#the looks he's giving at her and the camera

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 18

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T (soon) ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, cursed chat pics, mention of abusive household (aka rafe's), hints at reader getting turned on lmao, gentleman!rafe, reader one sec away from hyperventilating, slightly jealous!reader, awkward!rafe (um.. you'll see why), also FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ after rafe dropped you off at the beach, cara dragged you to meet sarah, kiara and cleo. everyone was nice, though kiara questioned what was going on with you and rafe. in the restroom of bob's iceshack, cara admitted she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hook up with jj. your conclusion: she was torn between him and topper. later, rafe texted saying he saw sarah’s story and wanted to pick you up an hour later. after some back and forth, you agreed on 7:30pm. still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was suddenly so eager. after hanging out with the pogues for a while, you dipped. john b offered a ride for tomorrow’s open air movie night. back in rafe’s car, he called them losers but backed off when you questioned it. after some pushing, he finally admitted he felt like everyone was choosing sarah over him. you tried to reassure him and concluded (internally) that ward cameron was the root for his issues. during your late night drive you got mcdonald’s, and finally, he dropped you off with a surprise: a my little pony bracelet from a gas station to prove he wasn’t playing you. in bed, you showed the bracelet to the girls in the new group chat. last surprise of the day: the mirror selfie from rafe aka the same one you’d stared at earlier.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.5k+ (longest chapter yet help + max use of chat screenshots so prepare for a LONG reading session)

✿ A / N ✿ GUYS I TRIED WITH THIS ONE BUT i kinda feel like the second half sucks, and also it feels extremely rushed if we take the pace of the other days of the week into consideration but well guess it wouldn't have made sense to drag out sunday for no reason. i also feel like i fucked up the ending by the direction i've chosen but i kinda gave up lmao. i probably could've explored the full potential of this setting and, IDK AHHHH. dw there's gonna be a part 2 of the event. anyway, have fun reading and PLEASE lmk what you think, this chapter gave me sm anxiety <3

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a little warning: avoid the comment section bc of spoilers 🤣

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W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 1 1 : 1 7 A M

"Okay, where did we leave off again?" you asked Cara as you made yourself comfortable in your little windowsill nook. "My brain is so full, I can’t keep track of anything anymore."

Cara chuckled. "Oh, I know exactly what it’s full of. Mr. ‘Let me give the girl I like a friendship bracelet so it’s not too obvious that I’m completely down bad for her.’"

A giggle slipped out and your cheeks instantly flushed. "You're gonna lose it when I tell you this next part."

“She’s already losing it,” came a voice, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

OH MY GOD, now that you saw the wall behind Cara… NO WAY. GIRL ACTUALLY SPENT THE NIGHT IN JJS WONDERLAND OMGGGG.

Cara scoffed, amused, and turned her phone to show JJ pulling a shirt over his very bare chest. You were so glad he at least had boxers on.

“Say hi and get out,” she said.

JJ looked up with a “Hey, my room,” and winked into the camera with a big-ass grin when he spotted you. “She’s even louder in bed.”

Too. Much. Information.

You just stared, stunned, and gave him an awkward little smile.

Cara rolled her eyes and turned the phone back to her face. “Chop chop, Dig’s waiting for his morning walk.”

“Not sure the leash’s even usable anymore.”

GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Cara stared flatly into the camera. “He's joking.”

OKAY THEN.

“Okay, okay. The leash only almost came into play,” JJ called out, followed by a loud “Hey!” as Cara threw a pillow at him.

“Out. Now. This is a girl-to-girl talk,” she said. “Village idiots not allowed.”

JJ chuckled. “More of a jester anyway.”

Then came a soft thud, which you took as him finally leaving the room.

“Okay, where were we?” Cara looked into the camera with a blinking smile.

You blinked back. “So, I guess, you don’t wanna—”

“Nope.”

“Aight.”

Cara cleared her throat. “Sooo, the last update I got from you and Loverboy is basically just what you'd said in your voice memo last night. He brought your bag back, then you guys spent the afternoon together. He dropped you off, picked you back up later, and by the end of the night practically proposed, right?”

Um… something like that.

You’d obviously left out a lot in that memo. As sweet and welcoming as the Pogue girls were, you’d literally only known them for a day, and you didn’t exactly feel comfy going full overshare just yet. And considering one of them was Rafe’s sister, you weren’t gonna bring up his little hate-rant about her or start gossiping about him behind his back.

But Cara was different. She was your best friend. You could tell her everything.

And you did. You told her about lunch with your parents, your trip to Bulk & Bloom and Barry’s pawn shop, your full-on spiral that you and Rafe had talked through in the car, and of course your evening trip to McDonald's and how he'd walked you to the front door like a freaking gentleman.

You did leave out his angsty little moment in the car, though. He’d opened up to you so honestly, you didn’t want to betray that trust. Plus, it felt… special. Like something just for the two of you.

But the important stuff? Oh, you shared that.

Your parents basically already adopting him, Barry’s well-meant warning, OH and obviously the insanely awkward moment when Rafe had caught you scrolling through his chat with Kelce.

AND OF COURSE, the most insane, messed-up, crazy thing he’d said: that you were a cute chick and he’d (quote) bend you over in the backseat of his car if you said the word.

“WHAT!?”

Your phone speaker peaked just a little.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. “Well, yeah, he—”

“WHAT?”

Another laugh escaped your mouth. Cara stared at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you’d just told her Harry Styles invited you to his private villa.

“GIRL, I—” She exhaled like she’d just sprinted a marathon. “I don’t even… holy fucking shit, like, oh my Jesus Christ, good Lord and all the heavens above.”

When Cara started praying, you knew shit was actually insane.

You giggled. “Now imagine what was going on in my head. The fact I managed to function after that is honestly one of the seven wonders of the world.”

"The fact that you didn’t immediately jump him and rip his clothes off—that is the miracle," she shot back, still staring at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "I MEAN WHAT? Like, my kitty would’ve gone straight to—"

“OKAY!”

Cara shook her head like a madwoman. “Y/N! That boy is so down bad for you, how do you not see it?” She sighed, shaking her phone. “Like HELLO? Rafe Cameron said out loud that he’s into you.”

"Sexual attraction and having a crush are two completely different things," you argued.

Cara frowned dramatically. “How oblivious do you wanna be? Yes.” You heard frantic tapping sounds as she smashed at her screen. “He gifted you a fucking bracelet. Rafe Cameron. The guy who’s known for doing absolutely nothing for any girl, like, ever. What more do you need? He said you’re cute. He said he likes you. He said he ENJOYS spending time with you. And what else? OH RIGHT, that he wants to hang out even after your little project dates are over AND THAT HE WANTS TO CLAP YOUR CHEEKS.” She shook her head like she was malfunctioning. “THIS SCREAMS GET READY TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

Did it?

UM, YEAH, KINDA DID.

Fucking hell, Cara could really make even the most chaotic shit sound like it followed cold, hard logic.

But here's the thing: Rafe was a direct guy. If he had no problem saying he’d sleep with you, surely he wouldn’t have a problem saying he was into you like that (hypothetically speaking, of course).

Which kind of threw her whole argument out the window again.

You shook your head. “This sounds more like, ‘I’ve never had a female friend before, and now that I do, guess I’m gonna keep her around.’”

“So you do realize he wants you,” Cara replied.

You let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess, but not like that. I don’t know how to explain it… I just think he likes the idea of having a girl around.” You tilted your head. “Like with Topper and Kelce, he’s this kinda toxic-bro-masculine-alpha type. And I guess he misses the fun flirty energy." Then you remembered his emotional outburst last night. “And I feel like with me, he also doesn’t put on a front. I don’t know.”

Cara stared you down, deadpan. “That is literally the ideal foundation for a relationship.”

“Or for a really good friendship,” you countered.

How were you supposed to explain to her that this poor boy probably just wanted someone to see him for who he really was? Like, the frustration he let out last night—the way he basically admitted, without saying it directly, that he was scared of being abandoned.

And that could always happen in a relationship. In a short-term hookup? Inevitable. But a good friend? Ideally, that was someone you could have for life. And the fact you were a girl—just a side note in the whole equation.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.” Cara rolled her eyes. “So what you’re telling me is, he puts in all this effort just so he can call you his friend and still flirt for fun? Make it make sense.”

"Yeah, but, C," you said with a chuckle. "That's literally how our friendship works too. We both put effort into each other, that’s what friends do, and don’t even get me started on the flirting. Like according to your logic, I should question your intentions as well."

Cara curled her lips. "... okay, you kinda have a point there."

You nodded with a See? look on your face.

"But," she continued, "we’re girl best friends. You and him? That’s a whole different thing."

You raised an amused brow. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that a guy and a girl can’t have a platonic relationship?"

Cara scowled. "No, of course not, but—"

"But I’m okay with the way it is," you said with a soft smile. "I have no problem with just being friends with Rafe. Honestly, it might even be better this way. I don’t have to worry about screwing it up, or God," you chuckled nervously, "all my other insecurities."

Cara let out a sigh. “You really are the biggest mystery to me, girl. You’ve been crushing on this guy since fifth grade. And now, when you finally have the chance to actually make something happen, like, he’s literally offering you the perfect foundation, you just settle for the easiest option.”

Less risk of being disappointed. Less chance of embarrassing yourself. Less chance to lose whatever it was you two had built in just a few days. Accepting Rafe as a friend was the easy choice, yeah, but it was also the safest.

But you knew exactly what Cara would say to that: she’d start pushing you to take a chance, make a move, break out of your shell for once.

"Okay, look at it this way," you said with a playful eye roll. "A relationship can always grow from a friendship. Does that help?"

You doubted that would actually happen, but at least it would shut Cara up for now.

She chuckled and wiggled her shoulders. "Friends to lovers? Uhh, now you got me." She raised her eyebrows with a lopsided grin. "So… does that also apply to us, orrrr…?"

You quickly steered the conversation back to her. More specifically her evening with the Pogues, dinner at the Chateau later on, and eventually the magical night she had with JJ. Kiara, Pope, and Cleo had left at some point, leaving just Cara, John B, Sarah, and JJ behind.

The exact details and noises from that night, however, Cara could gladly keep to herself.

Anyway, her dad called a little later to tell her to come home—her grandparents were visiting to celebrate her mom’s birthday belatedly. With a quick "Oh shit, we’ll text later", your little call came to an end.

You’d barely touched the ground with your feet, just getting off your windowsill corner and ready to change out of your sleepwear into something actually wearable, when your phone buzzed again.

And what greeted you? Yeah…

Geez, it wasn’t even noon and your pulse was already at 180.

First Cara fueling your delusions, then Rafe and his newfound hobby (or more like obsession) with your reaction pics (UM THE FACT THAT HE'D DOWNLOADED PINTEREST FOR IT???) and how he instantly went into full-attack mode just at the mention of you being in the girlies’ group chat, like bro, we get it, you’re terrified of abandonment but PLEASE CALM DOWN I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE. And then back to Cara, aka the fact that you’d now have to endure the drive to the open air event without her.

Honestly, that last part was the least of your worries because if you'd managed to survive half of Kelce’s party solo (okay, with Topper, Molly, and Rob), then you could totally handle a short car ride.

No, what really had you spiraling was how comfortable Rafe had gotten with you in just one day. Like, hello? First the mirror selfie last night, and then those reaction pics this morning (okay, more like noon, oops), AND THEN THE FACT THAT HE STRAIGHT UP ADMITTED (or hopefully joked) that he'd had a little private session this morning, DUDE COME ON.

HELP AND THE FACT THAT THAT SENT YOU INTO INSTANT BRAIN CINEMA MODE OF A HALF NAKED, HEAVY BREATHING RAFE, BOXERS AROUND HIS ANKLES, EYES CLOSED, HEAD PRESSED BACK INTO THE PILLOW OR DESK CHAIR (WHO KNEW), HAND AROUND HIS—NOPENOPENOPENOPEHELPPP

Jesus Christ, suddenly there was a tingling sensation in your lower body and the urgent need to open the windows to cool your body down because your cheeks? On fucking fire. Not even mentioning the heart rate and that warm, funny feeling between your—OKAY ENOUGH HOLY SHIT.

You gotta be ovulating or something because that? What the actual fuck.

HAHAHAHHAA ANYWAY.

Lunch.

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"How's Rafe?" That was one of the first questions your dad asked once you all sat down in the dining room.

Great. Not even here you could escape the topic.

To make things worse, both your mom and dad were giving you this smirky look that screamed You were out late last night: Should we be getting excited about our future son-in-law?

UGHHH. It was so awkward, and if you even dared to give a shy smile or deflect it, it would only make everything ten times worse.

So you just shrugged and poured yourself a glass of water. “He’s doing okay, I think.”

Your dad let out an amused breath. “And his cheek? That looked pretty nasty yesterday. He should’ve iced it right away, then it wouldn’t have swollen like that.”

Trust me, I told him.

“Yeah, it looks worse than it is,” you said, adding, “he popped an ibuprofen yesterday.”

He had, actually. Swallowed it right in the McDonald’s parking lot with a Coke Zero. Like seriously, how was this guy even still alive?

You half expected them to hit you with a “You two were gone a long time—what exactly were you doing?” or some other nosy questions. But instead, the energy at the table shifted.

Your mom raised her brows slightly, concern (???) flickering in her expression. “And… at home? Is everything okay there too?”

um… what.

Your dad seemed to catch the confusion on your face. “It’s just, we've been wondering...” he let out a dry chuckle, “I’ve seen bruises, cracked ribs, busted faces—pretty much everything—my whole career. And that bruise? If he’d actually been hit with a golf club, I probably would've been patching him up in the ER Friday night.”

Oh. So your dad had seen right through Rafe's lie.

Well, of course, he had. Taking care of people was his job. He had to know the difference between different kinds of wounds and bruises.

But from the way your parents were hinting at it… did they actually think Rafe was getting hit at home? That was… wow.

But telling them what really happened aka Rafe almost starting a fight—you really didn’t want to paint him in that light. Didn’t matter that he’d stood up for you.

“No idea,” you said, furrowing your brows as you poked around your plate. “I think things are fine at home too.”

Your mom tilted her head with a soft smile. “But you don’t know for sure?”

Your overthinking, spiraling, constantly-needing-answers issue? Mhm, yeah, you definitely got that from her.

“No, I mean, I barely know him,” you replied. “Are you seriously thinking he’s getting abused at home or something?”

Then again… okay, you didn’t know Ward personally, but something in your gut told you there was something off about him. Especially after the realization you'd had last night: Him probably being the root of Rafe’s issues.

Your dad leaned back. “Well, speaking as a dad, I’ve got a feeling there’s tension at home. I’m not accusing Ward of hitting his kids, I’m just guessing Rafe’s relationship with him is… strained.” He shifted in his seat. “And my gut? It’s never been wrong.”

O-kay. So apparently your parents had picked up on the same thing after interacting with Rafe once. Wow.

“Ward’s always been a difficult person,” your mom added. “Back in college, he was super ambitious, driven, competitive. Always pushing. Expecting the best results from himself and everyone around him. And anyone who held him back or got in his way? Didn’t stay in his way for long.”

Obviously he hadn’t killed anyone, so you just assumed he either threatened, manipulated, or schemed his way around people.

Your mom sighed. “And truth is, I know Rafe’s not exactly an easy kid. Rose told me he often takes off for hours and doesn’t come home until midnight. And school? Apparently not going so great either.”

Something about talking about Rafe behind his back like this… it just didn’t feel right.

“Rose isn’t his mother, though.” Shit. What a dumb thing to say.

Your mom furrowed her brows. “She tries to be. It’s not easy for someone like her to reach someone like Rafe.”

"Someone like him? "You raised your brows.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? And why were you suddenly feeling so defensive, HELP.

“Y/n,” your dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “Rafe seems like a good boy, I’m not doubting that. But it just feels like… something’s off. And the most likely explanation is that things at home aren’t exactly stable.”

He pressed his lips together, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “I’m not trying to accuse Ward of anything or scare you, but… when I wanted to check the skin on Rafe’s cheek, he flinched when I raised my hand to do so. Not a dramatic reaction, just this quick startled blink, but in my head, every alarm bell went off.”

And that made your heart clench in the worst, most painful way.

Sure, maybe your dad had misread a harmless blink or twitch but deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. And the thought that Rafe might actually be getting hit by his own dad… GOSH, THIS BOY.

Drug problems, anger issues, and a toxic household? This guy didn’t need a girlfriend, he needed a loving family.

No. He needed a real dad.

“That doesn’t mean the bruise had to have come from home,” your dad continued, and his tone softened a little. “Honestly, I just assume he got into some testosterone-fueled fight at whatever party you were at.” He chuckled. “Thinking back to the way I used to look after I boxed with the guys from the 44th… that bruise is practically a scratch.”

Not your dad just casually dropping new lore.

Your mom rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. “I was the one who had to play nurse back then.”

OKAY NOPE YOU DID NOT LIKE THAT SMILEY LOOK ON HER FACE. DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT.

Luckily, your dad circled back to the actual point: “We’re just concerned. We’re both parents—we notice when something’s off with a kid. As a doctor who’s seen lots of children with seemingly perfect parents, I can tell you: eyes never lie. And Ward may be a great family man, but that doesn’t automatically make him a great father.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Abuse can show up in so many ways, not just physically. So if you ever notice anything, please don’t hesitate to come to us, okay?”

