liv!

livlovesdiary intro

hai this acc is rlly just blurbs of fics, mainly core boys but im gonna write other stuff too but i haven’t gotten there yet. i’m obsessed with these fics so i wanted to write them myself.

i do take requests.

i will write for

core boys

outerbanks

stranger things

maybe some actors

if you want to read other fics by me

i’ve written the babydoll series (rafe cameron) on wattpad as well as a few others.

wattpad

anyway enjoy

stable ronaldo x fem!reader

summary - It’s your brother Alex’s (Adapts) birthday, which means being dragged to a party full of people you barely know. You’re expecting a long night of awkward small talk and keeping to yourself until you meet one of your brother’s friends. An unforgettable, chaotic but hot guy. going up to his room you don’t expect what’s happening

Warning- language - alcohol/drinking - flirting - mild smut - making out - slow burnish - akward encounter and getting caught

A/N : fhis is edited and also not edited so… enjoy pls

summary : as the daughter of a famous acted from a young age you have stayed away from the spotlight or just public in general, you start dating a camera man of “the clip” but ron accidentally captured a secret kiss in the background of his video

warnings : swearing, use of y/n, kissing.

- this is very short but i really liked this one -

You’re the daughter of a famous actor, and for years you’ve stayed out of the spotlight—private accounts, a quiet life. At first, it was your father’s request. Then, it became your own necessity.

For almost a year, you and Dylan had been dating. He was more public-facing than you, but you kept your lives separate. You had private accounts on everything. You and Dylan had met years ago through mutual friends, and he’d respected your boundaries from the start. When he told you he was moving into the new Core House, you were happy for him. Even if it was just a wing of the main house, you’d refused to live in a content house. Dylan never pushed.

You’d asked him not to post you—subtle photos were fine, as long as you weren’t in them.

Now, you’re lying on the guest house couch, scrolling on your phone, waiting for Dylan to get back from streaming. The house is dim, lit only by the glow of the TV. It’s 8 p.m. when the light outside fades completely.

Then Dylan and Ron walk in, their expressions guilty.

“What’s going on?” you ask, sitting up.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry,” Ron says, laughing nervously.

You look at Dylan. He pulls out his phone and shows you a photo—one he didn’t notice when posting the video. It’s from Jason’s birthday party stream. You and Dylan are in the background, kissing, your whole face exposed.

“I’m deadass so sorry,” Ron says. “I didn’t see it when I posted the video.”

“Wait—this has been posted?” Panic shoots through you. You open the comments instantly.

OH GOD IS THAT LAIYS?

THAT’S MYSTERY GIRL

OH MY GOD ISN’T SHE OSCAR ISAAC’S DAUGHTER?

WHAT

MY MANNN NOOO

You keep scrolling, but Dylan takes the phone from your hand before you can sink deeper.

“Yeah, for a day,” Ron says. “I got a bunch of tweets about it. I already took the video down.”

“It’s okay, Ron,” you say, forcing a smile. Then you look at Dylan. He reaches for your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“This doesn’t really change anything for me,” you say. “I just wish we were the ones posting it.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron says again.

“Really, it’s fine,” you insist, laughing softly.

Dylan exhales. “You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be?” you ask. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Because you’ve made it your whole thing to stay out of the spotlight,” Dylan says.

You glance back at the photo. “I mean, I look like hell in this pic. That’s the only thing I’m upset about.”

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Really?”

“I’m genuinely so sorry,” Ron says, hugging you. You hug him back, laughing despite everything.

“Ron, it’s okay. I promise,” you say, pulling away.

Ron soon leaves, and you and Dylan sit in the kitchen. He leans against the stove, you facing him on the counter.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you sigh. “It was bound to happen. I’ve just been waiting for it.”

He smiles, stepping closer, his hands resting on your thighs.

“What will your parents say?” he asks.

You shrug. “Not much. They probably don’t care.”

“So your dad won’t kill me?”

You reach up, playing with his chain. “Uh, no? I was more worried about what people would say.”

He smirks. “And by the way, you look fucking divine in that photo.”

You cup his face, pulling him into a kiss. “Mhm. But I’m still not letting you post my pictures.”

He laughs softly, kissing you again. “I’ll take what I can get, as long as people know I’m taken.”

“You weren’t telling people you had a girlfriend?” you scoff.

“Was I supposed to?” His grin is infuriating.

“Dylan!” You shove him lightly, but he grips your arm, pulling you closer.

“Baby—I’m kidding, I swear,” he laughs. “I promise.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, but he pulls you by the waist back into his arms.

“You’re so annoying,” you murmur into his chest.

“Yeah—yeah, I love you,” he says, kissing your head, “I tell everyone i’m taken, and i’m proud abt it.”

you roll your eyes but continue kissing his neck up to his jaw.

“maybe i’ll let you mark me for the extra effects,” he smiled leaning into your kisses, you lean back.

“why are you so freaky,” you laugh.

“be for real, you love it.” he squeezed onto your waist.

“mmm, debatable,”

———————————————————————

laiysxdxd - i won’t be sharing, tho fr pls respect my gfs privacy as she would like for her photos to not be posted. later🫰

USER234 - ugh im alr obsessed w the fact i know who she is now

stableronaldo - my bad

i do have some small ones

summary : irl new york stream with ron, exploring new york with chat who sees things that you don’t. the way ron looks at you when you aren’t looking, the way you guys laugh too much at eachother, and the way teasing doesn’t feel like regular teasing.

warnings - use of (y/n)

The stream had been live for nearly an hour, and somehow, the two of you still hadn’t managed to make any real progress. Not in the way the chat was screaming for, anyway.

You were side by side on a bustling New York sidewalk, your phone held up between you like a shield—though Ron kept trying to angle the camera at anything but himself. His fingers fumbled with the settings, his focus split between the screen and the way your sleeve rode up just enough to reveal the faintest hint of wrist when you adjusted your grip.

“Chat, look at this,” Ron said, pivoting the camera toward a towering glass building that reflected the late afternoon sun like a beacon. His voice was smooth, teasing, but his eyes flicked to you the second the words left his lips. “This is fire.”

