the way i can see rafe rolling his eyes when he hears you yell across a party for jj to knock it off in picking a fight, and laughs at jj when he listens to you, and is like an embarrassed little dog.
a perfect world where rafe realizes he and jj are the same person in different fonts <3 thank you for the request, i love jj in this lmao😭🩵
you say you got it & you have to let me see - r.c
pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)
The annual boneyard party was in full swing, and like clockwork, someone was trying to start shit.
You stood close to Rafe, your hand loosely gripping a beer bottle as you watched the mess unfold in front of you. "JJ!" you called out, voice loud and clear across the sand. "Knock it off!"
Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch, suppressing a grin. It wasn't even surprising anymore.
JJ Maybank—still the same hot-headed teen who grew up a few doors down from you—was in some guy's face, already half a second away from getting clocked.
His first instinct was to roll his eyes. Every year. Every damn year, JJ managed to start up some bullshit. Rafe glanced down at you, saw how your brow furrowed in annoyance, and the urge to laugh took over instead.
It was kind of funny, watching JJ go from ready to swing to immediately backing off the second you opened your mouth.
JJ turned like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar, hands half-raised in defense as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Chill! I wasn’t even—”
"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off, pointing your beer in his direction. "Save it. Just walk away, okay?"
And, of course, he did.
Like a scolded puppy, he muttered something under his breath before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging off. Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Little brother still listens to you, huh?"
You shot him a look, half-smiling. "Someone's gotta keep him in line."
"Yeah, well," Rafe glanced at JJ’s retreating figure, still chuckling under his breath, "It's funny watching him tuck his tail between his legs every time."
He wasn’t usually one for parties like this anymore—too many reminders of who he used to be—but being here with you made it easier. You grounded him. Three years of dating, living together, dealing with life’s shitstorms, and somehow you still managed to make everything feel lighter.
You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t think you’re so different from him Mr. No one talks down to my girlfriend.”
Rafe’s grin widened, and he took a long sip from his beer, savoring the burn of the carbonation on his throat. You had him there. Not that he was gonna admit it. “That was different,” he drawled, flashing you a smirk.
“Uh-huh,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “How, exactly?”
He scratched at his jaw, the familiar prickle of stubble reminding him he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I mean, I didn’t throw a punch every time. Just made it clear no one’s gonna talk shit.”
You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You’re lucky I love you, Cameron.”
Rafe’s heart did that stupid thing it always did when you said stuff like that, even after all these years. He could play it cool all he wanted, but you knew how to get to him. Always did.
“Yeah, I am,” he said, stepping a little closer, his body blocking the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He could smell the saltwater and smoke, but all he cared about was the warmth radiating from you. He took a swig of his beer, watching the flames from the bonfire dance against the night sky. “How many more times you think you’ll have to pull him out of a fight tonight?”
You tilted your head, thinking for a second before shrugging. “Depends on how much he’s had to drink.”
JJ was like a golden retriever sometimes—quick to rile up, but just as quick to bounce back. Rafe watched him for a second, the way he moved through the crowd, all ego and no direction. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. He chuckled, shaking his head.
“He’s gonna make it hard for me to take him seriously if you keep saving his ass.”
"Like you’ve ever taken him seriously," you shot back, giving him a playful shove.
True. Rafe couldn’t remember a single time in the last few years where JJ had been more than an annoyance.
"God, it’s like he’s still twelve or something," you muttered, shaking your head. You took a step closer to him, your arm brushing his. The firelight flickered in your eyes, making you look impossibly warm.
The kind of warmth Rafe had gotten used to over the years. The kind he was lucky to have. He turned to face you, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, but at least it’s entertaining.”
You smirked. "For now. I give it an hour before he’s passed out in the sand."
He tilted his head, giving you a mock-serious look. “You wanna place a bet on that?”
You squinted at him like you were actually considering it. “What’s the wager?”
Rafe leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”
You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool but knowing exactly what he’d want if he won. He could feel the stupid velvet box burning in his pocket. He carried it everywhere, hoping he’d man up and do it already. He couldn’t do it now—not here, not like this, not with JJ stumbling around somewhere in the background and the sound of half-drunk partygoers laughing around you.