Well, this sunny Sunday just got very not sunny, very fast. Like… how did we go from “How’s your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend?” to child abuse—HELLO??

You didn’t even know what to say.

You were touched by their concern, the way they weren’t judging Rafe in the slightest. But also overwhelmed by how heavy the topic had just gotten. Sure, your parents did always notice this kind of thing right away but now that your suspicions had basically been confirmed by them...

Yeah, that didn’t sit well with you at all.

Of course, none of you really knew what was going on in the Cameron household. But if all of you had arrived at roughly the same conclusion, then either you were all operating on the same overthinking, assume-the-worst type of brain…

Or something was actually going on.

Both, you thought bitterly.

So all you did was nod with a somewhat forced smile and said, “Okay.”

Your parents nodded, seemingly relieved. And of course, since you were already on the topic of Rafe, they circled back to yesterday. Asking questions like, “So where did you guys go afterward?”, “How’s your school project coming along?”, “Did Cara give you that cute bracelet?” and dropping comments like, “He seemed very smiley around you,” and “Feel free to invite him over for dinner again.”

And just when the conversation was dangerously close to veering into the Safe Sex territory, you excused yourself from the table, mentioned that you’d be going to the Open Air tonight, brought your plate to the kitchen, and thanked Mary for the food.

Back in your room, you exhaled.

Wow. Apparently, there was no such thing as a break this week. But the fact that your parents thought you and Rafe would look cute together? AKCKKANFALJKD.

Also, the whole thing about how you both apparently glowed around each other? If Cara had said that? Yeah well, no, delusional queen just back again with her delusions. But your parents? Who were basically professionals when it came to reading people—your dad being a literal doctor, and your mom a CEO in sales, aka someone who had to be good with people—If they said Rafe liked you?

Fuck, then it had to be true.

Okay okay, he had kinda already said it twice himself—once just yesterday in the car—but STILL OMGMGM.

Okay okay, calm the fuck down.

You just became friends, no need to start building your wedding Pinterest board.

You played with the bracelet around your wrist as you sat down at your desk, smiling to yourself like a damn idiot at the soft rustling sound.

The way it fit just right around your wrist and how FUCKING CUTE IT LOOKED. Gosh, the fact that Rafe had thought of you when he'd spotted it, and then actually bought it for you and gave it to you AHHHHHH. AND JESUS, THEN HE'D BEEN ALL CUTE AND AWKWARD AND NERVOUS WHEN HE'D HANDED IT TO YOU.

HELLO??? Rafe fucking Cameron being awkward AND nervous around you??? As much as that made the butterflies in your stomach go into full freak-out mode, more than anything, it made you feel like a total winner lol.

I’m fine. I’m cool. Completely chill.

SMNJXWNDVHSJDKMXOIASJCDAVLSAÖ.

You would never get over this.

Well, you had to at least try for the next few hours. Because more important than giggling to yourself in your room like some hopelessly lovesick little girl was actually getting ready for tonight.

Okay, it was barely past 1 PM, buuuut you’d gladly take all the time you could get.

Sooo, Cara was probably busy with family stuff right now—spending the day with her grandparents and parents and all—so yeah, no chance of calling her.

Molly maybe? You knew she was also coming tonight because you’d heard her talking about it at Kelce’s party. AND HOLY SHIT YOU DESPERATELY NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT WENT DOWN BETWEEN HER AND KELCE OGMGMGM.

Never mind. Her little Bitmoji was currently chilling at Kelce’s place on the map, so there was your answer.

So Molly was out too. Sure, she’d probably be happy to chat with you—hell, Kelce too probably—but you didn’t want to interrupt these lovebirds (hookup partners??? soon-to-be-married??? WHO KNEW).

Hm. Okay.

Six hours until the boys were picking you up.

Well, you could always sit out on your balcony and sketch a little. You hadn’t really had the chance lately. The past few days had kept you on your toes so much that you'd barely had the energy to sketch a stick figure. And on top of that, the art project with Rafe had kinda sucked most of your creative brain juice dry too.

Senior Year was already a lot and it had barely even started yet. And now The Gloaming was right around the corner—next Friday, to be exact—and well, you were really not looking forward to that.

Midsummers was at least really nice, casual and fun. Dressing up in cute summery dresses, getting tipsy on overpriced prosecco and wine, giggling over boys in suits, and it just had this soft, fairycore kind of vibe to it.

The Gloaming, on the other hand? A school event.

Unlike Midsummers, it wasn’t held at the Cameron Estate, but at a big event venue on the North Side near the beach. One the mayor himself dubbed “Garden Eden.”

It was purely a Kook event, which… yeah, made sense, since it was organized by the Kildare Academy, which was technically a Kook school. But like, couldn’t they have at least teamed up with the South Side High School?

Sure, some Pogues would show up but only as workers. Bartenders, cooks, waiters, janitors who had to clean up everyone’s mess the next morning.

Anyway, this whole class division thing was deeply rooted in the Outer Banks. No point in getting all worked up about it.

And the worst part about The Gloaming? The absolutely RIDICULOUS amount of GOSSIP surrounding it. Gossip at KA was always present, but for some reason, this event turned everyone into real-life Gossip Girl contestants or whatever.

Who went with whom, who cheated on who, who wore the cheapest dress, whose parents were getting divorced, which guy bagged the most girls, and a bunch of other completely braindead nonsense you honestly wanted to stay far, far, far away from.

Unfortunately, your parents loved going. Catching up with old classmates, schmoozing, socializing, and Cara did too. So yeah, they always dragged you along. Plus, it was basically an unofficially mandatory high school event. No way you were risking a dip in your GPA just because you skipped it.

SPEAKING OF GPA.

SHIT.

Shitshitshitshitshit. THE MATH TEST TOMORROW.

Fuck.

You’d completely forgotten. Mrs. Richman had even given your class a friendly reminder last Monday.

Shit.

Well yeah, of course you’d blocked it out. Right before that class, Mr. Smith had put you in a project group with Rafe, and that had basically hijacked your entire brain.

Okay, okay, okay. No panic.

You’d sit down now, study a bit for the next five hours and thirty minutes, and then you’d still have half an hour to get ready for the Open Air.

HAHAHAHAHA TOTALLY DOABLE.

That was, if Rafe wasn’t constantly sending you random reaction pics slash memes slash kinda very suggestive fairycore-slash-emo-wolf pics.

Apparently, Pinterest was his new hobby.

Good for him (and honestly, kinda cute), but not for you. You had a math test to prep for.

And as much as you wanted to send stuff back because RAFE USING THOSE PICS IN THE FIRST PLACE AHHHHHH, you really couldn’t afford to fail math.

So you decided it was time to shut down his spamming.

With a laugh, you switched your phone to airplane mode and set it on the edge of your desk. No reply, because this would go on forever if you didn’t put a stop to it yourself.

This seriously required your maximum amount of self-control not to keep texting him, because GOSH, this felt like some kind of cute little silly version of Rafe.

You basically had the privilege of witnessing firsthand how he discovered Pinterest for himself—or, well, the cursed side of it—and all that just because of you. It was kinda wholesome. Like a dumb little boy realizing for the first time that dinosaurs were cool.

GIRL, STOP DRIFTING OFF.

You seriously needed to focus now. (Well, not your fault Rafe kept spamming your phone hihihihi.)

So you kinda half-focused, somehow managed to study your math book, worked through a few exercises, and even half a practice test until you finally gave up around 5:30—because, in the back of your mind, Rafe and the Open Air event kept spinning in loops.

You’d totally have some more time to study later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Hahahaha. Yes. Definitely.

You turned the airplane mode off again and—Jesus Christ. 200+ messages from the girls' chat and 33 from Rafe.

You quickly skimmed through both.

The girls were just discussing plans, departure times, pre-drinks yes or no, who should be picked up first, some opinions on the movie choice for tonight (Barbie), and other stuff you kinda just skimmed past (sorry girlies, I'm in a rush).

And Rafe? A bunch of cursed and weird-ass pics that just got progressively worse, him complaining about not being able to get rid of them, plus some teasing about you being a nerd because you were studying on a Sunday, bla bla. You left those on read too. (Not sorry about it.)

You jumped in the shower, dried off fast, and dumped a whole load of clothes onto your bed. Because—

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO WEAR TONIGHT AHHH.

Okay okay, the basic facts:

Occasion: Open Air Movie Festival When: Evening/night Movie: Barbie (main movie) and then Transformers Weather: Actually nice, sunny, warm, but a little breezy People: Both Kooks and Pogues, maybe even some Tourons

Conclusion: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

Something casual and chill would be the smart move, considering you’d probably be sitting or lying most of the time. Best to throw on a jacket too, just in case. There’d probably be blankets, but still.

And of course, no sweatpants look.

You kinda wanted to dress up a bit, but still keep the vibe right. OKAY NO YOU JUST WANTED TO LOOK PRETTY. With Rafe being there and... yeah. Just Rafe.

Shit.

Now it’s official. You were picking your outfit based on a guy.

A guy you didn’t even need to impress, because, well, technically you were friends now. And you didn’t dress up for friends… right?

Okay, maybe you did it for special occasions. But you didn’t hope that said friend liked your outfit and maybe... MAYBE gave you a compliment.

NOOOOOO I’M FALLING BACK INTO MY DELUSION HOLE AHHHH.

HOW COULD YOU NOT? HIM SAYING HE’D BE DOWN TO BEND YOU OVER KIND OF IMPLIED HE’S ATTRACTED TO YOU AT LEAST A LITTLE SO…

…SO WHAT NOW?

Were you the one sending mixed signals now by dressing up a little even though you’d made it clear you weren’t into short-term hookups?

...maybe.

Anyway. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA (i’m going crazy.)

You tried on some different outfits, scattering your clothes all over the room, and in the end, narrowed it down to two options—both of which included a dress. Because YEAH WHY NOT.

One was more chill and the other a little cuter, but both showed some leg hihihi.

You took pics of both and were just about to send them to Cara for input when Sarah beat you to it:

These girls, dude. Feeding into your delusions without a single shred of shame.

Also, holy shit, they all looked so fucking gorgeous in the outfits they’d picked out. Now you had an even harder time choosing which one you should go with.

Okay, no time left. It was already almost 6:30.

So, a coin toss it would be.

You assigned each outfit to one side of the coin, then flicked that thing up into the air, nearly smacked yourself in the forehead trying to catch it, but managed to trap it between your hands and…

That should do.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Shiiii, look at you." Kelce was the first to speak as you opened the door of the white Range Rover parked outside your house.

Rafe had called you 10 minutes earlier to say they were on their way. You’d thrown your things together in a rush, said goodbye to your parents (who wished you a fun night), and waited in the driveway because no way were you risking one of them ringing the bell and getting wrapped into some awkward parent chat.

You smiled shyly and gave them a soft “Hey” as you slid into the seat behind Topper’s, next to Molly. Kelce was next to her, and Rafe sat in the passenger seat up front (of course, sitting in the back would’ve probably bruised his ego).

"That dress suits you so well," Molly said with a warm smile, and you chuckled.

She looked so unbelievably sweet herself. Her red curls hung wildly on her shoulders, and her red lipstick made the whole color pop even more. She was wearing the cutest pastel green skirt and a white corset blouse you'd ever seen and KELCE’S HAND WAS RESTING ON HER THIGH AJDNJKWNJDKW

And Kelce? Wearing a pink shirt, probably to match the Barbie movie but honestly, they looked like COSMO AND WANDA and it was just SO SWEET.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide your grin. "I love your outfit too."

Kelce squeezed her thigh (AND SHE CHUCKLED) and added, "I deserve half the credit, I helped her pick it."

You could practically feel how much Rafe wanted to gag. Also… you felt a little (a lot) disappointed that he'd only turned his head once to glance at you without saying a word, BUT NOT GONNA LET THAT RUIN YOUR MOOD RIGHT :))))))

"So, Cara’s already gotten a ride, I heard," Topper said, the bitterness in his voice slicing straight through the mood.

You fiddled with your bag strap and nodded. "Well, yeah, she’s..." Shit. You didn’t actually know what excuse she’d given Topper, considering she was riding with John B.

"She prefers hanging out with little Pogue rats now," Rafe finished for you, dry amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but frown. If it was already starting like this…

"Ayo, bro," Kelce said with a chuckle, kicking Rafe’s seat. "You better behave tonight. Keep going like that and you’ll end up with a Dalmatian face full of bruises."

Wow, how was Kelce the voice of reason here? Internally, you were thankful because it meant you didn’t have to address it yourself.

Rafe scoffed and shook his head. "Not holding back if one of those fuckers starts provoking me."

Are we sure you’re not the one starting things, boy?

“Dude, don’t make me play peacemaker tonight,” Kelce shot back. “Gotta concentrate on my date.”

Molly chuckled, and you did too. THEY WERE SO CUTE.

Then your heart sank as Kelce leaned forward, pointing toward Rafe with his thumb while looking at you. "Your job tonight."

…What?

You blinked and smiled awkwardly.

“It’s not hard,” Kelce went on with a grin full of white teeth. “Keep him hydrated, stop him from talking to people, and bring up golf every now and then. That usually distracts him.”

Topper and Molly both laughed, and oh god, it was so hard not to laugh too as Rafe turned around with a scowl—first looking at you, then at Kelce.

"You’re gonna be the first fucker I beat up tonight," Rafe said, crooked grin on his lips.

Kinda cute how he always acted like Kelce pissed him off when in reality they had this weirdly wholesome friendship behind the scenes.

Kelce held up his hands as Rafe turned back around. "Ayy, thought you might appreciate the company of a pretty lady."

PLEASE.

Your cheeks heated up because that sounded dangerously like Kelce trying to play wingman or matchmaker, and somehow that made the whole situation SO FREAKING AWKWARD.

"I'd appreciate if you shut the fuck up," Rafe said, still frowning as he looked straight ahead.

This boy was so dramatic, holy shit.

THEN AGAIN, HE HADN’T DENIED WHAT KELCE HAD SAID, SO CLINGING TO THAT FACT HAHAHAAH #goingmoreinsanebytheday.

Topper cleared his throat. "So, uh, back to Cara..."

That earned a round of groans from everyone.

After some teasing of Kelce and Rafe, and some attempts at cheering Topper up by Molly and you, you all got tired of that topic (thank god because you just felt so bad for Topper), and a few minutes later you arrived at your destination anyway.

The huge gravel parking lot was already filled with cars. Some girl was directing Topper in and assigning him a spot for his big-ass Range Rover, which, as you’d found out, happened to be his mother’s.

As the engine shut off, everyone got out. Kelce helped Molly out of the car, and Topper held the door open for you while you struggled a little with your dress.

"Thanks," you said with a polite smile and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Topper looked like he was about to say something (judging by his expression, probably trying to get a moment alone with you to talk about Cara), but Rafe suddenly appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder with a crooked grin.

"Aight, enough whining about Hall," he said, nodding toward the entrance. "Cheer the fuck up and go find another chick inside. Or go annoy Kelce and Molly, I don't give a shit, but stop dragging us into it."

Such tact. Truly award-worthy. Though, to be fair, that actually sounded like Rafe’s version of wanting his friend to feel better.

Topper pressed his lips together, clearly debating whether to argue, but in the end, he just sighed and nodded. "I'll go join the others."

With that, he walked off.

As much as you felt sorry for him, it wasn’t your place to speak for Cara’s feelings, so you were actually kinda thankful for Rafe’s little lifeline.

SPEAKING OF RAFE.

Dude was eyeing you with the smuggest grin ever, blue eyes locked on yours before letting his gaze drop down your outfit (and soul, the way his stares always felt so intense) for a second.

And the way he just nodded, his eyes landing back on yours, DUDE WHAT.

"What?" Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled sheepishly.

Rafe shook his head, lips tugging into a downward smile. "Nothing. Just curious who you dressed up for."

HUH. NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT LIKE THIS. THIS WAS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING BYE.

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook your head too. "Myself?"

Somehow, you both seemed to know that was bullshit, and now you just kinda wanted to curl up into fetal position and stay there for the next one billion years.

"Bold choice for a self-date," Rafe said with a shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a smooth way of saying, “Next time, pick something else.”

Hey, I kinda wanna die right now.

"Shit, don’t look at me like that." Rafe chuckled boyishly. "You look good, alright? That dress suits you."

...

:)

EDNCSKJDXCHNFEWJSKLFCHNVDLAKGSNJVSÖKLFDHXUVWDIUEOPSAXM;POSWLSCKUCJGFKD

Cheeks hotter than the sun, but you didn’t care because OH MY GOD. You couldn’t even hide your smile, and you also didn’t care that you probably looked like some stupid fucking idiot while doing it, but WHO CARED.

"Thank you," you said, gripping the strap of your bag.

AND THEN you mustered up the courage to look him over as well. Not as obviously as he had, because that guy just seemed to have zero shame, but well, you did appreciate the view.

Even if he was wearing one of his probably thousand polo shirt variations again, it suited him just as well as the other 999. Paired with some more or less basic white shorts that really showed off the tan on his legs and some matching white Dior B57 sneakers.

Kinda low effort but that guy pulled it off like crazy. And him deciding to wear his hair as curtain bangs again BECAUSE OF YOU (yes, you'd never forget how he’d admitted that yesterday) kinda made your heart rate shoot up even higher.