You side-eyed him, lips curling into a smirk. “Ron. That’s literally a bank.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you showing them?”

“Because it’s New York,” he shot back, as if that explained everything. As if the city’s very soul was embedded in the sterile lines of a Chase branch.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re sostupid.”

Ron’s gaze locked onto yours for a heartbeat too long—just a second, but long enough for the air between you to thicken. Then he turned back to the camera, his smirk deepening. “Chat, she just called me stupid.”

The chat erupted.

CHAT:
THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER
RON IS GONE 😭
YOU TWO ARE FLIRTING
Y/N LOOK AT HIM
HE LOOKED AT HER LIKE SHE WAS THE ONLY PERSON THERE

You didn’t see a single message. But Ron did.

His eyes darted down to the screen, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he read the flood of reactions. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face—one that made your stomach flip, even if you’d never admit it.

“Why are you smiling?” you asked, nudging him with your elbow.

“I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

“I’m just happy.”

“Why?”

Ron shrugged, his gaze flicking to yours before darting away. “New York.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicion lacing your tone. “Right.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you found yourself staring at the way his throat moved when he did. Ridiculous. You were supposed to be annoyed at him.

You started walking again, Ron falling into step beside you. He turned to the camera, lifting a hand in a mock salute to the chat. “Cut that shit off.”

A few minutes later, you stopped outside a tiny, neon-lit food stall tucked between a bodega and a subway entrance. The scent of sizzling meat and fried dough wrapped around you, and your stomach growled loud enough that Ron heard it.

“I’m starving,” he announced, rubbing his hands together like a villain in a heist movie.

“You’re always hungry.”

“You literally ate half my food yesterday,” he scoffed, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Because yours looked better.”

“You ordered the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, and yours still looked better,” you shot back, grinning.

Ron stared at you. Not in a way that was obvious, not in a way that would make Noah your cameraman suspicious. But just long enough for your pulse to stutter. Just long enough for the heat of his gaze to seep under your skin.

You were too busy scanning the menu to notice.

The chat, however, was not.

CHAT:
RON.
RON STOP LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT
Y/N PLEASE LOOK AT THE SCREEN
HE’S SO OBVIOUS
THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW 😭

Ron’s eyes snapped away the second you turned toward him, his cheeks flushing a shade darker than usual.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Nothing.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I always act weird.”

“That’s… true.”

He smiled, slow and deliberate. “You like it.”

You froze.

For half a second, neither of you spoke. The world around you—the honking cars, the chatter of pedestrians, the sizzle of the food stall—all of it faded into the background. It was just the two of you, suspended in this moment where the air hummed with something unspoken.

Then you laughed, awkward and high-pitched, breaking the spell. “Maybe.”

Ron looked down at the sidewalk, biting back a grin as he raised his hand between you, palm up. “Dap me up.”

“No thanks.”

“How dare you,” he pressed a hand to his chest like you’d just dealt him a mortal blow, his voice dripping with mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I don’t know where your hands have been.”

“You’ve been with me the whole time,” he countered, eyes twinkling with challenge.

“Fine. Make it good,” you huffed, holding your hand out—but the second he slapped his palm against yours, the contact sent a jolt through you. His fingers lingered a second too long before he pulled away, his smirk turning triumphant.

“Everything you wanted?” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“That was terrible. We have to try again,” Ron grinned, staring straight into the camera like he was daring the universe to disagree.

“Well, that’s on you,” you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

The chat lost it.

Later, in the heart of Central Park, Ron decided to educate you on your walking style.

He stepped in front of you, striking a ridiculous pose—hips jutting out, shoulders swaying like he was on a runway. “This is how you actually walk,” he declared, mimicking your stride with exaggerated flair.

“I do not walk like that,” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You’re just making yourself look stupid.”

“Wait,” he said, holding out a hand. “I need your purse.”

You rolled your eyes but handed it over anyway. Like the diva he was, Ron slung the bag over his shoulder and continued his obnoxious strut. “Strut your shit, Ron,” you laughed, shaking your head.

CHAT
ZESTY AHH WALK
WAIT HES ON POINT

“Bro, I do not fucking walk like that,” you said, finally setting your phone down to glare at him. He’d stopped walking, watching you with that infuriating smirk of his.

“What’s the rating?” he asked, handing your bag back.

“Seven. Not Victoria’s Secret worthy.”

“Rude,” Ron snapped his fingers in your face, his cheeks flushing pink as he turned away. But there was something in his tone—something raw and teasing—that made your smile falter for just a second. Like he’d reached out and traced a finger along your ribs.

Then you shoved him.

“Come on, idiot.”

He shoved you back, laughing. “Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Make me.”

You stopped walking. Ron stopped too.

The air between you crackled. Neither of you knew what to say next. Neither of you wanted to look away.

“Bro… keep walking,” you laughed weakly, breaking the tension.

The chat, of course, did not.

CHAT:
MAKE YOU???
HELLO???
THAT WAS NOT NORMAL TEASING
THE TENSION IS CRAZY
THEY ARE SO BLIND

You glanced down at your phone, eyes widening. “Oh my God.”

Ron immediately leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “What?”

“Chat is being weird.”

“What are they saying?”

You clutched the phone to your chest, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to make it worse.”

Ron’s grin turned wicked. “Now I definitely wanna see.”

You held the phone out of reach, laughing as he lunged for it. “Ron!”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re annoying!” you wheezed, trying to catch your breath as his arms wrapped around you, his chest pressing against your back as he tried to grab the device.

“Yeah—yeah, keep your secrets, witch,” he muttered against your hair.

You gasped, twisting to face him. “Call me a witch again.”

Ron’s eyes widened, his hands stilling on your waist. “I apologize,” he said, but the way he said it—like he didn’t want to—made your heart race.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you huffed, shaking your head and hiding your smile behind your hand.

CHAT
FOLDED INSTANTLY. NO PRESSURE.

