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delusional-day-dreamer · 6 months ago

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So High School Part¹- k.m

‣ kate martin x celebrity reader (inspired fully by @ellienator)

‣ wc: 1216

‣‣ synopsis: reader, who has been famous all her life (think mckenna grace or peyton elizabeth lee), reveals her celebrity crush in a Vanity Fair interview with close friend, Sabrina Carpenter.

‣‣‣ a/n: pre write: i'm so obsessed with the wcbb x celebrity trope, also sorry it’s so long but i wanted to use this fic to practice writing more dialogue! after: i started around one a.m. and somehow finished this at almost FOUR AM after writing non-stop... (IT WOULDN'T LET ME UPLOAD THIS, I TRIED LIKE TWENTY TIMES)

"I swear to god, you have to stop touching your hair y/n," my manager, Alyssa, looked up from her phone just to scold me for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

"I'm sorry but I literally cannot help it right now Lyss, you don't understand how nervous I am for this," I insisted to her. "I'm so stupid, out of all the men AND women in the entire celebrity pool world wide, why did I have to say that Kate freaking Martin was my celebrity crush," I whine, albeit childishly, while squirming in the leather seats of our limo.

Three Weeks Ago

"Hi my name is Y/N L/N, and today I am here with Vanity Fair with the one and only..." You introduced yourself to the camera before gesturing to the woman next to you, one of your closest childhood friends.

"Sabrina Carpenter! And today we are going to be testing out a little lie detector test," After growing up on Disney sets together and respectively journeying out of the acting industry into music, you and Sabrina had only grown closer over the years you had known each other.

As the proctor introduces how the interview will go, Sabrina volunteers you to be in the hot seat first, and with some small bickering, you relent.

"So let's start of small just to test it out you know, how old are you?" Sabrina asks you from the other end of the table.

"I actually just turned 23 years old," you respond calmly, happy that your friend was taking it slow. With the proctor's approval, the two of you move on with the questioning.

SMALL TIME SKIP

"What is your biggest ick in a relationship? Wait I think we've talked about this before right?" Sabrina animatedly asks, eager to hear you response.

"No yea we definitely have, but the thing is for me," you start, "I don't have a type, like at all. Man, woman, celebrity, athlete, a totally regular person, I don't really care. To me, if you're attractive then you're attractive right?" Sabrina nodded in agreement to your statement. "So it's not often I get icked out, however, my biggest and literal immediate turn-off is when they start being overwhelmingly jealousy or being possessive about me, even like just being overbearing about my every move is an immediate no for me. It's honestly why I've been single for a while now," You respond thoroughly.

It was no secret to your fans that you were bisexual, considering your last very public relationship was with a woman.

"That's honestly such a valid ick, like if you think you own me then please escort yourself out that's honestly so gross," Sabrina piggybacks off your answer. "But I'm dying to ask and there's no way you expected me to not ask you this question, but, you've been a single lady for quite some time now," Sabrina teases, wiggling her eyebrows repeatedly at you.

"Oh no, I know where you're going with this," You complain, already beginning to feel a flush rising in your face.

"Do you have your eyes on anybody right now? Specifically, do you currently have a celebrity crush?" Sabrina asks you with the widest, most smug shit-eating grin on her face as she watches the blush begin to form on your cheeks.

"Yes I do," you mumble, rolling your eyes at your friend in the process.

"Who is it?" She pushes, knowing that once she asked, you basically had no choice but to answer according to the interview rules.

"Dude that's so not fair I don't wanna tell the entire internet that," you protest weakly.

"Come on! It's not even that big of a deal, besides you're super hot, I'm sure she'll be flattered," Sabrina insisted to you while trying to hold back her grin.

"Sab!" You groan as her big mouth reveals the gender of your crush, automatically giving away part of their identity.

"Oh shoot sorry," She quickly apologizes, covering her mouth with the interview question card in her hand. "But like, you're gonna tell them who it is either way so I'm not sure it matters," She adds in slyly, reveling in the red flush that had now visibly engulfed the entirety of your face.

"Okay fine whatever, it's Kate Martin," you mumble under your breath looking down at your shoes, attempting to escape the embarrassment burning inside of you.

"No that's definitely cheating, you have to actually say her name," Sab giggled at the state you were in.

"Oh my gosh fine," you exclaimed while waving your face with a paper from the desk, trying to lessen the appearance of the blush on your face. "It's Kate Martin alright? She plays basketball at the University of Iowa, has just declared for the WNBA Draft, and she's incredibly attractive, so literally sue me." You end the mini rant with both hands in the air, embarrassed and mildly annoyed at the fact that your friend had coaxed you into admitting your crush.

Sabrina laughed in delight, smacking her hand excitedly on the table in front of you to in response to your confession.

"OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH, tell me you've seen the edits of her on tiktok because there's no way you don't have any favorited or saved on your phone," Sabrina wheezed through her bout of laughter.

"Obviously I've seen them but I haven't favorited any of them," you defended weakly.

"That's a lie," the proctor informed you two, which sent Sabrina into a second round of wheezing laughs.

"NO WAY, how many? Like a hundred? Two hundred? More than that?" She exclaimed, somehow managing to tease you while still being out of breath with laughter.

"Like two or three maybe, like at most," You lied, despite knowing that they would find out.

"Still lying," the proctor slightly smiled, only furthering Sabrina's howling laughter to the point she nearly fell out of her chair.

"My god, you could at least pretend to be a little less overjoyed at this," you grumbled, attempting and failing to hide the giggles beginning to spill out of you at the sound of your friend's infectious laughter. You eventually gave up on trying to pretend being annoyed and joined Sab with her maniacal laughing, unable to control yourselves for the next few minutes.

"I hope you realize I'm so getting you back for that," You teased Sabrina as the two of you switched seats to continue the second half of the interview, your questions and Sabrina's answers.

END OF FLASHBACK

"Y/n it's not even that big of a deal, you just said she was attractive, it's not like you professed your deep-profound love for her," Alyssa insisted.

"I practically admitted to favoriting tiktok edits of her Alyssa, I'm literally doomed," you sighed dramatically leaning your head to the cool glass of the limo window.

"Yea well," Alyssa began, texting on her phone once again, "You're just gonna have to put on your big girl pants and deal with it because we're almost there and they wanna interview you on the red carpet and right when you enter the theater, and it’s quite literally the WNBA Draft, so there's no way they're not gonna bring up Kate," she informed you.

"I'm actually gonna die," you declare.

Thanks for reading all the way through! I'll be coming out with part two very soon!!

#Spotify #kate martin x reader #kate martin #uiowa #wnba basketball #wnba draft #wnba x reader #wcbb #wcbb x reader #kate martin fanfic #iowa wbb #wbb x reader #wbb #wnba imagine #wnba imagines #las vegas aces #wlw post #wlw #sapphic

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lyssified · 1 year ago

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i hate when mathematical patterns show up in every problem ever it's like being haunted by a spirit. go the fuck away pascal's triangle and let me solve my math like a normal person

#lyss says things #schoolposting #math

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goldfades · 25 days ago

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TROUBLE ─── RAFE CAMERON (part two)

part one!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | after that fateful night, you begin to see rafe cameron differently - and it seems like he feels the same.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | ooc!rafe, teasing, descriptions of bullying (?), sweet rafe, a lot of word vomit, um... idk what else? it's pretty sweet and wholesome

⟢ ┈ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | @psychicnatural @evermorx89 @slipawaylrh @renasjourney @aesthetic-lyss

The thing about Rafe Cameron is that he doesn’t linger.