Rafe raised his brows when you met his eyes again, and you felt caught and awkward, but still, you managed to say, "Looking fresh yourself."

That made the cutest laugh escape his lips, and you could literally feel the butterflies in your stomach dancing to that soft sound.

"I'm just gonna assume that’s a weirdly executed compliment and you're not just making fun of me," Rafe said with a lopsided smile.

You shrugged. "Maybe it’s both."

"Aight." Rafe then eyed your jacket. "Might wanna take that off though. They’ve got blankets and stuff in there, you know."

You let out a soft laugh, raising your brows. "And I’m just gonna assume this is your weird way of caring about me being comfortable and not just a way to get me undressed."

DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY THAT OMMGMFMMF.

Rafe himself was the biggest confidence boost you could get, and his boldness kinda rubbed off on you.

He chuckled. "It’s both."

ALRIGHT, DUDE.

Okay, honestly, you were kinda starting to sweat under the jacket. First, it was still super warm despite the time, and second, Rafe’s flirty comments (yes, let’s just call them that) were turning your entire body into a heatwave.

With flushed cheeks, you let out a soft giggle and awkwardly tried to take off your jacket while still holding onto your purse without dropping both.

"Jesus, give that shit to me," Rafe said, grabbing your purse with one hand while helping you out of your jacket with the other.

"Ayo, you lovebirds coming?" Kelce’s voice boomed from a few steps ahead. "Seats are filling up, you’ll have to share one soon!"

UGHHH PLEASEEEE DON'T MAKE THIS EVEN MORE AWKWARD.

"Gonna kill that fucker someday," Rafe muttered as he handed you your purse back, eyeing the bracelet on your wrist with a silent smile.

You chuckled sheepishly and slung your bag back over your shoulder, blinking in confusion when he kept holding onto your jacket.

Rafe's gaze drifted over your now-exposed upper half for a second before he looked back at you with a smug grin, tilting his head toward the others. "Come on, before I lose interest in the movie altogether."

DUDE. You REALLY had to get used to this kind of apparently harmless flirting without immediately spiraling into that one very specific overthinking rabbit hole. Like—he couldn’t just make comments like that and then--

The sudden touch of his hand on your back yanked you out of your thoughts, a buzzing warmth settling over your whole body. He gave you a gentle nudge forward and you fell into step beside him, already missing the heat of his hand the second he let it fall away.

As soon as you reached the ticket booth, it found its place again as Rafe softly guided you past the grumpy-looking line toward Kelce, Topper, and Molly.

"Finally," Kelce said with a wide grin as he took two tickets. "Thought you—"

"Shut your ass and keep moving," Rafe cut in, softer than usual.

Topper was up next and followed the other two through the archway. Muffled voices and soft music already drifted from inside.

You reached for your wallet automatically, but Rafe had already stepped in front of you, placing your jacket on the counter. "Two tickets, and this to coat check."

You blinked. "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe said, eyes focused on his wallet as he handed the cashier forty dollars. "Keep the change."

No way. He was paying for you again AND tipping the kid behind the counter twenty-five dollars?? First the McDonald’s food and now this? What, why, how.

Plus, um ... you kinda needed that jacket later…

Rafe took two pink tickets and a tag with the number 69, grinning like a five-year-old (grow up please), and handed you one. "Just shut up and take it."

And you did (with a "Thank you" nonetheless) while your heart practically exploded in all directions. Then you followed him through the archway onto the event space.

Dozens of people were already scattered across the area—locals and even some tourons—chit-chatting, laughing, lounging in groups or pairs. Some had already claimed a spot in front of the massive screen on floor cushions or deck chairs. A few had even brought their own blankets and pillows.

To the side were the restrooms and food stalls selling popcorn, nachos, and other snacks, plus all kinds of drinks from water to vodka-energy, and a variety of rental blankets and pillows.

And strung up between trees and posts were dozens of fairy lights and pink paper lanterns (clearly Barbie was the more anticipated movie tonight). It looked gorgeous, and cozy, especially now with the sun halfway down the horizon.

Which, as a matter of fact, made the whole setting feel... a little too intimate.

The others were nowhere to be seen, and it was just you and Rafe now, standing near the entrance. And the fact that he'd been all gentlemanly earlier didn’t help—THIS ALMOST FELT LIKE A FUCKING DATE, JESUS CHRIST.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK CALM DOWN. JUST LOOK AROUND, MAYBE I CAN SPOT--

"I guess you'll want some snacks and shit like that."

Your head snapped back to him, suddenly very aware of how exposed you felt without your jacket, without Topper, Kelce, or Molly AROUND AND AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH.

The only thing grounding you was the bag on your shoulder, which you were now holding onto like your life depended on it.

"Um, yeah, sure," you said, internally begging your brain to chill the fuck out.

WHY DIDN’T HE CARE WHERE THE OTHERS WERE THOUGH??? HELLOOO YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONE, PLEASE LOOK FOR THEM.

With a simple "Aight, come on" from Rafe, you followed him toward one of the snack stands, trying to maintain a respectful distance.

This time, there was no one for Rafe to cut in front of, so the two of you just stood there AND YOUR BRAIN COMPLETELY BLANKED ON EVERY TOPIC KNOWN TO MAN.

How was he so chill while you almost debated asking him what brand of microwave he’d recommend because you LITERALLY had nothing else to think of HELP.

Nervously, you hugged yourself, trying to ground yourself by gently pinching the skin on your upper arm.

"You cold?"

You met his raised eyebrows and instinctively dropped your hands, giving him a small, smiley shake of your head. "Wh—no. No."

Rafe eyed you for a long second before saying, "You're being weird."

NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT OH MY GOD.

"You're always weird, but this is weird-weird," he added, dry amusement in his tone.

You let out a strained chuckle. "Okay, maybe I am kind of cold."

ughhhhhhhhhhhh. Please believe me, please believe me, please—

"Well, then we’ll buy a fucking blanket. Jesus Christ, you gotta chill."

oKAY.

WAIT—WE?!?!?!?!?!

You had zero time to spiral over that because suddenly, you two were up. WAIT—YOU TWO??? NO. RAFE. RAFE WAS NEXT. HELP. WHAT’S GOING ON.

He ordered some nachos with salsa dip and a large diet coke and then turned to you with an expectant expression.

WHAT. NO FUCKING WAY.

No no no no no no. Him paying AGAIN felt so insanely weird for no reason. You stepped forward and grabbed your wallet, and he looked at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

"That's some disrespect," he said, raising an eyebrow, though the amusement in his tone was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "I just... you really don’t have to—"

"Shit, only thing I wanna hear right now is your order," he cut you off, and the cashier's barely hidden smile just made the whole thing ten times more awkward.

And because you really didn’t want to drag this painfully awkward situation out any longer, you just told her your snack and drink choice.

Rafe placed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter and added, "And a blanket. Large."

The pretty cashier girl glanced between the two of you, lifting a brow with clear amusement. "We only have small ones left."

YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

PLEASE ASK FOR TWO. PLEASE FUCKING ASK FOR TWO.

"Yeah, well, one of those then."

[Insert brain explosion sound here.]

You could literally feel the adrenaline flooding your body, nerves tingling and buzzing, butterflies flying around all confused and bumping into each other like WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONE.

You kinda felt like hyperventilating but all you did was smile with the most strained expression because what :) else :) were :) you :) supposed :) to :) do :)?????!?!??!!

Rafe took the change and shouldered the blanket bag over one strap, then reached for his snack order.

You grabbed yours too and followed him, your nerves shot to hell. You honestly felt like some helpless prey knowing it was about to get devoured but having no idea when.

Your cheeks burned hot and you were pretty sure your blood pressure was sky-high, except you had no idea why you were freaking out so much. All you could hear was your own heart pounding in your chest and ears.

You almost didn’t even notice that Rafe had stopped, or rather, that he’d been stopped.

Wait, no. Rafe had stopped because you’d been stopped.

Cara had grabbed your arm, halting you in your tracks, a huge grin on her face as she greeted you both.

Shit. And JJ was next to her, waving with a smile.

Your half-panic attack vanished instantly, now replaced with a new, different anxiety: Rafe freaking out, saying some dumb shit, or worse, starting actual shit with JJ. Or JJ not keeping his mouth shut. Or even worse, the other Pogues showing up.

But they didn’t. And all Rafe did was...stay quiet, other than giving Cara a casual "'Sup."

WHICH MADE YOU ALL THE MORE CONFUSED BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIM TODAY.

"Already said hi to Kelce and Molly," Cara said, eyeing you with a grin that basically screamed I-see-one-blanket-and-your-jacket’s-missing-soooo-wink-wink. "Also spotted Topper, but didn’t wanna interrupt his chit-chat with Ruthie."

RUTHIE’S HERE? OF COURSE SHE’S HERE.

Rafe scoffed. "He’s salty 'cause you turned him down."

Cara blinked, genuinely looking a little guilty. "I didn’t turn him down. I just already promised someone else I’d join their group. And last I checked, his car only has five seats anyway."

"Could’ve thrown Kelce in the trunk," Rafe shrugged.

Dude.

"Or someone could’ve gotten cozy on a lap," JJ added with a smirk. Directed at you.

DUDE.

Rafe finally tensed and you found yourself relaxing (girl, are you okay???) because that was a sign he wasn’t some polite and gentleman-programmed clone of himself.

But before he could snap at JJ, Cara stepped in. "Or Topper could stop acting like a drama queen just because I turned down his invite," she said with a frown, though you knew better. She felt bad.

Rafe tilted his head, and the air shifted in a way you did not like. Great. Now you had to de-escalate this?

"I’m sure he’d still appreciate it if you say hi later," you said with a smile that was clearly meant to signal pls-this-is-getting-weird-fast.

Cara, thank god, got the message and sighed dramatically. "Guess you’re right." Then she looked at her wrist like there was a watch. "Oh no, movie’s starting soon. Gotta grab our snacks before we miss out."

Oscar goes to her for sure.

You just nodded, smile still strained. "Right."

"Okay, see you two later!" she grinned at both of you, then grabbed JJ by the arm and dragged him off toward the food stalls.

Bomb successfully defused.

You turned back to Rafe and he looked at you with a boyish grin. "Didn’t know she had piercings."

Wh—OH. WHAT.

You stared at him blankly.

Had he seriously checked out her tits? Okay, no judgment, like Cara had gone braless today and her boobs looked legitimately perfect—like GODDESS-LEVEL—in that pink dress of hers, and even you couldn’t help but notice the second she'd walked up but...

You didn’t like that Rafe had.

Of course, of course he could look. He was a guy after all, and what else did they ever see beyond tits and ass, and yeah, Cara was an absolute bombshell, but…

Hm.

HM.

A weird feeling spread through your stomach and the butterflies just kinda sat there now, not sure what to do or how to feel.

"Well, yeah, I guess," you said, and it was so painfully obvious how the slight bitterness in your voice still came through. So you tried to compensate with a smile, but you probably looked like someone being held at gunpoint. "She got them a few weeks ago."

Rafe seemed way too entertained by that and just nodded with a wide grin. "Bet that hurt."

"It’s a sensitive area, so... yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

An awkward silence started creeping in, adding to the sudden clenching in your chest, and you felt huge secondhand embarrassment for yourself. For being JEALOUS of your own best friend, especially when you and Rafe weren’t even a couple in ANY WAY and just UGHHHH.

Can I be normal for ONE FUCKING SECOND, please.

"Ayo, Rafe!" Kelce’s voice suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the event space.

You and Rafe both looked up and spotted him somewhere between the seating area in front of the screen, waving with both arms.

Relief washed over you, and without waiting for any comment from Rafe, you started walking toward Kelce through the rows of bean bags, lounge chairs, and picnic blankets.

You found Kelce sitting on one of the lounge beds in the back rows… and Molly on a different one (?). A second later, you felt Rafe’s presence beside you.

Kelce patted the spot next to him, a huge grin on his face. "We saved you one of the best spots. Didn't want you sitting on some uncomfortable floor pillows. Bad for the spine, you know."

...no. Just. NO.

NONONONONONONONO.

There was no way you were gonna lie down on a damn shared lounge bed with RAFE, barely wide enough for two people. NOPE. NO. NO THANK YOU.

OKAY YES HOLY SHIT YES, BUT ALSO NO NO NO.

And Rafe—this NONCHALANT FUCKING GUY—didn’t give a single fuck. After Kelce had gotten up and moved over to sit with Molly, Rafe just dropped the blanket bag onto the bed and placed his nachos and Coke on the holder on the left side like this was the most normal thing ever.

You just stood there frozen, your heart SCREAMING AT YOU TO JUST SIT DOWN while your brain was spiraling, throwing thoughts and questions around, with the two big monsters called fear and anxiety looming over everything like a cold storm—

“Come on, Y/n.”

Molly. Her voice was soft and quiet next to you. “Enjoy yourself a little.”

She looked up at you with her sweet smile and kind eyes. There was a gentle understanding in her expression, and beneath it, this warm encouragement—like she got it. Like she really understood what was happening inside your head. The panic, the confusion, and mostly the sheer anxiety about this whole... situation.

And somehow, just that little sentence and her sweet smile were enough to bring a tiny bit of quiet to your brain.

YOU COMPLETELY UNDERSTOOD WHY KELCE HAD IMMEDIATELY FALLEN FOR HER BECAUSE DUDE.

“You waiting for an invitation or what?” And then there was Rafe with his passive-aggressive bullshit, already lying back with his legs up, shoes off, sipping his stupid Coke Zero.

Remember: he’s just a dumbass. Sure, he might be the biggest crush you've ever had, but deep down he's just a dumb little stupid boy. You had absolutely no reason to feel intimidated or nervous around him.

WELL YOU HADN’T—UNTIL HE'D DECIDED TO BE A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN TODAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okokokok whatever, I’m gonna move now and just sit down. Yeah, yeah, a little smile, mm-hmm, that’s it. And now I’ll set my stuff down on my side. Okay, done. Oh shit, my drink nearly slipped hahah. Whatever, it’s fine. Now I’ll hang my bag on the hook at the side and then I'MGONNATAKEAPLACEJUSTINCHESAWAYFROMRAFEOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

DONE.

KJDEWFBGVJKWRBGFVWSJKBHFCSKWHBFESQHRL.

You smoothed out the fabric of your dress, let your hands fall into your lap, and leaned not at all tensely against the pillow backrest, staring straight ahead like a normal person because everything about this was completely normal.

:) yes, normal :)

Oh, wait. Your shoes.

You kicked them off and tossed them into the grass, and because you could feel Rafe’s burning gaze on you the whole time, you finally met his eyes—and he looked so fucking done with you it was almost hilarious.

He didn’t even look pissed. Just straight-up The-Office-style deadpan, like he was staring directly into some invisible camera, and that camera was your eyes.

"You know, at this point, you might as well just sit in the grass," he said, walking that fine line between annoyance and amusement.

And okay, he kind of had a point. You were sitting so far to the right your right leg was basically hanging off the edge of the bed.

I’m so fucking embarrassing holy shit.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and your heart sank when his brows furrowed.

"Are you seriously scared I might try some shit?" He actually sounded hurt beneath all that faux offense, and now you felt like the biggest idiot alive.

You shook your head instantly, heart racing. "No, no, of course not." An embarrassed smile crept onto your face. "I just—"

"Some minion fucker said shit to you," he stated, voice and expression softening just a little now.

Nodding at that painfully accurate guess felt humiliating. Sure, by now he knew your brain was a little fucked up, but not being able to just sit next to him? So fucking ridiculous.

You forced yourself to scoot a little closer, away from the edge, feeling like the most embarrassing human being on earth.

“Okay, stop,” he said, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. He motioned to his chest. “I’m not gonna sit here with you acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint, alright? So if you’d rather go join Hall and her lapdog,” he made a shooing motion with his hand, “go for it.”

Your heart clenched at how disappointed and lowkey sad he sounded rather than mad or annoyed. And he’d been so nice today anyway, all smiley and chill, and now he looked like someone had popped his favorite balloon. Or, more accurately: like you had.

Of course you WEREN’T scared he’d try anything. Not in the slightest, oh my god, no, it was just…

NOTHING. There wasn’t a single damn problem except you and your own damn head.

Fuck that. Seriously, fuck your brain and every thought it ever created. Just—fuck it.

Shaking your head, you said, “What? No. No! I’m fine here. It’s… I’m just being stupid, okay?”

Rafe gave you a look like he was considering getting up and sitting somewhere else, but his gaze softened into a smile. He tapped his head. “Nah, it’s your fucking asshole brain feeding you stupid shit.” He sighed, then shook his head again. “Can’t believe I even have to say this shit, but if it helps you chill the fuck out: I’m gonna keep my hands to myself, alright?” He picked up the blanket bag and moved it toward you. “And this was meant for you anyway. I don’t need it.”

Okay no.

You did NOT want him feeling like he needed to explain himself just to not be seen as a creep because YOU KNEW DAMN WELL HE WASN’T.

JESUS CHRIST. You were the one putting people into shitty situations like this. And Rafe, of all people—this guy probably had to put up with your bullshit more than anyone else these past few days.

Furrowing your brows, you scooted closer and grabbed the blanket bag, opening it up and tossing that stupid thing to the side. You tried spreading the fluffy pink blanket across both your legs, but it was so awkwardly rolled together you kinda failed and a giant ball of fluff just landed squarely on both your laps.