You guys continued on, weaving through the park until Times Square loomed ahead, a neon jungle of chaos and color. Ron spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. “I can’t believe you live here,” he said, voice quiet for a second.

“Me either,” you admitted, watching the way his eyes reflected the flickering screens.

“Do you think Spider-Man is here?” he asked suddenly, nudging your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “God, you’re a nerd.”

“Come on, it’s my last day here,” he shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, shaking your head.

You kept walking until the crowd thickened, until the sea of people swallowed you whole. Then, suddenly, voices started screaming your names.

“Y/N!”

“RON RON!”

Ron’s head snapped toward you, his expression shifting from playful to protective in an instant. Noah dropped the camera and stepped in front of you, arms outstretched to create a barrier between you and the crowd. Ron moved without thinking, his hand finding yours and squeezing tight.

“All good?” he asked, his voice low, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You nodded, throat tight. “You?”

“All good.”

You looked back at Noah, who was still pushing against the crowd, but Ron’s grip on your hand didn’t loosen. Not even a little.

Noah didn’t know the camera was facing you guys, your hand in ron’s pulling you out of the main area.

The car that you guys had called wasn’t far down the street.

“Is this what going out is usually like for you?” you ask switching to hold onto ron’s arm.

“sometimes, i think it’s just cause everyone knows we are in time fucking square,”

“hey i stopped the live!” noah says.

“thank you noah,” you say back.

you guys finally made it back to the car, you and ron sitting in the back seat and noah sat in the middle seat. you tell the driver your address.

“holy shit that had never happened before,” you say.

“never been mobbed by fans?” ron grins.

“no, i’m not that big of a streamer,” you sigh, “i get mobbed by teenage boys once and a while but that’s because they have nothing better to do.”

“really?” ron looked over.

“yeah,” you nod

“that must be terrifying,” he says.

“it is occasionally but usually it’s helpful to have noah or my friends,”

“am i considered a friend now,” ron asked.

“i’ll debate that,” you smile.

he smiles and leaned back in his seat

finally back at your apartment, noah had gone back to his place so now it’s you and ron in your living room. You were saying down on the end of the couch, near ron who was laying in your giant bean bag, ron was screen sharing on your tv showing you all the edits people have made of you both.

“This one’s my favorite,” ron said, pulling up an edit of the both of you laughing at streamer awards then cuts to you mogging ron.

“so I mog you basically,” you tilt your head, “i hate the word mog,”

“you hate fun,”

“is your real name Rani?” you held up your phone, showing a clip of someone finding out his real name.

Ron chuckled, “yeah,”

“Can i call you rani?” you ask with a smile.

“ron is better,” he said.

“You hate fun,”

“what time is your flight in the morning?” you ask.

“seven in the morning,” he smiled, “are you gonna miss me when i leave?”

“mmmm no,” you say, he gasped dramatically.

“kidding, maybe, it’s nice having you as company,” you say.

“Actually, i had a lot more fun than i thought i would,” he admits.

“so you’re saying you didn’t think you’d have fun here?” you spoke dramatically.

“No, i thought it would be really awkward,” he replied, “i think we click really well,”

“i think so too,”

silence quickly hovered for a while both of you still watching the edits that were playing on the screen.

“So when are you coming to the core house,” he turned his phone of to look at you.

“depends how soon will you miss me?” you say back.

he leans back on his elbows and grins, “up to you to decide,”

“maybe soon, i’d like to hang out with you again,” you said softer than you intended.

he let out a defeated sigh.

“what?” you ask.

“there’s this tension between us, both of us acting like we don’t actually really like eachother,” he said out bluntly.

“i barley met you a month ago,” you say.

“so, how about—when,” he continued, “when you come to la, or if you do.”

you smile hoping you already know where he is going with it.

“No camera or streaming, we go on a date?” he asked fighting the redness forming on his face.

“are you blushing rani?” you tease.

“deal ends it three seconds,” he surrendered his hands.

“i’m kidding, i’d like that,” you smile.

“deal,” he nodded.

“deal,”

summary : you and alex had been privately dating for a few months, you guys rarely go out trying to avoid the public, so usually your dates consist of movie nights, cooking together, anything inside. but when the core is planning their trip to paris he asks you to come. your guys first romantic trip together

warnings: making out, private but not secret relationship. PLOT AND SMUT - p in v, oral (f receiving) praise. (anything else?)

The group chat had been blowing up all morning about the Paris trip. Flights, hotels, content ideas, the usual chaos. You were half-listening while scrolling through your phone when Alex’s name lit up your screen in a private message.

Alex 🤍

come with me

You stared at it for a second before typing back.

you

isn’t it like a core thing?

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

baby i’m asking you to come with me

Your stomach flipped. You glanced up from the couch. Alex was across the room, legs kicked up on the coffee table, phone in hand, looking completely casual. Like he hadn’t just said that.

really? you typed.

He laughed under his breath, the sound low enough that only you caught it.

yes.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the smile.

i guess

He looked over at you then, eyes soft for half a second before he went back to pretending to care about whatever Ron was yelling about. back upstairs you waited for adapt to stop streaming, eventually he made his way up to his room where you had been laying in his bed.

you hear the door click and instantly look up. “i’m pretty sure if i get seen at paris with you everyone is going to put two and two together,” you say as he walked over.

“mhm,” he got onto the bed fully putting his body weight on top of you.

“Alex,” you groan.

“It will be fun,” he whispered.

“you are too fat,” you try pushing him off.

“excuse me?” he sat up to look at you, you lean up and quickly kissed him, “nice try,”

instantly he leans down to your stomach tickling you.

“wait!! im sorry!!” you cry out laughing.

—

The airport was a different story.

Crowds, cameras, people who recognized the Core from a mile away. You walked a little behind the group on purpose, backpack strap tight in your hand. Alex stayed close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every few steps. Nothing obvious. Just enough that you felt it.

When the line slowed, his fingers found the back of your hoodie, a quiet tug, a silent I’m right here. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t need to.

Ron, of course, noticed everything.

He fell into step beside you with that shit-eating grin, phone already half-raised.

