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domesticandlovingmonsters · 3 months ago

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Eldridge/Tentacle Monster x F!Reader

Words: 2.9k Themes: Nsfw, tentacles, fictional oviposition Notes: Hi all! I'm still very sick, hence why this story is a little shorter than the others. Hopefully it's still a good morsel of ovi themes. I may circle around to it again and adjust it, or write a whole other story based on ovi to make up for the lack of words. Feedback as always is welcome!!

This was definitely the spot from your dream.

The cave opening matched your memories perfectly. To the circular entrance, draped in vines that dripped with clear water from the waterfall nearby, to the moss that covered every inch of this place.

The hike had been tortuous, to say the least. But seeing this cave made it all worthwhile. You weren’t going mad, after all.

You didn’t understand how you knew this was here. Perhaps some past hike through these old woods came to the surface of your subconscious and reminded you of this splendid place. It was beautiful. How could you have forgotten it? Your steps into the cave felt familiar and comfortable. Your shoes didn’t slip on the uneven path nor did the low hanging ceiling bump against your head as you ventured deeper.

You could hear the gentle trickling of water somewhere further. A soft echo that seemed to call you forward and away from the light of the beautiful day outside. You recalled there was more light inside.

Not that you could remember how there was more light. But the memory of being able to see clearly down here was vivid enough to ease any worries of darkness. Deeper and deeper you went. The afterthought of getting lost down here vanished when you found a path, winding down the treacherous tumbling's of rocks and subterranean flora. You found a stream bounding down a slope of dark rocks. Your fingers idly trailed along the smooth cut stone that acted as stairs towards the heart of this cave. You didn’t slip. Nor did you feel any nervousness when a sound rose up through the music of running water. A whispering murmur that called to you.

Almost there. It seemed to say.

A friend.

Your friend. The one from your dreams that spoke of itself and the sweet home it made for itself down here. Surrounded by soft moss and cool water. Comforted by the comes and goings of eager hikers that walked these trails. Listening to the world's gossip and excitement while happily residing in the depths of the mountain. Unseen and undisturbed.

But it called to you nonetheless. And you came just as you promised; a friend coming to visit a friend. The stream brought you to a wide cavern. With a pool in the center and many small plants circling the crystalline water. The lights you were promised dangled from thin, pale vines that spiderwebbed along the sloped ceiling. Giving the wide cave a gentle blue glow as you stepped towards the water.

You felt parched after such a hike. And the water felt cool against your fingers as you kneeled down beside it and cupped some into your mouth.

It tasted sweet. Almost like honey. And you sighed as the discomfort of your hike started to ease. The murmuring echoed through the cave and you sat yourself on a nearby rock. Slipping off your backpack as you looked out over the pool.

Many eyes watched you, pale and completely pupilless, locked on you from a mound of mossy bark and fern covered limbs.

It was huge. The presence you have felt for so many nights felt like a crushing weight now as your friend started to move closer. The water barely stirred as thick appendages rose from the calm waters and slithered along the ground towards you.

You smiled. Reaching for a tentacle as it coiled along your calf and bathed your warm skin with its cool flesh. You wore shorts today, given the heat of the day, and your friend seemed thrilled with how much skin was currently exposed. The murmuring turned to whispers. Eager with anticipation. You felt a wordless voice enter your mind as the creature walked out of the pool on thick, muscular legs. They looked like trunks of trees, covered in more of that mossy bark like skin. You tilted your head up as a tentacle brushed along your chest, circling your neck for but a second before retreating. Wherever your friend touched, a comforting cooling sensation followed. And after your walk up the side of the mountain it was a very welcoming change.

That presence bloomed in your mind and your smile turned sheepish as a thinner tentacle slipped under your shirt and petted along your bare chest. You felt a curiosity grow through you. Not yours, but theirs.

You couldn’t hide how warmed the smooth, velvety appendage made you feel. One of the thicker tentacles was resting between your legs. Nestling between your thighs as the others gently greeted and stroked you.

And the creature breathed an amused sound into the cave as it felt your hips twitch. And you stifled a groan when you felt the muscle tense against you, causing friction.

Clothes fell to the mossy floor in a messy pile. The tentacles were careful but impatient as they removed each piece of material from your body. Those many eyes drank in every inch of newly exposed skin and a heated kernal of need rose up within you.

You gasped as the vision vanished. A tender tip of the creature’s arms stroked along your cheek, comforting and reassuring. Asking quiet permission as your friend drew back; waiting. You nodded, smiling. That’s why you came here after all. Visiting a friend who needed company more intimately than passing gossipers.

And just like the vision, your clothes fell from your body in fluid, practiced motions. A familiar scene started to open up in front of you as your friend’s arms coiled beneath you and lifted you off the hard stone. They moved you to a more open space in the cave and you were laid down in a nest of soft moss and fern leaves. The glowing vines twisted and knotted between the crags of your bed, illuminating your friend as they settled before you. Their tentacles snaked over the edge of the nest to begin tangling between your limbs.

The thickest of them all wrapped around your calves and gently spread your legs apart. You moaned as the tip of the appendage curled over your waist and slid between your folds. Clear liquid pooled from the tip and your hips pushed up into the rounded end as they started to fondle you. How many nights did you and them fool around in your dream? Exactly like this? Pulled to you by their need and your loneliness, your once uneventful nights were soon full of tangled limbs and visions of pleasure.

You would wake up panting and soaked, both in sweat and with arousal. Lost in the fog of the dream and coming back to reality.

But here, now with your friend as they loomed over you, your legs spread and pushed up around your head as a tentacle prodded and rimmed your hole, you felt a wave of excitement come over you.

Tangling with your heated anticipation as the tip against you pushed and your walls gave entry. It felt like a great relief washed over you as they pushed deeper. The discomfort that has plagued you for days was finally relieved and you went limp against the nest as your body gave an involuntary twitch from the sweetened touch. Your friend must have felt the same because the slow rhythm rubbing along your slit faltered.

Your mind fogged with a layer of desire and joy as more limbs petted down the back of your thighs and started to grope and fondle you. Twisting and touching along your bare chest as your back arched into the tangle of arms.

You gasped, mouth hanging open as your walls were stretched. Their murmuring was gentle and reassuring. A soothing contrast to the waves upon waves of eager anticipation that radiated from them. Then the tip pushed deeper and you felt your walls welcome them. And you accepted the intrusion with a heavy moan.

They shivered above you. You felt the heat of your body burn against their cool skin and they enjoyed it. Loved how your hole so eagerly spread for them and how deep they started to go.

Inch by careful inch, your friend filled you until your eyes squeezed shut and an uncomfortable tension pushed at your stomach. They halted, and a tender touch brushed along your cheek again; reassuring and comforting.

They didn’t mean to push so hard. But your body felt so good, so soft and warm that they wanted to stay there forever.

You relaxed after the thick limb began to pull out. But it was so slow it was torture, your moan lowered into a whine.

They stalled. Those many eyes watching you as you reached down and ran your fingers along their tentacles. Giving attention to the entanglement of limbs that snaked and petted along your waist and chest. You were almost entirely swallowed by them that you could barely move without them allowing you too.

You felt small bumps and ridges slide along your palm. Your fingers were left slimy with the substance that oozed from the tip of their appendages.

Curiously, you brought your fingers to your mouth and gave them a small lick. Just like the pool, the liquid was cool and sweet on your tongue. Like honey. Your friend purred as you stuck two fingers between your lips. And before you could react, a small tentacle wrapped around your wrist and tugged your hand away.

Your lips were immediately filled with another thick tendril and you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes bulged and you gagged as a small drop of the liquid slid down your throat. A worrying whisper tickled your mind. A question, as the limb between your lips started to retreat. You hummed and relaxed your mouth, giving silent permission to continue.

Pleased, your friend pushed further and your eyes watered at the intrusion. But you licked at the velvety underside of the limb. Moaning softly as you tasted that sweet nectar which began to trickle into your mouth. Your friend then started to continue to pull out of you. You whined again but they slowly slid from your hole, leaving only the tip, before slamming back into you with enough force that your body rocked and your eyes widened in surprise. Whatever noise of complaint you tried to voice died very quickly as a pace was established. Rough and fast, feverish almost, as your friend purred above you. Your hips were lifted off the ground, angled in a way that folded you in half and your legs were spread wide and near your shoulders.

Your chest was rubbed and squeezed, your peaked nipples teased by pillowy suction cups on the smallest limbs. Liquid pooling from the coils wrapped around you to ensure there was no restriction to the way they moved.

Your lips were assaulted by the tentacle in your mouth, which coiled and rubbed along your tongue like a cold version of your own. Your friend shifted closer. Entirely enveloping you with their tentacles as they pulled you against their body.

You felt yourself being lifted and pressed against their underside as if they wanted to feel you squirm and writhed against them.

Your eyes closed as you lost yourself to the blinding pleasure. Your walls were stretched and you felt them knock against the deepest part of you, your womb near buckling under the onslaught of thrusts.

The whispering voice transformed into a whining growl that grated your ears. Somehow you knew the harsh sound was your friend’s moaning as they sprawled themselves over the nest. Crushing you against the soft floor as their body started to rut and flood your exposed body with that sweet cooling liquid. You could feel your climax coming forth. Fighting the cool touch of your friend was a racing wildfire beneath your skin, ready to burst when their tip found something sensitive within you. A bundle of nerves that had you thrashing against your cocoon of petting limbs.

Your friend cooed softly and your body was suddenly made empty as the tentacle slid out of you. You cried out. Your frustration was muffled by the thick tongue like limb that you were currently sucking on.

Amusement flooded your thoughts. And a feeling of patience trickled into your hazy mind. You pushed against it, harshly sucking on the tentacle in your mouth as if you could coax your friend to reconsider.

But instead of filling you again, your friend moved so all you could see was their underside. The wrappings of muscled limbs left you. You gasped and licked your lips as the tongue left you as well.

Above you, your friend’s underside was like a shelled belly. Beautiful with intricate brown lines and plates of green; you would have admired them more if your body wasn’t currently screaming at the lack of touch and stimulation. Your friend twitched above you and from a slit between the two back legs, something pushed between the thick shell like plating. As red as candy and thicker than any of the limbs that had previously been buried inside you, your friend’s cock left its protective sheath and started to lower towards your spread thighs.

The head of the length was flared and rounded nubs circled the wide tip. You licked your lips again. Your body clenching in anticipation and worry as the girth tilted, as if flexible like the tentacles before, and brushed over your sensitive clit.

You groaned and spread yourself wider. Even going as far as sliding your hands down to your hole and moving your folds so their cock didn’t tug on anything.

Appreciation melted into your mind and you relaxed against the nest as your friend’s hips dipped lower and the flared head disappeared between your thighs. You felt the cool soft tip press against your entrance and you tried hard not to tense as they started to push into you.

You gasped as your walls were stretched to their limit. Comforting murmurs filled your mind as you squeezed your eyes shut against the discomfort.

But that’s all there was. No pain, just a slight discomfort as your body adjusted to this new girth. You clung to the body that was inches above you. Holding onto your friend as they tenderly thrusted into you.

Their clawed hands tore into the nest as they forced themselves to go slow. The images of their cock ravaging you, filling you with every inch of them to claim you; fluttered through your mind before they were snatched away by their self-control.

Finally, you felt the flared head reach your womb and you were sure you felt the rounded nubs move and press against your walls. Like they were making a barrier against your cervix.

