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pucksandpower · 1 month

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Fashionably Challenged

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: you and Max may not exactly be the paddock’s most stylish couple, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

You wake up to the sound of Max rummaging through the closet of your shared hotel suite. Rolling over, you see him laying out two matching outfits — the Red Bull Racing team polos, skinny jeans, and sneakers you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

One set for him, one set for you.

“Morning, liefje,” he says, catching your gaze. “I have our outfits for the day ready to go.”

You smile sleepily. “Thanks, babe. You know me too well.”

Max grins as he walks over and climbs back into bed, throwing an arm around you. “Of course I do. Can’t have my girlfriend showing up to races looking anything less than perfect.”

You laugh and playfully shove him. “Oh shut up. You know I’d show up in a potato sack if I could.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says with mock seriousness. “I would never let you embarrass me like that.”

“Embarrass you?” You scoff. “Please, like you even notice what I’m wearing half the time. You’re just as bad as me when it comes to fashion.”

Max opens his mouth to protest but then shuts it, shrugging in admission. “Okay, fair point. But that’s why I always get you the same thing I’m wearing. So there’s no way we can mess it up.”

You consider this for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We make a pretty fashionably challenged couple.”

“The most fashionably challenged,” he agrees with a laugh. He pauses, gaze growing serious. “But I like it that way. I like that we match.”

Warmth blooms in your chest. “Me too.”

The morning passes quickly as you get ready for the race. True to form, you both pull on the matching outfits without a second thought. As you’re walking out to the car, Max stops you.

“Wait,” he says, taking your hand and turning you to face him. He looks you up and down appraisingly. “You look perfect, just like always.”

You can’t help but beam at the compliment. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

He grins. “Not nearly enough.”

“Well I do,” you say, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, schatje,” Max murmurs against your lips. “Now let’s go kick some ass today.”

The race goes well, Max taking the checkered flag to the roar of the crowds. As you’re waiting to congratulate him, a podcaster approaches you with a microphone.

“Hi there,” she says brightly. “I’m Lottie from The Racing Line. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple quick questions?”

“Oh, um, sure,” you’re a bit caught off guard.

“Great! So first off, you and Max always seem to be wearing matching outfits to the races. Is that something you two purposely coordinate as a cute couple thing?”

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. “Oh no, not at all actually. The truth is neither of us have much fashion sense at all. So Max just gets me the female version of whatever he’s wearing to make it easy.”

The podcaster looks disappointed. “Oh, I see. So it’s not some adorable couple tradition then?”

“Well, I mean, I guess in a way it kind of is?” You say quickly, feeling guilty. “Neither of us are really into fashion, so we end up matching by default anyway. I think it’s sweet that we always end up coordinating without even trying because we’re just so in sync.”

She perks up at that. “Aww, okay, I can see that! So even though it’s not on purpose, you’ve made your own cute little tradition out of it just by being so aligned. That’s really romantic.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Well thank you so much for your time,” she shakes your hand. “And congratulations to Max on another win!”

“Thank you,” you reply as she walks away.

A few minutes later Max emerges, helmet under his arm and face lit up in that way you love. You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Congratulations baby, you were amazing out there as always.”

“Thank you, schatje,” he says, squeezing you close. He pauses, smile turning teasing. “Did you enjoy chatting with that podcaster earlier?”

You pull back, eyes narrowing. “You saw that, did you?”

He chuckles. “Of course I did. I always notice you.”

“Well then you also saw me have to completely backtrack and come up with some sappy story for why we match when she thought it was a cutesy couple thing,” you say dryly.

Max shrugs. “It kind of is though, isn’t it? Maybe not on purpose, but it’s become our thing.”

“I guess you’re right,” you admit. “I told her it was romantic how in sync we are, always coordinating outfits without even trying.”

“Hmm, I like that,” he says, grinning. “We really are pretty in sync, aren’t we? Two fashionably hopeless peas in a pod.”

You laugh. “That we are.” You look at him fondly. “But I love our way better than being one of those obnoxiously coordinated couples.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “Though I will admit ...” His gaze grows more serious. “Part of the reason I like matching is because it makes me happy to walk around wearing the same thing as you. Like we’re a unit, you know?”

Your heart skips a beat at the soft vulnerability in his voice. “Max Verstappen, you big old romantic,” you tease gently.

He shrugs but you can see the pleased look in his eyes. Sudden understanding washes over you.

“Wait a minute … is that why you got me the same outfit the first time? Not just because you thought it would be easier, but because you wanted us to match?”

Max stays silent for a moment before breaking into a sheepish grin. “You caught me.”

“Oh my god!” You shove his shoulder playfully. “You big sap!”

“What can I say? I like having my girl on my arm looking like the power couple we are,” Max says, pulling you close again. “Fashionably challenged or not.”

“If only everyone out there making you out to be the villain could see the cuddly teddy bear you really are. I absolutely love it,” you murmur, stretching up to kiss him. You can feel him smile against your lips.

As you break apart, Max squeezes your hand. “Come on, let’s go celebrate. In new matching outfits, of course.”