“I don’t know. Maybe spend the day out on the boat. Just the two of us.”
“Alright, deal,” you said, holding out your hand for him to shake, “Sounds nice.”
Nice wasn’t even close to what he had in mind.
He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let out a small laugh, leaning into him. The beer bottle in your hand dangled lazily at your side. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, lazy even, like there wasn’t a party around you. “Still think I’m cute, huh?”
You gave him a look, lips curving into a shit-eating-grin. “When you’re not acting like JJ.”
He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Don’t compare me to that fuckin' idiot.”
You just grinned, pulling away slightly, though your hand stayed on his chest. “Relax. You’re cuter, baby.”
“Damn right,” Rafe muttered, tugging you back to him. He liked having you close like this—reminded him that no matter how much shit had changed, some things stayed solid. You. Him. This.
He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair, and let out a contented sigh.
JJ had somehow found another beer, and as Rafe glanced his way, he saw Kie giving him a hard time, probably for almost getting into it earlier.
“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” you asked, following Rafe’s gaze.
“Who, JJ and Kie?” He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Maybe. Probably not, though. They’re both too stubborn.”
You hummed in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sounds familiar.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, we turned out alright, didn’t we?”
You smiled up at him, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “Yeah, we did.”
Just as you and Rafe were starting to get lost in your own little world, a sudden shout cut through the noise of the party. Rafe glanced up and spotted JJ again, this time charging toward some guy who was standing way too close to Kie.
Oh for fuck’s sake.
JJ's posture tense, fists clenched at his sides, and his voice already rising in that familiar way that screamed trouble. "Hey, man, back the fuck off!" He growled, pushing the guy away from Kie. The dude barely had time to react before JJ was already up in his face, looking like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Rafe muttered under his breath.
Without a second thought, he downed the last of his beer and started striding toward fight. You followed, a little concerned but mostly impressed by how quickly he handled it. He was always the one who kept things calm now—so different from his hot-headed younger days.
“Maybank!” Rafe’s voice boomed across the beach, and you could hear the change in tone.
He was done playing around.
JJ, too focused on trying to defend Kie’s honor, didn’t even hear him. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the guy before anything could escalate further.
The younguer blonde whipped around, ready to argue, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rafe. “Dude, I—”
“Start walking,” He hauled him a few feet away, practically dragging him while the other guy quickly disappeared into the crowd.
You couldn’t help but watch the way Rafe took control of the situation, handling JJ like a dad trying to wrangle a rowdy teenager. You could see the way he deflated in response. He’d grown to respect Rafe too much to keep pushing.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Rafe said, his grip still tight on JJ’s shirt. “You’re gonna get yourself knocked out one of these days if you don’t stop acting like you need to throw hands over every little thing.” JJ scowled but didn’t say anything, and Rafe shook his head, letting him go. “Seriously, Kie can handle herself. And if she needs backup, that’s what we are for—not you getting your ass handed to you every time some guy breathes in her direction.”
JJ kicked at the sand, muttering something under his breath, but he knew better than to argue. Rafe’s voice softened a little, seeing JJ’s shoulders slump. “Look, I get it. But not like this. Not here.”
He nodded once, reluctantly, and Rafe gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. He caught your eye, and you felt the pride bloom in your chest. The way he handled himself, the way he diffused situations—it wasn’t just about being strong anymore, it was about knowing how to lead, how to take care of the people he loved. And, honestly? It was a turn-on.
You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he came back over to you. He looked so composed, so solid, and that arm of his, the way he pulled JJ back without breaking a sweat—it had your mind going places. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk on his lips.
“What?” he asked, already knowing you were checking him out.
You stepped closer, trailing your fingers up his arm, feeling the strength in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.
“Nothing,” you murmured, biting your lip as your eyes met his. “Just proud of you.”
Rafe chuckled, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. “Proud, huh?”
“Mhm,” you whispered, pressing yourself closer, feeling the warmth of his body. “It’s kinda hot.”
“That what does it for you now? Me playing babysitter?”
You laughed softly, your hand still resting on his arm, fingers trailing along his bicep. “Not just that. The way you handled it. You’re just—”
Rafe’s hand slid down your back. “Just what?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck.