Not in the way you might expect. He has a reputation for showing up, making noise, and leaving behind chaos in his wake. Rafe doesn’t hover, doesn’t check back, doesn’t get involved. But ever since that night—since the low rumble of his voice pulled you from the edge of panic and his steady presence walked you safely out of danger—it feels like he’s everywhere.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. A coincidence. But the truth is, you’ve caught him watching you more than once. At Sarah’s party last weekend, his eyes found you across the bonfire, the flickering light sharpening his sharp features and softening his smirk. At The Wreck, when you stopped by for takeout, he was there at the bar, casually nursing a drink, his gaze flicking to you the moment you walked in.

And now, standing in the backyard of the Cameron estate during Sarah’s infamous summer party, you can feel the weight of his presence even though you haven’t seen him yet tonight.

It’s like he’s threaded into the atmosphere now, an undercurrent you can’t ignore.

You’re holding a drink in one hand, the other resting on the edge of the pool as Wheezie chatters beside you about some drama from school. Sarah is off somewhere playing hostess, and the crowd is a mix of Kooks, tourists, and a handful of Pogues Sarah deemed “cool enough” to make the cut.

The air is warm and heavy with the scent of salt and chlorine, and you’re doing your best to pretend you’re not scanning the crowd for him.

You tell yourself you’re not hoping to see him.

But then, you do.

Rafe steps out onto the patio, a drink in hand, his posture relaxed but commanding as he surveys the party. He looks effortlessly at home here—like the house, the lights, the music all belong to him in some unspoken way.

When his eyes find you, it’s immediate, like he knew exactly where to look.

Your pulse quickens, and you glance away, trying to focus on Wheezie’s story. But even as she rambles on, you can feel Rafe’s gaze burning into you. It’s a mix of heat and challenge, daring you to acknowledge him.

And when you finally give in and glance back, he’s smirking.

He doesn’t approach right away. He never does. Instead, he takes his time, drifting through the crowd like he’s in no rush, talking to people here and there, all while his attention keeps circling back to you.

It’s maddening.

You take a sip of your drink, willing the flush in your cheeks to disappear, and try to focus on Wheezie’s latest complaint about her friends. But then Rafe’s voice cuts through the noise, low and unmistakable.

“Having fun?”

You look up to find him standing beside you, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, the other holding his drink. He’s close enough that the faint scent of his cologne reaches you—something warm and sharp and entirely too intoxicating.

“Trying to,” you reply, your voice steadier than you expected.

His smirk deepens, and his eyes flick to Wheezie, who’s already grinning at him. “Don’t let her bore you to death,” he says, nodding toward his sister.

“Hey!” Wheezie protests, shoving him lightly.

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and easy, but his attention is back on you in an instant. “Come find me later,” he says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

And then he’s gone, disappearing back into the crowd, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and Wheezie’s teasing grin.

“Are you blushing?” Wheezie asks, her tone all too knowing.

“Absolutely not,” you say quickly, turning back to your drink.

But you are. And the worst part? You know Rafe knows it too.

There was a time when the idea of Rafe Cameron being anything but insufferable would have been laughable.

You remember those long, sticky summer evenings spent at the Cameron house, sitting at the kitchen island with Wheezie while her parents were out at one fundraiser or another. Babysitting wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was better than working at the marina, and Wheezie was sweet enough to make it bearable.

Rafe, on the other hand, was a different story.

He had this knack for showing up just when you thought you’d have a quiet night. You’d be helping Wheezie with her math homework or making her one of those ridiculously specific sandwiches she liked, and then—bam. There he was, leaning against the doorway with that signature smirk plastered across his face.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he’d say, nodding at whatever you were doing, even if it was as simple as slicing bread.

“Doing what wrong?” you’d snap back, barely sparing him a glance.

“Existing,” he’d tease, stealing a chip off your plate and popping it into his mouth like he owned the place.

It was endless. He’d make fun of your clothes, your car, your playlist. Anything and everything was fair game, and he never missed an opportunity to remind you that you didn’t belong in their world. You were a Pogue, after all, even if your dad’s business had climbed its way into something respectable.

But there was one night—one moment—that always stood out, no matter how much you hated to admit it.

You were sitting at the island again, Wheezie at your side, her little hands clutching a glass of milk while you tried to get her to eat a handful of carrots. Rafe was there too, slouched in one of the barstools with his phone in hand, half-listening to whatever you were saying just to mock it later.

Everything was normal—until Wheezie came stumbling into the room, tears streaming down her face.

“What happened?” you asked immediately, rushing over to her.

“They—they were making fun of me,” she hiccuped, her words barely audible through her sobs.

“Who?” you pressed gently, crouching down to her level.

“Those boys…from down the street,” she managed, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “They said I was weird and that no one likes me.”

Your heart clenched, and you reached out to pull her into a hug, murmuring something soothing about how those boys didn’t know what they were talking about. But before you could say much else, Rafe stood up.

It wasn’t dramatic or loud. He didn’t say a word. He just… stood.

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him as you sat there, stunned.

“What—where’s he going?” you asked, looking down at Wheezie, who just shrugged.

Fifteen minutes later, Rafe came back. His knuckles were scraped, his nose was bleeding, and there was a bruise already forming on his cheekbone.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What the hell happened to you?”

He grabbed a dishtowel off the counter, pressing it to his face as he shrugged. “It’s taken care of.”

“Rafe…” you started, but he just waved you off, heading for the stairs like nothing had happened.

Looking back on it now, it’s almost funny how you didn’t see it then. He didn’t make a show of it or stick around for the praise. He just… handled it. The same way he handled everything, quietly and with a bluntness that often left more questions than answers.

Rafe Cameron wasn’t always like this.

You can still remember the version of him from when you were younger: loud, impulsive, and seemingly incapable of taking anything seriously. He was the type of kid who would shoot spitballs in class just to watch people squirm, who cared more about his next thrill than the consequences that followed. There was a recklessness about him then, a streak of carelessness that made you write him off without hesitation.

But now, standing on the edge of Sarah’s party and watching him weave effortlessly through the crowd, you can’t help but notice how much has changed.

His hair, once a shaggy mess of blonde that fell into his eyes, is buzzed now, the sharp cut emphasizing the strong line of his jaw and the defined shape of his cheekbones. He’s leaner, but more solid too, his movements deliberate instead of erratic. Even the way he holds himself is different—confident but restrained, like he no longer feels the need to demand attention because he knows it’s already his.

It’s not just his appearance, though that’s hard to ignore. It’s the way he seems more grounded, more present. You’ve heard whispers about him stepping up to help his dad with the family business, even if people still question his motives. You’ve seen him around town, not in his usual haunts, but at the construction sites or walking out of Grady’s hardware store with blueprints under his arm.

