the sad and single and jealous one as they all canoodle.”

“We’ll be your buffer, Tae, don’t worry.” Pope chimed in.

“Yeah, you can come to ours whenever shit gets a little too romantic over there.” JJ offered.

“And I’ll be your fake boyfriend you can cuddle up with when they get to be too much.” Rafe was joking, she thought, but what a tempting offer.

The boys all worked, alongside their other friends Topper, John B, and Kelce, at a finance firm on Wall Street. During one of their after work bar crawls on a random Friday over a year ago, Pope had called Tae to meet them. She herself had just gotten off of work, a prestigious job as the producer for a hit radio show and subsequent podcasts for several clients. The show ran three mornings a week and the two podcasts she worked on recorded on Tuesdays and Thursdays, working out perfectly for as it left weekends open. In the summers, the morning show took a break which allowed Tae the option to get to 115 earlier than everybody else on Fridays and stay until Monday evening, while everyone else usually had to leave by Sunday night. The good pay also allowed her to pay a little extra so she could keep the primary for herself. Anyways!

She had gone to meet her cousin and his friend and ended up meeting their whole little crew, most of whom would be sharing the house this summer. That’s where she met Rafe, the oldest member of them all (only by two years, one in Kelce’s case) and also, the senior most member of their office in the group. None of them needed to say it but judging by the very understated Breguet on his wrist the first time they met, he was very clearly the richest one, yet surprisingly humble. He wasn’t excessively flashy with his shit, just liked to sit there and laugh along with the jokes. She figured he liked the boys because they were far from the classic finance bro types, more frat bro than anything else.

The entire night she’d been there with them, and every other time she’d hung out with them since (which had only been a handful), he’d listened intently as she yapped on and on. She knew he was listening because he always made sure to ask follow up questions and everything, which turned her on in a way she hadn’t even expected.

“Aw, thanks y’all. You’re all so sweet.” She giggled. Behind her the alarm on the door chimed, letting her know someone had entered the home.

“Taelor Marie Hastings, come greet me girl!” Isaiah’s voice carried through the foyer and Tae grinned, turning to the phone.

“I’ll see y’all in a little bit!” She waved goodbye and hung up the call, setting her phone on the kitchen island before taking off to hug her friend. “Zay!”

The two practically leaped into each other’s arms. You would think they lived on opposite sides of the country but nope, just in different boroughs. Tae was a Hell’s Kitchen girlie and Isaiah stayed his ass in Brooklyn, only ever crossing the bridge at night when one of his many boyfriends called him an Uber Black. They talked on the phone nearly every night but if she wanted to see him, she knew she had to go to him. That was fine, he lived near all the good Jamaican food spots anyways.

“Girl, look at you in a little workout set. Body by Tae, huh?” He spun her around, looking her up and down as the bright red biker shorts and matching sports bra with the jacket stood out on her skin tone. Tae wiggled her ass a little as the two of them laughed. “And it smell like cookies, ooh! I love you bad.”

“Where’s Fallon? I thought y’all were coming together?” She asked his back as he beelined for the kitchen and the aforementioned cookies. He didn’t need to answer as Fallon slammed her suitcase on the ground at the entryway.

“This Beis luggage ain’t shit, bro. My arm hurts.” She wiggled her shoulder, letting Tae put her arm around her. Now, they saw each other damn near everyday. The two girls lived less than five blocks from each other and regularly went to each other’s apartments for dinner and some sort of Bravo show. Zay would typically be on the phone to recap what had just happened on their screens.

“C’mon, you can rest it and rejuvenate yourself with a lemon tart.”

“Now you know I can’t resist one of your little lemon tarts.” They both walked into the kitchen, leaving the three bags the two of them brought in, to the side in the foyer.

“Because you are a tart. You are what you eat.” Zay smirked and let Fallon shove him.

“He’s been starting with me ever since he was supposed to pick me up. My arm hurts because I was standing outside of my place for a half an hour waiting on him!” She picked up the little square treat and let her eyes roll back as soon as she tasted it.

“I told you, I had an emergency!”

“Suckin’ and fuckin’ on your ex does not constitute as an emergency, Zay.” She retorted and he gasped.

“Don’t go tellin’ my business!”

Tae smiled as she looked at her friends. Fallon had been her randomly assigned roommate freshman year but they got on like a house on fire. Isaiah was the missing piece of their trio, meeting in their English 101 class and cutting up with them in the back all semester long. They had not left each other’s sides since then, initially moving to New York together as roommates in a tiny three bedroom in the Bronx while they got their feet wet in their respective careers. They all felt lucky that by the time they were twenty-five, Tae had her producing job, Isaiah was a licensed psychologist, and Fallon was a highly revered art teacher at a Manhattan private school.