You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up speed. "Strong.” You smirked, letting your hand slide lower, down the curve of his chest. “Kinda makes me wanna—”
He cut you off with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of slow intensity that had you melting into him. His hand gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer, because he could never have enough of you.
When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you a little breathless, he smirked down at you. “You keep talkin' like that, we might need to leave this party a little early.”
You grinned up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Might not be the worst idea,” you teased, your voice low. “Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
Rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled away just enough to glance over his shoulder, making sure JJ wasn’t about to start up more trouble.
When he saw everything was calm, he turned back to you, “Let’s get outta here, baby.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
He pulled you in close as you reached the car, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, making your head spin all over again.
"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.
"Get in the car, Cameron.”
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Free Fucking Country
Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader
Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?
The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.
“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”
You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”
Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”
You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”
Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.
“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.
“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”
Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”
“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”
Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”
A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”
Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”
“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”
Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.
“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.
You shrug. “Why not?”
Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”
But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”
You wink. “No promises.”
Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.
You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”
Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.
“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”
The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.
You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”
Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”
Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”
You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.
“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”
You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”
By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.
“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”
Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”
The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”
You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”
The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.
But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.
You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”
The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.
You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”
Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.
When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”
You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”
Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”
Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”
You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.
Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”
You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”
He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”
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kiss with a fist
“you hit me once, i hit you back, you gave a kick, i gave a slap”
===+++===
pairing: tara carpenter x reader
summary: tara needs a favour from perhaps the person she hates most on earth, but it just ends up drawing the both of you closer together.
warnings: explicit sexual content, fake dating 🤯, enemies to lovers, contrived plot because ha ha ha
word count: 4.8k
A/N: kinda had a lot of fun with this one. might do a part two, might just leave it as is, but let me know. inspired by kiss with a fist by florence + the machine (duh), lovely night from la la land, and various other inspirations.
===+++===
===+++===
The moment your front door opened on its hinges, Tara Carpenter was pushing past you and barging straight into your apartment, stepping right over the threshold and checking you with her shoulder. You barely had a chance to process it, before she had wandered down the hall and into your kitchen in a blur.
You rolled your eyes, knowing you were in for an annoying ass conversation and slamming the door shut. “What do you want?” You called into your own apartment loud enough for her to hear you in the other room.
“Don’t be a prick about it. This is the last place I wanted to go,” she shot back, and you sighed to yourself in your dark hallway before fixing your hair in the mirror and following her inside. There was only about an hour of her bullshit you could put up with and then you’d be saved by the bell anyhow.
“Whatever happened to ‘hello,’ Tara?” You said, crossing your arms and coming in to against the doorframe. She had jumped up onto your counter, legs swinging and fingers gripping the edge of the blue ice glass tiles. In her left hand she picked up the bottle of wine you had left out next to some glasses and began to read the label.
"Lecture me later,” she said, not looking up at you, You were about to reply, or more aptly, tell her to get the hell out of your apartment, but she put the bottle down and narrowed her eyes at you, clearly struggling to say what she was really there for.
“Look, (Y/n), I need your help.” Ah. There it was.
"Hah," you scoffed without hesitation. "No."
She threw up her hands. "I didn’t even say what I was asking for.”
“Still, no. I’m not helping you.”
“Could you just not be an asshat for five minutes and listen to me? Like, is that too hard for you? Are you medically incapable?" She shot back.
"You're sitting on my counter. I didn't bust into your house and start making demands but here you are in mine,” you said.
"I'm asking for a favour," said Tara, raising her voice. "Asking."
"Wasn't much of a question though, was it," you replied. Maybe being a dick back to her would make her leave. She had always been able to dish it but never able to take it, and you wanted to make her. "You said 'I need a favour.' There's no question in that."
"No, I actually said I need your help, now would you shut up and listen?"
You scowled. "Y'know, I'm not really in a helpful mood tonight."
"Like you have something better to do,” Tara scoffed, raising her eyebrows at you.
"And what if I do?"
"Then I'd say you're lying. What, you don’t want to help me because you’re watching your stupid show, or reading or something?” she challenged back, getting up off your counter and walking towards you. You straightened up, glaring down at her. She only came up to about your chest, but the short girl still did her best to seem intimidating.