He’s working. Actually working. And it’s not just for show.

The realization hit you that night, downtown, when he pulled you out of a situation that could’ve gone sideways fast. The way he handled it—calm, capable, and protective—was so at odds with the Rafe you thought you knew that it left you reeling. You’d always thought of him as a spoiled rich kid, someone who relied on his family name to coast through life without lifting a finger. But in that moment, when his steady presence shielded you from danger, you saw someone entirely different.

And now you can’t unsee it.

It’s driving you insane, honestly. Because no matter how mature he’s become, no matter how different he seems now, he’s still Rafe freaking Cameron. The boy who used to mock you for your Pogue roots, who once threw a party so wild that Wheezie had to call you to help clean up the next morning. The boy who, for years, seemed to exist solely to prove that Kooks always win.

And yet, here you are, catching yourself looking for him at every party, every gathering, even when you don’t want to admit it.

You hate it. Hate how your pulse races whenever his sharp blue eyes meet yours, how your mind replays the way his voice softened when he asked if you were okay that night. Hate how, even now, as you stand with Wheezie by the pool, your thoughts are consumed by the memory of him leaning closer in the kitchen just a few nights ago, his tone teasing but his eyes saying something else entirely.

It doesn’t help that Rafe seems to sense it. The shift in the air between you, the way you’ve started noticing him in ways you never did before. And the worst part? He seems to enjoy it.

He’s not obvious about it, not in the way he used to be when he was younger. No, this Rafe is far more subtle. He doesn’t shout or flaunt or draw attention to himself. Instead, he waits. Watches. Pushes just enough to leave you questioning everything but never enough to let you get comfortable.

It’s infuriating.

You take a long sip of your drink, hoping the buzz will drown out your spiraling thoughts. But even as you try to focus on Wheezie’s chatter and the hum of the party around you, your eyes keep drifting back toward him.

The worst part is, he doesn’t even have to try.

It’s like he’s rewritten the rules of who he is, and now you’re stuck trying to figure out where you fit in the story.

You shake the memory from your mind, blinking back into the present as the Cameron estate buzzes around you. The party has shifted into full swing now—music booming from portable speakers, a few brave souls splashing in the pool, and clusters of people laughing and drinking under the string lights that crisscross the patio. Wheezie’s long gone, swallowed up by her friends, and Sarah is playing hostess somewhere, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Or rather, alone with the memory of Rafe, the boy who used to tease you mercilessly but once left the house with a determined glare and came back bloody for his sister’s sake.

The worst part? That moment, that side of him, wasn’t as much of an anomaly as you’d tried to convince yourself. Sure, he was arrogant and annoying and drove you up the wall, but when it came to the people he cared about, Rafe was all-in. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t back down. And now, years later, you can’t stop replaying the way he showed up for you downtown, the same intensity in his eyes, the same protective edge to his voice.

It’s maddening, really.

You hate that you’re noticing these things about him. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his shirt fits just snug enough to hint at the strength beneath, the way he moves through the crowd like he knows exactly how to command attention without asking for it.

You catch sight of him again, standing near the bar and laughing at something one of his friends says. The golden glow of the string lights above him catches on the sharp cut of his jaw, the subtle curve of his smirk. He’s relaxed, leaning casually against the counter, completely at ease in his element.

You should look away. You should focus on something else, anyone else. But your gaze lingers, drawn to the effortless way he commands the space around him. It’s maddening.

And then, as if sensing your attention, Rafe’s eyes flick up and find yours across the yard.

The breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re frozen, caught in the intensity of his gaze. He doesn’t smirk this time, doesn’t do anything but hold your stare, his expression unreadable. It feels like an eternity before he finally moves, pushing off the bar and heading in your direction with that same unhurried confidence that drives you crazy.

You glance around, your nerves buzzing. Part of you wants to walk away, to avoid whatever game he’s playing. But your feet stay rooted in place, and before you know it, Rafe is standing in front of you, close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that makes your pulse race.

“Looking for someone?”

Speak of the devil.

You turn, already knowing what you’ll find, and there he is—Rafe Cameron, standing just a few feet away, hands tucked casually into his pockets. His smirk is firmly in place, but his eyes carry that same quiet intensity you’ve come to associate with him, the kind that makes your stomach flip in a way you’re not proud of.

“No,” you say quickly, too quickly, and his smirk deepens.

“Sure about that?” he asks, stepping closer.

You resist the urge to step back, holding your ground even as your pulse quickens. “Positive. Just enjoying the party.”

“Right,” he drawls, his voice low and amused. “Because you look like you’re having so much fun standing over here by yourself.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just tilts his head slightly, studying you in that way that always feels too knowing. “You,” he says finally, his tone soft but laced with something that sends a shiver down your spine, “are way too easy to mess with.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks. “Glad to know I’m such a source of entertainment for you.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he replies, his grin widening.

He’s teasing, you know he is, but there’s something else beneath his words tonight, something that feels more real than the surface-level banter you’re used to.

“Seriously,” you say, trying to shift the conversation before your heart gives itself away. “Don’t you have a crowd to charm or something?”

“Maybe I’m right where I want to be,” he says, leaning just slightly into your space. His voice drops a fraction, soft enough that it feels like it’s meant just for you. “Ever think of that?”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t think of a single thing to say. He’s too close, his presence overwhelming, and all you can do is stare at him, your mind spinning with thoughts you shouldn’t be having.

You huff, turning to look out at the pool instead of his stupidly smug face. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you glance back at him, surprised to find his expression softer than you expected. “You looked like you needed saving,” he says lightly, nodding toward the now-empty lounge chair where you’d been sitting.

You roll your eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you?” He leans a little closer, just enough to make your heart skip. “Because you seem a little... tense.”

Your breath catches, and you hate the way your body reacts to him—like it’s tuned to his every word, every movement. “I’m not tense,” you manage, though your voice betrays you with its slight waver.

He grins, and it’s infuriatingly charming. “If you say so.”

The silence stretches between you, charged and crackling with something you can’t quite name. You expect him to keep teasing, to push just far enough to leave you flustered before walking away like he always does. But instead, his gaze softens, and for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you, like he’s trying to figure you out.

“You’re not like the rest of them,” he says finally, his voice quieter now.

The words catch you off guard, and your brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he says simply.

And maybe you do. Maybe that’s why your chest tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s looking at you like he’s seeing something even you don’t fully understand.

Before you can respond, one of his friends calls his name from across the yard, breaking the moment like a snapped string.

Rafe sighs, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Guess I’m needed elsewhere,” he says, his usual smirk returning as he steps back.

“Shocking,” you mutter, trying to ignore the weird ache in your chest as he starts to walk away.

But then he pauses, turning back to you with a grin that’s equal parts mischievous and genuine. “You ever need saving again, you know where to find me.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you standing there, flushed and frustrated and entirely too aware of the fact that Rafe Cameron is under your skin.