They then started to move. Your back immediately arched as pleasure burst through your center. You cried out, gasping as your body was rocked again and again by your friend’s eager rutting. They could barely move inside you. The locked position of the flared head felt like a knot deep inside you, keeping you both firmly together.

But still your friend desperately chased the pleasure they had to previously pause to properly enter you.

And just as you started to adjust to the heavy sensation in your stomach, your friend shivered above you and the base of their cock bulged as something slid down the long length.

You gasped, watching the egg roll down the thick length and your walls squeezed tightly around the new intrusion. Your friend thrusted harder than before. Pushing the rounded shaft deeper, forcing your walls to spread around it.

Your head rolled back as it popped inside and you groaned disgustingly loud as it settled deep within you. A heavy, warm bubble of liquid that rounded your stomach and jostled with every thrust from your friend.

They growled above you as another egg left them and you grabbed the trunk like leg to brace yourself as the bulging intrusion rested against the first. You reached down and started to rub your untouched clit. Sliding your fingers between your folds, wetting them on the cool liquid that your friend poured from their cock. You felt the hard lump where a third egg was currently flush against your body, begging entrance as your friend purred above you. You circled your clit, rolling your hips in time with your friend’s thrust until pleasure exploded forth. Your climax was what they needed to get the third egg into you. Your spasming walls and jerking hips gave them enough leverage to slide their third egg into your waiting pussy.

The purring increased until it was all you heard. Their cock twitched and you felt some sort of thicker liquid pool from between your legs.

In your blind chase for pleasure, you didn’t realize the stimulation you were giving your friend. And your fall into bliss dragged them down with you, spilling their pleasure into your swollen hole.

They didn’t move from their position above you. Still locked together, your friend murmured sweet whispers into your mind as you both caught your breath.

White hot bliss sparked from your body with every lazy roll of their hips. You couldn’t recall how much time you laid there beneath them. Writhing and moaning, lost in an overstimulated fog of pleasure and bliss. Sometime during this hazy moment, your friend finally pulled out of you. You barely felt the shift between your legs, still snugly swollen with eggs.

You fell asleep not long after that. Finally coaxed into rest by your friend’s nuzzling touches. Their limbs massaged along your arms and stomach, as if soothing you into finally sleeping.

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msnmnt · 6 days ago

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Whispers Of Regret

Notes: this is my first time attempting to write angst, I hope it’s okay. Mason is a little bit of an arse 🫣 but all ends well, I promise 🥰 Feedback is welcomed as always 🤍

You ran your hands through your hair, sighing at the way your curls already fell flat. You slipped your shoes on before tugging down at the bottom of your simple black dress, internally criticising everything you saw in the reflection that mirrored back at you. It was your trusty go-to outfit that cinched you in at all the right places and cut off high enough to show off your legs, but not even that could make you feel good about yourself tonight.

You had practically ransacked your wardrobe and your hair that you had spent so long curling had taken the brunt of your many outfit changes, having flattened due to you pulling on and off an endless amount of dresses. Three different shades of lipstick had been applied and wiped off, and when the clapse of your favourite necklace broke in your hand, you wanted nothing more than to just get into your pyjamas and head to bed.

But you couldn't. You had promised Mason you would join him for Ashley’s birthday, one of the trainers at the club who Mason had became friendly with recently. You didn’t want to let him down so with that in mind, you took a deep breath and tried your best to compose yourself.

It had been a rubbish day at uni. Hell, it had been a rubbish week. You had lost track of how many assignments you had started and were yet to complete, you seemed to have more classes than ever and before you were feeling mega stressed about it all.

And to top it off, you had came home to find your boyfriend in an even worse mood than you.

You sympathised with him, of course. The past few weeks Mason had spent more time at the training ground than he had at home in an attempt to get his fitness back up, and he was very obviously shattered. You hadn't seem him much during the whole week, so when you came home to find his car in the driveway you were looking forward to a good cuddle before you had to head out. For him to ask how your day had been. Maybe even a little kiss for the first time that week. Anything.

But when he had uttered the quietest "Hi" when you walked into your longue, making no attempt to even look up at you, you knew he was in another one of his moods.

The pair of you had got ready in silence, tension thick in the air. You tried to put on a fake smile, attempting to look on the bright side. If Mason was going to be in a foul mood at least you could spend the evening with your girls. You had become close with Ashley’s girlfriend, Daisy, and you were looking forward to meeting some of her friends and hopefully being able to drink your crap week away.

You headed out of your en-suite and into the bedroom to find Mason led on your shared bed, tapping away on his phone, clearly engrossed with something that was far more exciting than you. He was dressed nicely in his jeans, a smart top and a big oversized shirt jacket, but his trainers on the crisp white duvet cover that you had only changed last night made you roll your eyes.

Right on queue, Mason finally pried his gaze away from his phone to catch you looking unamused at him. Even after being together for years, Mason’s compliments were always sure to give you a little boost, no matter how rubbish you felt. You had a tiny bit of hope that he might compliment you, but your heart twinged when he looked back down to his phone as it pinged.

“Think you could drop the attitude at some point this evening?”

Your heart sunk to your tummy at his words and a lump formed in your throat. Your eyes stung as you tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill, blinking them away.

“What?” You asked, voice small and quiet, asking him to repeat himself to make sure you had heard him right.

You hadn't been strangers to a few arguments over the years; just usual bickering between couples. But the worst Mason normally did was give you the silent treatment, short and blunt replies, taking himself to your home gym to let out some stress.

He had never spoken to you like that before.

“I said, are you going to drop the attitude? I don’t appreciate it and I certainly don’t think my friends are going to enjoy you scowling at them like you’ve been doing to me for the past hour.”

You were in complete disbelief at the words that left his mouth, and even more so the way he seemed so unphased by it. He locked his phone and got up off the bed, heading to leave the room.

You just stood there still in shook and Mason turned around to look back at you.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you coming?” He checked his watch, mumbling under his breath. “You’ve already made me late, as usual.”

You wanted to give him attitude back. You wanted to tell him where to shove it. But you didn’t have the energy to argue any more, so instead you just followed him over to the door as you headed out of your house without saying another word to each other.

You hadn’t seen Mason since the moment you arrived at the club. He had wandered off as soon as he saw some of the boys, and luckily the girls had came over to you, not even having a chance to pick up on the tension between the two of you before a drink was in your hand.

The earlier events stayed in the back of your head, but you actually managed to let your hair down a little, enjoying yourself as you got to know Daisy's girlfriends before gladly joining them all on the dancefloor and momentarily forgetting about your troubles.

"Do you want another drink, y/n?" Daisy asked and you looked down to your glass that you hadn't even noticed was empty.

"That's okay, I'll get these!" You shouted over the music, taking the pair of your empty glasses to the bar before ordering another round of drinks.

The barman took your order and was fixing your drinks up when out the corner of your eye you saw Mason strolling up to the bar. You turned your body to the side slightly, as if that may prevent him from realising it was you.

No luck, you jumped back around when Mason clanged his empty bottle down onto the bar.

“Are you going to ignore me all evening?”

You finally faced Mason, but he was just looking straight ahead, not interested in paying you too much attention.

“I could say the same to you.” You replied, making Mason scoff.

“You couldn’t wait to get away from me as soon as you got here.”

“Could you blame me?!” You huffed. “You didn’t even tell me I looked nice tonight."

You practically heard him roll his eyes and he shook his head. “I tell you how beautiful you look all the time, y/n.”

“I’ve been lucky if I’ve got a hello off you this week, Mason!” You exclaimed over the booming of the music, completely snapping now. “I know things are tough for you at the moment but I’ve not exactly had the best week either.” You tried to level with him, but he just shook his head.

“It’s not quite the same though, is it?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, not meaning for them to come out how they did.

“Of course. My menial life and my pathetic problems are far too normal to ever compare to yours, right?” You asked sarcastically.

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant and if you’re going to twist my words-“

“I’m not twisting anything!”

“Look, forget it. Just go back to scowling me from across the dance floor and ranting to the girls about what a horrible boyfriend I am."

You stood there totally gobsmacked as Mason walked away, not even bothering to wait for his drink.

The girls had gone for a rest from dancing and had gathered together in a booth. You tried your best to slip yourself in without causing a fuss, but Daisy noticed there was something wrong straight away.

"Hun, are you alright?" She said hushed, not wanting to draw attention to you.

You gave her a smile but she could tell from how it didn't quite meet your eyes that something was up.

"Where's our drinks?" She questioned, not really concerned about the whereabouts of her drink but rather what had happened to clearly upset you.

You were no longer in the mood to party or even let off any steam. You were exhausted from your shit week and arguing with your boyfriend, so much so you just wanted to go home, curl up in bed and be on your own.

“I’m actually not feeling too good - I think I’m just a little run down from uni.” You tried to cover up the best you could when you noticed the other girls all listening in.

“Yeah, you sound a bit sniffly, babe.” Eva, one of Daisy's friends replied and you gave her a sympathetic smile, pleased to have played it off.

“I think I’m just going to head home.”

“You can’t go on your own at this time. I’ll come with you.” Daisy interrupted.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t want to ruin your evening.” You smiled, trying to make the girls not feel bad. “I’ll be safe, I’ll call Mason’s driver to come pick me up.”

After double and triple checking you were sure you’d be okay on your own, the girls waited till you had got in the car that they recognised before they headed back into the club, and you headed on your way home.

You sighed to yourself as you entered your house, your heels clipping against the wooden floor as you turned the heating on, cursing yourself for not having left it on before you went out.

You took your time getting unready, using your expensive cleansers and creams that you saved for best to try and give yourself a bit of a pamper to make yourself feel better.

After stripping off your dress, you changed into some pyjama bottoms before you begrudgingly slipped on one of Mason’s hoodies, opting for warmth.

Feeling marginally better, you hummed to yourself as you headed back downstairs, deciding to fill your hot water bottle up to have with you in bed to help you stay warm. You doubted Mason would be back anytime soon, anyway.

Once the kettle was boiled, you unscrewed the cap and begun to pour the hot water in. What you weren’t expecting was for the front door to slam, creating an almighty thud and causing you to jump, the hot water spilling straight from the kettle and onto the skin of your hand.

You yelped, dropping the kettle as the sting became more and more intense.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You yelped, knocking the cold tap on and quickly sticking your hand under it.

As the burning sensation took over, you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore, bursting into tears as you struggled to hold yourself up at the sink, the burn causing jolts of pain to shoot up your hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Mason had came storming through the hallway, checking in the living room where there was no sign of you. He heard the water running so he headed into the kitchen, his brows furrowing at the noise he could hear till he could make out it was you crying.

He rushed to find you, practically running into the kitchen where he saw you stood there, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed your heart out, the cold tap still pouring water as it cascaded all down your hand which was now red.

“Baby, shit, what’s happened?” Mason rushed over, stopping infront of you to try and release what had happened before he touched you.

“B-burnt my h-hand.” You managed to mumble out between sobs, finally letting yourself go as you full on sobbed, feeling majorly sorry for yourself.

Mason’s gaze turned to your hand, guiltily swallowing as he spotted your blistering skin. His tummy flipped as he spotted the fluffy hot water bottle that he had bought you at Christmas on the worktop.

“Oh, y/n. Oh, baby.” He cooed. “Are you unwell?”