You pretend to roll your eyes exaggeratingly but allow him to lead you towards the exit, your hands intertwined. You truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

You and Max are curled up on the couch in your hotel room, his arm draped around you as you lean into his side. It’s a rare quiet moment between races and you’re savoring the feeling of Max’s fingers gently carding through your hair.

“Hey Max?” You say after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not looking away from the football match on the TV.

“I got an interesting offer today.”

That piques his interest and he turns his head to look at you. “Oh yeah? What kind of offer?”

You take a deep breath before answering. “A sponsorship deal, actually. From Oscar de la Renta.”

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that’s … really great, liefje. I’m so happy for you.”

But something in his tone makes you frown slightly. “Are you though? You don’t sound that excited.”

He gives you a half smile. “No, no, I am! That’s a huge opportunity for your career and image. Having that kind of sponsorship deal is amazing.”

“But?” You prod knowingly.

Max lets out a breath, smile fading. “But I guess part of me is a little disappointed and maybe … worried?”

“About what?”

“Well,” he shifts uncomfortably. “I like being the one who picks out your outfits for the races. Our little unintentional matching tradition has kind of become my thing, you know? I’m worried if you get sponsored by some big designer brand you won’t wear the outfits I pick out anymore. That we won’t match.”

His tone is carefully casual but you can hear the undercurrent of vulnerability. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“Oh Max ...” you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You really like our matching outfits that much?”

He averts his eyes but nods. “Yeah. I know it sounds silly, but I just … I like how in sync we are. How happy it makes me feel when we show up to the races looking like a real team. Like we’re truly partners in everything. I don’t want to lose that.”

The softness in his voice breaks your heart a little. You take his hand and give it a squeeze.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” you tell him gently. “Because I never would have accepted that offer anyway.”

Max blinks in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”

You shake your head. “Not a chance. First of all, they were pressuring me to only wear very high-end stuff, none of which really feels like my personal style. But more importantly ...” You lean in closer, maintaining eye contact. “They don’t have a men’s collection. So they couldn’t sponsor you too.”

Realization lights up his gaze. “Oh ...” he says softly.

You nod. “Exactly. I told them thanks but no thanks. Because no designer wardrobe is worth giving up what we have.”

Max looks stunned. “You … you turned them down? Just to keep matching with me?”

“Of course I did,” you say affectionately, poking his chest. “I would never give that up. How could I say yes to some fancy sponsorship that meant not having my fashionably challenged other half by my side, both looking like total goofballs in the one outfit the world thinks makes up the entirety of our closet?”

A slow smile spreads across his face and he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “God, I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So much.”

You relax into his embrace, overwhelmed by the rush of affection. “I love you too,” you whisper. You pull back slightly to look at him. “Did you really think I’d give up matching with you over that?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, looking a little sheepish. “I guess a small part of me was worried maybe you’d be tempted by the glamor and exposure of being a designer brand ambassador.”

“You know me better than that,” you affirm. “Our matching looks are too special to me. I adore everything about our little tradition — the fact that it started because neither of us cares about fashion, to you always picking out my outfits, and how happy it makes both of us to show up to races coordinating with each other.”

You take Max’s hand, intertwining your fingers. “Don’t you see, my love? It’s not really about the clothes at all, it’s about us. About how perfectly aligned we are in this little part of our lives. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Max’s eyes have gone suspiciously bright, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “But liefje … you could have had any designer clothing you wanted.” His voice is thick with emotion. “You turned that down … for me?”

Unable to find the words, you just nod, blinking back your own tears.

“I can’t believe it,” Max breathes out shakily. “You never cease to amaze me.”

You offer him a watery smile. “Well believe it, my love. Because there’s nothing in the world more precious to me than you and our bond. I wouldn’t sacrifice that for anything.”

A single tear escapes to trail down Max’s cheek and you quickly brush it away with your thumb. Seeming at a loss for words, he pulls you into a fierce hug, tucking your head under his chin as you settle into his embrace.

“I love you,” he finally whispers into your hair. “So damn much.”

“I love you too.” You pepper kisses along his neck and jaw until you reach his lips, capturing them in a deep, slow kiss that tries to convey every unspoken word of devotion and adoration.

When you finally break apart, Max gazes at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“God, you really are perfect,” he murmurs, running a hand reverently through your hair. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“No,” you shake your head with a soft smile. “I’m the lucky one. To have someone who loves me so fiercely, someone I love just as much in return.”

Max lets out a watery chuckle. “I think we’re both the lucky ones then.”

You settle back against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around you. For a while neither of you speaks, lost in your own thoughts as you simply bask in each other’s presence. You let your eyes drift shut as Max’s fingers resume their gentle motions through your hair.

Eventually you break the silence.

“You know we’re going to have to get even cuter matching outfits now to make up for it,” you murmur teasingly.

Max’s chest rumbles with laughter against your cheek. “Deal. Anything you want, schatje. I’ll make sure we’re the most adorable fashionably challenged couple at every single race from now on.”

You smile at the warmth and conviction in his voice. “No one could ever call us uncoordinated.”

“Never,” Max affirms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We’re perfectly matched in every way that matters.”

You sigh contentedly as you snuggle further into his embrace. In that moment, you know he’s absolutely right. You couldn’t imagine a better match than your Max.

