#hooper

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ FLAU’JAE JOHNSON X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST

ALL PARTS

⭑ pairing: flau’jae johnson x reader (artist!fem!reader)

⭑ summary: she invited you to the studio to chill—mistake number one. letting you on the mic? mistake number two. still, there’s something about your chaos that Flau’jae can’t seem to quit. not in life, not on camera, and definitely not in front of her subscribers.

⭑ genre: friends-to-(maybe more), humor, studio chaos, slow-burn tension, flirty freestyle disaster

⭑ warnings: language, weed mention, reader being unserious, flau’jae being down bad, fans catching everything

⭑ word count: ~0.8kk

Flau’jae didn’t even look up when I walked in, just scribbled something in her notebook and said, “You late.”

I dropped the Chick-fil-A bag on the counter. “I brought Polynesian sauce.”

She paused, looked over her shoulder, and smiled. “Aight. You’re forgiven.”

Studio lights low, 808s thumping through the floor, engineer locked in like we were recording for the Grammys. I flopped down on the couch, pulled my hoodie over my head, and went live out of boredom.

“LSU in the building,” I said, letting the camera catch the dim glow of the room. “Flau’jae’s somewhere in the back being a genius. I’m here for moral support.”

“Nah,” she called, voice smug. “You here ‘cause you miss me.”

I looked straight at the camera. “She said that. Not me.”

The comments rolled in fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@hoopgirlie88: “They BEEN together y’all just slow.”

@flaufanatic__: “This the softest crush ever like SAY SOMETHING FLAAAU”

@slamqueen23: “Nah cause the way she looks at her 🥺”

@high4halftimes: “She high and smiling like she already won 😭😭”

@courtchemistry: “Them vibes. I’m not okay.”

@baggyshortsbarbie: “It’s the way she LOOKS at her for me 😩”

@d1dreamz: “Y’all can’t convince me they not in love”

@benchwarmrchronicles: “I want a love like theirs and they not even claiming each other 💔”

@sydn3y_says: “Just drop the couple vlog at this point.”

@nocapnball: “They be flirting like they forgot the camera on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I tried not to laugh. Okay, maybe I was a little high. Off-season rules hit different.

“You gon’ act shy now?” she asked, finally spinning in the chair to face me. “Miss ‘Kiss Me Through the Phone’ at karaoke?”

“See, that was private.”

“Not when it hit your Instagram story.”

I smirked. “So you be stalking me?”

She looked me dead in the eye. “I see what I wanna see.”

Oh. Alright.

“You like what you see?” I tilted my head, teasing.

“You talk slick,” she said, “but your layup still soft.”

The engineer chuckled low under his breath.

“Bold words from someone who airballed in practice last month,” I shot back.

That made her laugh. Real, full-body laugh. I grinned, leaned a little closer to the mic on my phone.

“What’s that saying?” I asked, lips curling. “Closed mouths don’t get kissed?”

She looked away. Smiling. But quiet.

I ended the live. It had gone too far.

It went viral in three hours.

Clips flooded TikTok and Twitter—me smirking, her biting her lip, the kiss line, her reaction. The caption?

“Hooper flirts like it’s her job & Flau’jae melts every time.”

Fan edits hit fast:

“They BEEN together y’all just slow.”

“This the softest crush ever like SAY SOMETHING FLAAAU”

“Nah cause the way she looks at her 🥺”

“She high and smiling like she already won 😭😭”

“Them vibes. I’m not okay.”

I didn’t hear from her that night. Or the next day.

But the next time I slid into the studio, same hoodie, same lazy energy—

She had my verse loaded. Ready to record.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to embarrass myself again?”

She didn’t answer. Just handed me the mic.

I stepped in, dropped a terrible freestyle about Chick-fil-A and summer heat, and the second I stepped out the booth, she was laughing. That belly laugh that only came out when she forgot the cameras, the pressure, the name.

But her eyes didn’t leave my face.

And when the video dropped on her YouTube—unedited, just raw chaos and us being us—there I was on the couch, half-high, singing a hook with a dumb smile, and there she was looking at me like I hung the damn moon.

The comments knew.

“It’s the way she LOOKS at her for me 😩”

“Y’all can’t convince me they not in love”

“I want a love like theirs and they not even claiming each other 💔”

I don’t need a title.

But if she ever gave me one?

I wouldn’t complain.

MASTERLIST

"Aye, aye, sir! AYE JIMBOY ARAGHHH!"

All shot practically using real figures, lighting, miniature props fudged together to form some sort of boat and my usual tin foil trick for the ocean.