“The fuck are you trying to achieve here?” Rafe said, half annoyed, half amused, watching you struggle with the small-ass blanket.

You leaned forward, trying to figure out which side was up. “Proving to you that I’m not uncomfortable around you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, letting out a strained breath as he gently slapped your hand away from awkwardly fumbling with the blanket. In one smooth motion, he spread it lengthwise across both your laps.

Then you realized—it was still too warm for a blanket, especially a fluffy one like this, and you could already feel sweat creeping onto your skin. Thank god, Rafe felt it too.

“Okay, point proven,” he said with a soft scoff. “Now can we ditch this thing before I get a fucking heatstroke?”

You let out a chuckle and nodded, pulling the blanket off and tossing it to the foot of your seat.

As you shifted positions, the background music faded and the sound of the movie started. Wait, no, just some commercials. The voices around you gradually died down anyway, and the last people were finding their seats.

The air between you and Rafe finally settled. Back to as normal as it could get. And so fast too, like, you never really had to be afraid of anything with him, because even if you got into a dumb little argument, you two always somehow figured it out right away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head toward you, hands resting on his stomach. “Have you seen the movie before?”

You tilted your head toward him too, adrenaline spiking the second you realized how close you were. Elbows just a few inches apart, his face still at a respectful formal distance but close enough for you to see the blue pattern in his stupidly pretty eyes.

And god, his cologne in the air between you.

You smiled and shook your head softly. “You?”

“Nah,” he said, and Jesus, his gaze was always so intense. “Didn’t even wanna see this crap, but Wheezie insisted I come.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “She seems more and more likeable every time you talk about her.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he scratched his jaw. “She says the same about you.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD. HE TALKED TO HIS LITTLE SISTER ABOUT YOU???? AHUJCHDNSKCHNKEHVBSFD WHAT.

His gaze drifted back to the screen as the actual intro to the movie started playing. A woman’s voice narrated something over the scene of girls playing with dolls, but you weren’t really listening.

You were too aware of Rafe sitting right there, the scent of his cologne, how relaxed he seemed—and still thinking about that almost hurt expression he had earlier.

You stared blankly at the screen, biting the inside of your cheek. He’s actually trying to make me feel comfortable, and I made him feel like I was grossed out or scared of him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tilted your head toward him, eyeing his calm profile for a second. The softness of his skin, his cute little lashes, the focused look in his eyes—and the violet-tinted bruise on his cheek that almost looked like a blossom.

“Rafe,” you said quietly.

You almost melted at how soft he looked when he turned his head toward you. Big blue eyes staring at you, almost scared of what you were about to say.

"I’m sorry about earlier," you said with a soft look. "I acted like an idiot. Probably made you feel like one, too."

Rafe shook his head and waved it off. “Nah, it’s alright. I’m used to your shit by now.”

Nope. That didn’t sit right with you.

You pressed your lips together, turning your body to face him in a sideways position, legs pulled up toward you. His eyes flicked briefly to the curve of your hip before meeting your gaze again, clearly trying not to smile.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, but you kept your gaze steady, your expression serious. “Still. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to explain yourself.”

Rafe let out an amused breath. "Chill, okay? Seriously, I didn’t mind."

How was he sometimes so chill, and other times made a whole issue out of something that wasn’t even one?

"Or do you need me to shut up the asshole minion in your head?" he said, lips tugging into a downward smile.

You let out a quiet chuckle and fidgeted with the bracelet on your wrist. "I think I managed that myself, but thanks."

He pulled a mock-pained face. "Sucks. Would’ve loved to smash that guy’s face in."

Another soft giggle slipped from your lips, and with that conversation wrapped up, you turned back to your original position. The fabric of your dress had ridden up slightly, giving a peak at your thighs and you quickly tugged it back down with an awkward motion.

Barbieland was now being introduced on the screen, showcasing all the different Barbie variants.

And then it was Rafe who shifted, leaning forward to grab the blanket.

You eyed him with a confused smile as he pulled it back over both your legs. “So you are in fact cold” you said, amused, heart racing at the sweet gesture.

Rafe looked up, almost startled, as he pulled the blanket over his lap as well. “What? Yeah, no, just... feels more comfy.”

…

Oh.

You just stared at him in slight disbelief, then amusement, then full-on embarrassment, knowing exactly what the two of you were now sharing under that blanket.

"What," he said quietly, brows furrowed with an almost accusatory tone. “It’s not like I control that shit.”

You should probably be weirded out. No, actually—FREAK OUT, PANIC, stand up and leave. But instead, you just pressed your lips together, trying not to chuckle at how genuinely awkward he looked. And probably felt.

Shit, you actually felt sorry for him.

So, in a weak attempt to make him feel better, you mirrored his movement, pulling your side of the blanket over your lap too and quietly shifting your gaze back to the screen, where the stereotypical Barbie was just being introduced.

Your heart was racing nonetheless, because like... not Rafe getting hard at the most random-ass moment during a Barbie movie. And not you lying just a few inches away from him and OKAY MAYBE KINDA PANICKING A LITTLE.

nONONONONO. Stuff like that happens all the time. He probably felt just as embarrassed as you did. Honestly, maybe even more.

Okay. Just ignore it. It'll probably go away soon, right?

Keeping your focus on the movie was kinda hard though, with how uncomfortable you felt in your current position, neck all tense because you were lying too low, and being on your back felt awkward in general.

So now you had two options: either turn on your side, facing Rafe, or turn your back to him. And given his current��situation, you weren’t really sure which one was worse.

Shit, but you really couldn’t lie like that anymore, and you didn’t wanna risk a cramp or something just because you were too scared to move. So you decided to turn onto your side—facing him—because, well… you didn’t wanna make him feel bad by turning away.

Grabbing the pillow behind you, you slid one hand underneath it and rested the other next to your face. There. Much better.

"You doing that shit on purpose now?" Rafe asked, and your head snapped toward him, catching him glancing at the curve of your hip again, now hidden under the blanket.

You let out a baffled little laugh, shaking your head. "What? No. This is just more comfortable."

“Yeah, shit. Not for me,” he muttered, and poor boy actually looked like he was suffering.

Nerves buzzing, you just stared at him cluelessly, your heart racing at the possibility that you were the reason for his current situation. "I... what do you want me to do?"

"I don’t know, stop moving." He looked so genuinely embarrassed, wearing that little scowl, that somehow it didn’t feel that weird. Okay, it did, but not as much as you'd expected. And honestly, right now, you just wanted to make him feel a little less awkward.

"Well... maybe turning on your side might help," you said quietly, with a barely hidden smile. "Might ease the pressure, considering—"

"Please just shut the fuck up," Rafe muttered, his face contorted in the most dramatic frown possible. On screen, stereotypical Barbie was now getting ready for her day. Then, after a beat, he did in fact shift downward a bit and turned to face you, mirroring your position.

For a moment, you just stared at each other. A respectful distance between you, but still close enough to feel his breath on your hand. He looked at you like he might actually murder you if you dared open your mouth, and you tried your absolute best not to laugh.

“Did you know,” you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, “Mr. Martin’s buttcrack always peeks out when he tries to write on the upper half of the board.”

Rafe stared at you, deadpan, very obviously trying to suppress a smile. You decided to go one further: “Looks like a dark hairy caterpillar from afar.”

His features softened almost immediately as a baffled chuckle escaped him, the blanket on your side lifting a little as his body shifted onto his back. He dragged a hand over his face in annoyed amusement, letting out a quiet, "What the fuck."

You held back a smile, glancing up at him with raised brows, feeling a little proud for getting those soft chuckles out of him from time to time. “Did that help?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Shit, yeah, it did. I’ll probably never get hard again with that cursed image now burned into my brain."

“Imagine him in a tankini, that should do the trick,” you offered, and Rafe’s face twisted in disgust.

He tapped a finger against his temple. “That weird-ass minion in your head is worse than the shit-talking one.”

You let out a soft giggle, and your heart did a little jump when you saw him smiling along too.

Rafe then fully shifted onto his back again and tried adjusting the blanket higher up, but since it was stretched lengthwise over both of you, your feet ended up exposed. A soft breeze hit them, now that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon.

"Okay, you gotta scoot closer if we both wanna fit under here," he said, scoffing at your expression. "Shit, relax. Thanks to your overly detailed description of Martin’s wrinkly, hairy caterpillar buttcrack, I'm probably gonna be impotent for the next few weeks."

NOT RELAXING IN THE SLIGHTEST RIGHT NOW.

“But I can get up and grab my own blanket if you want,” he added more seriously, catching your baffled look.

WHY WAS HE SO SWEET TONIGHT OH MY GOD.

Okay. This is your chance for SOME CLOSENESS WITH HIM. He might’ve had a boner just now HAHAHAHAHA and you were still kind of shocked at yourself for how weirdly chill you'd reacted, BUT LET’S JUST IGNORE THAT AND USE THIS FUCKING CHANCE GIRLLLLL LET’S GOOOO.

Quietly, you shook your head with a nervous smile, grabbed your pillow, and scooted closer to him. While you kind of struggled to figure out how exactly you were supposed to lie next to him that close, Rafe grabbed the blanket and turned it so that the long side actually covered the length of your bodies.

Okay, lying on your side wasn’t really possible here, so you turned onto your back. But now your upper arms were awkwardly pressed together, both of you with your hands resting on your stomach, and your hips were touching, too, AND JESUS CHRIST HIS BODY FELT SO WARM.

But hey, at least you were both covered now, even if you were pretty sure he could hear your heartbeat, with how loud it was pounding in your chest.

Barbie was now at the beach with her friends, the Kens were doing some beach stuff or whatever BUT YOU COULDN’T REALLY FOCUS.

Also, his elbow was digging uncomfortably into yours, so you tried adjusting yours, which made him move again AND JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS AWKWARD.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe said with a quiet scoff and leaned forward. “This isn’t working.”

You just blinked at him, afraid he’d actually get up now to grab his own blanket.

Instead, he gently grabbed your shoulder, signaling you to lean forward for a second. Which you did—letting him take the lead because your brain had gone completely blank at THIS ABSURDLY CLOSE PROXIMITY.

Rafe grabbed your pillow, scooted into a more upright position, then leaned back again, his right arm now resting on the low backrest, his head supported by his hand. With the other, he placed the pillow in the now empty space, half on his shoulder and under his armpit, and gestured to it.

GUYS.

“There,” he said. “You okay with that?”

JUST SAY YES AND LIE DOWN, NO SECOND GUESSING.

So you did. Heart hammering so loud you didn’t even hear yourself speak. You smiled—half anxious, half excited—and leaned back again.

Since he was lying slightly elevated on his back, you had to scoot down a little, your head pressing against the pillow, your left shoulder half resting on his chest, and you folded your hands comfortably on your stomach. Your elbow ended up resting against the side of his hip because of that, and you expected him to shift away...but he didn’t. And NEITHER DID YOU because acknowledging it would just make it worse and—

GIRL. RELAX.

Your body was relaxed. Rafe’s warmth helped you ease into it, and the fact that he was so chill made it even easier. BUT YOUR MIND? YOUR MIND WAS SCREAMING, RUNNING IN CIRCLES, SETTING EVERYTHING ON FIRE BECAUSE YOU WERE BASICALLY HALF-CUDDLING WITH RAFE RIGHT NOW.

It’s fine. It’s cool.

Everything’s completely chill.

Actually, yeah, literally chill. Your skin had goosebumps, both from the situation and the drop in temperature over the past half hour.

And then a whole firework erupted on your upper right arm as you felt Rafe’s arm behind you shift, to pull up the blanket on your side and cover the rest of your upper body, AND HIS FINGERS BRUSHED YOUR SKIN AS HE DID SO AND—

You held your breath.

Because.

THIS FUCKER just left his arm there. Not back on the armrest, not casually elsewhere—no, right there, lightly resting on your right shoulder, his fingers playing with the sleeve of your dress.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood because WAS THIS EVEN REAL?! WAS THIS ON PURPOSE OR WAS HE JUST SO FOCUSED ON THE MOVIE HE DIDN’T NOTICE? AHHHHHHHHH

But you let him.

You let him because you wanted this. Being close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, all cozied up. Your heart was racing, fluttering like it didn’t know whether to panic or melt. Every brush of his arm sent little sparks down your spine, too much and not enough all at once.

Because, as a matter of fact, it wasn't enough. Now that you’d had a taste of this feeling—of how it felt being so close to him—it was like something inside you had been lit up. There was this deep urge and longing to completely turn toward him, fully cuddle up, put your hand on his chest, drape a leg over his, bury your head in his chest and just inhale his scent and UGHHHH.

But you were a coward. A scaredy cat, too afraid he’d push you away. Especially because this right here? It was toeing a fine line between “we’re just cold and sharing a blanket so obviously we scoot closer” and “considering we’re just project partners who happened to agree on being friends, this was way more intimate than necessary.”

Hey, funny thought here: what if you just did it? :)

Because HE clearly never gave much thought to how his little flirtations affected you. He made it damn clear it was all just for fun. So maybe you could just… cuddle with him. For fun.

Worst case? He’d say something like “You wanna get into it now or what?” and then you’d just awkwardly laugh and go “Sorry, just felt more comfy like this” and scoot back into your old position.

Remember? With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing some dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

FUCK IT.

You pressed your lips together and pushed yourself up on your elbow, ignoring the pang of disappointment as his arm slipped back onto the backrest, his expression confused. DOESN’T MATTER, PUSH THROUGH GIRL. Adrenaline shot up as you grabbed the pillow that had been under his arm and silently placed it across his ribs, READY TO LAY DOWN—

—only for him to stop you with a crooked smile, your heart dropping straight through the floor.

You froze. Completely. Like your body had hit an invisible wall. Eyes wide, breath hitched, you just… stared at him. You didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, afraid that even the smallest word might expose you in the worst way possible.

“Shit, you're gonna suffocate me with that thing,” Rafe said with amusement and moved the pillow to the side. Then he gestured toward the now free space on the side of his chest. “There.”

Your whole body buzzed as his right arm returned to your upper arm, now gently nudging you toward him.

Ignoring every voice of reason and panic in your head, letting yourself be guided into him, turning your body toward his, resting your head against the side of his chest, your shoulder naturally tilting in, your arm daring to settle on his upper stomach.

Every nerve lit up, hyperaware of the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into yours through his shirt. It was terrifying and euphoric, like stepping off a ledge and realizing, just for a second, that maybe you liked the adrenaline you felt while looking downward.

And then you almost exploded, because this guy took it a step further. His left hand remained casually on his thigh, but his other arm wrapped around your back, HIS HAND NOW RESTING ON YOUR BLANKET-COVERED WAIST.

Okay. You were officially done for :)))))))

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud it felt like drums in your ears, pulse probably skyrocketing, and let’s not even talk about the adrenaline—you’d probably need the ER in the next few seconds.

And the craziest thing was how he'd just accepted it. He'd let you do this. Hadn’t said anything dumb, hadn’t made a joke. Instead, he just laid there, snacking on his nachos and sipping his Coke Zero occasionally, the only things he said being how stupid Ken looked and acted and how weird his rivalry with the other Ken was.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell him that, actually, that was exactly how you saw him and Kelce. So you just stayed quiet, chuckled softly whenever he made another snarky remark, and soaked in this surreal moment that would be over again in about 60 minutes.

And when his left hand absentmindedly started playing with the bracelet dangling from your wrist, you didn’t say anything either—too afraid to ruin whatever this was.

Because somehow, it felt like the little agreement of friendship you made just yesterday was already, very slowly, starting to slip away into something you were too afraid to name.

Or maybe. Maybe, this was just what it looked like when two people, thrown together by coincidence, trusted each other enough to get this comfortable without needing to put it into words.

Little did you two know—it was both.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

✿ A / N ✿ imma be real, i feel like i fucked up their whole dynamic with the last scene aka them lying on the bed and cuddling and ughhh, and i also feel like you can feel through the writing how impatient i grew with the ending of this ch. idk maybe i should've postponed this and actually think it through but i kinda lost my mind with this one and now it seems like i skipped over some steps. idk maybe i'm just tired or biased bc of how long this chapter is so what do you guys think? bc i'm srsly considering reworking the last part HAHAHAHAH #heart'sactuallyracingrn

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T (soon) ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife @persiar9

[demie90s]

Heyyy!! This is my first time sending a request I’m so excited and I love your work!!!! Maybe like the reader got their wisdom teeth out and shows up to practice and everyone is like 👀 why are you here and reader is just like 👁️👄👁️ and just acting chaotic bc of the meds with whoever either like UConn or DT

I also love anything like DT UConn or Sue but I don’t have any ideas specific ideas

Sedated & Unbothered

UConn WBB x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Wisdom teeth taken out and somehow still shows up to practice, cheeks swollen, high off meds, and completely chaotic. The team’s like “Why are you even here?”

Warnings: Post-surgery chaos, drugged behavior, team banter, light fluff, harmless delirium

Word count: ~ 0.4k

I walk into practice like I own the place.

Which, to be fair, I kinda do. Even if I am high off gas with gauze in my mouth and the swagger of a sleep-deprived toddler in Jordans. Hoodie half on, laces untied, lips chapped, eyes glassy—fresh out the oral surgeon’s chair like it’s a damn press conference.

The second I stumble in, everything stops.