With you she always frustratingly failed to even make the smallest dent, though that probably stemmed from the fact you could pick her up and punt her like a football if you wanted to. On the days she managed to really piss you off, the thought grew more enticing.
"For your information, I was supposed to have a date," you said. Tara blinked at this, looking down from your stupid face. You wore a thick black turtleneck and some pleated black pants that hung stylishly from your waist. The wine made sense now, and Tara felt like an idiot.
“What’d you pay them?” she clapped back, covering for the feeling of intense heat rising to her cheeks. This was humiliating. She had come begging for your help of all people- you, and now she had nothing to show for it but the stupid, smug look on your stupid, smug face.
“Ha ha,” you said, dryly. “Get out.”
“No.”
“Yes,” you insisted.
"So you're busy then…” she trailed off.
“Yes.”
“Nooo,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in frustration.
You weren't sure what it was, maybe the pout of her lip or the shining of her eyes, but you shut your own for a second and let out a sigh. "Why? What's the favour?"
Tara shook her head in a generally amusing display of defeat. "It's whatever. Have fun on your date," she said, heading for the door and trying to brush past you, but you reached your arm across the doorway, stopping her from going.
"No, what's-" you stopped, rolling your eyes upon realising you were about to help Tara Carpenter of all people- "What's the favour, Tara?" Her face instantly lit up with a bright, beaming smile, the exact opposite of what it had been before, and it suddenly occurred to you she had been playing you like a fiddle.
"Oh my god, you're actually helping for once! Did you finally wake up on the right side of the bed?”
"Don't push it," you muttered. "I don't even know what I'm agreeing to, yet."
"See, about that..." she trailed off.
"What.”
“We have to make Sam really, really mad.”
"What?”
"Yeah..."
You shook your head at her. "Never mind. I'm not helping you anymore."
"What!?"
"You're trying to get me murdered," you said. "I don't have a death wish."
Tara was fully frustrated now, dark eyes fiery and staring up at you in the candle lighting. “You don’t even know what it is you’re doing to make her mad yet!”
“Doesn’t matter, if it’s Sam I don’t want to do it.”
“It would be a big help!” Tara said, clasping her hands in front of her like a prayer. You narrowed your eyes at her, more upset her expression and clear desperation was actually working on you, and that you felt compelled to help this idiot with an undoubtedly idiotic plan.
“What are you trying to do?”
Tara jumped up and down in excitement, smiling widely in a way you had rarely seen her. “Okay! Okay, so Sam said last month that she didn’t want me going to parties and meeting people because she was worried they were murderers.”
“Uh huh,” you said.
“Buuut, she said I could go if I had someone always with me. Like, someone with me that she approved of. So I didn’t wander off to hook up or drink, which is, y’know, the actual fun ‘college party’ stuff.”
“Uh huh.”
“The thing is though, that if I had a ‘partner,’” she raised her fingers to put quotes around it, “then Sam wouldn’t need to worry about me doing that, because she’d assume I’d be with them, hanging out, or even if we did go to a party, it would be together. Buddy system style.”
You raised your eyebrows, realising where this was probably going. “Uh huh?”
“Which is where you’d come in. Sam wouldn’t trust just anybody, if I told her I was seeing someone. But she would trust someone from our group, who she knows for sure isn’t going to murder me. And you- as fucking annoying as you are- are exactly that.” She had a twinkle in her eyes when she explained it to you, and you realised Tara had probably been plotting this- or at least considering it- for a while now, the little devil.
“You really expect Sam to believe we can tolerate each other?” You asked, squeezing your arms tighter against your chest. “She knows how much I hate you, and only person I hate more is her.”
“Trust me, I’ve complained about you to her too,” she rolled her eyes. “But you were literally my only option. Call it a romance of passion. We only ‘hated’ other to cover up for our real feelings or whatever. Sam doesn’t have to like you but she definitely trusts you.”
“How romantic,” you wrinkled your nose, disgusted by the suggestion. “Wait, why am I your only option? Chad is right there, he’s already in love with you and everything. He’s like the built-in boyfriend.”
She winced. “See, I thought about that. But I just know it would probably hurt him, with the hooking up and it not being real. He probably wouldn’t feel too great about me ‘cheating’ on him.” Tara did the finger quotes around it again and you let out a whistle.