“Aww look at her trying to act normal,” he stage-whispered. “She’s so in love it’s embarrassing.”

“Ron—”

He angled the camera toward your face like he was about to hit record. “Say hi to the internet, secret girlfriend.”

You lunged for the phone. “Ron if you post that I swear—”

He cackled and spun away, already showing Jason the almost-footage. Jason just shook his head, but he was smiling. Marlon didn’t even look up from his own phone, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Alex’s hand settled on the small of your back for one second—warm, steady, gone before anyone who wasn’t looking could catch it.

“Ignore him,” he murmured near your ear. “He’s just jealous no one wants to sit next to him on the plane.”

You huffed, but the tension in your shoulders eased.

“I always ignore him,” you glance over at Ron and Laiyse.

The plane was quieter, a lot quieter.

Most of the cabin lights were dimmed. Ron and Jason were a few rows up, already half-asleep with hoodies pulled over their faces. Marlon had noise-cancelling headphones on and a laptop open. The rest of the world felt far away.

You had the window seat. Alex took the middle without asking.

Somewhere over the Atlantic the turbulence smoothed out and the cabin grew still. You shifted, tired, and he lifted his arm without a word. You curled into his side, head on his chest, one of his hands settling in your hair like it belonged there.

His heartbeat was steady under your ear.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

You nodded against him. “Thanks for bringing me,” you whisper to him.

“Anytime baby,” he smiled softly pressing a kiss to your head.

His fingers kept moving slowly through your hair. Outside the window the sky was black and endless. Inside, it was just the two of you and the low hum of the engines.

No cameras. No teasing. Just the quiet weight of his arm around you and the soft press of his lips against the top of your head when he thought you were already asleep.

You weren’t.

But you stayed still anyway, smiling into his hoodie, and let yourself believe for a little while that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

—

The hotel lobby was all glass and soft lighting, the kind of place that made even the Core look slightly out of place in their hoodies and sneakers. Bags were dropped, room keys handed out, and the usual chaos of deciding who was sharing with who started up.

Ron stretched his arms over his head with a dramatic groan. “I need an hour. At least. Don’t knock, don’t text, don’t exist near my door. I’m dead.”

Jason snorted. “You’ll be live-streaming in twenty minutes.”

“Fuck off.” Ron was already walking toward the elevators, waving a hand without looking back. “One hour. Minimum.”

You and Alex exchanged a look. Quick. Quiet. The kind of look that said the same thing at the same time.

Win.

Marlon was already scrolling through something on his phone, half-listening. Jason just smirked like he knew exactly what the sudden silence between you two meant, but he didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his own keycard and followed Ron.

Alex’s fingers brushed the back of your hand as you both turned toward the elevators.

Your room was on a higher floor, quieter, the hallway thick with that expensive-hotel hush. The second the door clicked shut behind you, the air changed.

Alex dropped his bag without looking where it landed. Then he was on you—hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. You barely had time to laugh before he tossed you onto the bed. The mattress dipped hard under you, and then he was climbing over you, knees bracketing your hips, one hand already braced beside your head.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting the entire flight to do it.

Deep. Hungry. No teasing, no holding back. His mouth moved against yours like he was trying to make up for every second you’d had to pretend in public. You pulled him closer by the front of his hoodie, legs wrapping around his waist, and he made a low sound in his throat that went straight through you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. Both of you were breathing harder than the short distance from the door should’ve allowed.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, voice rough.

You smiled up at him, fingers still curled in the fabric of his hoodie. “Me too.”

He stayed there for a second, just looking at you, thumb brushing slowly along your jaw. Then his expression shifted—softer, but heavier somehow.

“What happens if someone sees us?” you asked quietly. The question had been sitting in the back of your mind since the airport. “Like… really sees us. Not just Ron being Ron.”

Alex’s hand stilled. He exhaled through his nose, eyes searching yours.

“Then someone sees us,” he said simply. “I’m tired of hiding. I want to go on dates. Actual ones. Not just sneaking around hotel rooms and hoping no one clocks it.”

You smiled, small and a little disbelieving, the kind of smile that came with relief more than anything else.

He smiled back, the corner of his mouth lifting like he couldn’t help it.

“We are in Paris,” he said, voice low and warm. “I am in Paris with my girlfriend.”

Then he leaned down and kissed you again—slower this time, deeper, like he was sealing the words between you.

“You are a big dork, y’know that,” you run your fingers through his hair.

“did you know that you are really pretty,” he grins.

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes.

he holds onto your waist kissing your neck and just holding you close to him. you could stay like that for the rest of the time in paris and you wouldn’t complain.

—

The restaurant was the kind of place that felt too nice for hoodies and sneakers, all warm lighting and low chatter, the kind of spot tourists dreamed about when they thought of Paris. The Core had somehow ended up at a corner table near the window, far enough from the main floor that the noise stayed soft.

You were wedged between Alex and Ron, Jason across from you, Marlon at the end with his usual half-focused expression like he was already planning the next piece of content in his head.

At first you kept it careful. Laughing at the right moments, smiling when someone looked your way, keeping your hands to yourself. Old habit. Even with the boys knowing, the rest of the room didn’t.

But the food was good. The wine was better. And Ron was being Ron—dramatically complaining about the portion sizes while simultaneously stealing fries off Jason’s plate.

“You’re actually insane,” Jason said, swatting at his hand.

“I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re twenty-something and look like a stick.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, the sound coming out easier than it had all day. Alex’s knee bumped yours under the table—quiet, deliberate. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, eyes soft in that way that still made your stomach flip.

Without thinking about it too hard, you let your hand rest on the table between you.

A second later, his fingers slid between yours.

No one at the table reacted like it was a big deal. Ron just smirked into his glass. Jason raised an eyebrow, but it was more amused than surprised. Marlon didn’t even look up from the menu he’d already ordered from ten minutes ago.

And just like that, the last of the tension in your shoulders loosened.