You shook your head. “I was just c-cold and I assumed you wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon.”

Mason felt physically sick at the thought of you being upset and in your big king sized bed all by yourself, just your hot water bottle to keep you warm. The fact you were wrapped up in his hoodie only made him feel worse.

You pulled your hand away from the water, wincing in pain as you attempted to wriggle your fingers.

“Hey, you need to keep it under here for a bit longer.” Mason’s voice was low and stern, his hand gently wrapping around your wrist and slowly guiding yours back under the tap. You groaned in pain as the freezing water hit your skin once more, sobbing as you reluctantly kept it there. Mason’s thumb gently stroked over your wrist as he held your hand in place. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to move your hand he let go, his brown eyes now soft as they took in how much of a mess you were. His demeanour was a stark difference to how it had been earlier, his shoulders relaxed, his eyebrows knitted together slightly and his bottom lip sticking out slightly at seeing his baby in pain.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You sniffled, attempting to stop crying. “It’s not your fault I’m clumsy.” Technically it was his fault for slamming the door, but he wasn’t to know and you couldn’t bear to bicker with him anymore.

“Was it from me slamming the door?” Mason asked, guilt settling in. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” You lied, finally facing Mason and the look on his face told you he knew you were lying. “It just scared me a bit, okay? Made me jump.”

“Oh, darling.” Mason ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a dick…”

“It’s fine, Mase.” You replied, not having the energy to fight any more.

“It’s not fine, it’s not fine at all, y/n. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I shouldn’t have spoke to you how I did. It’s not fair and I’m so, so sorry, baby.”

You offered him a small smile, briefly taking your hand away from the water to try and straighten it out from how stiff it had got in the cold, before putting it back under when Mason gave you a stern look.

“I haven’t exactly been in a good mood either.” You offered to try to in attempt to make him feel a little better but he just shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re my princess and I should be treating you like it.” His honey eyes started welling up with water as he thought about how he had spoken to you earlier. “I'm so fucking sorry, baby. I've been the worst boyfriend in the world recently and I’ll make it up to you, angel. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You tried to joke, relieving some of the tension.

Once Mason was satisfied that you had left the burn under the water for long enough (and you could no longer feel your fingers from how cold the water was), he helped you carefully dab your hand dry before scooping you up in his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Mason!” You giggled as he carefully moved your arms to look around his neck, forcing you to look up at him. His face was full of worry still and you could tell how awful he felt. "What're you doing?"

"I told you, treating you like a princess." He begun to head up to your bedroom, effortlessly carrying you in his arms. "And I don't think princesses should have to walk, should they?"

You couldn't help by grin as Mason carried you to your bed, carefully placing you down onto your kingsize bed and pulling back the covers.

You settled yourself down into bed, attempting to get comfy. "Do princesses deserve food bought to them in bed?"

You felt relieved when you finally saw Mason not looking so tense anymore, allowing himself to chuckle. "You really are going to milk this for all it's worth aren't you?"

"Uh hmm." You smirked. "I think I would like… a cheeseburger."

Mason raised his eyebrows as if to ask if you were serious, but when you begun to pout, he soon got his phone out.

"Cheeseburger will be on its way soon." He said and you giggled contently watching him tap away on his phone, trying to find somewhere to deliver to you at such a late hour.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before Mason was coming back up the stairs with a brown bag full of greasy food.

The pair of you ate and Mason wouldn't stop apologising no matter how many times you told him to stop.

When he noticed you yawning, he pulled the duvet back and you repositioned yourselves to get comfy. Mason had slipped his clothes off so he was left in just his boxers, and when he patted his bare chest you couldn't resist as you tucked your body into his side and snuggled up into him.

"I'm glad you came home, you're much warmer than my hot water bottle." You cuddled even closer to him, your nose grazing up against his chest hair.

Mason's heart broke at the thought of you thinking he wouldn't come home to you. No matter how bad an argument you had, he would never let you go to bed without making up, and he was upset you thought otherwise.

You hear him sniffle and he moved one of his arms from holding your body, and you were completely taken aback when you saw him quickly wiping away a tear.

"Mase what's wrong?" You attempted to sit up but Mason just shook his head and returned his arms to their position, holding you even tighter to him.

"I know I keep saying it but I really am so fucking sorry, y/n." His voice was torn as he whispered out yet another apology.

"I know, Mase. I know." You replied. "I'm sorry too, but we're okay now, yeah?" You tried to comfort him but you could tell he was still beating himself up about it all.

"You actually thought I wasn't going to come home?" He asked, his voice quiet and full of vulnerability.

"Well... yeah." You mumbled out, unsure if it was the right thing to say. "I thought you might've stayed at Ashley's or something."

"God I really have behaved like an asshole." Mason cursed to himself, so you held his face in your hands, his big glossy eyes looking into yours.

"Listen to me, Mase. I know you didn't mean it, couples argue babe, we're fine now." You offered him a smile, attempting to comfort him.

"I never want to lose you, y/n." Mason said, emotion thick in his voice.

"And you won't." You told him sincerely. "Let's just agree to talk more, okay? No more giving each other silent treatment and making snide comments, not talking about our emotions. Just being more open and honest, okay?" You raised your pinky and he managed to smile as he looped his with yours.

"Promise."

"Anyway, I’m wuite looking forward to breakfast in bed in the morning." You tried to break the tension with your cheeky comment.

"Who's bringing you that then, darling?" Mason asked pretending to have no clue.

"My wonderful boyfriend who was persistent he was going to make up being a dickhead to me." You replied, trying to make light of the situation.

"Anything for you, my princess."

#mason mount #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine

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scourgeofmyownbrain · 2 months ago

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Good fucking day, Robot enjoyers! Gaze upon the updated semi-accurate height comparison of Bumblebee across the multiverse.

This is an updated version of a chart I made a few months ago. I had gotten some feedback and then TFOne came out and I kinda had to update it. I also added a Gen 1 Optimus Prime for scale, for fun... no other reason... (edit: slight adjustment made, just corrected a slight mistake in the order)

I am also working on at least two more character charts and one universe chart, so hopefully I can finish those soon (for some fucking genius reason I decided to do the characters that show up EVERY FUCKING UNIVERSE so I'm s u f f e r i n g)

*PST! Optimus, Megatron, Shockwave, and Soundwave ones are done now*

Listed Heights, Explanations, and Justifications below the cut, bc you couldn't shut me up if you tried and I had shit to say.

Gen 1 - ~10 feet (TFwiki says greater than 3 meters so I rounded up to the first whole number because round)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~10 feet (He looks identical to Gen 1 so... the reason his photo looks weird is because I couldn't find a good full body photo with him standing straight up facing the camera so I put two images together to make the worst looking photoshop job you have ever seen)

Earth Spark - ~10 feet (There is no confirmed height yet, but using this screen shot (see below) of him standing in front of a barn door, I was able to make a reasonable guess, bc I'm so smart.)

One V1 - ~13 feet (I am well aware of what the TFWiki says: 26.429 feet. And I fully reject that number. A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, and Bumblebee in both sets of LA movies does not exceed 20 feet tall. Ever. So, for sanity's sake, I have used the KCV numbers as my baseline. Bee grows when he gets his t-cog so shrink this one down a few feet. Look, I'm working on the Optimus chart rn, and one of the numbers from Beast Wars on the wiki was very observably wrong, and if I can dispute numbers older than me, I can dispute numbers 2 decades younger than me from fucking Walmart. Also, yes, his picture is 3 images sandwiched together)

Animated - 13 feet 3 Inches (There is no actual given heights, but in the comments of the previous version, @phoenix-inanis told me that they had done their own analysis of TFA heights and, gonna be real with you, I am blown away by all of their work and how detailed it is. Go marvel at how much work they put in -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4 )

One V2 - ~15 Feet (Please see reasoning above. Since this is as tall as we see Bee get, he's the same height as KCV Bee. Sweet fuck, I have put way too much effort into this shit)

Knight/Capel-Verse - 15 feet (No actual numbers, but Mirage is stated to be 15 feet tall (TFWiki), and he and Bee are like the same height, so... Capel directed the ROTB movie if you're wondering why his name is there)

Bayverse V1 - 16 feet (TFWiki. This is like the first 3 movies minimum, I don't remember when he hits his growth spurt. Also mr bay is king, we have numbers for nearly every character in BV)

Cyberverse - 18 feet (I'm gonna be honest, the only info we have is from a really shitty screen shot of a magazine. SO if any one has a copy of this book from the video below, a high quality scan would be greatly appreciated and I will kiss the ground you walk upon. Yes I found the video where the screen shot comes from leave me alone)

Bayverse V2 - 18 feet (TFWiki. Movie 4-5 I can't remember which one, I'm not re-looking this up. I fucking love the bayverse tho, this is the only universe with concrete and consistent this-character-is-this-height info)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - 20 feet (TFWiki/Fandom. Video game info screens you godsend, kiss me sweetly)

Aligned Cont. TFP/RID15 - 21 feet (These two designs are canonically identical, like in ALC canon, Bee has not changed visually at all...Ok, yes I got this number from fandom and they give literally no source for where they got these numbers. But, I can fully believe these are accurate. Just by looking at these characters on the show I can verify these numbers in my mind. Here, let's Compare.

This is Sam compared to Bee from one of the BV movies, I'm too lazy to check which one. Sam is average size for a human and we know Bee is 16 feet tall in the first three movies. Checks out. Let's now look at a TFP Character who is also 16 feet tall.

Jack is average size for a human, and the size difference is about the same. Can you see why I can't question the Aligned heights, even if they don't have a source??!?! They specifically made this universe to be full of freakishly tall robots for some fucking reason.)

Not Pictured: Aligned Cont. Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots Academy Bumblebee - 21 Feet tall. Look, did you want to see all 5 versions of ALC Bee? No, you don't. They're all the same height anyway; the back row would have just been a wall of redundant yellow. 5 different fucking art styles in one universe, why is that one my favourite.

Here's the front row and the back row separated into their own jpgs. I know it's kind of hard to tell which Bumblebee is which when they're all together.

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sleepyhollands · 1 year ago

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false god

PAIRING harry styles x reader

SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.

WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT 5.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3

LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.

“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”

“it does to me!”

“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”

“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”

“of course it does, i just—”

“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”

“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.”

… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon.

and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n.

don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof.

if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world.

but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet.

harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion.

now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company.

but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly.

“we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out.

even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.

“what are you talking about?”

harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”

when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

his eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”

while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient.

“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.”

oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again.

“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”

“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”

…

harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again.

it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions.

harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips.

things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory.

harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him.

it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad.

harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind.

this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—

“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.”

the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.

…

“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”

“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”

y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break.

but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with.

“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.

“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”

harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite.

“hey.”

y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern.

“doin‘ okay?”

she nodded, gulping. harry noticed.

“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”

“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”

that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.

harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“feel all right, baby?”

“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”

harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after.

“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”

…

harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy.

moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work.

they could make this work.

right?

…

“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”

“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”

y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes.

the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?”

harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”

“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”

harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke.

“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”

“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”

they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this.

when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”

y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but.

“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something.

“what was that, love?”

the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed.

they weren’t lost, were they?

…

if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her.

when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this.

harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips.

the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n.

“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him.

y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds.

“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body.

“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge.

y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while.

it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other.

…

y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.

now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once.

“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”

a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later.

compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.