“Wow, so you do have a heart.”
She scoffed. “More than you do. Besides, we only need to pretend to be together until I find someone actually tolerable. After that, you’re free again.”
“I had a date tonight,” you narrowed your eyes at her.
“But you’re still here talking to me for some reason?” She raised her eyebrows at you. “And the way you said ‘had’ I’m thinking you don’t anymore.” Tara could be annoyingly perceptive sometimes. She always seemed to zero in on the way you spoke or what you said.
“I wasn’t too excited for it anyways,” you grumbled, and Tara laughed, realising she had been correct and being all too pleased with herself. She clasped her hands together.
“Well then. Are you going to help me, or are you going to glare at me some more?”
“The second one sounds really appealing right now,” you shot back.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be too proud of an asshole to admit this is a great plan.”
“It’s a terrible plan, and it’s absolutely going to fail when Sam tries to murder me.”
“But you didn’t say no.”
You looked at her for a long minute, contemplating if this was really the path you were going to go down. You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “I’ll do it. But you’ll sure as hell owe me.”
“Yeah yeah,” Tara waved you off, beaming from ear to ear. “Great! We’re going on a double date with her and Danny this Friday.”
“What?!” Your mouth dropped open.
“Yep,” she said, annoyingly skipping down your hallway. “I’ll text you the address and time!” she said.
“Now wait a minute-” you called after her, but she had already latched open your door and left, leaving you to watch her go. Fuck, this would end terribly. You sighed again, taking out your phone to cancel your date.
===+++===
This was so unbelievably stupid. The longer you stood outside the Italian restaurant, the more you regretted agreeing to help her.
The restaurant was nice at least, with giant marble stones and dark red accents, and you could see through the massive float glass windows that the lighting mostly featured romantic candles and potted floribunda roses against dark wood. It would ironically be the most expensive date you ever had, and you realised that with bitter sentimentality.
Tara was late, like always, and you had begun to pace along the sidewalk, tracing the cracks with the centre of your shoe while you waited for her. It was boring, out on the street, and the more couples that passed you and walked right inside, the more nauseous you felt. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, thumbing over the cracked display.
She was ten minutes late. You swiped open your text messages, still seeing nothing from her.
are you here yet???
You sent the message hastily, waiting for the typing icon to pop up or even show that she read it, but nothing. Suddenly the screen lit up and your phone started vibrating it, and you almost dropped it in surprise. “Fuck,” you cussed quietly, seeing the call incoming screen and Little Shit (do not pick up) appear at the top. You frowned, hitting the green button and accepting the call.
“Where the hell are you??? I don’t know if you noticed but we’re late,” you immediately said into the phone, aware of just how annoyed you sounded.
“Relax,” replied Tara on the other end of the line, and you could hear her eye roll from here. “Danny is a late guy too, Sam gets on him all the time for it.”
“Yeah well, I’m standing outside waiting for your late ass.” You felt someone awkwardly push past you and you winced, spinning around to usher them an apology.
“I’ll be there in a minute, I had to pick something up,” she dismissed you. “Just don’t let Sam and Danny see you. I told them we were showing up together.”
“Well how the hell am I supposed to do that?” You frowned, looking around. There was a row of bushes off to the side but you were too tall and not at all willing to crouch behind them like an idiot.
“I don’t know. Figure. It. Out.” Tara spoke slowly like you were a child and you narrowed your eyes.
“Y’know, I’m doing you a favour?”
“Ha!” Tara exclaimed, and you hissed, pulling your ear away from the phone’s speaker at the loud noise. “So you admit, it was a favour!”
“Shut up and get your ass over here," you grumbled before hanging up shortly, looking around and wandering down a side alley. It smelled disgusting back there, in the ironic, almost-dark of sunset, and it would've been a lovely night to take a walk on, had it not been for wasting it on Tara of all people.
You pulled out a box of cigarettes from your pocket, fumbling one out and sticking it between your lips. You stuck the box back in your pocket and pulled out your fancy lighter that had your name engraved on the side, thumbing over the lettering for a moment before lighting the cigarette and sticking it between your two fingers.