The rest of the night passes in a haze of chatter and laughter, but you barely hear any of it. Your mind keeps circling back to Rafe, to the way he looked at you, the way his words lingered in the air like a challenge and a promise all at once. It’s maddening.

By the time the party winds down, you’re exhausted—not from the noise or the crowd, but from the mental gymnastics of trying to convince yourself that Rafe Cameron doesn’t affect you. It’s a losing battle, and you know it.

Wheezie insists on walking you to your car, her arm looped through yours as she chatters about some drama with her friends. You do your best to focus, nodding at all the right moments, but your thoughts are elsewhere.

When you finally get into your car and start the drive home, the silence feels heavier than usual. The streets are dark, the glow of the headlights bouncing off the familiar bends in the road. You roll down the window, hoping the cool night air will clear your head, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the memory of Rafe’s gaze feel even sharper, like a ghost you can’t shake.

You pull into your driveway and sit there for a moment, the engine ticking softly as it cools. Normally, you’d go straight inside and crash, but tonight, you linger, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel. The night feels unfinished, like there’s something left unresolved.

You shake the thought away, grabbing your bag and heading inside. The house is quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the creak of the floorboards under your feet. You kick off your shoes, toss your bag onto the counter, and start the familiar routine of winding down.

But even as you wash your face and crawl into bed, you can’t stop thinking about him.

The next few days pass without incident, but the memory of Rafe sticks with you, weaving itself into the mundane moments of your routine. You see flashes of him in the strangest places—in the sharp line of a customer’s jaw at the boutique, in the golden sunlight filtering through the trees on your drive to work, in the steady confidence of someone walking down the street.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s Rafe.

And yet, no matter how hard you try to push it away, the memory of that night lingers. The way he stepped in without hesitation, the quiet assurance in his voice, the way he didn’t make a big deal of it afterward. It’s all so at odds with the version of him you’d built in your head, and it’s throwing you off balance in a way you can’t quite explain.

The next time you see him, it’s at the Cameron house again. Wheezie had texted you, begging you to come over for dinner, and you’d caved, mostly because you missed her and partly because you were curious.

You tell yourself it’s not about him.

But when you walk through the front door and spot Rafe leaning against the kitchen counter, his head tilted back in laughter, your pulse stutters.

“Hey!” Wheezie greets you, bounding over to give you a hug.

You hug her back, trying to focus on her and not the sharp blue eyes that flick over to you from across the room.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Wheezie says, pulling you toward the dining room. “Come on!”

You follow her, keeping your head down, but you can feel Rafe’s gaze on you as you pass.

The meal is lively, filled with chatter and the occasional bickering between Sarah and Wheezie. Rafe is mostly quiet, chiming in here and there but keeping his attention on his plate. You try to ignore him, but every time he moves, every time his fork scrapes against his plate or his voice cuts through the conversation, your stomach twists.

After dinner, Wheezie and Sarah disappear upstairs, leaving you alone in the kitchen as you help clear the table. You’re stacking plates by the sink when you hear footsteps behind you.

“You always this helpful?”

The voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

You glance over your shoulder, finding Rafe leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just trying to earn my keep,” you say lightly, turning back to the sink.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “You don’t have to do that here, you know. You’re practically family.”

The comment catches you off guard, and you pause for a moment before setting the plates down. “Didn’t realize you thought of me that way.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he says, his voice closer now.

You glance back again, finding him only a few steps away. His expression is softer than you expected, his smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. “Guess I figured you’d still see me as the annoying Pogue babysitter.”

Rafe’s lips twitch, like he’s holding back a grin. “You were annoying,” he says, his tone teasing. “But you’re not a babysitter anymore.”

The air between you shifts, the playful edge to his words giving way to something heavier. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your nerves buzzing like live wires.

“I should—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe takes another step closer, his gaze locked on yours.

“You should what?” he asks, his voice low.

You don’t have an answer. Or maybe you do, but it’s lost somewhere in the haze of his closeness, the way his presence seems to fill the room.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the tension crackling like a live wire. And then, just as quickly as it started, Rafe steps back, his smirk returning as he grabs a glass from the counter.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer than necessary.

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the overwhelming realization that you’re in deep trouble.

That night, lying in bed, you stare up at the ceiling, your thoughts running wild. The familiar shadows stretch across your walls, the faint hum of the ceiling fan filling the quiet room. Normally, this is when your mind would wind down, drifting into blissful silence. But tonight, there’s no such luck.

Rafe Cameron is an enigma that refuses to leave your head.

You keep replaying the evening in your mind—his teasing smirk, the way he stepped closer like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way he looked at you with something you couldn’t name. It’s maddening.

And then, unbidden, another memory surfaces. One you haven’t thought about in years but suddenly feels impossible to ignore.

You were sixteen, still babysitting Wheezie regularly, and you’d just gotten a new pair of shoes. Nothing extravagant, just a pair of sneakers you’d saved up for with months of odd jobs. You were excited about them, maybe a little too excited, and you made the mistake of mentioning it when Rafe wandered into the kitchen where you were helping Wheezie with her art project.

“Nice kicks,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as he leaned against the counter. “Did they give those away for free at the thrift store?”

You glared at him, bristling. “I bought them, actually.”

“With what? Spare change you found under the couch cushions?” he shot back, smirking as he reached over to steal a cookie from the tray you’d set out for Wheezie.

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” Wheezie piped up, frowning at her brother.

But Rafe didn’t listen. He kept going, poking fun at everything from the color of the shoes to the brand, all with that infuriating grin plastered on his face.

At the time, you’d been furious. You’d wanted to snap back, to tell him off, but you didn’t. Instead, you’d rolled your eyes, muttered something about how he didn’t know anything about fashion, and went back to helping Wheezie.

Now, though, lying in bed, the memory feels…different.

You remember the way his eyes lingered on your shoes, the way his teasing felt more pointed than usual, like he was testing you. You remember how, when you finally left the house that night, you caught him watching you from the window, his expression unreadable.

And then there was Ward.

Ward, who always seemed to have some sly remark about how much time you spent at the house, about how Rafe “just couldn’t leave you alone.”

You’d dismissed it at the time, laughed it off as some weird dad joke that didn’t land. The idea of Rafe Cameron—spoiled, obnoxious, impossible Rafe—having a crush on you was absurd.

But now?

Now, as you lie there, replaying every interaction in excruciating detail, the idea doesn’t feel so absurd anymore.

The way he teased you relentlessly, always finding a reason to be around when you were at the house. The way he’d watch you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way his smirk would falter sometimes, just for a second, like he was debating whether to say something more.

It all takes on a new light, and the realization sends a shiver down your spine.

Rafe Cameron had been in your orbit for years, a constant, infuriating presence that you’d never thought to question. But now, as the pieces start to fall into place, you can’t help but wonder if you’d been blind to something that was always there.

And maybe—just maybe—you were starting to see it now.

The realization lingers with you, threading itself into your days like an invisible tether you can’t shake. Every time you think you’ve managed to push Rafe Cameron out of your head, something brings him back. A passing thought, a fleeting memory, the sound of a voice that’s too close to his. It’s driving you mad.