You started talking more. Teasing Ron when he tried to pronounce something on the menu and butchered it. Asking Jason about some clip he’d been editing. Laughing when Marlon finally looked up long enough to dryly point out that Ron had ketchup on his chin.

Alex’s thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles the whole time, steady and warm. Every now and then he’d squeeze your hand like a silent check-in—you good?—and you’d squeeze back.

At one point Ron leaned in, voice low enough that only the table could hear.

“Look at you two. Holding hands in public like it’s nothing. What’s next, matching outfits?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Shut up.”

Alex just lifted your joined hands slightly, like he was showing them off on purpose, and took a sip of his drink with his free hand.

“Problem?” he asked mildly.

Ron grinned wider. “Nah. Just saying. About time.”

The conversation kept going after that—louder, easier. Plates were passed around. Stories got told. You found yourself leaning into Alex’s side without thinking about who might be watching from other tables. For the first time all day, it didn’t feel like you were performing.

It just felt like dinner.

With your boyfriend’s hand in yours, and the boys who already knew exactly what you were to each other.

The conversation kept going after that—louder, easier. Plates were passed around. Stories got told. You found yourself leaning into Alex’s side without thinking about who might be watching from other tables. For the first time all day, it didn’t feel like you were performing.

It just felt like dinner.

Until a voice cut through the moment.

“Oh my god—sorry, hi—are you guys Faze?”

A girl stood near the edge of the table, phone already half-raised, eyes wide with that mix of excitement and nerves. Instantly, your hand jerked back from Alex’s like you’d been burned. Old instinct. Automatic.

But before you could fully pull away, his fingers found yours again under the table. Steady. Warm. Hidden by the tablecloth. He didn’t even glance at you—just kept his hold firm, thumb brushing once over your knuckles like a quiet I’ve got you.

The boys shifted into their usual polite-fan mode. Smiles. Nods. The whole thing.

“Yeah, that’s us,” Jason said easily.

The girl launched into a quick, breathless spiel about how much she loved their content, how she’d recognized them from across the room. Alex stayed relaxed beside you, voice calm when he finally spoke.

“We’re not taking pictures, but it’s nice to meet you.”

You looked over at him then. He was already glancing sideways at you, the corner of his mouth tilted up just enough that only you would catch it. You smiled back, small and private, the tension in your chest easing again under the table where no one else could see.

The fan left a minute later, still grinning, and the second she was out of earshot Ron leaned forward with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen.

“I have never seen y/n panic like that.”

You groaned, dropping your head back. “Ron, are you gonna be like this the whole trip?”

He grinned wider, completely unrepentant. “Absolutely.”

Alex’s hand squeezed yours under the table, and when you looked at him again he was fighting a smile of his own.

—smut—

The second the hotel room door shut behind you, Alex had you against it.

No words. Just his mouth on yours—hungry, deep, like he’d been holding back the entire dinner. His hands were already under your shirt, palms sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra as he kissed you like he needed it to breathe.

You barely got your bag dropped before he was walking you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. The backs of your knees hit the mattress and he followed you down, body covering yours, one knee slotting between your thighs.

“Been thinking about this all night,” he muttered against your mouth, voice rough. “Watching you laugh, holding my hand under the table… fuck.”

He kissed down your jaw, then your neck, teeth grazing just hard enough to make you arch. His hands made quick work of your clothes—shirt first, then bra, then the button of your jeans. He tugged them down along with your underwear in one motion, tossing them aside without looking.

Then he was on his knees at the edge of the bed, hands spreading your thighs open.

He looked up at you once, eyes dark, before leaning in and dragging his tongue through your folds in one slow, deliberate stroke.

“Fuck—” you gasped, hips twitching.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, the words vibrating. “Let me hear you.”

He licked again, slower this time, circling your clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips. One of his hands held your thigh open; the other slid two fingers inside you without warning, curling just right.

“God, you’re already so wet for me,” he praised, voice low and rough between licks. “Been like this since the restaurant, huh? Sitting there all polite while I was touching your hand…”

You whimpered, fingers threading into his hair as he worked you open with his mouth and fingers. He didn’t rush—long, wet strokes, the wet sound of it filling the room, every so often pulling back just enough to say something filthy and soft.

“Look at you… taking my fingers so well.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Alex…”

He sucked harder on your clit the second the words left his mouth, fingers thrusting deeper, and the orgasm hit you hard—thighs shaking around his head, a broken moan tearing out of you as you came.

Alex didn’t stop until you were twitching and pushing at his shoulder. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on yours as he stood and shoved his own clothes off.

He climbed back over you, cock heavy and hard against your stomach as he kissed you again—deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still with me?” he asked, voice softer now, forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, already reaching between you to stroke him. “mhmm… please.”

He groaned at the touch, hips pushing into your hand for a second before he lined himself up. The head of his cock dragged through your soaked folds once, twice—then he pushed in, slow and deep, until he was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, baby…” His forehead dropped to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

He started moving—long, deep strokes at first, like he was savoring it. One hand braced beside your head, the other sliding under your thigh to hitch it higher so he could get even deeper.

“That’s it… take it,” he murmured against your ear. “Look at how well you take me. So perfect for me.”

You moaned, nails dragging down his back as he picked up the pace. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with his low praise and the broken noises you couldn’t hold back.

“My girl… fucking my girl in Paris.”

“oh god,” your hand wraps around his bicep.

“You’re doing so good… so fucking good for me.”

He shifted the angle, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and one of his hands slipped between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit.

“Come again,” he ordered softly, almost gentle even as he fucked you harder. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

The second orgasm ripped through you harder than the first—your whole body tightening around him as you cried out. Alex groaned, hips stuttering, and then he was coming too, buried deep, pulsing inside you with a low, broken “fuck—” against your neck.

He stayed there for a long moment after, still inside you, breathing hard, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

Eventually he pulled out carefully and rolled to the side, immediately tugging you with him so you were half on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns up and down your spine while both of you caught your breath.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, voice still rough.

You nodded against his skin, smiling. “More than okay.”