It felt stupid, to standing there next to the dumpster and watching some rats scurry by, but you let out a huff of smoke, remembering how much Tara had seemed excited for the parties and having fun. You didn't like her very much, nor could you really claim to be much of a saint, but you weren't a monster either.
"What are you doing??" called a voice from the end of the alley, and you spun to see Tara near the line of bushes with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She had her eyes narrowed at the cigarette, looking frustrated.
"Having a smoke. Why, want one?"
She let out a sigh of exasperation, marching straight up to you. "You can't go on a double date with my sister smelling like cigarette smoke. You know she hates that kind of stuff."
"I've smoked with her, before. Her and Mindy," you argued, pulling it from your lips to take a breath in. "I've literally given her cigarettes."
Tara glared at you, taking it from your hand and crushing it under her heel. "Yeah, well, she still hates you, and now that we're allegedly 'dating' it's different. We can't give her any reason not to trust us, and you smoking cigarettes is going to make her think I'm going to start smoking cigarettes."
You shrugged. "If she hates me so much, then she's never gonna let us 'hang out' alone or go to parties anyway."
"No, she-" Tara rolled her eyes. "She hates you, but she sure as hell trusts you. Enough to babysit me."
"Fine. What's with the flowers?" you asked, crossing your arms.
"You got them for me," Tara shrugged. "Pinnacle of romance."
You whistled to be funny, but it was a little bit impressive that she had planned that out. The plan wasn't especially well thought out, but she at least had her moments of surprising intelligence, which you couldn't begrudge her.
"Well then," she frowned. "Let's go, lover." She clutched the flowers in one hand and slid her arm to interlock with yours. You narrowed your eyes but started to walk her in.
"Don't call me that. It's weird," you muttered.
"Get used to it. Tonight we're the happiest couple on planet Earth."
The restaurant was somehow even nicer on the inside than it had been on the outside. Tara gripped your hand, tugging you along with her as she headed towards Sam and Danny's table and followed the waiter, but you were looking a little dumbfounded at the marble columns and Italian frescos painted to the walls and roof.
You made your way back, led into a giant room with a lot of people. Danny sent you a welcoming wave when they saw you; Sam looked like she was about ready to blow a gasket. She stared at you, eyeing you up and down and then lasering in on the bouquet in Tara's hands with a frown.
"Did you tell her your secret partner was me???" you whispered to Tara as you approached.
She smirked evilly. "Nope."
Fucking amazing. "Hey guys!" Danny said, friendly and open. He seemed just thrilled to be there, while Sam seethed right next to him. Tara smiled right at her sister, gesturing for you to sit next to her.
"Sorry we were late," Tara says, a little awkward but trying to seem comfortable. "We were, um..." she looked at you for help.
You blanked, throwing out the first thing you could think of. "Kissing!"
Sam nearly spit out her water, eyes widening at staring at you. Tara whipped to you, jaw slack and you sent her a sorry glance. Improv was not your thing by any means.
"Um," Danny blinked at you. "No worries. You're here now," he said with an awkward smile. His hand went to Sam's, trying to give it a comforting squeeze, but she looked like she wanted to jump over the table and then jump you. She was glowering.
"So," she said, eyes narrowed. "How long has 'this,'" she gestured between you and Tara, "been a thing?" She looked at you intensely, and you looked to Tara, trying to shrug it off. You both laughed, playing the part of the happy couple.
"Oh, a month," you said.
"Two months," Tara said, at the exact same time. Fuck.
You tried not to glare at each other. "Well, which is it?" Sam squinted at her sister, and Tara sent a kick at your leg under the table. Your knee hit the bottom of the table with a painful 'thud,' and it took everything in you to not yell out in pain from your knee cap hitting the wood.
You tried to smile it off. "Tara just said two months, because we went on a few study dates, but it wasn't official until a month ago."
"So two months then," Sam said, crossing her arms on the table.
"I get it," Danny said, nodding. "I'm bad at dates and stuff too," he laughed a bit. "I almost forgot how long Sam and I had been together after our four month anniversary." You nodded, sending him your best grin. Sam didn’t look too happy about that either, though.
"Yeah, long day, I guess." Tara said next to you, sending you her best smile, her hand coming up to rub your back. It was weird, having her this close, but you put on your best face, as if she touched you all the time.