It doesn’t help that the Cameron house has become a second home again. Sarah and Wheezie keep pulling you into their plans, which always seem to conveniently land you back at the sprawling estate. And Rafe? He’s there more than ever now—clean-cut, focused, and still as infuriating as ever.

You keep telling yourself it’s nothing. That whatever strange shift you’re feeling is in your head. But the tension between you is undeniable, crackling in the air every time you’re in the same room.

The Cameron living room was alive with laughter, the sounds of dice clattering against the wooden coffee table and Wheezie’s triumphant cheer filling the air. Game night had started with its usual chaos, everyone fighting over who got to pick the first game, but now the competition was in full swing.

“What are the odds,” you muttered under your breath, eyeing the tiny slip of paper in your hand with a mixture of resignation and disbelief.

Sarah leaned over your shoulder, peering at the name written there, and burst out laughing. “Oh, this is too good.”

You shot her a look, crumpling the paper in your fist. “What’s so funny?”

“Just… you and Rafe? On the same team? It’s poetic, really.” She wiggled her eyebrows before ducking out of reach as you swatted at her.

Rafe, of course, was leaning back against the kitchen counter like he didn’t have a care in the world, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. His eyes slid to yours as if he’d been waiting for this moment, his smirk just wide enough to make you want to throw something at him.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?” he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.

You forced a tight-lipped smile. “Looks like it.”

It wasn’t that you disliked Rafe—not anymore, at least. But being paired with him for family game night meant opening yourself up to endless teasing and that annoyingly competitive streak he’d never quite grown out of.

“Don’t worry,” he added, pushing off the counter and heading toward you. “I’ll carry us.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” you shot back, earning a quiet laugh from Wheezie, who was busy setting up the game board in the living room.

By the time everyone gathered around the coffee table, the mood had shifted to something lighter, easier. You found yourself sitting shoulder to shoulder with Rafe, his broad frame taking up far more space than was necessary.

“Alright, Cameron Dream Team,” Sarah said with a grin, motioning between you and Rafe. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The first few rounds went about as expected—Rafe being overly confident, you rolling your eyes, and the rest of the Camerons watching the two of you with varying degrees of amusement. But as the game wore on, you realized something strange: you and Rafe actually worked well together.

It wasn’t just that you were winning (although that certainly helped). It was the way he’d glance at you for confirmation before making a move, or the way your banter seemed to flow effortlessly, pulling laughter from the rest of the room.

“Unstoppable,” he declared after another win, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

You snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Rose, who had been quietly observing from her spot on the couch, chimed in then, her voice cutting through the lighthearted chaos. “You two make a good team,” she said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “In the game and… otherwise.”

The words hung in the air like an errant firework, startling and impossible to ignore.

You felt your face heat immediately, your fingers fumbling with the edge of your sleeve. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe shift in his seat, his expression unreadable for a moment before a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at his lips.

“Maybe she’s right,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Your stomach flipped. Whether it was the implication behind his words or the way his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that the heat in your cheeks was impossible to shake.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of laughter and friendly competition. Rafe stayed closer than usual, his elbow brushing yours every so often as he leaned over the board or reached for the dice. You told yourself it was nothing—coincidence, proximity—but your heart betrayed you, skipping every time his eyes found yours.

By the time the last game wrapped up, the clock had crept past midnight, and everyone was beginning to drift. Sarah and Wheezie headed upstairs, Rose disappeared into the kitchen, and Ward had retreated to his office hours ago.

You stood by the front door, pulling on your jacket, when Rafe’s voice stopped you.

“Hold up. I’ll walk you out.”

You turned to find him shrugging into a hoodie, his hands already sliding into his pockets.

“You don’t have to,” you said, though you didn’t mean it.

He shrugged. “It’s late. Humor me.”

The cool night air hit you as the two of you stepped outside, the faint crash of waves in the distance punctuating the quiet. You walked side by side down the driveway, the gravel crunching under your feet.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “remember when Wheezie tried to convince us she’d trained that stray cat to do tricks?”

You laughed, the memory flooding back. “She was so serious about it too. I think she even made a schedule for ‘training sessions.’”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “And then it scratched the hell out of me when I tried to pick it up.”

“Serves you right for thinking you could pet a feral cat.”

“It wasn’t that feral,” he said, grinning. “Just… misunderstood.”

The conversation flowed easily, memories and laughter spilling out like water from a cracked vase. It felt natural, effortless, like no time had passed since the days you spent chasing Wheezie through the halls of the Cameron estate.

When you finally reached your car, the laughter faded, replaced by a quiet that felt heavier than before. You turned to face him, leaning against the door as his gaze dropped to the ground, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

“So, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I was thinking…”

You tilted your head, waiting, your heart thudding in your chest.

“Would you wanna grab dinner sometime?” he blurted, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Like… just us?”

For a moment, you stared at him, thrown by the nervous energy radiating off him. This was Rafe Cameron—confident, sharp-tongued Rafe—and yet here he was, looking at you like a boy afraid of being turned down.

You couldn’t help it—a soft laugh escaped you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth.

“What?” he asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” you said, your smile widening. “You’re just… nervous. It’s kind of cute.”

He rolled his eyes, but the faint flush in his cheeks betrayed him. “Is that a yes or not?”

“It’s a yes,” you said, still smiling.

His relief was immediate and almost comical, his grin spreading wide enough to make your chest ache. “Good,” he said, nodding like he was trying to play it cool. “Good.”

As you slipped into your car, he leaned against the door, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

“Drive safe,” he said, his voice softer now.

“I will,” you replied, your heart still thrumming as you pulled away.

For the first time, the idea of Rafe Cameron didn’t feel impossible. It felt… right.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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ennabear · 7 days ago

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hehehe haii :P quick roblox with sevika blurb, inspired by lyss and pluto who are my roblox family 🤎 this is stupid and silly hehe don’t mind me i just think old woman playing video game is funny. also mutuals add me on roblox my username is sevikasgf_real!!

general:

ok so first of all, it would take FOREVER for her to make an account 😭 she does not know how to make a username and she’d probably try to enter something like “tittysucker2000” and get mad that the system says it’s not appropriate. but after a while of her struggling to come up with something that isn’t censored, she’d settle for something cute (like ennasgf_real) because you got tired of her struggling and being annoying.

her avatar would be so fucking funny!! purple skin and a bob, some random shirt that she found for free in the catalog, probably a picture of someone’s dog or something. she’d end up clicking around too much and find a way to make all of her limbs different shapes and sizes but not know how to fix it, so she just embraces the look of her avatar.

if you bought her robux she’d very likely spend it all in one place… she’d see a random costume that she wants to buy and suddenly all of robux are down the drain…

she would get banned from voice chat INSTANTLY. ignores all of the warnings that pop up on her screen for not following the guidelines. it starts with a ton of quick suspensions and then she’s just permanently in vc jail.