Paige freezes with a Gatorade half-raised. Azzi tilts her head like I’m a math problem she wasn’t prepared for. Nika looks concerned, which means I probably look bad. And KK—KK is already recording.

“Why are you here?” Caroline asks gently, like I just wandered into the wrong building.

“I’m…” I pause. Blink. “I’m an athlete.”

Aubrey covers her mouth to stop from laughing.

KK’s behind the camera narrating: “Day 1 post-op. She think she in the Final Four.”

Geno comes out of his office at that exact moment, sees me standing there swaying with gauze peeking from my mouth and a crooked smile.

He stares. Hard.

“Why…” he sighs. “Why are you here?”

I sniff dramatically. “Y’all woulda missed me.”

He rubs his face. “You had surgery.”

“I’m healed.”

“You’re drooling.”

“I’m multitasking.”

The team is wheezing at this point. Paige drops her Gatorade. Azzi sits down. Nika turns to Ice and says, “If she falls, I’m not helping.”

“I wanna shoot,” I mumble, voice all muffled and wet.

“No, you wanna sit,” Geno says.

I pout. Legit pout. Lower lip trembling, blinking slow like I’m about to cry. Whether it’s from pain or dramatics, not even I know. It’s all the same at this point.

Geno stares me down for five more seconds while I hiccup. Then turns to Paige.

“Give her a basketball before she starts sobbing.”

KK lets out a full scream.

“GIVE THE BABY THE BALL!” she yells, running over like it’s a parade.

I grab it with both hands like it’s the holy grail. Hug it to my chest.

Then I look up, completely deadpan: “Y’all wanna run 5v5?”

Geno’s already walking away. “Don’t pass her the ball. She’s concussed on accident.”

Nika, mid-shootaround, mutters under her breath, “She’s playing better than me and she’s sedated.”

By the end of practice, I’ve taken five corner threes (made three), hugged Azzi at least four times, told Paige she looked like a golden retriever “but sexy,” asked Geno if I could get my name tattooed on the floor, and cried into KK’s TruFru bag because it tasted “like God kissed it.”

I don’t remember most of it. But apparently? We still ran sprints. And I beat Caroline. Sedated and still elite.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[lucinfernos]

the gang as humans cus i can't draw anything animal-related to save my life!!

some headcanons for the kids: - they're all 15 except susie, 16, who had to repeat a grade due to so many absences - susie has ARFID & PICA which is why she likes eating crazy stuff like chalk, pinecones and ice cubes. she also has PCOS! - noelle has a condition similar to vitiligo that gives her skin the deer-like light spots :) her legs are also a little bowed. - kris has selective mutism but is the loudest person in the room when they're with people they deem safe - kris's eyes always look like the way people's do when the camera flash is caught in photographs. nobody knows why, but their eyesight is great in the dark! - berdly has never thought about his sexuality and wouldn't really label it, either. he falls for the person (which... in this case is literally everyone) - berdly has a speech impediment caused by his overbite, particularly affecting his pronounciation of S and R, as well as braces (currently with blue bands). his eyesight is also abysmal. he refers to this set of issues as "having been nerfed when first spawned into the world" :p

[lazysoulwriter]

how i met your wifey ── pedro pascal .✦

requested! thank you. content: fluff / wife!reader / bestie!Sarah Paulson / chaotic IG live / marriage origin story / soft teasing + drive-thru shenanigans

Sarah’s phone is angled just right, catching the golden late-afternoon sun slicing through the car windows.

Pedro’s driving. You’re in the passenger seat, sunglasses perched on your nose, humming softly to the radio. And Sarah’s in the backseat, legs curled up, sunglasses on, Live flashing in the corner of her screen.

“Okay, so listen,” she says, already giggling. “Everyone’s always like, ‘How did Pedro and his wife meet?’ and technically I introduced them—so I’m taking credit for this marriage until the day I die.”

Pedro glances at her in the rearview. “We’ve talked about this. You're not allowed to say that unless you also take credit for the arguments.”

“I will, gladly,” Sarah grins. “I’m part of the origin story.”

“She really is,” you say, glancing at your husband with a teasing smirk. “Go on, tell them. The whole story.”

Sarah leans in like she’s about to drop the greatest tale ever told.

“Okay. So. I had a party—casual, low-key, some wine, some fancy cheeses Pedro refused to pronounce—”

“They were French!” he defends, drumming the steering wheel.

“—and then this goddess walks in,” Sarah says, pointing the camera dramatically at you. “Looking all effortlessly hot. And Pedro just—froze. Like, full statue mode.”

“He didn’t talk to me the whole night,” you add, turning to smile at him.

“I panicked!” he cries. “You were so pretty and cool and I was sweating through my damn flannel!”

Sarah cackles. “So I had to do the work. The next day, I texted her like, ‘Hey, my friend Pedro thought you were cute but he forgot how to speak. Can I give him your number?’ And the rest is history.”

“And now I’m married to him,” you say, holding out your hand to show off your ring to the camera. “Because Sarah Paulson plays cupid when she’s drunk off rosé.”

Sarah flips the camera to show herself, grinning. “I am, in fact, the love witch of Los Angeles. You’re welcome.”

As if on cue, the car rolls into a drive-thru.

“Babe, you want anything?” Pedro asks you as he leans toward the speaker.

You rattle off your order, then Pedro tilts his head back toward Sarah. “You want something?”

“Yes!” she yells. “Uh, fries, large, and a vanilla shake please. And maybe a little burger if you’re feeling generous?”

“You're worse than my niece,” Pedro mutters, reaching for his wallet.

“I feel like your kid right now,” Sarah announces to the live. “Riding in the backseat, playing on my phone like a damn iPad kid, and getting drive-thru food from Mom and Dad.”

You laugh so hard you nearly drop your phone.

Pedro just grins. “That makes us the hot divorced parents everyone still ships.”

Sarah snorts. “I hate how true that sounds.”

And in that warm little car, with the smell of fries already filling the space and three lives tangled in love and laughter, the comments roll in:

the holy trinity of chaotic love, I want this life, Sarah Paulson IS the blueprint, Pedro and his wife being that couple makes so much sense now, can I be your other kid pls

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom

[norrisainz33]

enemies to... || mv33

summary: y/n and max are longtime rivals and former friends who find themselves colliding on track in spain and being forced to confront the feelings they've both been burying

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

fc & warnings: none and angsty, bad language, suggestive if you squint

requested: nope just inspired by spain

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: following an on track incident with mercedes driver, y/n y/l/n, max verstappen has dropped to p10 with a 10-second penalty.

view all comments

user1: DESERVED!!!!

user2: should've been more than 10 second penalty are you kidding

user3: nah max did nothing wrong

user4: max needs to leave y/n alone i'm so serious

user5: these two are always fighting

user6: i stand with my cancelled wife (max)

✿

you took a deep breath as you shut off the engine, your hands still trembling as you pulled the wheel out of its place and put it on the car. you had just spent the last five laps screaming over the radio, accusing max of deliberately turning in on you after he’d been instructed to give the position back. the contact had nearly put you both out of the race but somehow you’d limped over the line and managed to finish 4th despite the damage you sustained.

a forceful tap against your helmet broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find george standing at the side of your car. he offered his hand, no words, just calm eyes and quiet support. you hesitated for a moment, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease but eventually took it. his grip was firm and grounding as he helped you out of the car.

“i heard what happened,” he said quietly once your feet hit the tarmac.

you ripped your gloves off, jaw clenched, gaze locked across the parc ferme where max’s red bull was being wheeled back into the garage.

"yeah," you snapped, pulling your helmet off your head. "and this won't be the last you hear of it either."

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: two very different takes following the incident involving these two rivals in spain 🫢

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user1: y/n is handling this so much more gracefully than i would’ve

user2: i’d give anything to be a fly on the wall for when these two inevitably run into each other in the paddock

user3: max doesnt need to say anything! he did nothing wrong!

user4: i dont understand why people are giving max the benefit of the doubt here.

user5: y/n should be legally allowed to punt him off the track in canada

user7: ofc the big baby doesnt wanna talk about it.

usr6: y'all are so sensitive. max was just racing her! not his fault she was in the way

user8: taking it out on y/n as if she was the reason red bull had a shit strategy??? have some shame max

✿

“frankly he cost his team and himself a lot of points by pulling what he did today,” you said, voice clipped as you adjusted the collar of your fireproofs trying to keep your breathing even. “i mean i’m 4th in the race and 4th in the championship and that’s really all that matters to me.”

the skysports mic hovered just a little closer, hoping to get a good sound bite from you. “if max wants to be a big crybaby and ruin his own races... i’m all for it.” and with that, you finished out the interview with short answers about canada and your plans to not talk things out with max.

the walk back to your motorhome felt endless especially as fans called out your name and cameras flashed around every corner. you didn’t stop like you usually did... not for selfies, not for questions, not for anything. the last thing you needed was to see his smug face again so the quicker you got out of there the better. but as it usually does... fate had other plans.

you stepped into mercedes hospitality, finally exhaling, only to be met with an agitating grating voice.

“a crybaby, huh?”

you turned sharply, the door still half-open behind you. max stood with his arms folded, his jaw tight, his cheeks still red from the heat of the race and his narrowed eyes were locked onto you like a missile. “yes,” you said dryly. “an ego-driven man child with no concept of accountability.”

a couple of mechanics quickly ducked past, awkwardly pretending not to hear. you and max had a reputation especially after a few incidents last year... max stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “a man child? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you scoffed turning on your heel. “max, I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“too bad,” he bit out, already following behind you, his footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. “i don’t give a shit what you want.”

you reached your driver’s room and threw the door open, stepping inside quickly trying to shut it behind you but max caught it before it slammed in his face.

“get out!” you snapped at the dutchman.

“no!” he snapped right back. “not until you drop the ‘poor me’ act and admit you knew exactly what you were doing out there.”

“you are insufferable,” you hissed, tossing your gloves onto the couch. “you turned in on me, ignored the team and nearly wrecked both of us.”

“you dive bombed into that corner like you had nothing to lose!” he shouted.

“first of all, i did not dive bomb you and second of all, I don’t drive scared unlike the rest of the grid when big bad max comes by!”

silence crackled between you, thick and heavy, your chests rising and falling in sync as the adrenaline refused to die down. “you are the fucking worst, max verstappen,” you whispered, voice shaking with anger, frustration, maybe something else you didn’t dare name.

his eyes flicked to your lips for a half second before narrowing again. “funny. i was about to say the same thing about you.” the air between you sparked like static. neither of you moved. neither of you dared to blink.

"i hate you." he said, almost like he was trying to remind himself of it. max’s jaw ticked and for a second you thought he might back down. but instead, he took another step forward, closing the space between you. the door clicked shut behind him, whether by accident or intention, you weren’t sure.

“you think I hit you on purpose?” he questioned, voice lower now. “you think I’d throw away a podium just to mess with you?”

you let out a dry laugh, “wouldn’t be the first time you let your ego drive the car.”

he smirked, “thats so rich coming from you. you're the only person on this grid who wants to win more than they care about keeping the car on the track.”

“because I’m not here to play safe.” your eyes burned into his. “i race to win and if you can’t handle that -”

“i can handle you,” he said, stepping so close your chest brushed his. “that’s the problem. you don’t scare me, lieverd.”

the dutch slipped off his tongue like a challenge, like something heavier than an insult, something personal. your heart thudded against your ribs. “oh, you think calling me ‘darling’ in dutch is going to make me melt?” you scoffed, shoving at his chest. “newsflash, verstappen! i’m not one of your fans.”

his hand caught yours as it hit him, holding it firm between your bodies. his touch was calloused, warm. infuriatingly familiar.

“no,” he said, not taking his eyes off you or letting go of your hand despite you trying to pull it away. “you’re worse. you get under my skin and stay there.”

you hated how close he was. hated how your body betrayed you and wanted nothing more than to lean further into him. and before you could stop yourself, before logic could win over impulse... you grabbed his face and crashed your mouth against his.

it was teeth and frustration, months of tension and post-race fury unraveling all at once. his hand came up to the back of your head messing up your hair and anchoring you like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

a loud knock pounded at the door a short second before it swung open, "y/n/n, i wanted to check on you after -" the familiar sound of lando's voice filled the room and despite the speed at which you and max had pulled away from each other.. he absolutely saw it all. "oh wow! ok so…. you're fine i guess." he smirked.

you quickly patted down your messy hair and took a few steps away from max, "lando for the love of god you have to wait until someone replies back to your knock before barging in!!"

lando looked between you and max, completely ignoring your comment. "is this some sort of weird foreplay for you both?"

"lando," max warned. "please pretend like you never saw this."

"uhhh yeah, sure mate!" lando nodded but he was just about the least capable person you knew when it came to keeping secrets.

"i'm dead ass begging you to not tell anyone," you pleaded again.

"i won't."

✿

lando has added to his private story

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maxverstappen1: say 1 word and no more trips on air max

lando: mmmm i think id survive mate

maxverstappen1: lando im begging you. this was the first and only time this has ever happened and i think her and i need to figure out what’s going on before the whole paddock gets involved

lando: 🫣 you two are no fun!! tho i really think you both need to be honest with each other because i am fairly certain you both have a thing for the other one and i just need all this feuding to end

ynuser: you literally stepped out of the room 2 seconds ago!!!!!!

lando: and? i’m efficient

ynuser: lando you’re my best friend and all but don’t think i won’t pull a max and try to run you off the track if you leak this

lando: only if you kiss me afterwards

ynuser: UGH NO

lando: don’t worry i’m just making you both sweat i won’t explicitly tell anyone

ynuser: 😔😔😔😔 in the 15 years i’ve known you you have never once been able to keep a secret

lando: slander! i kept the secret when you hid max’s gloves in karting and he couldn’t find them

lando: now that i’m saying that … have you had a crush on him since karting?????????

ynuser: you did not keep that secret you gave them back to him and no!!!!! i don’t know!!! i don’t think so!!!

lando: ughhhhh you don’t think so?! how do you not remember girl

ynuser: i mean maybe i did! i was more focused on hating his guts because he wouldn't stop beating me

lando: sounds like a crush to me

ynuser: shut UP!! i need to process this

oscarpiastri: story time !

lando: YIPPEEEEEE

georgerussell63: TELL NE TELL ME TELLLLL MEEEEE

lando: i unfortunately can’t

georgerussell63: you’ve gotta be kidding me mate

lando: the subjects of the story have threatened my safety

georgerussell63: so the story involves max?

lando: HAHAHAHAHA

lando: it doesn’t not include max

georgerussell63: and from there i’m gonna guess it also involves y/n/n

lando: you’re too good george

georgerussell63: i’m gonna keep stewing on the rest of this story. will report back when i think i figure it out

maxfewtrell: is it even a question mate???

lando: well … no!

carlossainz55: spill the beans mi amigo

lando: technically not allowed to spill any beans but catch me in the paddock and i might whisper some hints

✿

thankfully, max’s place in monaco was only a short walk from your own. under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded driving but in a place where everyone had a phone and every movement became a series of photos on some fan page as it often did in moncao, the last thing you needed was to be spotted pulling up to his building in one of your unmistakable cars. if someone clocked you heading toward the max verstappen’s apartment, alone, it wouldn’t take much for the internet to piece things together.

so instead of hopping into your mercedes, you opted for stealth. you dressed down in plain athletic shorts, a random hoodie you stole from george and a baseball cap repping some obscure american university with oversized sunglasses and headphones in, you looked more like a jet lagged tourist than a world-class driver sneaking off to see her biggest rival.

each step of the 1 km walk was filled with overthinking and stress. you kept replaying the past in your head, combing over all the little things max had done through the years, things you hadn’t ever though too hard about until now. maybe lando was right even though it pained you to admit that he may know something. max had unfortunately made it obvious you just hadn't been paying attention. from the karting days when he’d chase off any guy who got too close on track, to f3 when he picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at you twice in the paddock.

and then there was your 17th birthday party, mid-f3 season, when max had looked you dead in the eyes and told you you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. you thought he was just being nice since it was your birthday and you had a pretty rough race the day before but maybe he’d been serious. maybe you’d just been too naive to see it for what it was and too busy gaslighting yourself into believe max would never be interested in little old you.

you groaned under your breath, frustrated with yourself. how could you have missed all of it? you’d chalked up his distance after the f3 season to the pressures of moving up to f1 but maybe it wasn’t just that. maybe it was you.

by the time you reached his building and knocked softly on the door, your heart was already racing. there was a beat of silence then the sound of shuffling footsteps before the door swung open.

“you’re late,” max said, eyes scanning your face and outfit with that unreadable expression of his.

you glanced at your watch. “only by 2 minutes.”

he rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let you in. “can I get you anything? dinner’s still cooking.”

you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag onto the counter, trying to steady your nerves. “just water.”

he moved through the kitchen quietly and when he placed the glass in front of you, he didn’t say a word just went back to stirring the pot on the stove. the silence was heavy and the tension was palpable.

without turning around he cleared his throat. “so… I wanted to talk and I thought it would be better face to face. so, thank you for coming.”

you nodded, picking nervously at your nails. “yeah. no problem.”

he turned off the burner and set the pot aside before finally facing you. “first off, i’m sorry. for spain that is... i shouldn’t have driven like that.”

you raised your hands slightly, voice soft. “it’s okay. we’ve both made dumb decisions on track.”

max shook his head. “yeah, but I could’ve hurt you. and if I had… i don’t know how I’d live with that.”

there was a moment of silence as his words sank in. “my behavior’s been childish,” he admitted. “i’ve been bitter and i'm fully ready to admit that i've also been jealous. i was so very jealous of the friendship you, lando and george had and still have and of how you're always able to light up a room when you walk into it and of how you so effortlessly always get everyone to like you."