"You go to Blackmore too, right?" he asked, and you nodded. "What do you study?"
"I'm in architecture," you replied. Finally, something you could talk about without feeling like you were crossing a minefield. From the corner of your eye, you could still see Sam staring you down with suspicion.
"Oh! That's awesome!" Danny replied, taking a sip of wine from his glass. "I love architecture, it's interesting."
"Mhm," you nodded, looking over at Tara and smirking with just a hint of malicious glee. "I tease her- my degree is actually useful. People don't really like film majors. They usually smell bad."
"Do they?" he asked, genuinely curious, and you turned back, nodding.
"Yeah, it's an unfortunately common stereotype. Film majors are annoying, smelly-," your words were cut off, feeling Tara's nail dig into your back for revenge and trying to stifle a wince. She gave the table a fake giggle.
"Okay, that's enough out of you," she said, and you grinned, cursing her out in your head.
"Why didn't you tell me it was (Y/n), Tara?" Sam asked, leaning forwards and studying you both. She seemed a bit miffed with the whole situation. You sent each other fake smiles, as if you were about to share a secret.
"Well," she said, trying to seem excited. "We just didn't want anyone ruining it, really. It was kind of a secret, and we didn't know what it would turn into. But it's just...it's been so fucking magic."
"Magic. Mhm," you hummed in agreement, looking off into the distance and pulling out the menu. You were just a bit too hungry to keep up with the game for the moment. Seriously? she shot you a glare, and you snapped to attention. "It is genuinely one of the happiest times of my life," you rushed, quickly smiling and then dropping your attention back down to the menu to look at some pasta.
“Does Chad know?” Sam asked, sitting back and staring at you both. Tara shook her head.
“Not yet. I don’t want to hurt him, but really, (Y/n)’s the one for me.” This was also a little bit impressive. Tara seemed to be a far better actor than you were, and Sam just nodded, suspicious but trusting her sister’s words.
===+++===
The moment you walked down the block and out of Sam and Danny's eyesight, your hand dropped from Tara's. The sun was just about setting in the distance, and city traffic was starting to slow down a little.
"Oh. My. God. Her face!" Tara said, laughing. She keeled over, and you smiled a little, remembering Sam's look of disgust, but quiet monitoring of your hand clutching onto Tara's. She looked like a very conservative nun, witnessing a sin being performed in real time. It was a little funny, you had to admit, not that you'd ever be caught laughing along with her.
"Danny seems nice," you said, after you walked a little farther.
Tara nodded. "He's surprisingly not a douchebag. I thought he would be, like you or something, but he's not that bad for Sam."
You scoffed. "I'm not a douchebag."
"You definitely are," Tara said, shaking her head. "One month because it wasn't official? You said we were going on dates before then. That's definitely douchebag behaviour. Sam probably thought that meant you were seeing other people."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," Tara said, rolling her eyes. "And 'kissing'??? Literally anything would've been better."
"I'm trying to help you, it's either this or nothing," you huffed in annoyance. "I'm not an on-the-spot person."
"Clearly," Tara said, shaking her head in overdramatic emphasis. She stopped suddenly and you jerked backwards, seeing her mess with her shoes.
"You good?" you asked, shoving your hands into your pockets.
"These damn shoes- making me walk home- god dammit," she grumbled, messing with the straps and the buckle on the side. You waited patiently, leaning against a stone wall as you waited for her to finish.
The sky above you had turned a deep purple, small hues of orange and pink in the form of clouds sitting at the edges. It was really something, and you stopped to watch it, whistling. Tara jerked upwards, planting her foot down to stomp her shoe into place.
"What is it?" she asked.
"The sky," you said, and she craned her neck up to watch it with you. "It's just really beautiful tonight."
She hummed for a moment before looking back to you. "It's a shame I'm spending it with you, of all people," Tara snorted. "I'm sure this would be romantic to any other couple."
"It would probably really be something," you said absentmindedly, looking up in thought. "A real waste on you and me though."
"Glad we agree," she said, leading the way. You and her had taken a separate path from Danny and Sam under the guise of getting some ice cream, but neither of you were willing to pay for it. Instead, you had to figure out what you would do with ten extra minutes.