SCREAMS at the little kids who bully her. is not ashamed to get in a little online scuffle in order to protect her ego. nobody is about to call her ugly or old or uneducated if she can help it… this, obviously, is how she ends up getting banned.

also she gets noise complaints when she plays. multiple. from you and her neighbors both, she just completely forgets about volume when someone says that she’s probably lying about having a wife… but it is a little bit cute to know that she’s doing it in your honor.

it would take her FOREVER to figure out voice chat. she doesn’t know how to do it off the top of her head, so she googles how to do it but can’t find a straight answer. goes running around the house in search of her passport because she thinks that’s what she needs but you’re just like “babe… enter your phone number and it’ll let you… that’s all you need to do…”

dress to impress:

playing with her would be so fun because she does not know her way around anything. you’d force her on to dress to impress and she’d be so lost. is not aware that there’s a time limit or a theme to follow. by the end of the round she’s still gray and her outfit is half finished and she’s like “what is it doing?? why is there a runway??? i wasn’t done with my outfit.”

the people in the chat would respond like “bruh what is this” or “oh!” to her outfit, but you’re there to back her up and vote her 5 stars anyways <33. but if they start to get too mean, she’ll force you to tell her how to use the chat and she’ll type something like “fuck you guys at least i have a wife” which of course comes out as all ####.

and when she sees all of the tags, she’d be like “what the hell?? i didn’t type that 😭” and you’d have to gently explain to her that it’s because roblox filters certain things you say, especially like “fuck you” and probably every other thought that came to her mind when she was typing it.

ofc you and her would both get first and second place because you vote each other 5 stars, even though her outfits are… well… you know… not the prettiest…

murder mystery:

if you thought her in dress to impress was bad, it gets WORSE. no matter how many times you explain to her the rules of the game, she is LOST, as well as every single synonym for confused in the dictionary. perplexed. puzzled. stupefied. dumbfounded. all of the above.

as an innocent, she’d probably just follow you the whole time, waiting until the sheriff kills the murderer or time runs out.

as the murderer, she’d probably tell on herself IMMEDIATELY. has her microphone on in voice chat and says “what does it mean that i’ll get my weapon in 10 seconds??” and she’s shot before the round even lasts half a minute. either that or she’d keep it to herself, but walk around with her knife out the whole time absolutely cluelessly. she probably thinks that others can’t see it, or maybe she can’t see it herself.

she’d be like “babe i’m so scared :( i wonder who the murderer is…” and she’s standing in front of you like 🤷🏽‍♀️🔪 LMAOOO

as the sheriff, she’d either shoot some random person who walks past her and die for getting it wrong, or she’d freak out and spam 100 different buttons while trying to shoot the murderer. she’s jumping and running around, screaming at the top of her lungs because she’s so scared, clicking her screen in every place but where the murderer is standing.

with others:

imagine jinx and isha existing in this universe, she’d drain her whole bank account on robux for the 3 of them 😭 but, and as much as she’d HATE to admit this, she actually really enjoys playing with them.

isha is still learning how to spell, so her and jinx would cackle at everything the poor girl types coming out as straight hashtags. especially when she’s fighting with someone, they’d both watch her get heated and absolutely smash her little fingers into her ipad keyboard trying to type things out, but then comfort her when she gets too frustrated to continue.

also, if isha ever gets hit with “you’re probably a 5 year old” from someone, sevika would be like “yeah, she is 😭” but jinx would stand up for her and type out PARAGRAPHS about how isha is so young and still better than whoever insulted her. jinx 100% has memorized all of the words that roblox flags, so she has no problem facing the hashtags.

they’re also such bad influences on your wife, they manage to convince her to buy more robux for them almost every week. you’ve caught her up in the middle of the night, phone sideways in her hand running around in a new game she’s found. you try taking your family out to dinner and they all just pull out their phones (isha, her ipad, still too young for a personal phone) and hop onto some new game jinx found. it’s adorable, yes, but definitely not the best habit she’s ever formed.

#if u guys see me playing sevika obby every day… no you don’t…#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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theyluvlyss · 3 months ago

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𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for bruce yamada to have a crush on you...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x bruce yamada - she/her/her pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

I actually don't think I cussed at all (rare lyss achievement) (unless you count abbreviations💀) - fluff, fluff, fluffff! very cute and sweet - bruce being his golden boy self💛💚

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

Bruce having a crush on someone is so OBVIOUS and pathetic (but like in a cute puppy way lmao🐶😙). Definitely the type that goes out of his way to hide it and whisper and giggle around like it's some huge secret, but mf, you told all of your friends, your baseball coach, half the members on the team, your entire family, your crush’s entire family, the stray dog, and the pizza delivery man😐😭💀.

By the time he's going out of his way to woo his person of interest, they pretty much already know and are either elated to reciprocate his fond acts, or are swift to let him down easy (although the latter is rare, because, well… it's Bruce lol).

But with you, reader… for some reason, I feel like you somehow wouldn't know. Bruce will go through his normal routine - shy smiles, hushed whispers whenever you're near, etc. Best believe your parent(s), his friends, your friends, the wind, the trees, and even the damn walls already know, and if they could talk, they'd tell you, because you somehow have no clue. Brain absolutely empty on the knowledge that Bruce Yamada fancies you and is planning on making moves sometime soon.

And his reasonings, that special little thing that drew him to you, was probably the fact that you had never paid him any mind to begin with. You didn't dislike him, but you had no interest in him, either, like most other girls and guys did.

No strong desire to acknowledge him unless he did so first, no needs to be around or find excuses to hang out with him. Hell, even when you two passed in the hallways, he'd have to wave to you first just to get your attention. Not that he minded, but he just wasn't used to that, so he was intrigued.

Now, I'm not trying to say he has a big head or that he's egotistical or anything. If anything, he really liked that you were not consistently fawning over him and pursuing something fake in order to have his name in your mouth. Not to mention, he did genuinely find you interesting for other reasons.

A reader (clearly💀✋🏽), close-knit to your group of people, observant, and definitely easy on the eyes, all he was ever doing was making sure that his remained on you. Even when you caught him, he wouldn't shy away from smiling even wider, sending you a wave that you'd hesitantly return, just for him to refocus himself back on the lesson or his friend group or whatever else it was that should've been holding his attention instead of you.

This is how it would start. Him making it very obvious he had some sort of interest in you, but not the best at relaying what kind of interest.

To you, it really could've been anything. Was he making fun of you? Did he know something about you that you didn't? Was it your appearance? Something wrong or out of place? The possibilities seemed endless, and they only dwindled when, more and more, Bruce attempted to weasel his way into your life “casually”.

I put “casually” in quotes because it was anything but that💀.

Mans literally walked up and insisted on knowing what it was that you were reading, forcing you to swallow your pride and reveal *insert your answer here lol* which had him then pressing for more information. And while this was rattling at first, he was determined to have you be more and more comfortable around him until the word “friend” left your mouth first.

He'd rather you take control of the labels instead of him placing them upon you two, an indicator that he was doing something right rather than coming off as pushy. And once you had done so - “Bruce, you didn't have to. We're friends, you don't owe me anything :).” - that's when he'd up the antics.