His arm tightened around you, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “I love you,”

you let out a tired heavy breath, “i love you more,”

SUMMARY - part two, Ron flies out to new york to do a collab, he lands and you guys spend some time hanging out before actually streaming. You slowly start to feel a more than friendly feeling.

Warning- cursing, sort of cringe flirting, joking, (i don’t know what else)

enjoy

You hadn’t expected Ron to actually come.

Not this soon, anyway.

When he texted you that morning—

landed

—you stared at your phone for a solid thirty seconds. Then you dropped it. Twice.

Then came another message.

you picking me up or am i getting an uber

You smirked.

depends. are you annoying in person too?

His response came almost immediately.

probably worse

You snorted, nearly dropping your phone again. You grabbed your keys before you could overthink it.

By the time you pulled into the airport, you’d already convinced yourself you were completelycalm.

You weren’t.

Your hands were sweaty. Your stomach was doing backflips. And your brain had short-circuited into a loop of “oh god oh god oh god.”

You spotted him almost immediately.

Black hoodie. Glasses. Bag over his shoulder.

He looked around the pickup area like he was searching for a celebrity sighting.

Then his eyes landed on your car.

His face lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

You rolled down the window.

“Get in.”

Ron opened the passenger door and threw his bag into the back with a dramatic sigh. “Took you long enough.”

“Hi,” you said, deadpan.

He froze mid-motion, then slowly turned to face you. “Oh. Hi.”

He closed the door.

For some reason, the second he got into the car, the entire mood changed. It felt easy. Like you weren’t meeting someone you’d only spoken to a handful of times. Like you’d known him longer than you actually had.

Ron leaned back in the seat, stretching his arms behind his head. “You look good.”

You glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “That’s the first thing you say?”

“What?” He feigned innocence.

“Not hello?”

“Hello.”

You laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I said you looked good.”

“And now you’re fishing for a compliment.”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

He smiled. “You’re lying.”

You pulled away from the curb. “How was your flight?”

“Long. And cramped. And someone in front of me had the audacity to recline their seat into my personal space.”

“Poor baby,” you teased.

“Don’t mock me. I’m fragile.”

You looked over at him. “Okay. We’re getting food.”

“I thought we were going to your place.”

“We were.”

“So?”

“So I’m hungry.”

Ron laughed. “You’re just using me as an excuse to get pizza.”

“I saw a full video of you today, and it was just you ordering food every stream.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded solemnly.

You drove through the city, pointing out places as you went. Ron kept interrupting you with questions.

“What’s that?”

“That restaurant?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never heard of it?”

“No.”

“You need to leave LA more.”

“Okay, New York.”

You looked at him. “Don’t start.”

He grinned. “I’m just saying.”

“You’ve been here for fifteen minutes.” You rolled your eyes. “No nicknames.”

“And I’ve already decided I like it.”

You smiled. “Maybe you like the tour guide.”

Ron looked at you, his grin turning mischievous. “Maybe.”

You immediately looked back at the road, trying to play it cool. He laughed.

“See?”

“See what?” You shot him a glare. “I’m not—”

“You are.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“And you keep smiling.”

You tried not to. It didn’t work. Eventually, you pulled up outside a little pizza place you’d been going to for years.

Ron looked at the sign. “This is the spot?”

“This is the spot.”

You both ordered and found a table toward the back. For the first time since you’d picked him up, neither of you had a camera pointed at you. No chat. No event. No people watching.

Just the two of you.

Ron leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So.”

“So?”

“I feel like I don’t actually know anything about you.”

You smiled. “You’re right.”

“Fix that.”

You laughed. “Why?”

“Because I flew across the country.”

“You flew here for work.”

“Sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure?”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

You shook your head. “You’re such a flirt.”

“I don’t flirt.”

“You absolutely flirt.”

“I was being friendly.”

“That was flirting.”

“How?”

“You know how.”

He laughed. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You pointed at him. “See?”

“Don’t get excited.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Maybe.”

You both laughed. The pizza arrived, but somehow the food became secondary.

Ron wiped his hands on a napkin before pulling out his phone. “Okay, real talk. I need to know something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. What did you find?”

“There are so many edits of us together.”

You nearly choked on your pizza. “What?”

He turned his screen toward you, showing a collage of fan edits—crazy, over-the-top edits with dramatic music, slow-motion shots of you two laughing, and even some very creative captions.

You groaned, covering your face. “Oh my god. Who even makes these?”

Ron grinned. “Apparently, a lot of people. There’s one where we’re in a movie trailer, and the title is ‘Love at First Stream.’”

You peeked through your fingers. “Delete that from your phone.”

“No way.” He scrolled through more, his grin getting wider. “This one’s my favorite. It’s set to *‘As It Was’ by Harry Styles, and it cuts between us looking at each other like—”

“Stop.” You threw a napkin at him. “I swear to god, if you show me any more—”

“What? You don’t like being shipped?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Because I feel like you do.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “I can’t believe this.”

“Admit it,” he teased. “You secretly love it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Ron.”

He laughed, putting his phone away. “Fine. But you have to admit, it’s kind of sweet.”

You groaned again, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am.” He gestured to himself. “Your favorite impossible person.”

“Okay, let’s go,” You grabbed your keys

You both stand to walk to your car.

“You watch your own edits don’t you?” You turn to him.

He shrugs.

“You can’t tell me you don’t watch your edits, especially the edit people make of your modeling for vogue?” he teased.

“You watched my edit?”

He stopped.

“No?” He scratched his head.

“Right…right.”

Around 5:00 pm back at your apartment, you open your door slowly letting him follow you behind.

“wow irs clean,” he nodded looking around.

your apartment wasn’t always clean, but knowing you were having a guest you cleaned and tidied more than you usually would.

“Do i not seem like a clean person?” you turn to him offensively.

“kidding,” he raised his hands.

“C’mon,” you bring him

over to the hallway where the guest bedroom was, you had recently remodeled it, new bed and tv set up and even a desk.

“Man, so we don’t get bunk beds,” He joked looking over at you.

“get the fuck out,” you roll your eyes almost wanting to walk over and shove him. “You want to do the baking stream today?”

