#Renee Rapp

[gay]

RENEÉ RAPP Leave Me Alone

[sweetfridays]

♡ RENEE RAPP via tiktok ( reneerapp )

[pughflorence]

RENEÉ RAPP Paper Mag, 2025

[rappicons]

reneé rapp icons

like if you save. x

[jackytaylor]

Reneé Rapp — Cosmopolitan Digital (June 2, 2025)

[lifeofthespider]

@lgbtqcreators event 28 — lgbtq+ across the 2020′s + creator challenge — free choice + lesbian rep + favourite song

@pscentral event 39 — pride

renee rapp leave me alone

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Tweeted From the Lap of the Woman I Fear” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Everyone Ships It Except Them (Allegedly).

You weren’t trying to start discourse.

You weren’t trying to come out.

You were literally just sitting in Reneé Rapp’s lap, trying to find the charger under the couch without dislocating a rib, when your thumb slipped, and you sent the tweet.

[@/you] PROTECT GAY MARRIAGE

No context. No thread. Just… vibes.

And it would’ve been fine.

A normal tweet. Maybe even brave. Maybe people would think you were finally stepping into your truth—after years of dodgeballing the question with ironic astrology memes and chaotic fanfiction—and they’d clap, send flags, drop the gay-flag-heart emojis like it was digital confetti.

Except.

You weren’t done.

You just typed too fast.

[@/you, reply] SORRY I TYPED TOO FAST I MEANT PROTECT ME FROM GAY MARRIAGE 🚫🏳️‍🌈

Silence.

Then: the internet explodes.

You don’t even notice the chaos at first because Reneé is literally under you, laughing so hard she chokes on the cinnamon popcorn she just tried to sneak from your bowl.

“There’s something so psychotic about tweeting that while sitting in my lap,” she wheezes.

“I was unwell,” you mutter, scrolling with your other hand. “And also, your thighs are not structurally made for tweeting.”

“Excuse me—”

“You jiggle. My accuracy was compromised.”

Reneé tries to toss a kernel at your head but misses and hits her own knee. You ignore her.

Instead, you glance at the tweet again and that’s when you see it.

Over 1,500 likes in under ten minutes. Quote tweets rolling in like a tide of unhinged sapphics and confused allies.

“The bisexual urge to fear both commitment and women.” “no bc what does she MEAN by this 😭” “why is she literally sitting in Reneé’s lap in the tagged pic while tweeting this 😭😭😭” “girl WHAT” “this is what compulsory heterosexuality looks like y’all” “someone check on Reneé.”

You lower the phone slowly.

“I fear I may have tweeted a little too strongly.”

Reneé snorts. “You sound like a southern grandmother.”

“I have scandalized the timeline. They think I’m either a raging internalized homophobe or someone who wants a gay wedding with you but not too soon.”

“They’re not wrong.”

You side-eye her. “Which part.”

She shrugs. Grins like a gremlin.

“The wedding. I’d let you fake-cancel on me three times before we get married in a lesbian Home Depot.”

“That is oddly specific.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

You blink. Her hand is still on your hip.

You shift slightly on her lap, definitely not because your heart did something stupid and fluttery. Definitely not.

“I’m not gay,” you say flatly.

“You’re literally wearing my shirt.”

“This is just laundry efficiency.”

“You’re straddling me.”

“Because the remote is right there and I didn’t feel like moving around you.”

“And you tweeted about gay marriage while seated on me like a throne.”

“…It’s called nuance, Rapp.”

Your phone dings again.

Another quote tweet.

“not her sitting in Reneé Rapp’s lap typing ‘protect me from gay marriage’ like she hasn’t already emotionally married that woman four times and divorced her six”

You show it to Reneé.

She howls.

“No because that’s SO true,” she gasps, tears in her eyes. “You literally filed emotional divorce papers after I didn’t watch your favorite movie on your birthday.”

“Because it was Jennifer’s Body and you aggressively said Megan Fox was mid—”

“I was trolling! I love hot women!”

“So love me properly, coward!”

You’re yelling now. Over popcorn. From her lap. Your legs are tangled with hers. Your phone’s somewhere in the cushions, buzzing like a broken bee.

The timeline is full-on spiral mode now.

People are making memes. Screenshots. Threads dissecting your dynamic like it's queer theory in real time.

One of them posts a screenshot of your tweet with the caption:

“can’t decide if she’s closeted or just mentally unwell in a gay little way”

And honestly?

You retweet it.

Because yes.

It’s not like you’ve ever said the words. Not to your family. Not to the public. Not even to Reneé. You just kind of... existed. Drifted into her life like a post-credit scene. Fell into routines, jokes, glances that lingered. You don’t know when she became a constant. You just know she is.

You don’t need to define it.

Not when you’re like this.

On her lap, in her hoodie, screaming at your own tweet while she wipes popcorn grease from your cheek.

She leans in eventually.

When you’ve both stopped laughing.

When the room has settled.

When the sun’s nearly gone and your phone’s face-down.

“You scared of gay marriage?” she asks softly.

You smirk. “Only if it’s not you.”

Her mouth twitches. “So you admit it?”

“I admit nothing.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Then:

“But you do realize that typing ‘protect me from gay marriage’ while my hands were literally on your waist is kind of the funniest way to not come out.”

“You say that like I’m hiding something.”

“I say that like I know something.”

You look down at her. She looks up at you.

She doesn’t kiss you.

But her hand does slide up your thigh, warm and steady.

And you don’t stop her.

[reneeerappp]

Reneé Rapp North America Tour 2025

[sersh]

RENEÉ RAPP Photography by Yasmine Diba for Paper Magazine, June 2025

[favefemaleicons]

[yellenabelova]

RENEE RAPP

Saturday Night Live — 49x09 (January 20, 2024)

[celebrizzle]

Renee Rapp

[nessa007]

no media training whatsoever and i love her for it. reneé rapp, the icon you are 👏👏👏👏