"max-" you started before he continued.

"i know it sounds pathetic but i wanted nothing more than to be your friend all through karting and through f3. i did everything i could to try and get you to like me and i got so stupidly infatuated that i ended up messing it all up in the end. i just... i don't know... i pulled away after f3 because I was embarrassed. when I asked you out at that party and you rejected me, I didn’t know how to face you again. and then when you didn’t reach out either, i assumed you didn’t want me in your life anymore.”

“i didn’t realize you were asking me out,” you whispered. “i thought you just wanted to hang out as friends which we already did. and when you moved to f1, i figured… i just figured you wouldn’t want to waste time on someone stuck in f2. you were and are so good and focused and determined that i always felt intimidated and like a silly little distraction.”

max let out a short, breathy laugh. he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter, still not fully looking at you. “god, we’re idiots,” he muttered and this time you cracked a small smile despite the lump in your throat.

“yeah,” you agreed softly. “world class athletes and total emotional amateurs.”

that got a quiet chuckle out of him, and finally, he brought himself to look at you. "why did you kiss me?" he asked and you could see the vulnerability written all over his face.

"because despite our silly year long feud which we apparently could have avoided, i haven't been able to let go of the crush i've had on you since we were kids."

he pushed off the counter, slowly stepping toward you. “so then you feel the same way about me?”

you looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. “max… i--”

“i’m not asking for you to tell me that you love me or anything like that. not right now. i just want to stop pretending like i hate you. i want to stop turning every interaction into a fight because i don’t know how else to act around you. i want to be around you… properly. at the very least just as your friend.”

your stomach flipped at his words. all the years of missed chances and misread signals crashed into you like a wave. “and if i say i want that too?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled it was soft and hopeful, a little nervous. “then i'll do everything in my power to do it right this time. starting by actually communicating my feels instead of bottling everything up.”

you stood from the stool, your steps slow but steady until you were right in front of him. “i guess i can give you a chance,” you said, teasing gently.

max raised a brow, a smile creeping to his lips. “just a chance?”

you let your head fall back with a laugh. “don’t push your luck, verstappen.”

he grinned, and for the first time in what felt like years, the tension that had formed between you began to finally unravel.

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by mercedesamgf1, lando, yourbff, redbullracing, isackhadjar, ynuser, yoursibling, maxverstappen1, and 834,222 others

f1: looks like our two favorite rivals have squashed their beef! y/n y/l/n and max verstappen arrived to the montreal paddock for media day together 👀🇨🇦

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user1: too worried about how shes out mogging him so hard to even be able to comprehend whats happening

lando: war is over! if only anyone listened to me EVER

danielriccardo: or me!! a certain dutch lion didn't listen to me either

lando: SMH

user2: not them walking in like they didn’t try to kill each other in spain 😭

geogerussell63: confused? ynuser unlock your driver room door rn i've been knocking for 3 whole minutes

ynuser: girl i'm not in there. i'm at the briefing YOU ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE IN

georgerussell63: RUNNING

user63: nah i love yngeorge duo so much i wanna be their friend

lando: apparently everyone wants to be friends with y/l/nnorussell user63

ynuser: lando keep his mouth shut challenge failed

user63: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

user3: we’ve entered the enemies to lovers era and i’m not emotionally prepared for this. i give it 3 more races till we get pics of them kissing behind the garages

isackhadjar: the plot twist of the century? are we being for real right now?

liamlawson31: i saw them with my own to eyes laughing together earlier

yukitsunoda0511: should we be afraid?

user4: this is why i trust slow burns. THIS is why!!!!

estebanocon: i’m scared

oscarpiastri: real

user5: now what in the fanfiction is this

skysportsf1 has posted an interview

view transcript

[reporter] “max, I have to start with the question everyone’s asking. you showed up to the paddock today with y/n y/l/n. should we be expecting fewer fireworks between you two this weekend?”

[max] “that depends. if she stops driving like shes in a demolition derby, maybe.”

[reporter] “so... not exactly a truce, then?”

[max] “we had a conversation and we’ve cleared a few things up.”

[reporter] “ok but things got heated after spain. you were both pretty vocal over the radio. what changed?”

[max] “sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment. doesn’t mean they’re the full story. we’ve known each other a long time and i think we forgot that for a while.”

[reporter] “so where does that leave things now?”

[max] “we’ll race like we always do. hard. but with a bit more respect, i think. maybe less screaming but who is to say.”

[reporter] “should we be reading into that very coordinated arrival this morning?”

[max] “you can read into whatever you want. i'm just here to win races.”

[reporter] “right, right. and if you win this weekend, will y/n be the first to congratulate you?”

[max] “she better be.”

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: i love a past friends to enemies to lovers fr. part 2 perhaps?????

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[rafeslittlepup]

“father’s day w rafey & our feral baby bunnies 🍼” tiktok

“hi bunnies 💌 it’s 6am and i’m sneaking around bc the babies and i are surprising daddy for father’s day ” she whispers into the camera

she’s in her little baby pink apron making rafe’s breakfast. thick protein pancakes, like six eggs, black coffee, bacon stacked like a tower, and steak. the kids are “helping” by throwing flour at each other.

“we tried to make breakfast but it got violent really fast”

she walks in the room holding the tray, rafe groggy in bed, shirtless. he just gives her this crooked smirk like “you really did all this huh?”

���he tried to act chill but i KNOW he got choked up ”

she gives him a little diy gift box from the boys, handmade cards, a “#1 DAD” keychain one of the twins tried to eat, and framed photo of bunny and babies at the beach

“the boys made him cards but like… i wrote them”

she packs a picnic for “daddy’s special lake day” with those glass strawberry milks and heart-shaped sandwiches. rafe is on dad duty, buckling all four kids into the car.

rafe teaching jamie to fish, rosie is cuddled with bunnywife, she’s reading valley of the dolls

“i didn’t touch a single worm. i’m just here to be cute 🐇”

family dinner at the country club, rafe is in his tan linen shirt, she’s in a puff-sleeve ivory sundress feeding him bites of cake

“he said this was the best father’s day ever!”

soft candlelight, kids asleep, rafe on the porch smoking a cigar while she puts her feet in his lap.

“happy father’s day to the man who gave me the most cherub little bunnies 🐇🍼🪽

💬

@footballhubdad84: Bro living the life fr

@colten_sucks: why does rhett look like he bites

@momsoverdosing: I saw rafe and ovulated. that’s not normal

@princessgoth: get this man off my fyp. i am spiraling

@sundaypicnicprincess: her wrapping sandwiches in lace napkins… i wanna be her so bad

a/n: i kinda hate this

[averagefilmdude]

Open rp!!

Scott had been walking around, his camera in hand, as he looked for things to photograph. He hadn’t been out to do this in a while, not after everything that went down with Ace. Hell, he’d barely left his bed, let alone his house. But he kept thinking about what someone said to him, that he needed to move on. Although a part of him wanted to sink into his bed and hoped this was all a bad dream, he had to face reality sooner or later. And Ace was moving on with her life, why couldn’t he? Even though Scott knew he was in the wrong, bed rotting wasn’t gonna help anyone.

The sky was a nice dark blue, and hints of stars were starting to come out. The air was a little chilly, but Scott was wearing a hoodie as always. The blonde chose to wander the streets, even if it wasn’t the smartest decision, but even if he didn’t get a picture, he needed to get out of the house.

All of it reminded him of things he didn’t need. His room reeked with depression, neglected for weeks. The picture that Marc gave him of the two that now sat on his desk, the last friend he had. His machine beeped at him with ignored voice messages from JD. The calendar that hung on his wall reminded him of Father’s Day, which meant acknowledging the bastard.

The blonde wasn’t sure why he was ignoring everyone, not that he had many people to ignore, but knew he needed to clear his head. The only person that’d care would be JD, but he couldn’t be that mad at Scott once the blonde explained why he suddenly went MIA, right? Eh, Scott would cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now he was enjoying having some time to himself, soaking in the wind that waved through his freshly, and finally, washed hair.

Scott soon enough came across a quiet park. It was small, had some trees around, a small playground. Kind of reminded him of Kansas. Kansas. Somewhere that’d always be his home no matter what happened in Ohio. That thought was comforting to the 17 year old. Because of the late time on a Wednesday night, the park was empty, which was a good thing for Scott.

He went and sat down at the highest place on the playground. It gave him a good view of the sky above and the stars that were slowly becoming more visible as time passed. Scott remembered a close friend from Kansas talking his ear off on a playground like this about stars and constellations and such. The memory sparked a warmness in Scott. God, what he wouldn’t give to be back there.

[dee-writes-anime]

OH MY GOSH,

Imagine Aizawa dating a younger girl, whos a super model!!!

For an example, he’s on patrol right. And he visits her at a meet amd greet! Cameras are flashing as reader gives him a big smooch!!! How eould 1A, other teachers/pro heros and other students react😭

Randomly came to me after listening to turn heads by dem franchize boyz

Smeared Lipstick and Flashing Lights

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY Aizawa's life erupts into chaos when you decide to kiss him in front of hundreds of cameras.

CONTENT WARNINGS pure fluff guys, class 1-A being children, pure chaos, descriptions of kissing, some good old teasing between friends

AUTHORS NOTE THIS IS AN EPIC IDEA MONTY!!! I love it so much and this was such a joy to write!

Tokyo Midtown Plaza shimmered with polished marble floors and the cool hum of upscale air conditioning. Velvet ropes stretched across the gleaming lobby, separating rows of cameras and screaming fans from the raised platform where you stood beneath a cascade of LED lights and branded banners.

You’d done a hundred of these meet-and-greets, but tonight—tonight you had a feeling. Something beneath your skin itched with electricity.

You signed a glossy photograph with a flourish, smiled into the flash of an iPhone, and handed it back to a starstruck girl who could barely form words. You whispered a quiet thank-you to her and turned slightly, posing with your signature look—chin tilted, eyes soft, a touch of a smirk.

Then you saw him.

Half-hidden behind a marble column near the back of the venue, head tilted low and posture slouched like he belonged in the shadows. To anyone else, he was just a tired man in black—another body in the chaos.

But to you? He was gravity.

Aizawa stood with his hands in his pockets, capture scarf bundled neatly at his hip, dust smudged along the sleeve of his hero coat. His half-up hair framed his face in messy strands, one brow raised slightly as he watched you work.

You beamed.

No hesitation. You ducked under the velvet rope, ignoring the flurry of movement from the security guards, and stalked toward him with long, graceful strides that only made the cameras turn faster.

“Miss—wait, please—” someone called after you.

He didn’t even flinch. Just blinked once. Slowly.

The moment you reached him, you grabbed his collar, leaned up on your toes, and kissed him.

Not a polite peck. Not something demure or for show. This was shameless, deliberate. The kind of kiss that says, I know exactly what I’m doing.

The crowd exploded behind you.

You smiled against his lips as the burst of camera flashes lit up the marble floor like fireworks. Someone in the press screamed. Another person cheered. The whole venue turned into a wall of voices, rising into a euphoric frenzy.

He didn’t kiss you back at first. He just stood there, stunned—probably calculating just how badly this would go over. But then, he exhaled through his nose, a sound like a sigh and a laugh, and his hand slid up to rest gently at your waist.

“You know,” he said, barely above the noise, voice gravel-thick, “I was just here to check in.”

“And now you’re here to be adored,” you replied with a wink.

His eyes softened for just a heartbeat before flattening back into their usual half-lidded look of apathy. But you knew better. You could feel the subtle tension in his hand where it gripped your waist a second longer than necessary.

“Cameras,” he said.

“Let them look.”

He groaned quietly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward—barely. Only you would’ve noticed.

That was enough.

The dorm was quiet. Suspiciously so.

Most of Class 1-A had retreated to the common area for snacks and late-night studying—though the "studying" part had long since given way to Kaminari and Sero attempting to balance textbooks on Mineta's head while he napped.

Mina sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through channels in boredom until she landed on a newscast with the caption in bold white font:

"BREAKING: ERASERHEAD CAUGHT KISSING FASHION ICON LIVE AT MIDTOWN PLAZA."

She blinked.

Paused.

Then screamed.

“KIRISHIMA!!! DENKI!!! TODOROKI!!! LITERALLY EVERYONE!!! GET IN HERE—NOW!”

The boys crashed into the room like a herd of startled cattle, Kirishima wiping crumbs off his chin and Denki tripping over a power cord.

“WHAT? WHAT IS IT? IS IT A VILLAIN ATTACK?” Kirishima shouted.

“No, it’s worse—it’s—LOOK!”

She jabbed a finger at the screen, rewinding the footage.

And there he was.

Eraserhead. Grumpy, broody, nap-loving homeroom teacher Aizawa Shouta—standing in full hero gear at a public venue, stiff as a board while a beautiful, radiant woman in a black satin dress yanked him down and kissed him senseless. And not just any woman.

“Wait—isn’t that—?” “It is!” “That’s the supermodel from the Sekai spread! The one that broke the internet—” “The one who made that sheer mesh catsuit look good!” “I HAVE THAT CATSUIT SAVED TO MY CAMERA ROLL!”

Kirishima collapsed to the floor with a groan. “Bro. BRO. He pulled a woman like that?! That’s so—so manly, I don’t even have words—”

Todoroki watched with a blank stare. “He said relationships were a ‘distraction.’ I guess he meant our relationships.”

Kaminari’s mouth was wide open. “Did you see the way she grabbed him? Like—like she owned him?! That was insane! I need someone to kiss me like that!”

“You need someone to tolerate you first,” Jirou muttered, deadpan.

Uraraka was red as a tomato. “I didn’t even know Mr. Aizawa smiled. Did you see the way he looked at her after?!”

On screen, the camera zoomed in. A faint curl of his lips. A glimmer of affection behind sleep-heavy eyes.

“Mr. Aizawa is hot,” Tsuyu said matter-of-factly, sipping her tea. “We all just didn’t want to admit it.”

Midoriya’s hands shook as he scribbled furiously in his notebook.

“Notable change in public persona… possibly quirk synergy in shared lifestyle? Domestic compatibility? Hero-student boundaries?? What does this mean—?!”

“Yo, we gotta show this to Bakugo,” Sero grinned.

As if summoned by sheer will, Bakugo stomped into the room seconds later, glaring. “The hell are you losers screaming about this time?!”

The TV lit up with the moment. The kiss. The crowd. The lipstick smudge on Aizawa’s stubble.

Bakugo stopped dead.

There was a long silence.

“…That old bastard is pulling?” he muttered.

The world tilted slightly.

“I’m done,” Bakugo said, turning on his heel.

The breakroom at U.A. smelled like burnt coffee grounds and the faint tang of disinfectant. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sterile glow over the mismatched mugs, half-eaten rice balls, and teacher-grade exhaustion that clung to every surface.

Aizawa sat in the corner, hood up, eyes closed behind his capture scarf like he could will himself into a coma. His coffee sat untouched. He had already regretted waking up today—and he’d only been conscious for ten minutes.

He didn’t look up when Hizashi burst into the room like a man on a mission.

“SHOUTA. Shouta. SHOUTA. Dude.”

Aizawa cracked one eye open. Slowly. Like a tired cat contemplating murder.

“What,” he muttered.

Yamada slammed his phone down onto the breakroom table, screen up, the brightness blinding in the otherwise dull space. A still image of the kiss—Aizawa’s gloved hand on your waist, your lips pressed to his with the kind of audacity the internet had only dreamed of—burned across the display.

“YOU’RE A VIRAL SENSATION, BABY!” Hizashi howled, flinging his arms out. “How the hell did you not tell me you were dating her?!”

Aizawa closed his eye again. “It’s not a secret.”

“Not a secret?! Half of Japan’s on fire. You made national news during a patrol route!”

“Wasn’t my fault.”

“You kissed a supermodel—in front of cameras—during a public event.”

“She kissed me.”

Hizashi made a strangled noise. “Ohhhhhh my god you’re impossible.”

Across the room, Midnight—lounging against the countertop in leather pants and a smirk—sipped from her coffee like it was wine. “I always knew you had taste,” she purred. “Didn’t think you had game, though.”

“I don’t,” Aizawa said flatly.

“Sure,” she hummed. “That’s why you’re all over the entertainment blogs this morning. Scandalous mystery hero revealed as fashion queen’s secret boyfriend!” She tossed her phone on the table, showing the article. “They’re calling you ‘Japan’s Grumpy Zaddy.’”

“I’m going to burn the internet.”

“Too late,” came Cementoss’s low, amused voice as he entered, arms crossed and half a rice cracker hanging out of his mouth. “My daughter texted me asking if we serve caviar now that Aizawa’s dating royalty.”

“I don’t even know what caviar tastes like.”

“She said you’re her new favorite hero. She used to like Best Jeanist.”

Aizawa stared blankly at his coffee.

Then, with painful timing, All Might entered, beaming as if this was the most wholesome turn of events in modern history. “Aizawa! What a lovely surprise to see you trending for something positive!”

“I was trending?” Aizawa asked grimly.