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princessbrunette · 3 months

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so how did bunny!reader and rafe meet?

rafe practically lived on the golf course, we’re talking season one fuckboy rafe. you’d just started appearing at the country club, he didn’t know where you’d come from and honestly — he wasn’t even gonna bother with you. you didn’t seem like the type to go for him, and he wasn’t gonna have his ego hurt like that in a location he frequently resides in.

but as soon as you’d set your eyes on him— you’d made it very clear that you didn’t want anyone else. you were somehow shy and yet so open, silent but you’d stare at him from your little table, holding that tension filled lingering eye contact as the pink faced boy in his colourful polo would head to the bar. after being hyped up by his friends, he eventually approaches you — well, he pulls up beside you on the street in his truck with Future playing through his speakers and asks you if you’d like a ride home. the rest is history.

when the two of you start dating, he’s still blown away by your interest in him. he hasn’t quite worked out how to handle you yet, not used to being with someone so needy and affectionate. there’s something in him that believes it to be too good to be true and self sabotages a little — treating you rougher and meaner than he knew you deserved, but that only seemed to make you bounce back harder, pawing at him and whining on the golf course when he’s trying to spend time with his friends.

he bats you off and walks back to where they’re waiting, leaving you pouty.

“uh, is she… okay rafe?” topper glances over, sending you a polite smile. “what did she want?”

rafe guffaws, shaking his head in disbelief as he lines up the ball. “she wanted dick.” he stares out across the hills as he aims, residing smile on his face.

“you’re fucking with us.” kelce laughs, slapping his shoulder lightly and rafes head tilts, brows raised.

“honest to god. the girls on me like, all the time. it’s insane.” he reveals before adjusting his stance and swinging, observing where the ball ended up.

“why don’t you let her go off and hang out at the club man, she doesn’t need to be here, poor girls probably bored.” topper laughs, holding out an arm in gesture to you as you stand a while back, distracted by a smudge on your shoe.

“because she’s like 60% eyelashes and 40% tits. those fuckers at the club can’t keep their eyes to themselves so she’s gotta stay right here with me. alright?”

he looks over and you perk up, sending him a cute wave making him scoff out a chuckle and hold his hand up in the air. he was going to have fun with you, he knew it.

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#rafe cameron prompt #bunny!reader

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

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Let it be known that Eddie Munson hates big box stores. They represent everything he’s against: a big piece of capitalist bullshit that underpays its workers and pump out unnecessary products like it’s nothing.

And yet, he finds himself in a Target on a random Sunday evening.

He’s not quite sure how he got roped into doing Chrissy’s shopping for her, something about ‘owing her a favor’ and ‘making up for all the times she had take out the garbage when it was his turn to do so’ or whatever that means. But here he is anyway, pushing a bright red shopping cart in search of every item on her list so she can go on her date with that girl from the concert in peace. The things you do for friends.

Eddie finds the first few items quite easily - they’re on sale and easy to spot with the big display in the middle of the aisle - but once he gets to the fourth item on her list: Fresh Cotton scented candle, he starts to panic just a little.

Why are there so many fucking candles?

He rubs a hand over his face in attempt to make himself focus on the rows and rows of glass jars in front of him, taking a deep breath before he starts looking for the Fresh Cotton scented candle Chrissy wants. Only to find out, there aren’t any.

There is Pure Linen and Natural Cotton and even one that’s called Laundry Day - whatever the fuck that’s supposed to smell like - but there is not one candle that says Fresh Cotton.

Okay. Okay. He can do this. He knows Chrissy like the back of his hand, he’s smelled that candle practically every day, he can totally figure out which candle she wants.

Eddie grabs the first candle that’s vaguely named after a fabric and smells it, but that one isn’t the one he’s looking for. He tries another (closer, but not quite the same) and another (doesn’t even smell like cotton in the slightest), until he’s smelled practically every cotton-linen-laundry candle in the store and his nose has become immune to any smell whatsoever.

Christ, he really is a terrible best friend if he can’t even get her shopping list right.

Something red flashes by in the corner of his eye and Eddie immediately perks up and chases after it. He stops himself from screaming in victory when he sees that he was right and that there is in fact a Target employee in a red polo walking in the main aisle.

“Excuse me!” Eddie calls out. “Excuse me! Can you help me?”

The guy in the red polo turns around and whoa- Eddie didn’t know that they were hiring actual models to work at Target. He’s pretty sure he’s never met a big box store employee that looks this good - with floppy golden brown hair and a chest that fills out that red Target polo really nicely.

“Uh yes?”

“Great!” Eddie gestures the Target guy to follow him back to the candle aisle and grabs the two candles that he thinks are the closest to what Chrissy wants. “Which one of these is Fresh Cotton?”

Target guy frowns and takes the candles from Eddie’s hands, his hazel eyes narrowing as he reads the labels. “Neither? This one is Clean Cotton and the other one is Crisp Cotton.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But Target used to sell Fresh Cotton, I think, at least that’s what my friend’s shopping list says.” Eddie rambles. “So I guess my question is which one used to be Fresh Cotton and got renamed or whatever.”