“please, baby?”

harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest.

he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time.

it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.

in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away.

a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior.

“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”

“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.

“now, m‘ love.”

with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.

“i’m sorry.”

it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”

harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”

“what are you sorry for, then?”

harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”

y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve.

“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”

“for what?”

“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”

the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”

the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.

harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit.

y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest.

he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her.

“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.”

“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”

harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale.

“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him.

“you’ll always have me.”

taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

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fairysongs · 4 months ago

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౨ৎ pretty scary﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: you're having an awful day and your boyfriend is kind of the best person ever.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: reader struggles with bpd, reader has slight mommy issues, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, depictions of overstimulation (NOT the sexy kind), reader has slight mood swings, established relationship, silly fluff, spencer reid is the perfect boyfriend, hurt/comfort KINDA? (reader is upset, spencer soothes her), lowercase writing sorry it's a habit/my preference, Fiona Apple Mention <3

word count: 3.1k

a/n: omg.. hiiii! this is my first silly post on this silly blog and its a very self-indulgent one as someone who has bpd and is told OFTEN how irritable i can get -_- .. im so nervous.com right now bcos ive never posted my writing on here but also excited..? yes yes.. on a huge spencer reid kick so if u liked this and have any requests they are open!! likes/reblogs/any feedback much appreciated :3!

today was just not your day.

the morning started out fine. it was actually kind of perfect. you spent the night at your boyfriend’s place, waking up just in time to see him getting ready for work. there was a smile that crept over your lips as you watched him adjust the tie hanging around his neck. you propped yourself up against the pillows as he caught your eyes in the mirror adjacent to the bed. your heart swelled at the sight of a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“why are you staring at me like that, weirdo?” there was a little morning gravel in his voice but his tone was lighthearted enough to make you giggle. you fell back against the pillows, tucking one under your arm as you kept your gaze on him.

“what? i’m not allowed to stare at my boyfriend anymore?” you replied, a yawn falling off your lips. he playfully rolled his eyes in response, walking over to your side of his bed. he sat at the edge, one of his hands brushing some of your hair from your face.

“actually, no. they just passed that law last night while you were sleeping through coraline again.” you bit your lip, vaguely remembering begging spencer to put that movie on only to fall asleep on his shoulder twenty minutes in. you can only assume at some point he carried you from the sofa to his bed. you blushed at the thought, as if he hadn’t done it at least twenty times by now. clearly you weren’t used to the ‘princess treatment’ he liked giving you.

“oh, my fault then. please don’t arrest me, mr. fbi agent.”

“it’s dr. fbi agent, actually.”

“right…” you giggled again, beaming as he smiled down at you. “do you know if you have a case?”

“paperwork day.” his fingers started tracing small shapes against the skin of your arm. “of course if that changes, i’ll let you know. but hopefully it won’t. you can come over again tonight if you want. maybe we’ll finally finish coraline.” his voice was soft, ringing harmonies in your ear as you let your eyes flutter shut in the comfort. “need me to take you to work today?”

you hummed, reaching out to your phone sitting on his bedside table. you quickly rechecked your schedule and shook your head. “no, it’s okay. i go in a little later. it’s close enough to walk.” you tilted your head as you felt him tangle his hand in your hair again. spencer scratched delicately at your scalp.

“okay, my love. i washed the clothes you left here the other day. they should be in the second drawer of my dresser.” you nodded in response as he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. you caught his jaw in your hands and pulled him downwards, giving him a proper kiss on his lips. he laughed quietly as you both pulled away. “have a good day, angel.”

“you too, baby.”

well to put it simply you did not have a good day. you got ready for your job at a local cafe and made it to work fine. it was when you got there that it started going downhill. you genuinely loved being a barista. you definitely had the personality for it. friendly, outgoing, kind and patient. it’s actually how you met spencer in the first place. but sometimes it was hard. especially with certain needy customers. most of your regulars were chill. you were actually friends with many of them, always asking about the new things in their lives whenever they’d come in. of course, though, there were always a few bad apples.

like this one particular older man. he came in every now and then and ordered the same thing every single time. black decaf coffee with a blueberry scone. he was always in a rather grumpy mood, not even your tender words could help that. so this morning when you gave him a black regular coffee by an honest mistake he made sure to let you know just how stupid and idiotic you were. you stood there at the counter, expression apologetic as he continued to berate you. eventually your boss told you to go in the back for a bit while she took care of things.

you practically ran to the bathroom, locking yourself in the tiny space as you tried to control your breathing. you could already feel the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. you absolutely despised how sensitive you could get. through shaky breaths, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, unlocking it with a small sob. you had a few texts and one missed call from your mother. one of the texts was from spencer, letting you know it was just gonna be a paperwork day and inquiring what you wanted to order for dinner tonight. the other texts were from your mother, reminding you about a family party that was coming up soon. there was another text after her missed call.

- Guess you’re too busy to talk. Just let me know if you can make it.

you closed your eyes, feeling the passive aggressive tone through the message. the best way you could describe your relationship with your mother was that she was both your best friend and your worst critic. she tried to support everything you aspired to do, but also hated the way you did them. it was... complicated but her text was enough to leave you in a sour mood for the remainder of the day.

you felt like you couldn’t catch up. you couldn’t get over that bump setting you back from having a good shift. your head felt like it was elsewhere and no longer attached to your body, your movements becoming monotonous and your words dull. to make things worse, your eighteen year old coworker was coming in for their shift an hour before you were leaving.

and you loved them, you really really did. often times you would joke about them being your work child, taking them under your wing. but they talked. a lot. most days you could keep up no problem but with the way your mind was on a downward spiral today, all you could feel was immense overstimulation as they yapped in your ear about the latest tv show they were binge watching. soon it was all too much for you to handle and you end up snapping at the poor kid.

“dude i’m sorry but i don’t really care. can we just be quiet for, like, five minutes?” you interrupted them mid-sentence, tired eyes looking over with a slight glare. you immediately softened, eyes wide with guilt as they looked towards you like a kicked puppy. you tried your best to stammer out an apology but was met with silent treatment until you clocked out.

they would soon accept your apology in the next coming days and you’d go back to normal because that’s how you guys were, but the guilt would eat at you for quite a bit. when you were a kid, your parents often praised you on how self-sufficient and respectful you were. in your adolescent years, with the help of an untreated personality disorder and your regular teen hormones raging inside your cage of a body, your behaviour would suddenly change. you found yourself more irritable. more prone to overstimulation. you internalized a lot of what you were going through because every time you tried to bring up your feelings, your mother would shut you down and it’d turn into a fight.

you expressed yourself through slammed doors and screaming matches. you bottled things up until they overflowed. it was how you handled the thunderstorms behind your skull. you would eventually get better in time, finally attending therapy and finding solace in little things like journaling. and when you started dating spencer, he helped a lot too. your brain could sometimes make a lot of irrational judgements and spencer would help you see reasoning instead. he was also insanely patient with you. especially in the first two months of you guys dating where you broke up with him upwards of five times. each time because you didn’t believe you deserved him. (you still don’t believe it, but at least now you’ve stopped trying to fight the good coming into your life.)

you would never forget the first time spencer met your parents. the night was going well up until dinner time when your dad decided to pull out your old high school yearbook. at first it was just classic embarrassment as spencer looked at your school photos. but then your mother, after one too many glasses of wine, brought up your old struggles with anger.

“be careful getting on her bad side, spencer!” she had said, waving a finger in the air. “she’s got a scary temper for sure! remember when we had to replace her bathroom mirror because she threw her hairbrush at it?" she spoke like she was a comedian telling her greatest joke in the world as she turned towards your father. "i can’t even remember what made her so upset! but i remember how expensive that fix was…”

“oh i’m sure i’ve dealt with far worse at my job, ma’am. i think i can handle her just fine.” he was quick to reply and the hand pressing on your bouncing knee beneath the table calmed any nerves of him looking at you differently. later that night he’d hold you as you sobbed in his arms, retelling different memories of your past. he made you a promise that he’d never see you as a bad person as long as you promised him you’d talk to him whenever you started to feel like one.

you were finally walking home after this exhausting day and it wasn’t until you were changed into your comfy clothes and curled in bed that you realized you hadn't texted spencer back at all. with your knees pulled to your chest and a low hum of a fiona apple album playing from your record player you reached across your bed for your phone. you had four texts from him and one missed call.

- Hi angel. Haven’t heard from you all day, just checking in. - Hi, you should be clocked out by now. Just wanted to know if you still wanted to come over? We can order from your favorite italian place. - One missed call from spencer ♡. - Are you having a bad day, my love? Or did I do something wrong? - I’m gonna come over. See you soon, angel.

your brows furrowed together at the last text, sent just about ten minutes ago. you could feel your eyes well with frustrated tears. you felt like shit for unintentionally ignoring him. you couldn’t even think of what to say to him, but you had to think fast because soon you heard a gentle knock at your bedroom door. with a sniffle, you stood to your feet and slowly opened it.

you met spencer’s eyes, they were desperately searching your face. trying to figure you out, trying to see what was troubling your mind. you hated it sometimes when he profiled you, but most times you were grateful he could just know when you weren’t doing okay. saved you the shame of having to actually vocalize your feelings. you stepped back as he entered your room.

“your roommate let me in. she said you went straight to your room after work and have been listening to nothing but when the pawn… by fiona apple.” he was still in his work clothes, the same ones you watched him get dressed in just that morning. felt like an eternity ago at this point. before you could even let your face fall to the ground, his hands were holding your jaw, tilting it upwards and keeping it in place. he always held you like you were made of glass. “bad day?”

“you could say that.” you words were short and you didn’t mean for them to be. you were just so exhausted. “sorry i forgot to text you back. it’s just been…” you let your words fall off, waving your hands in the air with an annoyed huff. you pulled away from his touch, slumping back into your mattress. he just watched as you ran your fingers through your hair, eyes shut tight as if you were trying to talk yourself down. he bit his lip, taking a cautious step forward.

“you look like you’re trying to compute a million things at once right now inside that little head.” he shrugged off the sweater draping over his work shirt, tugged off his tie and kicked his shoes off besides your bed. you laughed sarcastically at his words but bit your tongue from replying with a snarky comment. “did you know that one of the brain’s primary functions is to collect and process sensory information? it’s kind of like there’s a little guy in there, sitting at his desk and filing through every bit of information that gets thrown at you throughout the day.” your eyes were still shut but you felt a dip in your bed as his voice grew closer to you.

“when there’s too much sensory input, it can make the brain think there’s danger, sending off signals to the body to escape. that’s when your fight-flight-freeze response gets triggered. aka that little guy’s desk is suddenly on fire and every file has been thrown all over the place and the little guy, well, the little guy is running around screaming for help.” you feel two arms wrap around your waist and maneuver your body until you felt your head resting against the warmness of his chest. soon enough you also felt slender digits running through the locks of your hair.

“you seem to resort to a fight response i’ve noticed. your body feels like you can overpower the danger your brain thinks you’re in. resulting in intense feelings of anger. which can lead to irritability.” you feel him tracing shapes, the same ones he made on your arms earlier that morning, deep into the small of your back. he always did the same movement pattern and you always wondered if that was intentional or just a coincidence. “do you wanna talk about what’s going on in here?” he poked an index finger to the side of your temple. you shook your head. “okay. we don’t have to. but i will ask about it later, is that okay?” you nodded this time.

you didn’t realize it when it was happening, but the combination of spencer pulling you into his arms and his soft voice spewing factual information at you was enough to make your head feel almost empty. your body was melted against his, curled up in his touch. you let out a shaky breath, slowly raising your head, resting your chin on his chest as your eyes opened. “how did you do that?” you whispered, soft hues scanning his face as he just smiled down at you.