“If you want to,” he says, he was putting his bag onto the bed.

“You’re the guest,” You lean against the wall.

“What are we making?” he sits down on the bed, “yo your house is boring,”

“First of all fuck you, second of all, we are making fucking cookies.”

“Woah, hold on with the damn curse words,” He put his hand up.

“Okay whatever, come on,” you reach over grabbing his hand, his eye brows peak up before following you out the room.

you walk out of the guest bedroom into your living room.

You pointed toward the couch.

“Sit.”

He dropped onto it, stretching his legs out.

You grabbed two drinks from the kitchen before joining him.

For a few minutes, you talked about absolutely nothing.

The pizza.

The awards.

The ridiculous amount of cameras at the event.

Then, somehow, the conversation shifted.

“So when did you start doing all this?” Ron asked.

You looked over.

“Content?”

“Yeah.”

You thought for a second.

“Honestly? I started because I liked making videos. It wasn’t supposed to become my actual career.”

“Same.”

“You?”

Ron nodded.

“Yeah. I didn’t think any of this was gonna happen.”

“You always knew you wanted to stream?”

“Nah.”

He leaned back into the couch.

“I was just making clips. Messing around with my friends. Then one thing turned into another.”

You smiled.

“You’re really good at it.”

He looked at you.

“Thanks.”

His voice was quieter than usual.

“Y’know you are really good at singing too,” you joke.

“Oh come on,” he threw his head back.

“I’m just fucking with you,” you laugh, he looked back at you with a smile as he rolled your eyes.

“Does it ever feel weird?” you asked.

“What?”

“How much your life changed.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

You waited.

He looked down at his hands.

“I mean, I love what I do. Obviously. I’m grateful for it.”

He paused.

“But sometimes I think about when nobody knew who I was.”

You smiled softly.

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes.”

There was no joke afterward.

That surprised you.

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ right now,” you said.

Ron looked at you.

“What?”

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Making everything a joke.”

He laughed quietly.

“That’s just me.”

“I know.”

You smiled.

“But I mean… you don’t have to do it with me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

Then he leaned back and exhaled.

“You’re actually really easy to talk to.”

Your cheeks warmed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You looked down at your drink.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad?” he grins.

“Don’t get too excited.”

He smiled.

“There she is.”

You laughed

“Shut up.”

He laughed too.

Then you started talking about your own career.

The pressure.

The expectations.

How strange it was having strangers recognize you.

How you’d worked for years to get where you were and still sometimes felt like you were figuring everything out as you went.

Ron listened without interrupting.

Really listened.

When you finished, he nodded, he looked around the apartment for a moment.

“You live here alone?” He asked.

You nod.

“It get lonely?” he asks.

“Mm, sometimes, my camera man usually is here, or my friends,” you say, “Why you want to start keeping me company?”

he laughs, “maybe,” he shrugs, “Maybe you should come to LA more,”

“That’s a lot of money,” you shrug.

“i’ll fly you out,” he says, a slight grin on his face.

“Shut up,” you reach over pushing his shoulder over, “you want to stream?”

he smiled, “whatever you say,”

hi guys you guys rlly liked part one this one isn’t super proof read also there might be a lot of grammar and spelling errors english im not the best with grammar but i try. mwah enjoy!!

STABLERONALDO X FEM!READER

summary - you a streamer from new york flew out for streamer awards. You were presenting an award, but you meet Ron who you share constant interesting interactions. You are known for being bold, but this bold was different. You made Stable Ronaldo nervous.

warnings- mild language, alcohol/drinking, slow burn, fluffish

a/n - my first fic i’m gonna make this a series of secret relationship, this is how you guys met basically.

The first thing you noticed about the Streamer Awards was how much louder it was in person.

The music. The cameras. The way the air hummed with energy—and the way one person’s voice cut through it all like a match striking flint.

You’d been to events before, but this was different. You were representing Best Content Organization, and considering how many creators you’d watched growing up scattered throughout the venue like stars in some cosmic algorithm—you were trying not to look like you were seconds away from combusting.

You’d barely made it past the velvet rope when a camera swung toward you, its red light blinking like a dare.

“Yo! What’s up?” Stable Ronaldo stood infront of you in a tux and an odd fedora.

You’d recognize that smirk anywhere. The way his dimple deepened when he grinned. The way his presence seemed to pull the oxygen from the room.

He was holding a microphone, a camera operator trailing him like a shadow. His gaze locked onto you, and for a second, the noise of the crowd faded into static.

“Wait,” he said, laughing. “You’re—”

You smiled, slow and deliberate.

“Hi.”

His eyes flicked to the camera, then back to you, like he was debating which version of this moment to commit to memory.

“Okay,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “I know you.”

“Do you?” You tilted your head, playing along.

“Yeah.” His grin turned wicked. “I’ve seen your content.”

You laughed, but it came out breathier than you intended.

“I’ve seen a few of your, videos.” you replied, “I love your cat,”

Ron’s laugh was low, amused. He covered his mouth for a second, like he was trying to contain it—and failing.

“Oh god—that’s it? not me?”

“Does burger not pull in most of your views?”

That made him bark out a laugh, his shoulders shaking “Perhaps?” he nodded.

The camera operator crept closer, but neither of you looked away.

Ron straightened the microphone in his hand, though his focus stayed locked on you.

“Okay, okay. Let’s do this.”

He turned fully toward you, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

“So. What are you doing here tonight?”

You reached down flattening your dress; moving around your hair before answering.

“I’m representing Best Content Organization.”

Ron’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” You leaned in just slightly. “I believe you guys are up for that award.”

“we are,” he agreed, nodding like he was filing this away for later.

“Who are you rooting for?”

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin. “I don’t know.”

Ron’s smirk faltered. “That’s crazy.”

“What?” You grinned. “I’m rooting for everyone.”

“That’s such a safe answer.”

“It’s the diplomatic answer.”

“Tell me, between you and me who are you rooting for?” he whispered into the mic getting closer to you, the heels you were wearing made you eye level to him.