“Huh.” Target guy shrugs and takes the lid off both the candles, carefully sniffing each of them before finally handing Clean Cotton back to Eddie. “This one smells the most cotton-y to me, so I’d go with this one, dude.”

Eddie feels his eyes light up with relief as he clutches the candle to his chest. “Christ, that’s a relief. Thank you...” He trails off, searching Target guy’s polo for a name tag, only to come up empty.

“Steve.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Eddie beams. He puts the candle into his shopping cart and rummages through the pocket of his leather jacket until he finds Chrissy’s shopping list. Scented candle? Check. “Look, I gotta go. I have at least twenty other things on this list and- hey!”

In one quick motion, Steve has grabbed the shopping list from Eddie’s hands, scanning the items on the list and the items in the cart with precision.

“Dude. Your friend asked for shampoo and conditioner. You bought them that two-in-one crap.” Steve scoffs.

“Is that... bad? Seems to me like it gets the job done faster.” Eddie shrugs.

“Is that bad, he asks. If your friend cares just a little bit about their hair, they’d be devastated.” Steve chuckles. “C’mere, I’ll help you.”

Before Eddie can even protest, Steve has taken his shopping cart from under his nose and gestures for Eddie to follow him. Huh, personal shoppers must be a new thing at Target. He just hopes that Steve doesn’t charge him a surprise hundred dollar fee at the end of the shopping trip.

Turns out, a personal shopper like Steve comes in handy for a Target virgin like Eddie. Steve (obviously) knows the store like the back of his hand and seems to know a lot about the products they sell as well - from the difference between normal and purple shampoo for blonde hair to the package of colored notebooks that Chrissy needs for the next semester. His knowledge is impressive and Eddie can’t help but stare and listen to every word that rolls of Target Guy Steve’s tongue.

(And if he lets a flirty remark or two slip just to see a twinkle in Steve’s eyes in between the shop talk, that’s nobody’s business but his own)

He is a bit confused when Steve starts loading things into the cart that aren’t on Chrissy’s lists, though. Things like highlighters and staples and various arts and crafts supplies.

“What are those?” Eddie asks.

“Hmm?” Steve hums, following Eddie’s gaze to where it’s looking at the small pots of paint in his hands “Oh. Those are for me.”

“You can do that?”

“Uh yeah? That’s the point of a store?”

“Right.” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I mean, duh. Just didn’t know you were allowed to shop on company time.”

“Right...” Steve blinks at him in response.

They go through the rest of the list fairly quickly, much to Eddie’s disappointment. When he first set foot inside the store, he wanted to leave as fast as he could, but now that he’s got Steve around, he doesn’t really want this shopping trip to end.

At least not without Steve’s number saved in his phone.

There are only a few people in line at the register when they arrive and Steve immediately starts putting his things on the checkout belt. As he waits, Eddie lets his eyes linger at Steve’s toned back, at the way the red fabric stretches over the muscles there, at the way those jeans look practically painted on.

Yeah, he really has to get that number before he gets out of here.

“You probably get employee discount, right? Must be nice.” Eddie grins as he starts putting his stuff on the checkout belt.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “No?”

Christ, not giving your employees a discount in your own store is a new low, even for a big company like Target. “Oh sorry, man. That sucks.”

“I mean, I have my teacher’s discount.” Steve shrugs.

Hold up. What?

“Your what?”

“My teacher’s discount?” Steve repeats. “I’m an elementary school teacher and I get a small discount on stuff I need for my class? Like these art supplies?”

“You- you don’t work here?” Eddie squeaks, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. Oh God, did he just drag a random stranger through a store and make him listen to all of his stupid problems with Chrissy’s shopping lists? This is embarrassing, even for him. “Fuck, I thought- I mean with the polo and- Christ, I’m so sorry.”

But luckily for Eddie, Steve doesn’t seem mad in the slightest. In fact, he just laughs, all bright and clear. “It’s alright, really.”

“But wait, if you don’t work here, why did you help me?” Eddie asks, ignoring the hopeful feeling that starts to bloom in his stomach.

Steve ducks his head for a second, suppressing a grin, before looking back up at Eddie through his eyelashes and fuck, he has no right to look this hot in a freaking polo shirt.

“Because I thought you were cute.”

A bright Target red blush settles over Eddie’s cheeks and there’s nowhere to hide, not even behind his hair because his dumb self from two hours earlier decided to put it up in a high bun.

“Plus, you looked like you were this close to having a panic attack in the middle of the candle aisle.” Steve shrugs. “I’ve been there, and trust me, it’s not a good look.”

The honesty in his voice makes Eddie cackle so loud that even the cashier turns her head to see what all the commotion is about.

“You’re ridiculous.” Eddie says when his laughter dies down.

“Maybe.” Steve says, his eyes already twinkling with amusement. “But did it work?”

Eddie really can’t say no to that.

(He leaves Target that night with two shopping bags filled with Chrissy’s things and a date with Steve the next weekend.)