“a magician never reveals his secrets, my love.” you rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as his hand lightly brushed your cheek. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. your lips twitched in thought, a tiny frown suddenly taking over your features. spencer tilted his head. “what is it, baby?”

your eyes fell to focus on his chest, your finger tracing over the fabric of his work shirt. “do you think i’m scary? like… when i get upset?”

“scary?” he repeated, voice in small disbelief that you’d even feel the need to ask. “no, i don’t think you’re scary. i think you’re beautiful. and i think your mind can be pretty mean to you sometimes. but that’s not your fault. hey, look at me please.” you let him guide your head back up, eyes meeting each other again. he smiled at you and it made you feel warm. “why do you think you’re scary?”

your shoulder shrugged with an exasperated sigh. “because it’s what i’ve been told my whole life. when i get too overwhelmed and i just feel nothing but anger i… i feel like i can get mean and i hate feeling that way. like, i always get too snappy and i always say something that’s gonna hurt someone i care about and i…” your breathing hitches. your lashes quickly blink, trying to fight any tears from spilling yet again. “i’m so scared i’m gonna get that way with you and you’re gonna leave me.”

he was shaking his head, thumb swiping underneath your eyes at the few tears that betrayed you and fell down your cheeks. he sighed out your name. “i don’t think you understand just how much i love you. if you think i’d leave you at something so silly like that. you know, i started reading up on borderline personality disorder after that night i met your parents. i wanted to understand it more. i wanted to understand you.” he continued wiping away your tears as they kept falling.

“i can’t even imagine what you go through inside your own head every single day, but i can acknowledge how hard you’re trying to cope with it. i see it all the time. i see it in the kindness you like to spread to strangers. i see it in the way you push yourself to learn new things and the way you stopped beating yourself up if it doesn’t turn out perfect. i see it in the way you love me, and more importantly in the way you’ve allowed yourself to let me love you back. you’re such a beautiful person, my love. it’s okay to have bad days and it’s okay to let yourself be a little mean sometimes.” he laughed quietly, noticing the way your lips were fighting a smile. he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “as long as you just communicate with me when you’re feeling bad. that’s all i ask.”

you sat there for a moment, admiring the way his big brown eyes stared at you. your eyes fell for a moment before picking back up with furrowed brows. “i snapped at my coworker today.”

“the teenager?” you nodded. “ah,” spencer’s hand resumed circling around your back as he hummed. “they’ll forgive you, i’m sure of it.” there was a pause and then a small hum coming from his throat. “are you hungry? hm? let’s order some food.”

he ordered you your favorite pasta dish from your favorite italian restaurant and you fell asleep in his arms in the middle of coraline again. he couldn’t help but admire you resting so peacefully in his arms and continued tracing the words ‘i love you’ over and over again into your back for the rest of the night.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #౨ৎ ﹕mazzy’s fics ( s.r x reader. ) .ᐟ #first time i posted this it didnt show in the tags ...#who wants me gone ALREADY.

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ohnoitstbskyen · 6 months ago

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Do you think Riot will make more seasons of Arcane in different regions post-s2, make more shows with different names that are set in the Arcane universe, or secret third option?

Yes and no.

To start with, yes: Arcane has been by far Riot's most mainstream successful media project ever (even outstripping K/DA), and there is literally no way in hell that the company isn't going to want to keep milking it until it is as dry, stale and withered as the PROJECT skin line.

So I predict that, absolutely, we will see new seasons of shows set in the League of Legends universe, probably animated, and hopefully with some of the extremely good animation partners Riot has managed to cultivate over the years.

The ARCANE branding is incredibly valuable now, and I wouldn't put it past Riot to do something stupid like name a show set in the Freljord ARCANE: True Ice or something unbearably stupid like that, even though the name relates extremely specifically to the setting and story of Piltover/Zaun and the Vi/Powder/Viktor/Jayce character group.

On the other hand, Riot might be the company on earth I trust the absolute least to effectively capitalize on and carry forward a success in creative arts that can't be monetized with skins and event passes.

Riot has an absolutely astounding history of tripping on their dicks when it comes to telling stories about their characters, in no small part due to its leadership quite simply never valuing storytelling as an end in itself. If it doesn't sell cosmetics or drive Engagement™ with the core League of Legends product, good luck getting Riot management to spend a fucking dime to make anything real.

Passionate people inside the company have to go to war, every single time, to make anything good happen. Legends of Bilgewater, the Spirit Blossom visual novel, the Marvel comics collaboration (RIP), Riot Forge, and very much Arcane, were absolute passion projects pushed over the line by people who literally put their jobs (and in many cases their health) on the line to make them happen.

Alex Yee and Christian Linke are old hands at Riot with a lot of clout, a lot of friends at the company, and a lot of goodwill to cash in, and if that hadn't been the case, there is literally no way in hell anything like Arcane ever gets made.

The behind-the-scenes documentary Riot themselves produced obviously goes out of its way to let Riot leadership suck themselves off about how much they contributed and how much they believed in the project, but make no mistake, they would have axed Arcane on the spot if there wasn't creatives fighting pitched battles every other day to keep it alive.

This is true of K/DA as well, by the way, there was a lot of internal resistance at Riot to that project - and to Star Guardians, and to Heartsteel. Anything cool Riot has ever made? Just assume that someone internally was shitting on it in meetings and trying to get it shut down.

Which is why I am intensely worried about Arcane in the long term. Not so much about Season 2, since it is mostly being produced by the same group of people, as far as I know, but that project is also going to be absolutely besieged by C-suite jackoffs trying to worm their names into the credits, making themselves Stakeholders™ and offering Feedback™ and voicing Concerns™, and I don't envy the showrunners the battles they are going to have to fight to keep these vultures away from the product.

But I am fucking worried about whatever Season 3 becomes. I am fucking worried about what happens the moment any of the key creatives behind the first two seasons resign, or get headhunted to new jobs. I am worried what's going to happen when Riot decides that the showrunners are "being difficult" and standing in the way of what leadership wants to do with the now very valuable ARCANE branding, and either corporately mandates them into roles of diminished influence or just outright fucking fires them (it'll be publicized as a mutual decision of course, it'll be publicized as a much celebrated retirement or "it's time to move on to new adventures").

Riot is a company with absolutely infinite capacity to fuck up a perfectly good thing for absolutely no fucking reason except some kombucha-chugging, suit-jacket-over-a-graphic-tee-and-sneakers-wearing, keeps-his-job-despite-multiple-sexual-harassment-allegations-because-he's-bros-with-the-C-suite, motherfucking "I am a player so I know what the players want" platitude-spouting "themes are for book reports"-ass Silicon Valley libertarian piece of shit decided he knows better than the artists whose work are the reason he takes home six figures a year.

#tb answers #arcane #riot games #league of legends

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artyandink · 7 months ago

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𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳 | bartender!dean winchester

Summary: Dean Winchester needs a job after his little brother left for Stanford, and he’s good at mixing drinks. You happen to work at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, which is the place he chose to work at. He finds a family. He finds a new life. But he also finds you. But you have problems of your own.

A/N - My first reader series, do make sure to comment and/or reblog feedback. Set with S1/2 Dean cause I love our baby boy 😁 and pretend group chats exist on old phones lol

SERIES MASTERLIST

one - gin and tonic

Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

It was rather a homely place, with the constant chatter of the different people that stop by for a quick drink, the tunes playing from the jukebox, followed by the clatter of pool cues that ended with the clinking and tappings of glass on glass and glass on table. The place was lit with warm light, bulbs hanging from the ceiling and the distinct musk of whiskey, vodka and tequila that burned people’s throats without the liquid even going down them. It was chaotic.

It was home.

You shared a look with Jo, who was busy serving a passer-by with a cheery smile on her face while Ellen was walking a first-time drinker through the right options, rather than ordering fifty at once and getting so hammered that you three would have to drag them off the floor of the bar and mop up their sick. You sneakily poured a shot for yourself, downing it before anyone but Jo had a chance to see what you were doing and washing out the shot glass. You were a bartendress, you could hold your liquor without a problem.

“Hey.” Jo nudged you after serving a whiskey and nodded to the opposite corner, where a clearly wasted man was trying to grope a poor girl passing by, grabbing her wrist and trying to tug her back with slurred words and bedroom eyes. The sight made your blood boil and your hand itch to reach for the baseball bat that laid behind the counter. “Reckon we should 86 ‘em?”

“I don’t think there should be reckon anything.” You frowned, pursing your lips. “Dude needs to go.” You kept your eyes on the guy, while your co-worker and good friend Benny approached you two with narrowed blue eyes and cap pulled low over his brow.

“Everythin’ alright here, darlings?” He drawled, and his eyes follow the trajectory of yours and Jo’s until he finds the drunk man across the room, a small hum of acknowledgment leaving his mouth. “Y’all can relax. I’ll handle this-”

“Hey, pal?” A hand with a silver ring on it gripped the shoulder of you guys’ target, the voice sounding a bit stern. The hand was connected to a leather jacket-clad arm, which was worn by a man who was about 6’ 1” in height, and rather devastatingly handsome. He had sandy blonde hair and startling green eyes, with pouty pink lips and rather a defined jaw. He was built well, and clearly benched or at least worked out. You found yourself staring at his easy smile that masked some well-controlled anger towards the guy. “The lady doesn’t want you touching her. I’d hate for that handsome face of yours to be ruined.” The sarcasm in the comment got you grinning, and also got Benny over to the scene to roughly take the drunk dude’s hand off the girl, pulling him up and throwing him out while Jo ducked out from the counter to take care of the poor thing and get her a drink.

You found the stranger who helped Benny out at the counter, eyes twinkling as he looked into yours with a grin that twinkled in the light of the flickering bulb above your heads that you quickly twisted and got properly working again. “Harvelle’s Roadhouse, what can I get you today?” You greeted automatically, giving the man a smile that held a hint of gratitude. Gratitude, yes, but your eyes betrayed knowing. You could see the lost look in his eyes, almost searching for a place, and your heart went out to him. You knew all too well how that felt. All too well.

“A job, hopefully.” He answered with a nervous chuckle, looking down and then up at you with his eyes scanning you almost imperceptibly. “Saw the hiring sign outside, thought I might try my hand here.”

“Well, your hand got lucky.” You grinned, tapping the counter twice to get Ellen’s attention while she was serving another customer. “Can I get a name?”

“That’d be helpful.” He smirked, then put out his hand for you to shake. “Dean Winchester.” You shook his hand while giving him your name in return, Ellen stepping to stand beside you.

“We got a new hire, huh?” She chuckled, shaking Dean’s hand. “Hi, I’m Ellen. I run the place.”

“Dean. Winchester.” The name made Ellen’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and yours did too in curiosity. She seemed to know Dean, and that intrigued you.

“You’re one of John Winchester’s boys.” Ellen noted, which made Dean look between you and Ellen, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“You know my old man?” He asked curiously, his emerald eyes almost giving a puppy-dog look as he addressed Ellen, his hands clasped on the counter in front of him.