“Oh yes!” Toshinori fumbled for his reading glasses, squinting at his phone. “There’s a fan account already! They’ve posted over twenty edits. The music choices are a little intense though. Very… sensual.”

“Please stop talking.”

“OH! OH! Is this the one where you’re like—grrr, and she’s all—mmwah?” Yamada mimed both parts dramatically, complete with flailing arms and kissy noises.

“I will end you.”

The breakroom door opened again.

This time it was Nezu, rolling in with an espresso in his paws and a suspicious twinkle in his beady little eyes.

“Well well well,” he said, voice chipper as ever. “Our dear Eraserhead. A viral sweetheart. A romantic lead. Dare I say… a public figure?”

“I’m not a public figure.”

“You are now.”

“I’ll quit.”

“No you won’t,” Nezu said, sipping serenely. “Because she makes you smile.”

A beat of silence.

Everyone turned.

Yamada’s mouth dropped open. “You SMILED?!”

“I did not smile.”

“You so smiled.”

“I was grimacing.”

“Your eyes were smiling,” Midnight said helpfully.

“God, just—stop talking. All of you.”

“You know, the students are in shambles,” said Cementoss. “Mina nearly passed out. Midoriya’s having a hero notebook crisis. I think Todoroki thinks love is a government conspiracy now.”

Aizawa groaned and finally buried his face in his arms on the table. His coffee sat cold. His life was ruined. And the worst part?

He could still feel the faint smudge of your lipstick against the corner of his mouth.

[brklynbxby]

Azriel’s gaze didn’t shift, not even when she stopped in front of him. The club’s noise blurred around them — distant, irrelevant. He looked at her the way someone might look at a loaded weapon on a table. Like he respected the shape of it. The potential. “I’m not here for Angel,” he said, voice low, steady — like the calm before a power cut. His eyes flicked over her once. Just observation. Calculation. Then he looked past her, just briefly, like he’d already seen all he needed to. And when his eyes found hers again, they were quieter somehow. He didn’t move an inch. “Angel doesn’t need me watching her tonight. But you might want to keep yours open.”

Then he heard it - brother. His eyes stayed trained on Niko the second the man swaggered through the doors like he owned the air. It wasn’t fear in Azriel’s stillness. It was calculation. A long, quiet scan of the room. Of every exit, every camera, every unfamiliar face. Of Niko’s men and the way they posted up. He let the moment stretch, tension tightening like piano wire. Then he finally spoke. Measured in that way that always made people lean in. "Always responsible, you know me." Azriel’s voice was smooth steel. Not raised. Not rattled. But there was an edge beneath the calm—something sharpened in the silence between words. He turned to face Niko fully then, slow and deliberate, his height casting shadow under the club’s cheap overhead lights. He didn’t spare Ivy a glance as she disappeared. Didn’t need to. He’d already noted the flicker in her eyes. She seemed smart, smarter than Azriel would ever give girls like her credit for. That mattered. Especially tonight. He would use that if he needed to. “This place is clean,” he said flatly, eyes locked with Niko’s. "Somewhere along the way, I started needing this place. Not for the money. Just… for something simpler, quieter. I didn’t hide it from you, Niko. I just kept it safe. And I’d like to keep it that way." Then the girl left and he kept his eyes on her also. Not in the same way Niko did, not tonight anyway, maybe the next time he came he would. This time he needed to note her whereabouts, see if she was clocking onto their current dynamic. Whether she was reading into the fact that he was here but Harmony wasn't.

Azriel didn’t move at first. Just let the weight of Niko’s words hang in the air. The music thudded somewhere distant, muted by the tension between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, even but anchored with something unshakable. "You saw it back then, didn’t you? What I was when you pulled me off the street. Wired too tight. Always ready to burn." He turned his head just slightly, gaze fixed ahead — not defiant, just steady. "Places like this… they quiet something in me. It’s not like the others." A pause. Then he looked at Niko. "I didn’t keep it from you to hide it. I kept it quiet because I need one place that stays that way. Just one." Another beat passed. Nothing pleading in his tone — just truth, offered with the kind of calm that only comes from a man who’s earned it the hard way. "And I want to keep it that way."

Harmony cleaned the blood from her feet in silence, each swipe of the cloth sharp with pain. But she barely registered it. The sting was nothing compared to the fear laced through her veins like poison. Niko was at the club. Near the girls. Near the life she’d built in the ashes of everything he’d destroyed. The thought made her stomach turn, made her grip the edge of the sink just to stay upright. But there was nothing she could do. Not now. Not without blowing everything wide open. So she forced herself to trust him. Shadow. Azriel. He was there. He said he would protect them. Or at least keep an eye on them. She had to believe that was enough. She wrapped her feet in gauze, tight but careful, wincing as she stood. Every step throbbed, but she moved anyway—through the apartment, to the little kitchen, glass crunching faintly under her good foot. She swept the shards slowly, methodically, as if cleaning them could make everything else inside her feel less broken. When she finished, she picked up her phone and texted her boss. Hurt my foot. Can’t come in tonight. Not a lie. Not entirely. With that done, she settled on the couch with a glass of white wine, a blanket and a quiet movie—something soft, something forgettable. But her mind refused to stay still. It kept drifting back to the club. To the way Niko used to look at her. To the violence that lived behind his smile. She curled tighter into herself, hoping—praying—Azriel would be enough to keep that past from swallowing someone else's future.

Inside the club, the dressing room buzzed with low music and soft laughter, the scent of hairspray and vanilla gloss hanging in the air. Monica sat beside Ivy, watching her with a faint smile. Ivy moved with that effortless grace she always had—easy, magnetic, glowing even under fluorescent lights. It was her last week at the club. She’d handed in her notice with a shrug and a smile. No drama. Just done. She was ready for something new. Something wild and real. Europe, maybe. A road trip across the States. She hadn’t decided yet. The club had been a pitstop. A strange little family she’d grown into—but never intended to stay with. Ivy had never needed the money. She did it for the thrill, for the stories. But now she was chasing different stories. Ones that didn’t come with glitter and bruises and champagne breath. When she finished her makeup—glitter along her lashes, a deep cherry stain on her lips—she gave Monica a wink and slipped out of the dressing room. But then she saw him. Tall. Silent. Leaning against the far wall like a storm waiting to break. She'd seen him before. With Harmony. Always watching. Always too still. The sight of him tonight made something twist in her stomach. She walked straight toward him, heels clicking against the floor, chin lifted like a challenge. “Harm—Angel’s not here yet,” Ivy said, voice light but edged with curiosity. “If you’re looking for her.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing as she took him in—broad shoulders, dark eyes, and that unmistakable scent of tobacco, metal, and the kind of silence that came with danger. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. And Ivy suddenly wasn’t sure if she was talking to a man… or something else entirely.

And then she heard it— “Brother!” The voice cut through the low hum of music like a whip crack—loud, slick with arrogance, and far too familiar. Ivy turned just as Niko strode into the club, flanked by two men dressed in black and bravado. They carried the weight of gang presence like a badge—every step meant to be noticed, every glance just short of a threat. Niko grinned wide as he approached, that kind of grin that never reached the eyes. Predator. That was the only word Ivy’s gut gave her. “Look at you,” Niko said, clapping Azriel’s shoulder with mock affection. “Being early. Responsible." Then his gaze shifted. Locked on her. His eyes dragged down the curve of her figure with no attempt at subtlety—slow and slick, like oil down glass. The grin curled deeper. Hungrier. “Well damn…” he drawled. “Who do we have here?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just stared, like she was something served up special, just for him. “This place…” He swept his arms out, gesturing at the club like he already owned it. “Might become one of my favorite spots. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it, brother. Tsk.” His eyes fell back on Ivy, narrowing as they lingered. She didn’t flinch. She just gave him a flat smile. Polished. Pretty. Empty. “Excuse me,” she said coolly, rolling her eyes as she turned away. Every instinct screamed at her to get away from him. Bad vibes didn’t even begin to cover it. Something about him felt… wrong. Off. Like he could flip a room upside down with a breath and still call it charming. She didn’t look back. She disappeared into the crowd, the beat of the music swallowing her up. But not before she cast one last glance toward Azriel—half warning, half question. Who the hell is that? And in the thick tension he left behind, Niko laughed low and leaned in slightly toward his “brother.” “Tell me, Shadow,” he said, voice dipping like poison in honey, “how the hell have you been hiding a place like this from me? And girls like that?” The smile faded from his mouth—but not his eyes. They were still watching. Always watching.

[svt-ara]

ara and hoshi have been good at hiding. the galances and the stolen touches. to the world they are just two idols in the same group— nothing more. but behind the cameras and the eyes of others, the two steals seconds that taste like freedom and what love looks like. maybe today, lying side by side on the cold floor they'll forget the world watching for a moment.

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, a lil bit of angst cuz they always have to hide

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 secret relationship, mild language and that's all i think

𝗪𝗖 1.3k

𝗔𝗡 its soo late and i don't even know if what i wrote makes sense but i felt ispired and i couldn't let it go. hope yall like it

꒰୨ 𝓜asterlist ୧꒱

ara and hoshi have been together for awhile now, they were used to hiding.

they were used to hide the loving gazes they give themselves when someone who doesn't know— and doesn't have to know— was around. they were used to hide the intimate touches when they were touch-deprived for too long in front of the cameras. hoshi is known for being clingy, a tight hug or a squeeze of cheeks every now and then wasn't a big deal— neither for fans or for the staff. the members were used to the random times they disappear during one of their night outs drinking, hiding between the shadows just for a cuddle or for a pick on the lips that they didn't want to show.

you have to call others fools if they didn't notice anything at all— it wasn't obvious, they were good keeping everything lowkey. ara was good, hoshi on the other side had his times.

there were days where he was good at keeping his cool, just some gazes lingering on your face for a couple of seconds or his giggles when you had something fun to say. he was the frist to knock you off if the jokes weren't funny at all, leaving an awkward grin on your lips.

then, there were other days when everything you did was too cute for him to handle, he had to show how whipped and proud he was for her girlfriend.

[ friday, hybe building ]

ara bowed as she put her feet in the big room, greeting whoever was in there— members, staff, backup dencers. her brows frowned as bliding lights met her eyes but she had to recompone herself quickly noticing the cameras already rolling, pointed straight on her face. ara showed her best smile as she waved her hand to greet carats but her gaze was already searching for something, or— better say— someone. her typical crescent moon eyes were the last thing the camera captured.

her steps seemed a little bit rushed trowards someone, someone who lowkey was already waiting for the girl as soon as her face peeked through the door.

«am I the last one to arrive? were y'all waiting for me?» her hands rushed to her tracksuits pockets, freeing her hands from her iphone and the mask she was wearing minutes ago. her gaze pointed down, locking eyes with the brunette guy who was comfortably sitting on the small couch almost taking all the space with his legs wide open.

«we weren't starting yet» hoshi didn't seem really interested on what she had to say— he was more invested on how she looked. her long brown hair covered the half of her face making him squint his nose lightly, he needed to see what was his.

that's why his hand naturally reached her hair, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ara blinked as his fingers gently brushed against her cheeks, its was quick— so quick that no one would've noticed if they weren't looking— but her breath still got caught for a second, both for the gentle contact and beacuse of the fear. the fear to be seen, to be exposed.

sometimes she wished they could just stop pretending, stop hiding, stop waiting for stolen seconds when none was looking— or hope no one was doing it. sometimes she wished she could've just show their innocent love folding in front of everyone eyes— it was only silent.

«yah hoshi, quit laying on the couch!» dino's voice broke the unspoken tension between the two '96 liners, snapping both of them back to the loud dance pratice room. ara galanced back as she was just facing the brunette guy, clearing her throat— an attempt to not let the awkwardness of the situation reach her cheeks.

«yah, you!» hoshi pointed at the maknae, finally getting up from the couch he was sitted on for too long, reaching him. sometimes ara was happy about how he reacted to these kind of teasing, shifting the attention to him instead of her— that would just be a mass of embarrassment and red cheeks.

ara let out a quiet breath, almost as if she had been holding it the entire time she stood there, relieved that the attention was no longer on her— or so she thought. she didn't dare to look at hoshi again, not after how the skin of his hand intimately brushed againist the skin of her full cheeks.

she turned slightly, pretending to adjust the sleeves of her tracksuit as her eyes followed the backup dancers warming up pretending she was already on work mode, pretending she wasn't thinking about him. the music started, the boys spread across the room in their usual chaotic energy, some joking, some stratching and some yawning as if they hadn't slept in days.

ara followed behind silently, moving to her spot on the pratice floor. the sound of her sneakers scraping lightly againist the polished wood as she stole one last galance trowards him laughing at something seungkwan had said, already back to being his normal self. pratice went on as usual— sweat, laughing and some horribile jokes. ara moved with precision her body, focused enough to not get scolded.

when they finally got their five-minute break, ara collapsed on the floor catching her breath. she stared at the cealing for few seconds, blinking slowly and arms streached out. «ten minutes, i just need the minutes to come back to life» she muttered under her breath, not really talking to anyone. the coreography of super was pretty insane.

it didn't take long before she heard footsteps approaching her. a shadow blocked her view of the cealing and before she could even react hoshi was already above her, his arms wrapping her waist. the weight of his body pressing on ara's chest made her wincing in pain, her head lifted slightly from the floor.

«yah, there are cameras still rolling» she hissed. her voice was sharp but still low, she didn't want to catch the attention of anyone. hoshi just chuckled softly in response, leaning on the girl a little closer.

«they're off» he said, an hint on uncertain could be heard in his voice «i think» ara face snapped back to boy as best she could've. «you think?» on of her eyebrow slightly raised, «not really the kind of certainty i need when youre pratically on top of me» her tone was ironic, but everyone could also hear the hint of nervousness that laced around.

the boy didn't moved at frist, he just stared up at her with the familiar playfull spark that decorated his dark pupils often, the kind that always made her feel like she was seconds away from giving in. and probably that's what she liked the most in him, the playful spark he never seems to lose attracted her.

then, with a dramatic sight, he moved beside her lying down the cold wood floor like they weren't both sweaty and being watched— maybe, ara felt that. their fingers barely brushed against each other, not fully touching. «i missed this, even if you're always around» hoshi murmured, his voice softer now that she even struggled for a moment trying to catch what he said.

but she didn't say anything, she didn't give him a proper answer— he didn't need to have one. her gaze shifted from the cling down to his figure laying on the floor with arms and legs wide. her lips curved just a little, almost like they were being shy, like they wanted to be a secret too.

[girly-girlk]

first premier

drew starkey x reader

summary: drew takes you to your first premier with him

you’d been to fancy events before—but never quite like this.

the black suv pulled up in front of the theater, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the red carpet laid out like something from a dream. paparazzi were already shouting names, flashes going off like fireworks. you looked at drew, your hand instinctively tightening around his.

“you sure i belong here?” you asked, giving him a nervous laugh, trying to play it off. but drew saw straight through it.

he turned to you, resting a hand on your cheek, his blue eyes soft. “babe, you belong here more than anyone. this—” he motioned to the chaos outside the car, “—none of it means anything if i don’t get to share it with you.”

you smiled, nerves easing just a bit. “you’re such a sap.”

“and yet… you’re still with me.” he winked.

the driver opened the door, and drew stepped out first, immediately greeted by cheers and camera flashes. he turned back, offering his hand to you like you were royalty. the moment your fingers touched his, something clicked. you weren’t walking into this alone.

once you stepped onto the carpet, he didn’t let go of your hand—not once. he introduced you to everyone, from co-stars to producers, making sure you never felt out of place. every time you started to feel overwhelmed, his hand would squeeze yours just enough to ground you.

at one point, a reporter asked about you. drew smiled proudly, pulling you slightly closer.

“this is my girlfriend,” he said. “it’s her first premiere with me—and hopefully not the last.”

you laughed softly, cheeks burning as he looked at you like you were the star of the night, not him.

after the film, when the lights came up and the crowd burst into applause, drew leaned in and kissed your temple.

“thanks for coming with me.”

you looked at him, eyes shining. “thanks for making me feel like i belong.”

he grinned. “you do belong. right next to me—always.”

[demonic0angel]

More girl cursed Jason please?

(When I saw this ask, I looked at the camera for a moment bc I was JUST finishing up a drawing of lesbian Anger Management.)

Jason was silent, his knees pulled up to his new chest, tucking himself into a ball. His expression was sullen and thoughtful, eyes half lidded as he looked away.

Despite being in a girl's body now, he didn't freak out too much. His hair was still short and although he was much, much smaller, his muscles were still there, although more streamlined.

He looked as dashing as always, just as a girl now.

Artemis and Jazz shared a look.

"... Jason?" Jazz asked. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I feel?" Jason replied tonelessly.

Jazz winced. Artemis sighed and Jazz coughed, looking at her for help.

Artemis said, "Neither of us know how to handle this curse, but we're women, so we can help you in this matter. Do you have any questions?"

Jazz nodded enthusiastically, trying to look supportive.

Jason shook his head.

Both Artemis and Jazz looked at each other again. Jazz fumbled for something to comfort Jason before she eventually just asked, "... how are your new assets treating you?"

He was silent for a moment longer.

".... they're not too bad," he finally said, reaching up to give them a squeeze.

Artemis immediately whacked him on the head.

The tense atmosphere immediately disappeared as Jason yelped and Jazz smacked her forehead with a groan.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"You know what that was for!"