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #i have never set foot inside a target so excuse my europeaness for any mistakes #they're idiot4idiot your honor #alice's writing adventures

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punkgoesdrill · 2 years

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#polo perks

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undiscoveredalcoholic · 8 days

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#song of the day #polo perks #Spotify #imogen heap

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simpforboys · 1 year

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daddy’s money

rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

summary: rafe overhears someone being rude to you at your job. it doesn’t end well for either of you, but rafe tries to make up for it.

warnings: arguing, violence (a punch is thrown), protective!rafe, sugar daddy!rafe (?!??), fluff, reader can speak spanish (but race or anything isn't described), not proof read

these are based on my personal experiences (love working retail), just minus the punching

the ring of the bell made your ears perk up as you folded clothes.

you began working at amor, a popular clothing shop for kooks of all ages about a year ago. why they hired you, a pogue, was beyond you, but nonetheless you appreciated it.

especially since your manager, kat, loved you, as she came from rags and rising to riches.

you loved your job, being able to wear casual dresses and clothes, as half the store was beachy clothes and the other half was fancier.

“is that y/n l/n?”

you turned your head to see rafe cameron, kook prince. you hadn’t seen him in awhile, his hair now buzzed as he walked with the same prideful look.

you grinned, putting the shirt you were folding onto the table before hugging the tall man.

you and rafe had a thing, as one day he came into the shop you two immediately hit it off.

“did you find everything okay?” you asked, trying not to stare at the attractive man in front of you.

you scanned the shorts and polo shirts he was buying, noticing him smiling down at you. his hair was pushed back with a baseball cap on his head.

“i did now,” he said slyly.

“oh yeah?” you grinned, taking the security tags off the clothes. a heat rose to your cheeks as you bagged his items.

“didn’t realize they had pretty girls working here, y/n.” the man read your name tag.

“i wouldn't say that..." you trailed off, not knowing the man's name.

"rafe, rafe cameron." a cameron, huh? it had shocked you, really. the camerons were all over the news and basically ran figure eight.

"your total is going to be $259.73." you couldn't help but peek as he pulled out his wallet, his gold card practically dissing you as he put it in the pinpad.

you handed him his receipt, feeling electricity as you two accidentally brushed hands. he smiled down at you, grabbing his bag.

"i'll see you around, y/n."

"have a good day, rafe."

you watched as he exited the building, but quickly turned around after he paused. you furrowed your brows as he walked back up to the register.

"can i take you out?"

the rest of the story turned around, but you still kept in touch with rafe until he was on the ship with his father. he never texted or called you back after that.

"thanks for answering me." you said sarcastically, trying to hide your beaming smile. even though you hadn't heard from him, you still missed talking and being around him.

"sorry, mama. things got tough."

rafe's eyes wandered your body. from the way your hair was styled, your shorts that displayed your pretty legs, cropped tank top that showed some cleavage with a hawaiian shirt over it to make it seem a bit more modest, although failing to do so.

"i bet, being a cameron isn't so easy, huh?" you teased, continuing to fold the shirts you had previously ditched.

rafe didn't get to respond before kat came over, cutting off your conversation. "y/n, hay un cliente (there is a customer)."

kat was a very strong person. her family had come from mexico in search of a new life, and kat had quickly picked up the pace as she was able to open up amor. the store allowed her family to move from the cut to figure eight. she was around 5'6, brown hair that looked black in some lighting, with a mole next to her top lip that just added to herself, in a weird way.

"lo veo (i see him)." working at amor, you quickly picked up on spanish (unless you already speak it). kat eyed rafe, before nodding at him and heading back to the fitting room.

"did you find everything okay?" you questioned the man. he was around 40, dressed in a collared shirt with jeans to match. he had a rolex on his wrist, displaying his wealth.

rafe had moved to look at some of the mannequins, staying close by.

the man didn't respond, scrolling on his phone. you pursed your lips together, biting back your tongue as you continued to scan his items. his body language seemed defensive as he stood away from you.

"i like your-"

unfortunately, working customer service you had some rude customers from time to time, especially being a pogue in kook territory.

"just zip it pogue and bag my clothes. and don't try anything suspicious, either."

you were taken aback by his comment.

"don't talk to her like that." rafe had appeared next to the register, his nostrils flaring as his normal blue eyes turned dark. his pupils were blown wide as he stared at the man like he was going to kill him.

"and who are you?" the man scoffed.

"she's just doing her job, dickhead."

"if she was just doing her job, she wouldn't be tryna talk to me. now, who are you? do you even work here?" the man eyed rafe angrily, trying to appear more dominate but ultimately failed. rafe was taller and seemed to be much stronger.

"rafe-" you tried.

"rafe cameron, is that right?" the man suddenly smirked, sizing rafe up.

"i should've known. all camerons are dicks, especially your father."

you saw how rafe clenched his fist, the veins in his hand looking like they were on the verge of exploding.

"but i never expected a cameron to be protecting a pogue, or less a whore."

you gasped as rafe's knuckles made contact with the man's cheek, a cracking sound that could be heard around the store.

"rafe!" you shouted as he shook his hand, trying to not beat the man to unconsciousness.

rafe saw red as he grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him out of the store. "never fucking come back, got that?"

the man, now with a bruised cheek that appeared to have a broken bone, quickly walked off. rafe spit on the floor, walking back into the store.

kat had come running over, the noise causing her to be alerted.

"y/n, what the hell was that?" she asked, her voice thick with an accent as she was fuming.