“John stopped by often, was like family once.” She nodded with a soft smile. “Also knew you through Bobby, also a regular. Said you were a good kid. Well, I guess you’ve met our golden girl.” Ellen gestured to you with a tender hand, patting your shoulder. “She makes the meanest Cosmo around. She’ll show you ‘round, get you acquainted with the rules and regulations and also introduce you to the others working this shift. Take him through it, sweetie.” Ellen moved away to serve more customers, while you lifted up the gate to the counter to allow him inside. Dean stepped in, already looking mesmerised by the atmosphere and simultaneously the large selection of hard liquor to get through. Jo and Benny left their posts, strolling over to join you two.

“A new hire.” Benny held his hand out for Dean to shake. “Benjamin Lafitte, brother, but call me Benny.” Benny took one look at shared a look with you; he saw it too. The need of a metaphorical map in this stranger’s minuscule mannerisms. He was in need of support, and even though you two didn’t know what for, you were happy to give it.

“Benny, got it.” Dean shook Benny’s hand with an easy grin. “Dean Winchester, but call me Dean.” He turned to Jo, his eyes flicking up and down her as he’d done with you, and you noted that it might be a natural thing for him. Checking out pretty ladies. “And who might you be?”

“Jo.” She shook his hand, flicking her blonde hair out of her face.

“Don’t be shy, Joanna Beth.” Benny teased, piquing Dean’s interest.

“Joanna Beth?” He repeated with raised eyebrows and a small smirk.

“It’s just… Jo.” Jo chuckled, swatting Benny’s shoulder. “Ignore him.”

“Duly noted.” Dean nodded, then Benny took his shoulder. Their eyes met, and Benny’s lips twisted into a smirk.

“One question for you, brother.” Benny drawled in his slow accent, his eyebrow raising under the cap. “Can you handle your liquor?”

“I can mix ‘em and drink ‘em, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Dean answered confidently, that devilish grin still on his face.

“Then you’ll fit right in.” You clapped his shoulder- his surprisingly muscular shoulder - and brought him over to show him the ropes. “Initiation’s gonna be fun.”

Later on, when the Roadhouse closed up and all the patrons were out, we gathered around the bar. You introduced Dean to your resident party animal, Ash, who was busy being a genius in his room out back. You all were relaxing with glasses of whiskey, making sure to make Dean feel at home. He fit in well, and had instantly become a popular with the ladies and Benny’s new partner in crime. Jo pulled out ten shot glasses, which made everyone but Dean whoop and clap their hands.

“Time for initiation, young man.” Ellen cackled, taking out a bottle of bourbon, scotch, hard whiskey, vodka and tequila. Dean stared at the five bottles in confusion as they filled up the shot glasses, two shots per bottle in the order described.

“Complete this test and you’re officially one of us.” Jo smiled, pushing all of them forward in a neat line while you prepared a stopwatch. Dean registered all of the five drinks lined up with a small smirk, and then glanced around at the others in the room.

Had everyone done this before?

The prospect was thrilling. Getting to be part of a surrogate family that seemed to be so… happy. Especially since Sammy had left for Stanford and his old man wasn’t the keenest where he was concerned, being a part of this was all he wanted.

“All you have to do is down all ten of these shots within forty five seconds.” You grinned, holding up the stopwatch. “Level one is bourbon. Then scotch. Then you have hard whiskey, but not too strong. After that’s some tangy vodka, and you have the final level. Our strongest tequila.”

“Strong as hell. Beauty’s got a kick.” Benny whistled, then nudged you. “Remember when Bela thought she could handle more of that stuff and was passed out on the pool table five minutes later?”

“Like it was yesterday.” You laughed, then gestured to Dean. “Take your mark, soldier.” Dean stepped up to the counter, assessing the situation with careful, determined green eyes. They always seemed to captivate you. That and his winning smile. He’d taken off his leather jacket, which was over a blue flannel and grey undershirt. He had a boyish charm to him that you couldn’t help but warm up to as well. “Ready?”

“Born ready.” He nodded, mentally preparing himself as he took a deep breath, waiting for his cue. Then when there was the loud shout of ‘go’, he started slamming back the shots, the liquid burning his throat as we went. The bourbon and scotch were easy, the whiskey went down quicker than expected, but he faltered slightly on the vodka, the tang making one of his eyes close instinctively.

It felt like a goddamn barrage of sour candies at once.

However, Dean braved it and threw back the other, picking up the tequila and downing the first one. The burn made him cough and shake his head as the room went off kilter for a moment, but he grabbed the other and took it down in half a second before slamming the glass down on the table. You stopped the timer, and Dean straightened up as he got what felt like a million claps on the back. He met your eyes with a wide grin that matched yours, gratefully downing the glass of water that Ellen gave him before letting out a whoosh of breath.

“You’re one of us, brother.” Benny chuckled deep, gripping his shoulder. Dean couldn’t help but think about how mismatched this little gang was. There was mama bear Ellen, who doted on everyone as well as being a badass in her own right, mother of the sweetly fierce Jo, or Joanna Beth, who could flash a sweet smile at one point but stare daggers the next that can chill bones. Benny, with his distinct cap and fashion sense, paired with the slow drawl of an accent and rough-around-the-edges demeanour.

And then there was you. By what he knew of you, you were a firecracker. Cheeky smiles and a confident way of moving about pairing beautifully with your suave way of handling and mixing drinks. Paired amazingly, like a gin and tonic, or vodka and soda. Beginner’s drinks, but a classic and something he’d walk back to every time. Or maybe you were like whiskey on the tongue. You had an almost irresistible burn to you. Maybe a bourbon, with the hint of sweetness to your demeanour.

Ah, he’d find out someday.

You woke up the next morning, in the bed that was in your room at the Roadhouse to a texts from the group chat you all had, which didn’t include Ellen otherwise she’d chastise you all for the messages you left on there sometimes. You knew that today would be rather an eventful day, since Bela, Meg and Ruby were coming to work on your shift. The trio were alike in every sense of the word, but there was a respective increase in the level of savagery. Bela was smoothly rude, in either a way you couldn’t fault her for or one that you just couldn’t argue back to. Meg could roast you without a second thought but she made it sound like charisma, which it was, rather than outright hatred. If she wanted to, however, she could let you know she hated you. Ruby was just downright honest. Brutally honest in every way possible, but she couldn’t help but be one of your best friends. For all her sharp insults and snarky comments, she just had a wow factor you couldn’t ignore.

Since Dean was in need of a place to stay, Benny graciously offered to let the newcomer stay over. You and Benny had found the Roadhouse together, and you knew a lost soul when you saw one. A kindred spirit. You’d lived at the Roadhouse, courtesy of Ellen and Jo, and even when it wasn’t your shift, you always managed to make it there for a good day of relaxing, laughing and playing pool and maybe poker. Today, since it was a Sunday, the Roadhouse closed early, which meant you all could play random games and jam to karaoke and old songs on the jukebox.

You checked the messages on your phone, snickering at how many there were. But what caught you off guard was the latest one.

Queen B: Alright, what’s the deal with the new guy? Is he hot?

You: Bela, chill. Don’t go hitting on Dean already.

Megolodon: Dean? Even his name sounds sexy as hell

Ruby-gina George: Y’all are desperate

You: Right? Jesus, you haven’t even met the guy yet

Queen B: I call dibs on him 😉 Megolodon: I hope he has a brother, if you know what I mean 😏 older or younger I don’t mind at all, but I prefer younger

Ruby-Gina George: We haven’t even seen him yet

You: Stop thirsting over a guy you haven’t met

Queen B: You’ve seen him- is he hot?

Megolodon: C’mon, spill

Queen B: IS. HE. HOT

You: You two need to STOP

Ruby-Gina George: Touch freakin’ grass

Ben Dover: Leave the poor girl alone, Bela, she needs a breather

You: FINE. He’s attractive, alright

Queen B: HE’S MINE

Megolodon: Dibs on his brother

ScarJo: My god, stop blowing up my phone or mom will see these messages and fire us all

Queen B: Worth it

Megolodon: Yeah, I’m cool with that, just give me the hot bartender’s brother, please and thank you

Casanova: Who are we talking about? I’m confused.

Ben Dover: New hire

Casanova: Ah.

You shook your head, shoving your phone in your pocket as you stood up, heading over to the cupboard. You pulled out a red plaid shirt, taking off your tank and pulling the chosen clothing item on, doing up the buttons before heading to your mirror and trying to tame your hair for the first time in ages. Eventually, you settled on a simple rope braid that still had a few strands coming out of it, taking off your sweatpants and replacing them for jeans. Rolling up your sleeves to your elbows as you went, you zoned out while staring at the silver band on your finger with a snake engraving.

The delicate welts in the ring.

You weren’t married, no, but it was a part of where you came from. You weren’t proud of your history. The one part of it that came out good was your siblingship with Benny.

You met the sunshine streaming through the window, along with the sight of Dean already working at the bar. His flannel’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his hair was short and spiky and he wore a soft smile on his face that suited him. However, his eyes flickered to a girl at the bar you knew all too well. What with her penchant for the finer things in life, hence the perfectly styled brown hair and clever green eyes, complete with a British accent.

Bela Talbot.

She was giving Dean what looked like bedroom eyes until his eyes flickered over to you, his face lighting up instantly with a chuckle at whatever she was saying. You seemed to pick up your sleepy mood as well, returning the grin. Bela smirked slightly, pumping her eyebrows twice as she took a sip of her wine. Wine in the morning. It made you grin at your friend.

How very Bela.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” Dean rumbled, his morning voice sounding deep and rich. “Sleep well?”

“Slept great, thanks.” You replied softly, pouring yourself a glass of water and sipping it. “You settle in ok? At Benny’s?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He chuckled a bit, looking down with a bashful smile and a bite of his lip. “He’s great. And it’s great at his place.”

“Had I come earlier, I would offer you a bed at my place.” Bela smirked, then winked playfully rather than flirtatiously. “There’s only one, but I wouldn’t mind sharing.” The comment got a laugh out of both Dean and you, knowing it was all in good fun.

“An offer that I probably wouldn’t refuse.” Dean replied with a suave tone that had Bela grinning at you, nudging you before pointing at Dean with a manicured finger.

“I like him. He’s funny.”

“Good to know.”

“Well, you’re quite a handsome one.” Meg swayed up to the counter, dark brown hair swaying as her equally as dark eyes scanned Dean. She delicately put out her hand for him to shake. “Hi. Meg Masters, darling.”

“Dean Winchester.” Dean shook her hand with a sideways look, seeming rather flattered by the attention of so many women. “And thank you.”

“Just for research purposes-”

“Meg, don’t say it.” You whispered, but she waved you off with a sultry chuckle, her eyes focusing on Dean as she stole a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, pouring a shot which she threw back expertly.

“Do you have a brother? Out of curiosity.” She asked blatantly, smiling innocently at Dean, but you knew the smile wasn’t so incredibly innocent. Meg was like a demon; she corrupts easily. But she was a loveable little devil.

“Oh, shut up, we don’t have to be so touchy feely and up close.” Ruby groaned as she walked in, blonde hair swinging. “And get me a shot of tequila, it was a long and insufferable car ride.”

“You must be Ruby.” Dean noted, pointing at Ruby and smirking slightly. “Bela’s given me the rundown on who’s who. And yeah, I do have a younger brother. Sammy. He’s a dork.”