Staying in the Hamptons had been their idea when they were still living together, finding 115 after one of Fallon’s student’s parents let slip that they rented out their second summer home. They told her that since she was their kid’s favorite teacher, they’d rent it out to her and her friends for a heavily discounted rate, thus launching the search for said friends. Isaiah roped in Charlie and Duke, two of his gym buddies, a lawyer for the Knicks and a physical therapist for the Nets, respectively. Fallon got Jason, a former fling of hers who clearly still wanted her bad and worked as a highly sought after tattoo artist. That left Tae, who got Keith and Amber, two models who were Fashion Week regulars that she had gotten to know through various events she attended in the city. That had been the standing crew for the past four years and it worked well for them - well, at least until this year.

“When are your loverboys getting here?” Isaiah asked, sneaking a second crinkle cookie. Tae gave him the evil eye, both for his words and his actions.

“They’re not my loverboys. One of them won’t even acknowledge my existence.”

“It’s so weird that they’re bringing their girlfriends, I’m sorry. Why set yourselves up for awkwardness like that?” Fallon asked, finishing up her own tart. She opened the fridge and took out the papaya green tea that Tae kept stocked in the fridge, as the two of them could chug gallons of that shit.

“Duke’s fine. Leslie’s nice, I told you we talked at his birthday dinner a couple months back. No grudges, all is Gucci. But Jalen? He can suck my dick.”

“You have such a way with words, Tae.” Isaiah said. She gave him a fake smile and tilted her head. “Your fine ass cousin still coming up too?”

“Ew, yes, ew still. I was just on the phone with him. They’re gonna stop over here before they go to their own place.”

“Ooh yay, Fal, we can ogle him together.” He and Fallon began London Tipton clapping and Tae rolled her eyes at their antics.

Within the hour, the rest of the housemates filtered in at nearly fifteen minute intervals. The last of them was Jalen, though Tae didn’t realize that as she, Amber and Fallon were sitting outside, checking on the pool.

“Thank God you called a pool boy because I already have a bikini on and I’m about to jump in right now actually.” Amber was saying as they opened the door, Fallon nodding in agreement.

“Me too bitch. Lemme go change right now actually.” She held the door for Tae who was grinning, faltering a bit as she spotted Jalen across the kitchen, munching on a chocolate chip cookie and feeding bits of it to his girlfriend, Juliana. He avoided her eyes but Juliana was staring her down and if Tae was being honest, it was damn near sinister.

“Oh you must be Taelor! Jalen has told me so much about you.” She rounded the island, sticking her hand out for the other girl to shake. She was a good five inches taller than her with perfectly done goddess braids and an evil little smirk on her face. “Jay, babe, you didn’t tell me she was so pretty.”

“Ye-yeah, right.” He caught up with her, slipping his arm around her impossibly thin waist. “Hi, Tae.”

“Hi Jay.”

“Oop, Tae and Jay, that’s cute.” Juliana sang. “I hope it’s not weird that I’m gonna be here. He told me you guys had a thing last year but that it was like, just a summer thing?”

The use of the word ‘thing’ was grating on her nerves a bit. “Yup, not a big deal at all. Happy to have you.” Keep it cute, Taelor, she thought to herself.

“Bom!” She turned to plant a huge kiss on Jalen’s lips which Isaiah fake gagged at behind them and Tae simply walked away, resisting the urge to do the same.

The chime on the door rang out again as she headed into the living room where Keith and Jason sat, already playing ESPN on the flatscreen. Her head turned at the sound of Pope’s exclamation of ‘CUZZO!’ and she could literally feel herself begin to fully relax. Her favorite people were in the house, she could temporarily forget Jalen and Juliana for a couple minutes.

He rushed over to hug her, rocking her back and forth a bit before pulling away. “You good?”

“Better now.” She whispered and he nodded, pulling away so he could dap up the boys. JJ and Rafe were right behind him, with the former giving her a hug first. “Hi J.”

“Hey there, pretty lady. Where’s my lemon tarts?” She laughed at that, wiggling her finger toward the kitchen. He turned to head in that direction, greeting Duke there. Suddenly, that left her face to face with Drew, who was sporting a new buzzcut and arms even bigger than they’d been on FaceTime.

“Hi, sweetheart.” They also hugged, except his was a bit tighter than JJ's and his large hands settled very comfortably on her lower back, which sent a shiver through her that he undoubtedly felt. He whispered into her ear. “Is Jalen the one standing the kitchen with the curly hair staring into my fucking soul?”

“Probably.” She pulled back with a chuckle though he kept his hands where they were.

“Still want me to play fake boyfriend?” He was smirking down at her as she raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember asking you to do that. In fact, I think it was actually you that offered.”

“And you should take me up on that offer because right now, he’s practically got steam coming out of his ears.” She didn’t have to look over at Jalen to know Rafe was probably telling the truth. “C’mon, you can introduce me. Be all coy and shit, so he starts to speculate.” She scoffed but led the way to the kitchen anyway.