"he was being-"

"we have a no violence policy. i told you to stay away from that cabrón (asshole)." kat swore.

"kat-" the woman wasn't letting you finish.

"you know i love you, kid. but that was unacceptable."

your lip trembled as your heart sank. you knew what her next words were going to be.

"you're fired, and i want rafe out of the store permanently."

rafe watched the scene, opening his mouth to speak but quickly stopped himself. a tear ran down your cheek as you wiped it away.

"who needs this stupid job away," you mumbled. you grabbed rafe's bicep, guiding him out of the store.

once outside, you let go of him and slightly pushed him backwards. rafe stared at you in shock, his knuckles throbbing in pain.

"what was that for?"

"you got me fired, asshole!"

"you just let dickheads speak to you like that?" rafe asked, an appalled tone in his voice as his mouth slightly hung open.

"yes! i need money, i don't care what gross rich men say."

the north carolina heat radiated off of you two, seagulls squawking as they flew above.

"y/n-" he went to grab your hands but you pulled away.

"i don't have daddy's money to support me, rafe. you just cost me my entire income and home."

your words were harsh as you stared directly into his eyes, a flame ignited in you that he lit.

"listen, okay. i can take care of you."

rafe was trying to remain calm, not wanting to scare you away from him if he raised his voice too much.

"oh, yeah? how?"

"c'mon." rafe took you down to where barry was sitting in rafe's car. the man got out as he saw you and rafe approach, the tension thick.

"long time, y/n." barry nodded his head at you, which you pursed your lips in response and watched as rafe popped the trunk.

inside were cases as rafe opened one, shiny gold beaming off the sun to peek at you. your stomach dropped, looking between rafe and barry who had huge smirks on their faces.

"how did you-"

rafe carefully handed you a piece of gold, watching as you inspected it.

"each one is worth at least 20 grand. we're set for life with these, baby."

you let out a surprised laugh, any feel of anger going away from the sight of all the cases filled with your new riches.

"no bullshit, right?"

"100 percent real, honey. rafe melted it down himself."

rafe gave barry a death glare from the nickname he called you.

"how- where- you know what, never mind. i don't care. you guys are fucking loaded."

"we're loaded, y/n." rafe put his arm around you, bringing you into a side hug as you smelt his dior sauvage cologne.

you grinned, feeling rafe press a kiss to your temple as you hugged him tightly. you ran your hand up and down his muscular back as his hand went down to your lower back.

"so.... are you my sugar daddies?" you joked. barry laughed as rafe rolled his eyes.

"c'mon, country club. we got clients to see."

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shellxrls · 3 months

Text

based on the prompt "being bratty and humping rafe while he’s selling because he’s been neglecting you despite it being against the rules"

MDNI | 18+ content

you clamber onto his lap, unbothered by the strings of people crowding round the table in a desperate attempt to purchase what your boyfriend was selling, evidence of his distribution laid out in dusty white lines along the glass table and wads of crinkly cash strapped into the waistband of his khakis.

he barely pays you any mind, nodding to a seller as a greeting before taking out a translucent baggy and shaking out some coke to line up on the table.

his ignorance has heat stirring in your pelvis, the sight of him so stone-faced at your attention-seeking acts yet so charismatic with customers have desperation bubbling up within you.

you whine into his polo, rocking your panty-clad cunt on his exposed thigh — uncaring about whether you’d leave a trail of arousal sticky on his skin.

“missed you today daddy,” you giggle, pushing your tits up into his chest until the stimulation of your perked nipples and your dripping cunt alongside your pleads were enough to get him to crack — albeit in a controlled manner considering you were around such a large crowd of speculators.

“baby —,” it comes out strained, gritted through his teeth and you pout, rocking against him again, so he regulates his tone before trying again, “baby, we can do this later, how else ‘m i gonna afford to pay for all that pretty shit you like, huh?”

#;concepts #rafe cameron #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff

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seichira · 2 years

Text

door into your heart.

haitani ran has never had to fight for a girl’s attention. well, at least before you came along and changed the game. it is his first time trying to win someone’s heart, and he’s getting more desperate the longer you keep him on the ledge.

pairing : bonten!ran haitani x college!reader

content : mostly fluff, kinda angsty, swearing, mentions of violence, and basically ran just trying to get the girl.

ran thinks it’s absolutely insane that a girl has got him wrapped around her little fingers, and he knows it, he just willingly submits himself to it.

let’s start from where all the glitches in the universe as he calls them, started. meeting you.

you see, ran haitani is used to women throwing themselves at him. the man can get whatever and whoever he wants at a snap of a finger.

his childhood was rough and all he had was rindou—and he’s not a saint not to enjoy all of life’s perks now that he’s reached the top, isn’t he? admit it, he has been through enough shit to take it easy for once.

they started off ruling ropponggi, having a bunch of men do whatever they command. they lived off the glory of winning street fights and taking down gang leaders after gang leaders.

it was cool, alright. but looking back, that place seems to be just a playground compared to the chokehold they have on the entire country. japan is essentially theirs.

when a person is on top of the world, no words could possibly describe the feeling of being a king. ran haitani himself found himself at that position.