Like I've mentioned before in another post, he is a true giver. A giver of words, gifts, affection, etc. So naturally, he's throwing you compliments left and right, being reassuring and supportive when you need him to be, encouraging you to come to him for help with any and everything, gifting you things ranging from small and meaningful to large and random; you name it, he was doing it.

Call it a courting speed-run. Not in the sense that he's literally taking things too fast or faster than you'd like, but I just mean he's quite the natural charmer and well…

Bitch it's working🤷🏽‍♀️😆.

The only times when things could come to a complete halt is when he's jealous. If he's jealous. I feel as though this would be a rare feat for Bruce. He's always been a very secure and comfortable guy, very easy-going. Like I've mentioned before, he wants you to take the lead when it comes to labels, and he figures that if the label isn't “boyfriend-girlfriend” “dating” “together romantically” “significant other” or anything else of that nature, then what right does he have to be feeling envy towards anything or anyone else you give your attention to?

To put it simply, Bruce and jealousy are not a thing unless and until you two are officially together. And even then, should y'all get together and should he feel there's even an ounce of a threat, his natrual response it to just kill ‘em with kindness.

It's his default setting😭 - no one can be upset or mad at or resentful of him when he's just such a stand-up, charming guy.

Someone's flirting with you right in front of him, you introduce them out of obliviousness to the other guy's antics, and all Bruce does is flash that smile and offer his hand to shake - “Hey, nice to meet you! I'm Bruce Yamada. Cool jacket, by the way. Is that real leather? Those are hard to find!” - the other guy doesn't know whether he wants to continue flirting with you anymore out of respect for Bruce, whom of which they just met and already love lmao, or begin flirting with him instead because, well… they just met and they already love him!

There's hardly any room for jealousy when there's no long-lasting competition. Plus, when it comes to objects/events/close friends and family, he's more often than not encouraging you to indulge further, maybe even finding ways to join. It's what he would want upon telling someone else his interests in baseball, style, music, etc…

He wants that for you as well, and he's more than happy to be the person for that. More than happy to ensure that you're happy above all else because if there's one thing he was absolutely sure he loved about you, it was you being content♡.

Meanwhile… jealousy rising within you is a different story entirely🥴💀.

While you try not to allow instances to be frequent, and you've done your best to accept that, “My crush/best friend is popular. Of course people are going to flirt with him sometimes…” those factors really didn't do much to ease any tension whenever a girl would shove herself between you and Bruce just to make it known she was trying her hand at flirting with him, regardless of if he had previously expressed any infatuation with you or not...

“Brucie, hi…!!”

“Brucie…?” You'd murmur to yourself in disdain, staring with a quizzical expression etched onto your face while he all but smiled and greeted the girl with the same elated tone.

“Oh, hey, what's up?”

“I'm having a party this weekend, ya’ know? My birthday landing on a Saturday and all.”

“Wow, that sounds awesome! Does it have a theme?”

“Oh my god, how'd you guess…?! It's 'Hawaiian Paradise', complete with a beach theme for the pool and everything. Who knows, maybe you'll get to catch me in my new bathing suit if all goes well - if you wanna come, of course.”

At one point, subtle hint drops and sparkly-eyed looks into his own got tiring for you. It was only natural you gave into your spite some of the time…

“Aww, that sounds really fun!" You'd chirp, faking a warm grin before breaking the "bad" news you had just come up with. "Too bad he can't make it. We actually already had something planned that day🤕.”

“We did😃?”

“Yup😬😀.”

“What, like… like a date?” The girl would ask, her hopes dwindling by the second at your sure words.

“...” And with all eyes on you, you decided in the moment that a slight loss of your dignity was worth it to shoo the girl flirting with your crush away from the scene. Away from the two of you and farrrr away from him…

“Yup.”

“Welp, you heard the lady…" Bruce would agree gingerly, shooting off a giddy smile and wrapping and arm around your shoulders. "We gotta date that day, and who am I to skip out on such a pretty face?”

“Oh… Well, okay… See you, then.”

And sure, while Bruce had enough sense to spare you in such a situation, it didn't mean he wouldn't be throwing lighthearted teases your way after the fact…

“If I'd known that me going to another girl's house would finally get you to go out with me, I would've planned this all myself way sooner.”

“Bruce, pleas-”

“-No, no, don't let me steal your thunder. You're a cute actress when you're all robbed of my attention.”

“😐…”

With all of these factors about Bruce combined - his gift giving, complimenting, dotingness, teasing rambles about you liking him, his charming nature, etcetc. - confessing to you actually becomes a lot harder than one thinks. While he's gotten over the nerves and fear of rejection that came with doing so, it was you actually taking him seriously that became his biggest obstacle.

I imagine there having been literally several instances where this man has confessed to you, and you're just so sure it's another one of his little, “I know you love me😙🤭.” smug typa things that you kinda just, “Harhar, you're very sweet, Bruce, now help me carry this in…” y'know, laugh it off.

Meanwhile, in his head, he was being 1000% fr, and lowkey just poured his heart out to you😃🥲…

But, by the time he wants to try again, overthinking prevails, and he's just letting you assume it was all a part of his loveable charisma. By maybe the third-fourth-fifth time of this routine, though, he'd lock in and get serious💀. He'd confess, you'd brush it off, but this time-

“No, (Y/N), I'm being serious. I've liked you a long time now, and I know it might be kind of…sudden for you… but it's not for me.” Etcetc., insert the rest of a love spill here because I'm too lazy to fluff it out myself lol and there you are, standing, wide eyed and heart swelling because he's really liked you this whole time and YOUR DUMBASS HAS BEEN LETTING IT SLIP FROM ONE EAR AND OUT OF THE OTHER, OH GOD, YOU MONSTER-!!!😫💔‼️

Jkjk I'm playin' lol🤭😹.

But, with such tensions, it definitely makes for a sweet moment and results in you two beginning a wonderful relationship. Not to mention, y'all do become an IT couple, like, once again, POWER DUO. So truly, it all works out for the best🤷🏽‍♀️.

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 !!

...next up is billy✨️.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@in3rci4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

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finalgirllx · 1 year ago

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Get to know me :) thank you for the tags @pizzaapeteer, @justchillaxplz, @doremimosasol, @thatdammchickennugget and @heirofs1ytherin I GUESSS i'll do it lol

Nickname: Lyss (apparently)

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Height: wouldn't you like to know

Last thing I googled: sciatic nerve (i was worried i'd hurt myself LOL)

Amount of sleep: 6 hours

Dream job: some sort of victim's advocate or social reseacher with the hope to influence social policy for the better lol

Favourite song: spotify wrapped says that 'happier than ever - edit' by billie eilish has been my top song for two years, so let's go with that lol

Movie/book that describes me the most: difficult! um. i usually identify myself with my music! maybe lady bird. or little women.

Favourite instrument: the cello. i've played it since i was 11.

Favourite aesthetics: it isn't really pastel goth, but i love a blend of the hyperfeminine and spooky. if it is pink AND freaky? sign me up.

