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me if reading fanfiction were illegal

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how my mom expects me and my sis to pose together when she takes the thousandth millionth picture when we’re trying to enjoy vacation

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Real

i miss my childhood..

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FIREWORKS AND FELONIES 🍒🌐🎆🎉

Honey’s sparkly red mini dress barely covered anything, but that was kind of the point. She leaned against the hood of Matt’s matte-black Charger, popsicle in one hand, joint in the other, her glossed lips sticky and sweet from both. The neighborhood block party was wild—kids with sparklers, drunk dads grilling shirtless, and fireworks going off illegally every five minutes—but her eyes stayed locked on one thing: him.

Matt had a blunt tucked behind his ear and a baggie full of "party favors" in his glovebox. He wasn’t even trying to blend in, standing there in all black like the Fourth of July was a funeral. But Honey liked that. She liked how he didn't give a shit.

“You know,” she purred, tilting her head with a smirk, “you’re the only firework I’m tryna light up tonight.”

He didn’t say anything—just pulled the blunt from behind his ear and lit it, taking a drag with lazy ease before exhaling smoke in the shape of a grin. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna set off more than fireworks.”

Their little corner of the driveway was all heat and tension, while the rest of the world screamed red, white, and blue. She slid closer, fingers grazing the waistband of his jeans, just as a boom lit up the sky in neon color.

“Think your neighbors will mind if I scream louder than the fireworks?” she whispered, just for him.

He didn’t answer—just kissed her like he was trying to swallow the taste of strawberry gloss and danger.

Want a version where her dad catches them mid-flirting???

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this is what dad!rafe && mom!reader are like from my cameron family universe btw xxxx

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⊹₊⟡⋆

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MEAT MITTENS PART 2 (DRUGDEALER!CHRIS X READER)

INT. CHRIS’S APARTMENT – NIGHTFALL

It had been about an hour.

Chris was still on the couch, scrolling through his phone with one hand and keeping the other on Honey’s thigh to remind her she was real — because she’d asked him that. Twice.

Honey (an hour ago): “Am I real? Like… is this me, or am I just thinking I’m me?”

Now, she was curled sideways across the couch, blanket wrapped around her like a burrito, blinking at the TV screen that wasn’t even on.

Chris glanced at her again. She hadn’t moved in five minutes.

Chris: “You alive over there?”

Honey (wide-eyed): “I think the TV just told me a secret.”

He squinted at her. “It’s off.”

She gasped. “That makes it worse.”

Chris rubbed his eyes. “This is why I label shit, Honey.”

Honey (genuinely confused): “There was a label?”

He pointed toward the kitchen. “Literally said ‘DON’T EAT. NOT SNACKS.’ Like. Bold. Red sharpie.”

She blinked. “Red’s an aggressive color. My brain probably ignored it.”

Chris snorted, trying not to laugh because this wasn’t funny — not really. But god, watching her melt into a pile of soft limbs and philosophical questions was kind of adorable.

Honey (suddenly): “Chris?”

Chris: “Yeah?”

Honey (panicked whisper): “I forgot how to swallow.”

He turned to look at her, deadpan. “Babe, what.”

She sat bolt upright, eyes huge. “I drank water and now it’s just— in me. Like a ghost. I don’t think I did it right.”

Chris slowly stood, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, and returned.

Chris: “Alright. Swallow this. Prove it to me.”

Honey took it in both hands like it was the Holy Grail. She sipped it with the focus of a surgeon. Swallowed. Then paused.

Honey: “…Did I do it?”

Chris nodded slowly. “You did amazing. Iconic, even.”

She smiled, proud. Then slumped sideways again.

Honey (mumbling): “Everything’s so… soft. Even the air.”

Chris reached for the remote and turned on soft music — mellow, lo-fi stuff. She seemed to melt further, which he took as a win.

He sat beside her again, grabbing the hoodie sleeve she was fiddling with and rolling it up gently.

Chris (softer now): “You know you scared the shit outta me, right?”

Honey: “Mmhmm.”

Chris: “I thought you’d eaten one. Not the whole fucking sample tray.”

Honey (giggling): “I didn’t mean to. They were just so little.”

He leaned his head back against the couch, letting out a long sigh. “I’m never leaving you alone with product again.”

She reached for his hand blindly and laced their fingers together.

Honey (whispering): “I feel like a cloud. Are you mad?”

He squeezed her hand, jaw clenched but not angry. Tired. Worried. Fond.

Chris: “I’m not mad. Just… you gotta tell me next time, alright? If you think something’s mine — ask.”

Honey: “Okay.” (Then, after a beat) “…I think the ceiling is flirting with me.”