however, the thing about reaching the top is there is nowhere else to go. what follows after is boredom, ennui, and just… rotting away in the repetitiveness of the days. killing, manipulating, torturing, stealing.

he was getting sick of it.

at the height of his much-too-early midlife crisis that he believes came early because he is going to die earlier than everyone else, he flew back to tokyo in hopes that he can drown himself in alcohol at some bar that has no connections to bonten.

he hops out of his ferrari that he parked on the other side of the street adjacent to the local bar, and he is just about to cross it when he hears an exasperated grunt and a loud sound of metal nearby.

the first instinct was ignore it, but another grunt came and he finally snapped his head towards the direction of the disrupting noise in this peaceful part of town.

there, ran sees you struggling to pull the storefront rollup gate down. judging by the apron you seem to forget to remove, it is easy to deduce that you are a barista at the coffee shop you’re currently trying to close for the night.

being the brute that he is, ran keeps his distance from you and remains standing near his car, leisurely watching you struggle.

he chuckles to himself. that shit is cute, he thinks.

it is your first time having to work the closing shift and you had no idea how heavy these things were until you tried it. when all hope leaves you, you groan and sit on the pavement to wait for some energy to come back before trying again.

that is when ran haitani finally decides to spread out his imaginary angel wings and come to your rescue. he approaches you slowly and his footsteps make no sound at all, making you flinch in surprise when the gate suddenly closes and locks on where it is supposed to be.

you look up at the man who just saved you a ton of energy and time, and you stand up to face him. it takes you aback, though, with the way he towers over you. people can be this tall?

but if you were taken aback, the man in front of you is completely blown away. your hair is messy probably because you just finished a shift, you are wearing a simple polo shirt beneath your dirtied apron, paired with skinny jeans—and the man thinks, what a fucking beautiful woman.

this man has seen all kinds of women in the fanciest of outfits, and yet, here he is, totally mesmerized by an obviously exhausted girl trying to make money.

“phew. thank you! you totally rescued me because i was just about to run away and possibly get fired for leaving the coffee shop open overnight.”

he shrugs at your gratitude because he literally did nothing. the gate weighed like paper to him. not only is he not used to saying you’re welcome, he also does not really do much things to receive a thanks.

still, he says, “you’re welcome.”

“have a good night, mister!” you say to finally walk home since it’s a fifteen-minute walk from there.

you work two jobs to get yourself through university after deciding you won’t ever burden your parents anymore, so it is justified how you just want to lay down on your bed on a friday night.

ran finds it too much of a waste to let such a pretty girl go just like that, which is very uncharacteristic for him because he never does that when he knows there are others out there in his disposal.

but he can’t let you walk away.

“wait, miss.”

you turn back to look at him, “hm? yes?”

fuck, even her voice is cute.

“this… coffee shop. why’d you have to close it yourself? you don’t have security guards or something?”

you shake your head like it’s the most normal thing ever, “nope. the owner can’t afford something of that sort. the business is financially tight after the new coffee shop nearby opened.”

“which one?”

you state the name of the coffee shop that almost put you out of a job. thankfully, your boss liked your work ethics enough to keep you in their staff.

“thanks again, mister. i have to go home—”

ran scrambles his brain to find another excuse to keep you for longer. at this point, it is already unusual to him how you still haven’t asked his name. he cannot believe that he’s doing so much just to continue talking to you.

“you’re walking home?”

“yep! it’s good exercise, you know?” you giggle before pointing at the black ferrari just a few steps away. “i believe that’s yours?”

he nods. “looks sick, doesn’t it?”

“looks like someone’s got trust funds,” you joke. it earns a laugh from ran haitani, a man who hasn’t laughed in ages. holy shit, he utters in his head.

“not trust funds, honey. i don’t have a rich mommy and daddy. worked like hell to get that shit.”

your eyebrow raises, and you smile. “well, something must be very wrong with this life because i work like hell and i’m nowhere near affording that!”

it intrigues him, how you talk like you’ve got nothing on you but be lighthearted about it. when he had nothing, he was miserable. how could you smile like that? much more so, smile so beautifully?

“want me to drive you home? it’s dangerous in this part of town. don’t want you to go missin’ on me before you get to afford a ferrari.”

you are quick to turn him down with a flick of your hand, “oh, no thanks. i’m grateful for your help but who knows if you’re the dangerous part of town?”

he laughs again because you are absolutely right, but you have no idea that no harm will ever come close to you when you’re with him.

“you can call anyone and give them all my cards so they’ll know who took you home. safely.”

“i appreciate it, but really, it’s fine. there are some catcallers here and there but believe me, i can trashtalk them just as fine.”

his brows furrow at the thought. it makes him uncomfortable knowing you have to go through that, and you’re used to it.

“you sure?” he asks again but does not impose because he understands your doubts. it truly is hard to trust someone nowadays.