“Even better.” Meg winked as she poured Ruby a shot of tequila and passing it to her. “Where’s Benny at? I need my daily dose of that accent otherwise I might go insane.”

“You’ve already got the image of the newbie’s little brother so far up your ass, I’m surprised you remembered Benny.” Ruby snorted, taking her shot. “He’s out bein’ errand boy with Ellen and Jo. Texted him when I got here.”

“Earning some brownie points, are we?” Bela giggled. “How very like our suave gentleman.”

“Wine before breakfast.” You quipped, sipping your water. “How very like our expensive Brit, hm?” A round of laughter came from everyone around you, including Bela.

“You got me there.” She sighed playfully, sipping her wine. “Damn you.”

“Damn me.” You winked back, and then a nervous chuckle came from Dean.

“Don’t mean to be a downer on the party, ladies, but I’m feelin’ kind of out of place here.” He gave you all a nervous smile, and the lost puppy look was starting to come out again. You laid a comforting hand on his forearm, tilting your head.

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled softly, letting out a breath through your nose. “We all love you already. Even if these three are too much.”

“Too much looks good on me, biatches.” Ruby added with a drawl, which got a grin out of Dean and you.

“We get it, Ruby.” You giggled, then glanced back at up Dean and his gorgeous green eyes. “You’re doing great, Dean. Don’t sweat it too much.” The comment got a suggestive ‘ooh’ out of the other three girls in the room, which had you and Dean looking to the counter and the floor respectively with dumb grins on your faces.

“BREAKFAST!” Startled all of you when Ellen walked in with Benny and Jo, the women holding two grocery bags while Benny carried four, most likely out of pure gentlemanliness.

You shared a soft look with Dean, followed by a reassuring pat on his forearm before you stood up and moved to help Benny with the bags. He glanced down at his forearm with a slight smile, fighting off a blush as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. His hand rubbed over the spot before he got to unpacking the grocery bags, feeling assured. Feeling safe.

Feeling like he was part of a family.

bDe: so this is the group chat, huh

You: Hey, Dean 👋

bDe: hey, sweetheart ;)

Ruby-gina George: Where did SWEETHEART come from

Queen B: You wish you were someone’s sweetheart, Rubes

Ruby-gina George: In your dreams, Bell-bottoms

Queen B: But you hate bell bottoms

Ruby-gina George: Exactly 😊

bDe: are they always like this

Ben Dover: You get used to it, brother

You: It’s all uphill from here

Casanova: Can someone please tell me the name of the new hire? I need to add him to my contacts.

bDe: dean winchester

Casanova: Thank you. I am Castiel Novak.

ScarJo: Cas, the perfect spelling, punctuation and grammar is NOT necessary

You: Yeah, how can you type that without getting bored

Casanova: How do you type without perfect spelling, punctuation and grammar?

Megolodon: We just type, Cassie baby, it’s not that hard

Queen B: Even I don’t type that fancy, and I’m British

Ruby-gina George: Part fancy Brit, part asshole

Queen B: I hate you

Ruby-gina George: You’re such a flirt

You: Like I said, Dean, uphill from here

ScarJo: Yeah, doesn’t get much worse than this

bDe: nah this right here is gold

Ben Dover: *eats popcorn*

bDe: can I have some

Ben Dover: sure, brother

You: All of you are unhinged- @Casanova are you gonna be there on your shift tomorrow

Casanova: Yes, I am.

Queen B: Our dear Cas, bland texter by day, expert mojito mixer at night

ScarJo: Sounds accurate to me

Casanova: I hate you all.

You : You love us ☺️

Casanova: I suppose that’s true.

After closing, everyone had gone to their respective houses, or so you thought. You were about to change and get into bed after a long day of supervising the bar in case Dean needed help or the girls were being far too flirty for their own good, but then you heard clinking glass from downstairs that piqued your interest. You prepared to grab the baseball bat from the cupboard on the landing as you crept out, but only heard the humming of a low voice you recognised as Dean. You walked into the main bar to find him cleaning the glasses, the clink coming from when he set them down with the others. But he heard you enter, and he looked up with the washcloth still held in his large hand. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean, what are you…” You quickly moved to his side, ducking under the counter and taking the cloth. “Why are you here so late?”

“Thought I should clear up. It makes a good first impression.” He shrugged, and you got the whiff of ‘I’m lost and just want to fit in’ again. Dean mentioned a brother yesterday, so it had you wondering why he found the Roadhouse in the first place. Everyone was a lost soul who came here to work. Castiel divorced his wife and left his daughter, and needed a job after he was fired. Ruby left her abusive family, and Meg was in a toxic relationship. Bela had been on the run from her family and had become a pocket thief in the process until Ellen gave her a place at the Roadhouse. As for you and Benny, well, that was a topic neither of you were fans of touching that topic.

“You don’t have to work for that, Dean.” You reassured, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re already fitting in. Just don’t change yourself for insecurity’s sake. It’s gonna bite you in the ass later.”

“Good to know.” Dean chuckled, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “And I prefer my ass to be unbitten.”

“Don’t we all.” You joked, then gave him a smile. “C’mon, if you really wanna make a good impression, then get some rest.”

“You sure?” He frowned a little, his hand twitching to take the cloth from your hands, but you moved it further away. “I could help out, y’know.”

“Not that we don’t want you here, it’s just that we value physical well-being. And mental.”

“Gotcha.” He laughed, nodding as he picked his jacket off the coat hook. “Are you absolutely sure?” Dean wore a concerned look on his face, not wanting to leave you alone to do work. “I could save you some time.”

“I’m gonna drag Bela, Meg and Ruby’s asses to do this.” You chuckled, setting the cloth down on the counter. Dean felt comfortable as hell around you. Maybe it was because you were the first one he knew at the Roadhouse. “Go on, get.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus.” He took out his keys, winking smoothly. “Have a nice night, darlin’.”

“You too, Dean.” You waved as he left, a minute later the loud purr of a car, crunching gravel and screeching tyres gracing your ears.

3:00AM

Queen B: Anyone awake, I’m boredddddd

Megolodon: Same girlie

Ruby-gina George: Some people value their sanity you know

Ben Dover: Why are you up at 3am

bDe: so much for being told to get some sleep

You: You two are insufferable

Casanova: We have work tomorrow.

Queen B: Ohh god, I’m so drunnnnkkkkk

ScarJo: How much hard liquor have you had?

Queen B: Mmmmmmmaybe three

Queen B: b9ttles of tequ8la You: Three WHAT

Ruby-gina George: She’s so slammed she’s typing numbers

Megolodon: Awesome

Ben Dover: Bela, darling, where are you

Queen B: in your lap

bDe: damn

NEXT UP:

“So, darlin’, what do you do in your free time?” Dean asked you, cleaning out a glass with a rag and shooting a wink to a couple of giggling girls nearby. You poured a whiskey for a patron, sliding it across the table.

“Well, I’m a big fan of joyrides.” You answered with a goofy grin. “My Mustang’s always fun to take a spin in.” The mention of your Mustang got Dean’s eyebrows up to his hairline as he pointed out of the window.

“That beaut’s yours?” He exclaimed in disbelief, laughing. “Damn. That’s a serious muscle car.”

“Yeah, my Valkyrie. Val’s my sweetheart, always will be.” You looked up wistfully at the mention of your beloved car. “And your Chevy Impala, she’s absolutely gorgeous. I could listen to her purr all day.”

“That’s my Baby.” He bore the same wistful look you did, then nudged you. “We should take ‘em out for spins. Y’know, joyrides.”

“You sure?” You chuckled, looking up at him. “I don’t drive easy.”

“Even better.” He gave you a little wink paired with a click of his tongue. He flipped a bottle in his hand, pouring a whiskey shot expertly and handing it to you. “Ma’am.”

TAGLIST:

@hobby27 @jackles010378 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @eexphoria @onlyangel-444

Like, reblog, and let me know if you want to join the taglist!

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist

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gg-neptune · 6 months ago

Text

Severus Relationship HC

These are just some head canons I have for Severus Snape if you guys were dating. Literally just me typing whatever comes to my mind so yeah. It's going to be as gender neutral as possible but if I mess up anywhere, please let me know and I'll fix it. Sometimes I type without thinking. :) Hope you like it. Feedback is always appreciated!!

he's very insecure sometimes

honestly when he's like this the best thing to do is just cuddle up with him and give him kisses and whisper sweet things to him

he's scared your gonna leave him for someone else one day

however, you know that's not gonna happen

he is also scared that you are ashamed of him when you go in public together so sometimes, he won't hold your hand immediately, but you put an end to this

everyone will know you are his and he is yours

end of story

his love language is Acts of Service

he loves doing things for you

making the bed in the morning, brewing you some coffee or tea

anything to lessen your load he will do

adores everything on you

thinks you are an angel sent from heaven

when you cuddle, he will wrap you in his arms and hold you so tightly sometimes you have to remind him you need to breathe

his hugs are so comfy

whenever something is wrong, you just go to Severus and demand a hug, and everything just melts away with him

his big arms protect you from everything

like a shield

he's a very good kisser

he is ok with just a peck in public however it's just you two?

honey you're going to be kissing him for at least long enough you lose your breath

then when you pull away and you all flustered because that was the most passionate kiss of your life, he casually turns back to his book oblivious to everything

and all you can do is stand there like "whoa."

you steal his sweaters all the time

he is often cold and since his quarters are in the dungeons he has plenty

he is always cold honestly

he is used to it though, so he'll hug you with his cold ass hands and then be confused as to why you freak out

even though he literally has ice on his hands their so cold

he gets offended when you talk bad about yourself

will hold you down until you say 10 nice things about yourself for the 1 one bad thing

may the good lord help you if you keep saying bad stuff

he will literally go on a rant and start pulling out measuring tapes and measure the distance between your facial features to prove you are attractive

will sound like "ermmmmmm actually...."

it's cute though

when he's brewing potions and he's been in is lair for far too long you do have to threaten him to get him to come out

"Severus Tobias Snape! Get yourself out here this instant and eat something before I bust down this door and I MAKE you!" - you literally all the time

Alright that's all for now I hope you liked it. :) Hopefully more coming soon.

#severus snape headcanons #snape cute #snape fluff #snape x reader fluff #snape x reader #snape x you #pro snape #severus snape #snapedom #snape is literally such a silly little guy honestly

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

Text

In His Hands

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's new project is his favorite one yet for a very special reason. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Fluff, implied sexual content, pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), minor flashback, canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My first Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 2) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in Into the Woods AU and time jump from Valentine's Day Tradition, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The buzz of the table saw echoed in the barn as Bucky carefully cut through the maple board, inspecting it to make sure it was even. He put a lot of thought and care into each project and design he created. Everything from cost to maintenance to longevity. His current project was especially close to his heart.

My favorite one yet.

After the fight, coming to grips with his trauma, everything, the city felt different. Bucky longed to have a simpler life. He unexpectedly found a bit of peace in the form of woodwork. Using his hands to build things, and not damage them, kept him busy and happy. But the thing that brought everything full circle was you.

His wife.

"Doll, I still can't believe you said yes."

"Who would say no to you, Jamie?"

He glanced at a photo of the two of you on the wall, still in disbelief that he got to wake up beside you every morning. He found it more and more difficult to get out of bed when he wanted to stay tangled up with you, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves and he had to work to get a paycheck. Lucky for him, his "office" was in the nearby barn. The yard was a decent size, too.