“Y’all know Pope, my cousin.” He’d come up at least once every summer, though this was his first time staying in the Hamptons himself, and for more than just the one weekend in their guest room. “This is his roommate JJ.” He waved, mouth full of lemon tart. “And this is ... my friend Rafe.”

His hand was still on her back and he patted it as if to say ‘good girl’. Another shiver. He waved too and everyone began to chat, mingling amongst each other. Jalen stood on the other side of the room again, only this time he was staring her down. Tae bit her lip to hold back a laugh as she looked up at Rafe.

“You play a lot of fake boyfriends? Is that like, your side hustle? You rent yourself out to girls who need a hot guy to pretend to be into them?” She leaned on the kitchen island as he maintained eye contact.

“Yeah, but I’m not a cheap bitch either so this is gonna run you a lot of money.” Tae let out a cackle and he placed his hand on the other side of her, on the counter, boxing her in a bit. “And who said I’m pretending?”

The eye contact remained for another minute before Isaiah gathered everyone’s attention by the sink. “Jungle juice is done y’all! Champagne, Mtn. Dew, pineapple, mango, freshly cut strawberries, oranges, and kiwis, one whole bottle of tequila and one of coconut rum, all in each. You’re all very welcome!” He stepped aside to reveal a pair of 1 gallon pitchers with spouts, filled with identical liquids and floating fruits.

“You want some?” Tae asked Rafe who shook his head.

“Nah, I gotta drive those two miscreants to our place still.” He jutted his chin in Pope and JJ’s direction, both of whom were rushing to the pitchers to get their cups filled. Fallon, now clad in a bikini like Amber, approached Tae with a cup of her own.

“Here you go.” She looked up at Rafe with a grin and her hand extended. “Hi, I’m Fallon, her best friend.”

“Rafe.” He shook her hand.

“Her good friend.” Fallon gave Tae a look that practically screamed ‘we’re gonna talk about this later’. Once everyone had a cup and Rafe had a Celsius from the fridge, Charlie kneeled on a bar stool to deliver his annual first drink of summer speech.

“Here’s to a summer of good times, impeccable vibes, Tae’s famous breakfasts, Zay’s infamous drinks, Duke’s exhausting workouts, Fallon’s paint and sip afternoons, Amber’s photo dumps with her film camera, Jalen’s hour long showers, Keith’s basketball tournaments, Jason’s phenomenal DJing and my delicious Sunday family dinners. Cheers!”

Everyone shouted in agreement, going for their first sip. Rafe’s hand was still hot on her hip as Tae threw back the drink.

“That boy wants you bad.” Fallon was saying, laying on a towel on the window seat in Tae’s room. Isaiah was perched on the bed and Amber on her own towel on the chair in the corner of the room. Tae was busy unpacking her bag, hanging up her dress for the next day. They were hosting a little day party in the afternoon.

“Girl I was wet just looking at y’all.” Isaiah agreed. “He got eye contact for days and I know how much you like that shit.”

She was glad she wasn’t facing them as the smile on her face would’ve given away just how much she agreed with her friends. “Whatever y’all, he’s just being helpful.”

“Helpful would’ve been him hanging up a picture for you. He wants to put you through a mattress, Tae.” Amber offered this time.

The boys left after the cheers, rushing to join the rest of their housemates at their house. They were being joined by both JJ and John B’s girlfriend, Kiara and Sarah, with Pope’s girlfriend Cleo coming up the next day. Sarah was apparently also Rafe’s sister. She yet had to meet any of them other than Cleo, who she loved, but they would be attending the party tomorrow.

“Regardless of if he does or not, I’m not getting involved with any more summer flings. My track record clearly sucks.”

“Who says he’s gotta be a summer fling? He can transfer into a fall babe then a winter cuddle and so on.” Fallon said.

“Right, because that’s what always happens huh?” Retrieving a pair of baggy jeans and a leather corset top from her closet, she turned to her friends. “Are y’all gonna go get ready to go or you gonna sit here and discuss my nonexistent love life?”

They grumbled out responses, filing out to their respective rooms as she shut the door behind them and entered the bathroom.

A couple of hours and some pre-game shots of Don Julio later, the group piled into two separate Ubers. Tae, Zay, Fallon, Amber, and Jason in one, leaving Charlie, Duke, Leslie, Jalen, Juliana, and Keith to ride in the other. They all poured out of the cars twenty minutes later and walked into Hendrix, a beach club that had been their go-to since first coming to the Hamptons. It played the best music, poured the best drinks, and had really good air conditioning, which truly was key.

At some point, Tae found herself sitting with Leslie as she took puffs of her pen on the back patio of the club, both slightly sweating and just a level above tipsy.

“I told him that maybe we shouldn’t have even come because how awkward was this gonna be for you, ya know?”