"Do you want to cross?" you asked, gesturing to the other street, she nodded and you walked up, pressing the button. When you turned back to her, her nose was wrinkled.
"What?"
She shrugged. "Nothing. You just hit the button weird."
"What?" you blinked at her. "How can someone 'hit the button weird'?"
"I don't know, but you, like, pushed it weird. With your fingers."
You rolled your eyes. "Do you have a problem with everything I do?"
“Yep,” she nodded back. “It’s annoying.”
You guys kept walking in silence for the next block or two, making a square so that you could return to Sam and Tara’s apartment together. The sun had disappeared now and faded into night, and when you turned the corner to split off, she tugged on your arm.
“Hey wait, you have to walk me home.”
“What?” you raised your eyebrows at her.
Tara shrugged. “You have to, to make Sam think we’re dating.”
You blinked at her. “But we live on opposite sides of the city.”
“Still.”
“Tara if I walk you home I’ll miss the last train,” you grumbled. “That’s a long ass walk.”
“Cmon, we have to or she won’t believe it.”
You frowned. “You’re paying for my cab then.”
She sighed. “Fine, but come on.”
She tugged you down the long strip by the hand, stopping suddenly, a block from her apartment. “Here wait,” she said, turning to you. “Give me your jacket.”
“What?” you raised your eyebrows at her. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Oh just do it, do you have to argue about everything?”
You took it off with a glare, handing it to Tara. She tried to slide it on but it was massive on her, so she bunched up the sleeves. With the flowers in her hand and your jacket, it definitely looked like you two had gone on a date.
She grabbed your hand again, pulling you forwards along the street and smiling brightly in case anyone looked out the window and saw you both. It felt a bit odd to be playing dress up, but it was helping someone out, so you didn’t begrudge her on getting you to smile either.
“Wait wait wait,” Tara said, stopping abruptly.
You groaned. “Now what.”
She pulled you to the side, near a row of shrubs that sat next to the red brick of her apartment building. “Sam’s watching us through the window.”
You turned your head, trying to see for yourself, and there she was, hanging right out the window and watching you with intense suspicion.
"Don't look at her!" Tara snapped at you, whispering with a glare. You rolled your eyes.
"What do you want me to do then, Tara?"
She frowned, biting her lip while she thought. She gave you a grimace. "We need to do, like, a goodnight kiss or something."
You glared at the suggestion. "I think I'd rather die."
"Trust me, I don't want to either," she said, glowering right back at you. "But if we do this now, we won't have to ever again."
You thought for a moment. She'd probably taste disgusting anyways, and then it would just confirm what you already knew- you hated Tara Carpenter. "Fine. Just convincing enough though."
"Okay," she nodded. When neither of you made a move to close the distance, she frowned. "Do like, a countdown or something?"
"A fucking countdown," you repeated. "We're not five."
"Just do it!" she demanded, glaring again.
"Okay, fine, Jesus Christ. Three...," your face moved a bit closer to hers. "Two," you muttered quietly, still leaning in. "One," you said, and then Tara pushed her face onto yours.
It was a chaste kiss, probably sprouting from the fact that neither of you especially wanted to do it. Her lips were softer than you expected them to be and her breath nowhere as near as it would be in your head. You pulled away quickly, and there she was, smiling up at you in the fake way she had been at the restaurant.
"Party next Friday?" she asked. "Now that Sam thinks we're together she won't care if I go. Just pick me up and we can go 'together.' Plus there's a cute kid from my film class who said she would be there."
You nodded. "Whatever."
"Great," she said with similar shortness, and she brushed right past you, heading into her building. You watched her walk off, making sure she got in the door safe. Sam was still looking at you from overhead, even when Tara had gone, and you could see Quinn standing behind her, looking with morbid curiosity.
It had never even crossed your mind to kiss Tara, just because of how annoying her personality was, and you would have rather died than admit it had been nice- that she had been nice for a night. Instead you turned around, walking off. You were sure Sam was still watching you, as you went.
===+++===
part two??? it shouldn't be too long before the next one, i had to split this up because it was getting insanely long and there's another half to the story. i didn't want this one to be like 8k words long, i'll just probably have another one that's 4-5k soon.
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