You smile nervously, “Maybe someone can persuade me,”

He shook his head, smiling. “This is a trap, chat is she trapping me,”

“Yeah.” you roll your eyes at his nonsense.

“Okay.” His gaze raked over you, slow and deliberate.

“Tough crowd.” he scratched his head.

“I think I have an idea of who will win,” you say shrugging your shoulders.

“Don’t tell me!” he covered his ears. “It needs to be a surprise!”

You put your finger over your mouth, “okay! mouth closed.”

You sigh, “Well, I am going inside, to get a drink, i’ll see you inside,” You smiled, softening your tone. “I hope you win.”

Ron’s eyes darkened. He looked down for a second, his smile turning almost shy as he covered part of his face with his hand.

“Yo…”

He looked away from you, clearly trying to school his expression, but failing. When he looked back, his voice was rough.

“Yo, don’t jinx us.”

You laughed, stepping closer. “I’m giving you good luck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Good luck, Ron.”

You reached forward, your fingers brushing his shoulders—light, teasing, just a little too familiar.

Ron froze.

His breath hitched. For a second, the world narrowed to the way his pupils dilated, the way his lips parted.

Then he turned toward the camera, like he needed the distraction.

“Yo…”

He shook his head, laughing under his breath.

“Yo, she’s messing with me, right?”

You laughed, pulling your hand back but not quite retreating.

“I’m literally just wishing you good luck.”

Ron stared into the camera, then back at you, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Chat…”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

You raised your eyebrows, all innocence. “Just what?”

Ron stared at you for a beat too long. Then he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nothing.”

The camera operator snorted behind him.

Ron’s cheeks were pink now, his usual bravado slipping.

You both started laughing, the air between you crackling.

And neither of you noticed the chat moving faster than the camera could keep up.

CHAT:

WHO IS SHE

RON’S BLUSHING???

THE SHOULDER TOUCH??? NAHHHH

DID SHE JUST FLIRT WITH HIM???

Ron glanced at the screen, his smile disappearing.

“…Oh. Nah.”

You leaned in, close enough to smell his cologne—something warm and strong.

“What?”

He turned the phone slightly away, like he was shielding the screen from you.

“Nothing.”

“Ron.”

“Nothing!” His voice was strained, amused.

You laughed, stepping back just enough to tease.

“Okay.”

He looked back at the camera, but his smile was strained now, like he was fighting a losing battle.

“Anyway. Good luck tonight.”

“You too.”

He started walking backward, still facing you, his gaze lingering.

“Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Maybe.”

He pointed at you, voice dropping to a murmur only you could hear.

“Don’t jinx us.”

You grinned, slow and knowing.

“I won’t.”

Ron turned, shaking his head with a smile, but not before you caught the way his fingers brushed his collar—like he was trying to cool himself down.

And for the rest of the night, neither of you could quite figure out why you kept searching for each other in the crowd.

Later in the night you had found him again, during commercial break.

“Your award is up next?” You say, you both waiting for a drink at the bar.

“Yeah, we should collab,” he says bluntly.

“Oh yeah? where, I live in new york you live in la,” you turn to him curiously.

“i’ll fly out to new york, i’ll get a hotel, you can show me around,” he shrugged leaning on the bar.

“Hm, well one you can stay in my apartment, i have a guest bedroom, and two that sounds pretty cool,” you offer, the bartender came buy handing both of you drinks.

“Yo what did you get?” he asked as you took a sip.

“Margarita, want a sip?” You offered, he shot his eye brows up.

“Y’know what the hell,” he laughed taking the drink from your hand barley grazing your hand and took a sip from the same spot you put your lips on.

“Pretty good,” he hands it back.

“Everyone please return to your seats as we get ready for the next award.”

“Good luck Ron,” you say softly.

“Thanks,” he smiled, he shakes his head nervously as he walked away holding his drink.

Then, your name flashed on the teleprompter.

You sat up a little straighter, your pulse quickening.

BEST CONTENT ORGANIZATION.

Your stomach twisted.

“Please welcome tonight’s presenter, representing the nominees for Best Content Organization…”

Applause filled the room as you stepped onto the stage.

You forced a smile, willing your nerves to settle.

The nominees appeared on the screen behind you—each one familiar, each one a contender you knew well.

Then the final names were revealed.

FaZe Clan.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips. You already had your favorite.

You reached for the envelope.

The room hushed.

You glanced down at the card, then back at the audience.

“And the Streamer Award for Best Content Organization goes to…”

You let the silence stretch, savoring the moment

“FaZe Clan!”

The crowd erupted. Confetti rained down as the FaZe members jumped up, hugging, laughing, their faces alight with disbelief and joy.

You stepped back from the microphone, making room for them to ascend the stage.

One by one, you greeted them—quick hugs, congratulations, a flash of teeth for the cameras.

Then you saw Ron weaving through the crowd, his grin already in place.

You opened your arms.

He stepped into the hug, his hand barely hovering over your waist respectfully.

For a heartbeat, the noise faded. The world narrowed to just the two of you.

When you pulled back, you looked up at him, your smile soft.

“I didn’t jinx you.”

Ron barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I told you not to say that!”

“But you won.”

“Yeah, because you didn’t jinx us.”

“So… I helped.”

He smirked.

“Maybe.”

Your grin widened.

“You’re welcome.”

Ron glanced toward the camera, then back at you, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation.

“Chat’s never gonna let me live this down.”

You laughed.

“That’s your problem.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah.”

Someone from FaZe called his name from behind. Ron turned, but not before casting one last look your way.

“Good luck with everything tonight.

“You too.”

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

He grinned.

“Okay. I’ll see you around.”

“You better.”

Ron melted back into the celebration, and you watched as FaZe clinked their award against the champagne flutes they’d somehow procured.

You were supposed to be focused. On the cameras. On the stage. On doing your job.

Instead, your gaze kept drifting to Ron across the room.

And when he glanced back—really looked at you—his smile said it all.

You weren’t the only one feeling this.

and all the of the lgbtq community