“Girl, it’s fine, we were never anything serious and he was very respectful the whole time. Plus, he pays for the house too, he’s entitled to come!”

“Yeah, I guess. You’re mad chill for the situation you’re in.” Leslie took a pull of her pen and then got a little twinkle in your eye. “I guess it’s hard to be awkward when you’ve got that Rafe guy eyeing you up like a piece of meat.”

Tae groaned and threw her head in her hands. “Not you too! Have you been talking to Zay and them?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone, girl, I have eyes! I thought he was gonna fuck you in that kitchen!”

“Who was gonna fuck who in the kitchen?” The girls both jumped, looking from their seats at Rafe who had quietly approached them. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Tae replied simply.

“I gotta go ... talk to Zay apparently.” Leslie hurried off, leaving the two of them behind on an otherwise empty patio.

“Smooth, Les.” Tae mumbled. “Welcome to Hendrix, you having fun?”

“I was about to then I saw your boy in there with his tongue down his girlfriend’s throat.” Tae rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, they’ve been at it all day.” It was true. Since the boys had left and everyone had dispersed earlier, Jalen had taken Juliana back to his room down the hall from Tae’s and proceeded to have the loudest sex humanly possible. If they were trying to make her jealous, it was not working but it sure was getting on her nerves. They had come down and canoodled on the stairs, done body shots for whatever reason, and had spent the majority of their time at Hendrix wrapped in each other’s arms, working up to, presumably, an indecent exposure charge at this point.

“So were they ones that were gonna fuck in the kitchen?” Rafe smirked as he sat in the seat Leslie had been occupying. He knew exactly what she had said, the glint in his eyes told her as much.

“Yup, you got it. Right next to the leftover crinkle cookies.”

“Oof, those were fantastic by the way. I wish I had taken more for the road.”

“Well, we have plenty left back at the house, you’re more than welcome to them.” Tae offered and he smiled back at her.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, their legs nearly touching. His finger traced over her denim clad knee. “Shit, I’ll go back with you right now for ‘em.”

“Okay, great, let’s go.” She was half-joking, though when he took out his keys and dangled them in front of her she raised an eyebrow. “You drove here?”

“I’m permanent DD.” He paused and shrugged. “I don’t drink, at least nothing more than the occasional beer or glass of wine.”

“Hm. Well, I’m a little drunk so you can drive me home and I’ll give you some cookies.” She caught herself. “The cookies. The cookies.”

“Right.” He stood up from the chair, offering his hand to her. “C’mon then.”

A quick push through the Hendrix crowd to get to her friends, Tae pointed at Rafe and they all began to aggressively give her a thumbs up. He led her out of the club, past her cousin and their friends, and if she had been a little more sober, she might’ve even noticed Jalen watching her leave but she wasn’t so she didn’t.

The cherry red interior was just as plush as she imagined and his playlist was exceptionally crafted, made up of indie pop and some Kaytranada tracks. The ride was quiet as the wind whipped her hair around her face and she thought she’d sobered up a bit by the time they got to 115. However, the staggering she did after he opened her door and helped her out of the car said otherwise. Still, he chuckled and steadied her, keeping that damn hand on her damn back as she walked to the front door and opened it.

Immediately kicking off her mules haphazardly by the steps, she walked straight to the kitchen while he lingered behind her a bit. The crinkle cookies sat in a Pyrex on the island and she popped off the cover to remove two to give to Rafe. She could feel the heat radiating off of him as she walked up behind her.

“Thanks. ‘Preciate it.” When she turned around, they were chest to chest. Damn, he smelled good as fuck! Her breathing picked up, as opposed to his even keeled breaths and when she looked up at him, making that eye contact she really did love so much, Tae wanted to lean in so bad. Their lips were practically already touching.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed them.” Their lips were centimeters away from one another but he didn’t close the gap. Instead, he whispered.

“I did wanna fuck you in this kitchen today. I’ve wanted to fuck you since that first time you joined us at the bar last year.” The sound Tae let out was somewhere between a whimper and moan. “But not right now. Not when you’re drunk. The first time I kiss you, the first time I make you cum, I want you fully aware and sober, so you can remember all of it. Understand?”

She nodded.

“Use your words.”

“I understand, Rafe.”

He hummed. “Good girl.”

Rafe took a step back from her, her breathing still heavy and his cologne hanging in the air. He grabbed one of the cookies and took a bite with a smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He said, turning to leave the kitchen and then, the house. Tae stood there for a couple more minutes, fanning herself with her hand as she crossed over to the other side of the dark kitchen and grabbed a cup to pour herself some water.

Remembering her Owala sitting on her bedside table, she turned to walk back to the foyer and the stairs, stopping only when she saw her mules neatly sitting at the base of the staircase, waiting for her. Fuck.

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