Chris closed his eyes.

Chris: “Great. Now I gotta fight the ceiling.”

LATER – EARLY MORNING

She was mostly asleep now, head on his lap, still in his hoodie, blanket bunched under her chin. Chris hadn’t moved for hours — just watched over her while the high ran its course.

His phone buzzed again. The drop had been pushed. No one was pissed. He got lucky.

He looked down at her, brushing some hair from her forehead.

Chris (softly): “Next time you wanna get high… let me be there from the start.”

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that's like....so rude! (OLDER!CHRIS X BIMBO!HONEY)

(SHE GAP IS AROUND 5-7 YEARS HONEY IS AROUND 23 CHRI A IS AROUND 27-30)

Honey was curled up beside him on the couch, glossy pink nails picking at the hem of her fuzzy blanket as the documentary on the screen took a darker turn. Chris had barely been paying attention — one arm around her, the other holding his phone — until she suddenly clutched his shirt like it owed her something.

“Chris,” she whispered, voice a little breathless. “He literally chopped her up and put her in the freezer. That’s like… so rude.”

Chris blinked, looking down at her. “Yeah, babe. That’s murder.”

She looked up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “But, like, why would anyone do that? She looked nice. Her outfit was cute. Her hair was brushed.” She paused, deadly serious. “She didn’t deserve to get chopped.”

He snorted. “Most people don’t, Honey.”

She scooted closer, practically on his lap now. “Can someone do that to me?”

Chris put his phone down instantly. “No. No one’s doin’ shit to you.”

She blinked. “But what if they try? What if I’m walking out of Target and some freezer guy comes up to me and is like—” she raised her voice dramatically, “‘I’m gonna chop you!’”

Chris stared at her.

Then laughed, just once, low and tired. “You’re not leaving Target alone. Ever again. I’m gonna microchip you.”

She gasped. “Like a puppy?”

“Exactly like a puppy.”

Honey curled into him even more, resting her cheek against his chest now, all glossy lips and perfume and fake lashes and fear of true crime.

“Can we turn it off?” she asked, voice tiny. “I don’t wanna know about freezers anymore.”

Chris kissed the top of her head, already reaching for the remote.

“Yeah, baby. No more freezer men tonight"

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BUT YOU LOOK FABULOUS DOING IT (BIMBO!READER X OLDER!CHRIS)

INT. CHRIS’S APARTMENT – EVENING

Honey flounced into the room, dragging her glittery pink purse behind her like it weighed a ton. Her oversized sweater slipped off one shoulder, showing off a careless spray tan line. She plopped down next to Chris on the worn leather couch, beaming like the whole world was her runway.

Honey (grinning): “Chris, babe! Guess what? I finally got my nails done extra long. Like, the kind where you can’t even text properly but look fabulous doing it.”

Chris didn’t even glance up from the game controller in his hands. He just smirked.

Chris: “You’re gonna stab someone accidentally. Or yourself.”

Honey pouted, batting her lashes exaggeratedly.

Honey: “Jealousy is not a good look on you, mister. Maybe if you tried a mani you’d understand.”

Chris chuckled, setting the controller down.

Chris: “I’m good. Don’t wanna risk the clumsiness.”

She wiggled her freshly painted nails in his face.

Honey: “Clumsy? Honey, I’m a professional. I didn’t pick ‘bimbo’ for my IQ, I picked it for my skillz.”

Chris shook his head, amused.

Suddenly, Honey’s face shifted, eyes wide and mischievous.

Honey: “Heyyy, remember when you taught me to shoot? Wanna try again? I bet I’m better now.”

Chris raised a brow, eyebrows arching in surprise.

Chris: “You’re not serious.”

Honey (grinning): “Completely.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed his hand and tugged him up. The stubborn, older drug dealer reluctantly followed, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.

EXT. SHOOTING RANGE – NIGHT

Honey stood confidently, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose despite the moonlight, nails clicking on the gun’s handle.

Chris watched her carefully.

Chris: “Remember, steady grip. Don’t flinch.”

Honey stuck out her lower lip and concentrated so hard it was almost cute.

The first shot went wide. The second a little closer.

On the third, the target twanged as the bullet hit dead center.

Honey threw her arms up like she’d won a trophy.

Honey: “See?! Told ya! Bimbo skills!”

Chris laughed, pulling her into a side hug.

Chris: “Guess you really are something else.”

Honey leaned into him, head resting against his chest.

Honey: “And you’re stuck with me.”

Chris kissed the top of her head, low and affectionate.

Chris: “Wouldn’t want it aby other way "

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