Favourite author: my mutuals <3

Random fun fact: i'm a beverage girl and currently have 7 drinks on my desk with me, lol.

no pressure tags - @ashisgreedy, @slytherinslut0, @fandoms-are-my-h0me, @theeslutintheroom, @azrielscrown, @celerydays, @localravenclaw

#tag game #finalgirllxspeaks

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evagaetinosgirl · 1 year ago

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the fall of the mountain [a.thompson x reader]

prompt: the pressure of being a pro gets to alyssa and her way of expressing that comes out more aggressive than it should. good thing you are here for her.

author notes: had to write something for my #2 wifey in the uswnt, so thank you to the person who asked for alyssa angst+comfort and fuck you to tumblr for making me delete that ask. hope y'all enjoy this!

alyssa's hands are clenching tightly on the steering wheel as she drives. you can see her poking her tongue though her cheek which is one of her many habits when she is stressed. you two just came from an angel city game with alyssa obviously being a starter for the game and you being there to help a seasoned journalist to cover the game. it was apart of your internship to help out and edit sports pieces.

the game didn't go the way angel city wanted with the portland thorns beating them six to four. you can just see the wheels spinning in alyssa's head about what she could have done to prevent the win; why she couldn't find another opportunity to secure a goal.

"we can stop and get takeout if you want? my treat," you say quietly. testing the waters to see how badly your girlfriend was feeling. she is silent for a moment until y'all reach a red light, looking over at you. "i don't really care so.." she shrugs before going back to focusing on the road. her words are so nonchalant and cold. they make you frown, but you hold out on asking her about her feelings for when you two reach her apartment.

the interaction settling in your mind as you press the chinese food place number and hold up the phone to your ear.

after getting the food, arriving at alyssa's place, and eating the food, your girlfriend still hasn't said more than two words to you. thank you is the only thing she said once you paid and got the food earlier.

the silence from her is starting to get concerning, so you decide it's time for you to get a peek into her mind.

"lyss, can you just talk to me?" you say as you place a hand on her leg. she's sitting beside you on the couch and all her attention is focused on whatever netflix show is playing on the tv. the american player moves away from your touch, giving you a quick glance. "talk to you about what?" alyssa murmurs.

"you know what. the game, how you're feeling, why you're being so cold to me..." you try to scoot closer to her, but once again she moves away. that annoys you so much that you sigh heavily.

"there is nothing to talk about," alyssa replies. the lack of expression sitting on her face doesn't her eyes. you can see the regret and sadness swirling around in her eyes. seeing her so closed off makes you feel so frustrated. not with her, but more with the unknown reason she is feeling that way that she isn't telling you. "obviously it is if you are acting like this" you snap at her. the words come out before you could even think.

alyssa stands before glaring at you, "acting like what? you're mad at me because i won't talk to you about the game? this isn't some press conference, so honestly i don't have to tell you shit!"

you are taken back by her words, standing up to meet her face to face. "i'm not asking from a reporter standpoint. i'm asking as your girlfriend cause you know partners tell each other things instead of acting all moody like a toddler!" you shout back at her. half of the words you say you don't even mean but being treated like you basically don't exist since the game isn't helping you act rational.

alyssa and you go back & forth for several more minutes. each sentence said being a shot at the other. the loss of the game is weighing down on alyssa's mind as she voices out all her anger at you and you aren't being much better. giving back your girlfriend just as much aggression.

"you wouldn't understand anything about what i have to go through. you're just some college student right now and i'm out here playing infront of thousands of people, it's not the same!" she says before finally storming out of the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. you still stand in the living room not even sure of what to do. the heat of the moment cools down and finally you realize how shitty what just happened was. you and alyssa just had a bad argument right after a game loss that you knew alyssa was feeling bad about it.

you walk around the couch to go to the counter, grabbing the keys to alyssa's car and leaving out of the door. on your way to buy a few things to make up for the argument. hopefully alyssa is ready to apologize too when you come back

when you come back to the apartment it's around ten. a small bouquet of flowers along with alyssa's favorite candy are in your hands as you walk inside and close the door shut with your body. you slip your shoes off before walking to alyssa's bedroom. the only sound in the apartment being the tv that was left on from earlier and your footsteps.

the door to the bedroom is slightly left open so it's easy for you to just walk in. frowning once you see alyssa laying under her blankets, a vanilla scented candle burning on her desk. that's the only light in the room as you walk inside. sitting down beside her.

"lyss?" you say softly as you look at her. she is still not facing you, but you can tell she is awake.

"hm?" she mumbles.

"can you face me, baby?"

the american player turns over, letting out a small smile as she spots the goodies in your hands. you sit down the candy on the bed before giving her the bouquet of tulips. "thank you..." alyssa says softly as she accepts the flowers. turning back around to set them aside on the nightstand before coming back to face you. instead of laying down, she sits up so you two are actually at the same face level.

you decide to apologize first, "i'm sorry for snapping at you and all the things i said while we were arguing. i didn't mean any of it, i was just so frustrated you were closing yourself off to me."

alyssa sighs heavily before speaking, "no, i'm the one who should be sorry. you were right when you said we are supposed to tell each other our problems. i didn't mean not one thing i said, you aren't just some college student. you're going places, y/n.." she looks at you to see how you are reacting before continuing, "it's just.. i feel like i don't deserve any of this. i couldn't even help get another goal in the net."

hearing the loathing in alyssa's tone makes you pull her close. all the feelings that have been building up in alyssa's chest since the end of the match spill out as she lets the tears that have been waiting in her eyes out. you rub gentle circles on her back as she cries into your shoulder.

"i was the number one pick from the draft, but it doesn't feel like it. sometimes i feel like i don't play like it. than it's not just games, but we have press conferences after and i have to sit in a chair with a bunch of reporters asking questions that i feel too tired to even answer. it's just all too much," she says into your shoulder. you stay silent, just letting her get everything out. in that moment you realize just how different the amount of pressure is on you compared to alyssa. when she fails, there are hundreds of eyes that follow. when you fail, it's your own personal hurdle.

you two just enjoy the embrace of one another for a few more moments with alyssa still sniffling a bit. once you hear her go silent, you pull back just enough to look at her. the american player just tries to lean back onto you, but you keep her away.

you hold her face in your hands, looking at the tear stains on that gorgeous face of hers. "you know you're a great player, baby. everyone else can see it too, that's why you were the number one pick right out of highschool and that's why you were called up for the national team. that's why people expect so much from you," you chuckle as alyssa starts to let out a shy smile. "however that doesn't mean you have to hold all this weight on your shoulders. i'm here for you, your teammates are here for you, and your family is too. everything is a team effort, lyss, so don't ever blame just yourself" you let go of her face before pulling her back into your arms.

she laughs into your shoulder as she holds onto you. "now i feel like that argument was so stupid," alyssa says.

"i mean duh but something good came out of it so it's whatever" you say back. alyssa pulls you down onto the pillows and you happily let her. smiling as she nuzzles up to your neck. "yeah.. well, that was too much crying for one day. i'm sleepy.." she mumbles, seemly already half asleep. you don't realize how exhausted you are until alyssa mentions her own sleepiness, so you just fall silent and let yourself drift off to sleep too.

#alyssa thompson x reader #alyssa thompson #uswnt x reader #uswnt #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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