#rayscorruptedmind fluff

reader = pink

ray = purple

PICTURE PERFECT

warnings: fluff, romantic tension, teasing, boyfriend!ray, photography, cozy vibes

“just put the tracksuit on, c’mon.”

ray’s been bugging you for what felt like forever — trying to convince you to model for ultra, his clothing brand. he leaned against the doorframe of his room, hands shoved into his pockets, watching you with that teasing grin that always made it harder to say no.

“it’ll be quick. like five minutes, tops,” he promised, voice light.

you sighed, dragging out the pause before answering. “no,” you said finally, flat and simple.

you weren’t trying to be difficult — you just got shy about stuff like that. being posted on the ultra instagram, seen by thousands of people, knowing they’d pick apart every little thing. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to help him; you just didn’t want the attention that came with it.

“just one photo,” he said, and you immediately gave him a look. you knew him too well.

he never meant just one. ray loved taking pictures of you — whether it was you sitting on the couch, half-asleep, or trying on his hoodie for fun. the camera always came out somehow.

you groaned, leaning back against the bed frame. “what do i get in return?”

he tilted his head, pretending to think, tapping a finger against his chin. “hmm…” then he smiled. “we can get whatever you want for dinner.”

you squinted. “that’s it?”

“and,” he said quickly, leaning in a bit, “you’ll look so good in the tracksuit. i’m doing you a favor, really.”

you tried to hide your laugh, rolling your eyes. “hm,” you said, dragging it out like you were still debating. “okay, okay. just five minutes, ray.”

“finally,” he said, his whole face lighting up. he pushed off the wall and immediately started rummaging through his closet, pulling out the black tracksuit with the red-and-white ultra logo stitched near the chest.

he held it up like it was a trophy. “you’re gonna thank me later.”

you crossed your arms but couldn’t stop smiling. “we’ll see about that.”

he just grinned wider, tossing the outfit to you before heading for his camera. “nope. i already know.”

—

you slipped into the tracksuit, the smooth fabric hugging you just right — black with that clean red and white ultra logo sitting sharp on your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but it really did look good. comfortable, too.

when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun was hitting everything in that golden hue that made the world look cinematic. the driveway was quiet except for the faint hum of the city a few blocks away. ray was already outside, camera in hand, leaning against his orange supra like he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

his head popped up when he saw you. “ohhh, okay,” he said, a grin breaking across his face. “see? i told you that tracksuit was made for you.”

you tried to play it off, tugging lightly at the zipper. “you say that to everyone who wears your clothes.”

“no,” he said, lowering the camera a bit. “not like that.”

you blinked, trying not to smile too hard as you walked over. “you’ve been waiting to say that all day, huh?”

“maybe,” he said, pretending to inspect the outfit like some kind of fashion critic. “the black and red? it just—” he waved his hand up and down at you, “—works.”

“you done hyping your own brand up?” you teased.

“never,” he said, lifting the camera and snapping a picture before you could even pose.

you flinched slightly, squinting at him. “i wasn’t even ready!”

“you look good no matter what, it doesn’t matter.” he grinned, checking the photo and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it himself. “yeah… yeah, this one’s getting posted.”

you groaned, but a small laugh slipped out anyway. “you really don’t give up, do you?”

“not when i’m right,” he said, lowering the camera for a second. “you didn’t have to do this, you know. means a lot.”

his tone softened just a little — enough that you felt that familiar warmth stir in your chest. “you’re lucky i like you,” you murmured.

he smiled at that, quiet for a second, then said under his breath, “i’m counting on it.”

you pretended not to hear him, moving to sit on the hood of the supra. the metal was still warm from the sun. “okay, where do you want me?”

“right there’s perfect,” he said instantly, already crouching a little to get the right angle. “put your hand on the car, lean back just a bit.”

you followed his instructions, trying not to laugh at how serious he looked — tongue pressed against his teeth, eyes narrowed behind the camera.

he snapped a few more shots, then tilted his head. “look at me for a sec,” he said, his voice lower now, focused.

you did, and he just stared for a beat too long before remembering to click the shutter.

“what?” you said quietly.

“nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “you just—” he smiled, small and genuine, “you make this look easy.”

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks felt a little warm. “you ever stop flirting?”

“not really,” he said easily, laughter in his voice.

you turned your head, hiding your grin, pretending to check your reflection in the car window. “you done yet?”

he looked down at his camera, scrolling through the photos. “yeah…” then glanced up at you again, eyes flicking from your face to the logo on your chest, “…but i kinda don’t wanna be.”

you gave him a look. “you said five minutes.”

“and it’s been… six?” he said, grinning like that somehow excused him.

you shook your head and hopped off the hood, standing in front of him. “that means dinner’s on you.”

he smirked, tucking his camera strap over his shoulder. “wasn’t it already?”

“yeah, but now you’re paying for dessert too.”

“deal,” he said easily, then added with a grin, “only if you wear that tracksuit out.”

you laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly as you walked past him toward the garage. “you’re not getting that lucky, ray.”

he turned, following you with a laugh that carried through the quiet evening. “worth a shot, though.”

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

okok reader isn’t modeling that specific tracksuit that ray is wearing in photo above