"I just turned into a girl, can't I touch my new body parts?!"

"You have us! Why are you touching another pair?!"

"It's literally mine??!"

"Guys! Please!"

[bxunyx]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬

Pairing-ModerndayAU-Elias*Stack*Moore x Black reader

Summary-you meet stacks family

A\N-Instead of working on my smoke ff i decided to write stack since I haven’t done it in a while

You swore you weren’t nervous. But the second you pulled up to Smoke Moore’s house—a mansion draped in security cameras, low-rumbling music, and enough high-end cars to pass for a dealership—your stomach did a flip.

Stack reached over and squeezed your thigh, that cocky smirk on his lips. “Relax, baby. They not gonna bite.”

“You said that about your damn dog,” you muttered, adjusting your dress. Tight. Short. Stack-approved. “And he still barked like I owed him money.”

He laughed, head thrown back. “That’s ’cause King can smell fear. Just like my family.”

You shot him a look. “Not funny.”

Stack just leaned over and kissed you, slow and full of heat, like he had all the time in the world to ease your nerves. “You my girl. They gon’ love you. And if they don’t—who gives a fuck? You with me.”

That should’ve calmed you. Instead, it made your heart race worse.

⸻

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐮𝐭

Smoke’s backyard was damn near a block party.

Music boomed from oversized speakers, smoke curled from a grill manned by a guy who looked like he could break bones with one hand and flip ribs with the other. Bottles of D’USSÉ and Casamigos lined the bar. Women laughed. Kids ran around. You clocked more than one Glock bulge under fitted shirts.

Stack guided you through the chaos like it was nothing, dap-tapping guys with gold chains and hand tattoos. But the moment y’all hit the patio, it felt like the music dimmed.

There he was.

Smoke.

Stacks’ older brother. The name carried weight in the city. Gunshots stopped when Smoke walked into a room.

He stood beside the grill, shirtless under an open designer button-up, arms covered in tattoos, puffing on a cigar. And next to him, Aliyah.

She was beautiful. That kind of “soft but don’t try me” beauty. Lace front laid, nails sharp, her little waist snatched in some designer two-piece. She clocked you the second you stepped up.

“Oh, so this the one you keep sneakin’ out for?” Smoke said to Stack, looking you up and down. He turned to you. “You got a name, pretty girl?”

You held your ground. “(Y/N).”

“Mm.” Smoke nodded slowly. “Cute. You from around here?”

“Uptown,” you said carefully.

Aliyah raised an eyebrow, sipped her drink, then gave you a slow once-over. “You rich-rich, huh?”

You smiled tight. “I am.”

“You got any priors?” Aliyah asked, crossing her arms, curious now.

“Just heartbreak,” you said smoothly. “But I’m sure your husband knows all about breaking people.”

Smoke let out another laugh. “She bold.”

Aliyah finally smiled, a slow, approving smirk. “I like her.”

Stack damn near lit up like Christmas. “Told y’all.”

⸻

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

You were sitting on the deck with a plate of ribs and baked mac, catching your breath, when another voice spoke from behind you.

“You know you’re the first girl he ever brought around.”

You turned to see Sammie, all gold teeth and babyface charm, a blunt in one hand, red cup in the other.

“Is that supposed to be comforting or a red flag?”

He laughed. “Could go either way.”

Then came the other one—Delta Slim. Smiling, tall, old drunk. “Just don’t hurt him,” he said, looking you dead in the eye. “Stack acts tough, but…he loves hard. And stupid.”

You raised your brow. “And I don’t?”

Sammie whistled. “Ooooh. She feisty.”

Delta grunted, smiling. “She good.”

That’s when Stack came up behind you, slid into the seat beside you, and threw an arm over your shoulders.

“Look at my girl makin’ friends,” he teased.

“Your girl got hands,” Sammie said. “Aliyah told me she almost squared up with that one chick by the cooler.”

“She bumped me on purpose,” you said.

Stack grinned. “That’s my type.”

⸻

The party was still going, but you’d stepped away for a moment. The beat of the music thumped through the ground, bass rumbling in your chest as kids ran around with Capri Sun and adults swapped shots like currency.

You were leaning against the balcony railing off Smoke’s upstairs den, nursing a drink Sammie mixed for you—heavy on the liquor, light on the warning.

Stack slid up behind you, arms coming around your waist like he couldn’t help it. “You good?”

You nodded, watching the scene below. “Yeah. Just needed a second.”

“Too much South Side energy for your uptown blood?” he teased, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled. “No. Just watching. Thinking.”

“’ Bout what?”

You pointed with your chin. “Them.”

Below, across the backyard, Aliyah was curled up on Smoke’s lap under a canopy, laughing at something Sammie said. Smoke was holding her like the world might try to snatch her at any moment. His hand was on her thigh, protective. Possessive. But soft. Like he knew her in and out, and loved all the ugly, anyway.

“They been like that all night,” you said. “Even when she talks shit to him—he still looks at her like she hung the moon.”

Stack followed your gaze, jaw ticking like he was thinking deeper than he wanted to admit. “That’s Smoke. Always been like that when it came to her. Don’t matter what’s goin’ on—some raid, some drama, some fuck-up with one of the crews—Aliyah come in the room? Everything else fades out.”

You took a slow sip of your drink. “She holds him down.”

“She built him up,” Stack said, tone low. “Back when he was still wild as hell. Back when he ain’t have the name he got now.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “You ever want that?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What? A ride or die?”

“No. That kind of love. That…safe kind. The kind where it feels like y’all against the world.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping. “You think we ain’t already there?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because maybe you hadn’t thought about it that way.

Maybe you’d gotten so caught up in the diamonds, the drama, the “are we or aren’t we” energy he carried like cologne… that you didn’t notice he’d already been showing up like you were his.

“Smoke wasn’t always soft with her,” Stack said, eyes fixed on his brother. “They fought. Loud. Walked away, came back. But he never let her go. Even when she tried to leave, he followed.”

You bit your lip. “And you?”

He smiled slow. “I don’t plan on lettin’ you go either. So, run if you want, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “You don’t even know if I’m staying.”

Stack cupped your jaw, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then why you still here?”

You didn’t have an answer.

Didn’t need one.

He kissed you slow, the kind of kiss that said he already knew.

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲

You leaned against Stack’s Range Rover as the night wound down, watching the glow of the backyard fade into soft streetlights. Stack stood in front of you, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You good?”

You nodded, surprised by how good you felt. Welcomed. A little roasted. But solid.

“They’re a lot,” you murmured.

“They’re mine,” he said. “And now…so are you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Then I guess I’ll have to hold my own.”

He kissed you slow, heat humming between you even under the moonlight.

From the porch, Smoke’s voice boomed, “Y’all bet not be makin’ me no uncle tonight!”

Stack flipped him off without breaking the kiss.

You laughed.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe this chaos—chaos-this wild, loyal, dangerous family—might just be home.

As you and Stack got ready to go 

Aliyah caught your eye across the yard, a sly little grin tugging at her glossed lips. She raised her cup to you like a silent I see you.

You smirked, raising yours back.

Because if anybody understood what it meant to love a Moore boy—dangerous, loud, loyal, stubborn—it was her.

And tonight? You realized you might just be starting to understand it, too.

[jacksonekennedy]

Alice blamed Jack's looks for how often he was photographed. He wished that were true! Most of the photographers and journalists he'd encountered in the last six months were vultures. Plain and simple. They had no empathy, no patience for Jack. In fact, a week after his arrest had been made public, they'd been camped outside of the coffee shop that he frequented just to get a statement.

Alice wasn't like that though. Alice was kind. She'd never once asked him about anything that made him uncomfortable. Never pried. Jack would be very happy to be photographed by her.

She agreed for Jack to do the same. To photograph her in the Knicks t-shirt as long as he didn't comment on how frequently she photographed. Fine.

And when Alice called him her muse, remarked on the camera she'd brought along for her article — well. That's where Jack's mind wandered. Her article. Her job. The phone call that she'd received from her editor just yesterday.

He squeezed her hand, rolling his head atop of his shoulder. He stared at Alice.

"Speaking of… muses and writing and photography."

He cleared his throat.

"Are you going to get in trouble?"

It was a real worry of Jack's. The idea that Alice could lose her job all because he lacked self control.

"Because I don't want that. And I'd still do an interview. Like, a real one with you."

Especially after knowing all that Alice had overcome. Her drinking problem, losing her scholarship. She'd worked her way out of that dark and difficult time in her life. She was employed by a renowned publication now, and Jack didn't want to be the reason that she was reprimanded.

"I'd answer your questions. Like, about my career and my life, so you could write it. I'd be 100% honest. I'd answer them the same way I would for any other journalist."

Well. That last part wasn't true, was it? He wasn't sure that he could be neutral with Alice. He'd want to give her everything she asked for and more. Anything to sell a really good article.

'Typical journalist,'

Ooh! And all of a sudden Alice is laughing, thinking back to just a few days ago (a few days?), where Jack had greeted her with his quip about reporters, laced with an understandable amount of distrust. That was funny to think about. The monumental shift that had happened between them— all these feelings that now lay before them, hand in hand, cuddled up on plush leather seats, about to head to Alice's home state.

'Always got a camera in my face…'

Maybe that was Jack's fault! Maybe Alice had to photograph him simply an account of his looks— could she be blamed?

Alice rolls her shoulders into a shrug. Gives his hand a good squeeze.

"Maybe if you were ugly you wouldn't have to deal with this. But you aren't. So you do."

She could be discreet— subtle. The camera would be unobtrusive, which was important, because she wanted to capture Jack's natural reactions. Even if it was something as mundane as eating toast during the sunrise.

Besides. Jack wanted to take pictures too! Her clothing— his clothing— apparently played a role in that.

'No, but yes? I love seeing you in my clothes. And I also think you're really beautiful no matter what. Something about you in a Knicks t-shirt though… whew.'

Whew. That's what Alice feels, actually, listening to Jack talk about her like that. He even hooks his finger at his shirt— tugs the collar.

'Especially you in this Knicks shirt. I have to take a photo of you in it.'

Alice rubs her thumb along the bump of his knuckle. She liked that— that it pleased him so much, to see her in his clothes. Maybe because she wanted to look good for him. Alice wanted Jack to take in every inch of her and think that his things belonged on her body.

"I will let you take a picture of me in the Knick's shirt... and I'll let you use my camera. You can actually request it at any time. But—" Alice holds up a finger, mouth quirked. "—No commenting on how constantly I photograph."

She taps the rim of his ear.

"My muse."

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

NSFW!! How would the diaboys react to their s/o having a male childhood best friend who's obviously in love with them and is kind of touchy and stuff but she can't cut ties with him

Shu Sakamaki

He’s lazy—until he isn’t. The second he sees your friend brush your hair out of your face or linger a little too long in a hug, that apathy turns razor-sharp.

“Tch… Don’t come crying to me when he finally snaps and tries to fuck you.” Later that night, he drags you to bed without a word, pressing your wrists above your head lazily as he marks your chest with bites, grumbling, “He’ll smell me on you. Let’s see if he still wants you after I ruin you like this.”

Reiji Sakamaki

He views your refusal to cut the guy off as willful disobedience. He’s not mad at the friend—he’s furious at you.

“How humiliating… My woman, allowing some lovesick fool to paw at her. Do you enjoy being degraded?” He punishes you with controlled, dominant sex—meticulously timed denial, your hands bound behind your back with his tie, overstimulating you until you sob his name. Then he whispers darkly in your ear, “You’ll crawl back to me when he fails to satisfy the whore he thinks you are.”

Ayato Sakamaki

He’s furious, childish, possessive. The second he sees your friend get touchy, he’s yelling.

“OI CHICHINASHI! You’re MINE. Not his, not anyone’s. You think this is a joke?!?” He drags you to the nearest surface and fucks you in broad daylight with no shame, moaning about how only his cock can make you tremble like this. His grip leaves bruises. “Bet that bastard’s never even touched a girl like this. Say it! SAY YOU’RE MINE!”

Kanato Sakamaki

Oh, he’s unhinged. He doesn’t even get mad in the moment—he stares with wide eyes, then later corners you.

“You’d rather spend time with him…? Maybe I should rip his arms off so he can’t touch you again…” You try to calm him, and he snaps. The sex is intense, possessive, tear-filled. He makes you beg, cry, and chant his name like a prayer. “If you really love me, you’ll never see him again. Or I’ll make sure you can’t.”

Laito Sakamaki

He acts chill—but underneath is a coiling serpent of jealousy. He teases you.

“Aw~ Bitch-chan, is that your little prince charming~? So cute how he’s trying so hard…” Then he shows you exactly who really owns your body. He fucks you from behind while whispering, “You’re thinking of him? Should I let him watch you break while I use you like this? Would you like that, you naughty girl?”

Subaru Sakamaki

He’s hurt. The moment he notices, he clenches his fists and glares. He tries not to explode.

“Why… Why the fuck do you keep going back to him? Don’t I matter?” The sex is rough, raw, emotionally messy. He grips your hips so tightly it hurts, panting, “Tell me you belong to me—only me. Please. I… I need to hear it.” He’s more afraid of losing you than he is of the other guy.

Ruki Mukami

He smiles politely at your friend, but it’s a facade.

“Livestock… you’re so foolish. Allowing someone else to handle what’s mine? Disobedient pets need punishment.” He gives you the most humiliating night of your life—ordered to cum on command, gagged, collared, blindfolded, until you’re babbling his name. “Let’s engrave who you belong to. Over and over… until he can taste me on your skin.”

Kou Mukami

At first he’s jealous and clingy. Then the mask slips.

“You know… maybe I should blind him. That way, he can’t stare at you like that anymore.” He films you sucking him off while whimpering, “Tell the camera who you really belong to. Say you’ll never let anyone else see this pretty mouth like this.” He posts just your lips moaning his name to his private fan group. The next time you see your friend, he looks flushed. Coincidence?

Yuma Mukami

He’s livid. He almost punches the guy on sight.

“Ya lettin’ that twig touch you like that? Are you dumb or just beggin’ to be claimed all over again?” He bends you over, no prep, grunting, “I’ll stretch this pussy so good, you won’t even remember his fuckin’ name.” Spanking, hair-pulling, primal fucking. The next time the guy hugs you, Yuma glares with satisfaction at the faint bruises on your thighs.

Azusa Mukami

He smiles… slow, sad, and dangerous.

“If… he hurts you… I can make him stop breathing… slowly… would you like that?” You end up tied to his bed while he makes love to you agonizingly slow, whispering between kisses, “Only I… can love you like this. He.... could never.... understand your pain the way I do…” He leaves hickeys over your heart and tells you, “Now you’re mine… inside and out…”

Shin Tsukinami

He growls when the guy touches you.

“You think I’ll let another male challenge my claim? Keep dreaming.” He fucks you like it’s a territorial battle—biting your neck, scratching your back, rutting into you until your legs shake. “You’re not allowed to see him again unless I fuck you first. Every. Single. Time.”

Carla Tsukinami

He’s eerily calm. But the danger is palpable.

“You’re provoking me… Do you wish to see how far my jealousy goes?” He ruins you with slow, deep strokes, forcing eye contact, telling you exactly what he’ll do to your friend if he dares try to claim you. “He touches what is mine again… and I will peel his skin from his bones while you watch.”

Kino

He mocks your friend to your face.

“Aww, he loves you? That’s so precious. Maybe he can hold your hand while I fuck your brains out~” He takes a selfie of himself eating you out with a smug wink, then says, “If he really loves you, he’ll take the hint when you ghost him… after your fourth orgasm tonight.”

Richter Sakamaki

He’s smug and sadistic.

“How naive… You let a puppy think he can rival a beast like me?” He has you ride him while he watches your friend’s texts pop up on your phone, snickering as you tremble and try to hide. “Ignore him, or I’ll make you cum with my fangs in your throat.” You never answer the texts again.

[padthedemon]

It seemed like Ann had a strong will just like her friends but they all fell to him and so she would be no exception! He just needed the right environment and to push her in the 'right' direction.

The area went through a massive change. Where as they were in a small photo shoot before, in front of Ann's eyes, she would see the room expand more and more, colours and object molding out of nowhere before she found herself on a beach. The same beach they had been on for their Hawaii trip and even the bikini she had been made to wear took on a familiar appearance.

The section of the beach looked to had been reserved for this shoot and even security was hired to keep a crowd back who were cheering and yelling out Ann's name as if she was a celebrity. The crew in front of her was acting like this was another day on the job.

"Ok Ann, give us some poses. Dont be shy."

The man in charge instructed, waiting for her to move as the cameras were aimed at her, taking to take shots from all angles. Shadow Pad nowhere in sight. This was all made out to seem to be quite the high profile job and Ann to already be a big shot.

Fall Of The Phantom Thieves

Closed with @padthedemon

He grabbed the sides of her neck with both hands and quickly, her throat was stuffed and visibly bulged once he was reached as deep as his could, his balls smacking her face and covering her eyes…..but he didn’t move…..at all. Shadow Pad just waited as he wanted her to start to panic and struggle until he decided what to do next. Would he move or let her pass out on his dick? That seemed very humiliating if he allowed it to happen.

Makoto just stayed there, glaring up at him as her throat was filled. Not panicking, not pulling back. Refusing to let herself be humilated by this degredation

A silent statement that her will could not be broken. And he would have to find some other way to break her, to corrupt her when her will would not break.