“i am.”

you walk home after waving goodbye to the tall, handsome, purple-haired man with a clean cut—ready to forget him.

with all the good intentions left in his heart, he waits a few seconds for you to be at a safe distance before he quietly follows you home. just to make sure you get there safely.

true enough, there are a few men loitering along the streets. when they call you names and shout lewd remarks, ran is just ready to intervene.

but you flip off the men and shout, “you filthy fucking pigs! this is why you lead such petty little lives without a wife to love you!”

once he sees you get inside the apartment complex, he shoves his hands in his pockets, approaches the men and gave them a few threats and injuries. afterwards, he walks back to his car.

you were right—this was good exercise.

ran abandons his earlier plans and heads home for the night. and if it isn’t clear, he thinks about you the entire drive home until his eyes drifts off to sleep.

that was how you met ran haitani.

the next events were just batshit crazy. the nearby coffee shop closed down and business was back as usual. your schedules were changed into something that will allow you to have some time to study and even rest. in the blink of an eye, as if something shifted, everything was suddenly convenient for you.

but behind the scenes is ran haitani.

alongside all of the crazy happenings in your life, ran haitani never leaves you alone. literally the next day after your first encounter, he shows up at the coffee shop you work at with an irritated look on his face.

“what’re you so grumpy for? where’s the smile you had on last night? didn’t expect to see you here, mister. would you like to order?”

“why did you arrive just now?” he looks at the nameplate you just clipped on your apron, and it wasn’t there last night. “y/n.”

“what do you mean?”

“been waiting for you here for two hours already, thought i’d come by and see if you were able to make it home alive last night.”

you stifled a laugh, “obviously, i did. and i only start here very late at night. it’s a part-time. i study in the good part of the day and i work a waitressing job at a pub, then this one.”

his eyes widen, and the one thing he immediately thinks of is how you do not have to do all that if he just gives you what he has. he has more than enough money to last lifetimes. giving you some wouldn’t hurt, right?

he is not even surprised when you turn that offer down. he’s disappointed, but he saw it coming.

after months of clinging to your side like a leech, the man is irrevocably in love with you. like down bad. like there-is-no-getting-out-of-this in love.

seriously, how could he not?

he sees you work so hard, so independently, and face so much shit the world throws at you and still have the will to be fucking smiling at him?

when he told you about his work, which took him about three months to finally confess to you, your answer was, “i stand corrected. that is good exercise.”

the man was BAFFLED. you accept it, just like that? no judgments? no shouting? no cursing? no condemning him for all of his sins?

you continued, “i know how hard this life is and i won’t blame people for doing what they have to do to survive. i’d rather not get involved with that, ran, so keep me away from it… but as for you, i don’t mind.”

you said all that but when he confessed his feelings for you the very first time, you turned him down. it was for a good reason—you had to graduate and earn a degree so you can finally have a good-paying job. being in a relationship with anyone is putting that at risk, and it was a risk you couldn’t take.

he understood.

the second time he confessed, after a year, he was at your new apartment that you purchased all on your own. it was small, but it was yours, so he loved it.

this time, he was sure that you loved him too. the problem is, you told him that you want him to court you first. until you give him your sweet yes, every interaction has to be friendly.

ran didn’t understand, but it was what you wanted, so he courted you in ways that he absolutely had no idea how, but had to try anyway.

“court me, and i’ll see if you deserve me.”

well, no shit. he has been courting you for a year now.

everything is slowly falling into place. your job is getting stable. your apartment is getting filled with more upgrades. you don’t have to live off cup noodles anymore (although ran made sure you lived well with all the help you accepted from him after he met you). the bills are paying themselves.

but you won’t give ran the time of day. you were such a tease. brushing your hands with his but never truly holding it. hugging his huge figure but never fully embracing him, except on your graduation when he was the only person who went to congratulate you. speaking with your lips close to his but never kissing him.

being with him but never telling him you love him.

but you are. you are in love with ran haitani. you are aware of the things he does for you, and they do not go unappreciated.

the flowers he casually gives you even without an occasion. visiting your place just to cook your meals when you are too lazy to feed yourself. taking care of you when you are sick and even when you aren’t. spending all his money on you albeit discreetly so you won’t scold him. quitting the vices you hated. being your personal driver. leaving important work behind when you need him.

basically being there.

being present.

being your person.

you finally decide that it is time to give in to what you want. to love him without inhibitions. life has been hard enough and it is about time to just… give in to all the things you were deprived of.

ran is an impatient man, and you think it should be humanity’s greatest feat that he was able to wait for you this long.

you know better than anyone that he can wait for as long as you need him to, but the wait ends now. you cannot wait anymore, and neither can he.

sitting inside the car, stopping at the basement parking, ran waits for you to step out first because you made it clear that while you two are just friends, he will never be allowed to open doors for you.

“ran?”

“yeah?”

you unbuckle your seatbelt to lean forward and kiss him on the lips. he freezes at first, and the thoughts wilding inside him screams, what the fuck?! is this really fucking happening?!

when he recovers just as you pull away, he pulls your nape and deepens the kiss. he pours out all the years he spent waiting to cross this line on this kiss.

and you return all of them.

he pulls away to rest his forehead on yours, “what’s the meaning of this? are you… what is… is this what i think this is, baby?”

you nod with tears on your eyes.

“you can open my door for me.”

#⏳ — lumi’s fics!#OH MY GOD WHAT DID I JUST DO #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fics #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani fics #ran haitani imagines #ran haitani angst #ran haitani fluff #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani

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