"Great place for a family one day, isn't it?"

"Just about perfect, doll."

Like Steve, he hadn't expected to love living a quiet life outside of the city, but he did. You made a beautiful home together and it wasn't that far of a drive if he wanted to visit. He wondered some days if he was living in a dream because things seemed too good to be true.

If so, he never wanted to wake up.

"Need you to be perfect," he said to himself as he cut another board.

He checked the design again, his eyes narrowed as he thought about how long it would take to finish. You gave him your seal of approval when he showed his idea and reminded him not to put too much pressure on himself. He had plenty of time to make it and other projects came first.

But he hadn't had a task as important as this one.

He removed his safety glasses when the sun shone through the window, giving the place a soothing glow and him a moment to pause and reflect. He made love to you that morning. There was no pain in his left shoulder. Steve planned to stop by this evening. It was just about a perfect day.

How is this my life?

"You know, I think that is going to be your best work yet."

Bucky turned his attention to where you stood in the doorway. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he noticed you had one of his shirts on. You looked good in his clothes, always had. And seeing you enter a room still took his breath away. He didn't think he could love you more, but he did each day.

If I ever stop breathing from the sight of you, at least your face will be the last thing I see.

His gaze went to your stomach before he closed the distance between the two of you and placed his large hand on it. He hadn't built a crib, but he did his research to be sure he'd make the best and safest one possible. It would be something to hopefully pass on to future generations. Another tradition.

But first and foremost, it would belong to the baby.

Our baby.

"I'm just getting started, but I think you're right," Bucky said, sinking to his knees and kissing your belly. "Only the best for our little jellybean."

Most days he couldn't keep his hands off of you, but it got worse once he found out you were pregnant with his child. You were glowing, more than usual, and he was a moth drawn to the flame. Thankfully you didn't mind and let him indulge.

Your need matched his own.

He'd never forget the joy he felt when you told him you were pregnant. You often brought him snacks or lunch while he worked, but that day you brought him a small gift box, too. It wasn't his birthday or a special occasion, so he had no idea what it could possibly be. Inside were two positive pregnancy tests. He almost dropped them, too stunned to speak. His heart almost burst through his chest when he saw the happy tears in your eyes.

"We're having a baby, Bucky. You're going to be a dad!"

It took a minute to sink in. You were having his baby. He was going to be a dad. You were giving him a family. A life he had only dreamt of.

'I still have to see a doctor, but-"

His mouth came down on yours before you could finish what you had to say, his massive hands framing your face so he could deepen the kiss. He poured his love, passion, soul, everything into it. He took you right there on one of his empty work tables, his left hand on your stomach the entire time.

"I love you, doll. Love you both so much."

He brought you back to the house and made love to you all over again, taking his time to worship you. He didn't get any work done the rest of the day. It was worth it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern filling his eyes when you yawned.

He always checked on you during his breaks to make sure you felt okay, even when you insisted that he didn't need to. Days like this when you visited the barn first, he still had to ask. Any discomfort or pains, he wanted to know and help however he could.

"Just fine," you assured him, tucking a few strands of hair that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear. Just like he couldn't stop touching you, you always found an excuse to run your fingers through his long, brown locks since he grew it back out. "A bit tired, but fine."

"You're not wearing your mama out, are you?" he asked your belly. He pressed his ear against it and felt a slight kick, as if he got an answer. "Good because she needs rest. She has enough to deal with taking care of me."

"We take care of each other," you said.

Bucky wanted to believe that. You had a good set-up in the city before the two of you decided to move and he worried you'd regret going with him. You reminded him that you were still going to work from home and it was a choice you made together.

Partners. Equals. Soulmates.

"Yes, we do," he said fondly, focusing on your stomach again. "But can you believe she had the nerve to ask if we should buy you a crib? Like she forgot I could make you one. Don't hold it against her, jellybean. Hormones and baby brain."

"Bucky!" you scolded before you laughed.

He chuckled as he kissed your stomach a second time. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I did have to drive all over town the other day to find the potato chips she wanted."

Bucky would drive to the ends of the earth to satisfy any craving you had.

"Hey. Our baby is the one asking for them and it was the only flavor that would provide any satisfaction," you defended yourself. "And I balanced it out with fruit, so everyone wins."

"Yes we do and I'm glad. I need you both nice and healthy," he said as he stood up.

"We're both fine. You know that," you smiled.

He hadn't missed a single appointment, wanting to be there every step of the way. Listening to his baby's heartbeat was like hearing his favorite song again for the first time. He actually waved at the screen when you had your sonogram. And he swore the baby waved back.

Bucky also bought a few books on babies and parenthood. While he knew some life lessons couldn't be learned from a book, he wanted to be prepared. You supported him in that and baby proofing the house in advance.

Your only request was that you didn't want to know what you were having, which he agreed to.

It would be a beautiful surprise for both of you.

"Need you both safe, too," he added.

"We are safe," you said, glancing around. "Our home is safe. You don't need to worry."

Bucky tried not to. Your home was secure and he kept a clean and safe shop in the barn, but he didn't want to take a risk by having you too close to any of the tools or get irritated by the dust. The only table he let you touch was the empty one where he made love to you. Maybe that was why it was still empty.

"I guess you're right," he said, brushing his lips against your forehead. "You know if we have a girl, I'm never letting her out of my sight."

"Oh, I know," you giggled, putting your hand on his wide chest. Feeling the wedding band through his shirt was one of his favorite things. "And if we have a boy, you'll teach him to be a gentleman. Though I imagine he'll probably be just like you."

"Hey, I am a gentleman, ma'am," he smiled.

"Mmm. You keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bucky hoped they took after you. Kind, but fierce. Loving and fair. Whether he had a daddy's girl or a mini version of himself, he just wanted to have a special place in their heart.

"And you really don't mind that I'm making the crib, do you?"

"Of course, I don't," you said, frowning. He immediately kissed your lips to make it disappear. "Why?"

"Just making sure," he said, rubbing your belly. The source of comfort from such a small gesture amazed him. "I think I just feel better knowing our baby is truly in my hands."

It was silly, but Bucky thought if he made the crib that it would be like he was holding your child as he or she slept. That no matter what, they would be safe and cared for. Surrounded by familiarity and warmth.

Your baby deserved that and more.

"I think that's a beautiful thing," you assured him, placing a hand over his. "You work so hard for us and I know our baby will one day appreciate that you built them something with your heart and hands."

His hands, like the rest of him, were massive and strong. A man his size was meant to destroy, which he did in battle and worse. He also proved that he was meant to create. His size never intimidated you. In fact, you once said that one of many things that made him special was how deceptively gentle he could be.

That the only ruin he would bring you with his touch would make you whole again.

In my hands, you'll always be loved.

"I'll always work hard for my family," he promised.

He hadn't told you yet, but he planned to build a rocking chair for the nursery, too. He wanted it to be a surprise. He could already picture the two of you sitting in it with a soft blanket to keep you warm.

The image made his heart swell.

"And if I have my way, we'll have one more. Jellybean could use a companion."

"Now you sound just like Steve. Both of you wanting to keep your best girls knocked up," you smiled, sliding your hands up his muscular arms to his shoulders. "You think you'll convince me?"

"I don't think. I know," he smirked, kissing you before you could argue.

As excited as Bucky was for the next part in your journey together, he was also afraid. He knew he'd be a good father, but not a perfect one. He'd make mistakes and stumble along the way. He wouldn't always have the answer. What he did know was that he was going to give his child unconditional love and care.

Starting with the crib built with his heart and hands.

Bucky is going to be an amazing dad, right? And how about Steve? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #connect4au #woodworker!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #woodworker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #into the woods au #bucky barnes x f!reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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babybeeelle · 9 days ago

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Coucou ! J’avais une demande si tu le veux bien. In episode 4 Rio will join Agatha during the campfire can you do something in this style but it is Reader who will see Agatha, reader is the only one to know the real story about Nicky and of course Agatha loves Reader and she needs her by her side 😌

Hello my love💗 Such a cute prompt! I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Author's Note : pls leave some feedback! This is my first fic in years, second overall :(

The Weight of Scars

The second trial's aftermath was not any less stressful than the first. Seeing Agatha's trauma resurface from the close call with Teen was unnerving to say the least. You could hear the pain in her voice when she begged Rio not to take him with a simple "don't", although the others were completely unaware of the double meaning behind it.

I saw her though. I saw the gaping wound in her heart that could never be mended. I was there after all. The loss of Nicky snapped whatever sanity and sympathy Agatha had left. Even after centuries, the pain was all the same. She didn't only lose Nicky, but she also lost Rio. Even if she would never admit it, I know that she craves the comfort of Death. But pride and grief are always going to hinder her ability to heal, and she'll never confront them. Not by choice anyways.

After Agatha is assured Teen is okay, she went to join the others by the campfire where everyone traded stories of the scars they've collected throughout their lives. She situates herself in the available spot to the right of me. Unfortunately, for Agatha of course, she found herself seated next to her former lover.

Jen asks Agatha about her own battle scars. She shares a story about one of her many infamous witch-killing rituals, which earns some laughs. That's when Rio decided to share a story of her own.

"I've got a scar," she admits.

Uh-oh.

"No you don't," Agatha denied without even glancing over at her, continuing to fix her sleeve after showing the others her knitting needle scar. I begin to think that whatever Rio has to say is going to hit a nerve.

"Yes I do. A long time ago, I loved someone," she began her story of the only scar she has, a scar that cannot be physically healed. "And I had to do something I did not want to do, even though it was my job." She was attempting to rationalize the situation to Agatha, wishing hopefully that after centuries of separation, her lover would see the bounds of her nature, her job, the shackles weigh down her arms. Rio cautiously glances over at her occasionally, trying to read her expression as she finishes, "And it hurt them. She is my scar."

Rio then held eye contact with her, trying to see if she got through to her, even if it was only a little bit. She wanted Agatha to see she had her hands tied. I watched Agatha carefully, as I knew this sensitive topic was going to do no good. Rio and I both see she is trying to avoid eye contact with her, knowing that despite her devoid expressions, her eyes hold all of her emotions. I watch her hands move, almost as if she is unconsciously trying to summon her purple. Agitated, Agatha gets up from her spot as she exhales, "I'm gonna go stretch my legs." She walks off hastily, away from the others. Rio started to move, wanting to go after her, but I shook my head to express to her that it wasn’t a good idea. That she needs the time to cool off. I stood up, lightly squeezing Rio's shoulder to comfort her.

She knew I never blamed her. Rio did everything she could to give him borrowed time. We had accepted Nicky's fate long before he passed, we mourned together, but Agatha refused. She did everything in her power to find a way to keep him alive. Agatha was so lost in her denial, her mission to save our son, to see that there was no other way, to see that Rio didn't have a choice. The aftermath of Nicky's death was even more painful than losing Nicky. I was put into a situation where I had figure out how to handle the split of my partners. Rio made the decision for me. She knew Agatha was going to need me more than ever. But Rio never lost me. In the moments when Agatha rested, I would check up on Rio. Making sure she knew I'd never leave her alone.

I trailed behind Agatha. When we were out of the eyes and ears of the others, we stopped.

As I close the space between us, I turn her around to face me. I reach out to place my hand to her cheek. As I look into her distressed, blue eyes, I see her facade crumble. I quickly pull her into my arms, wrapping her into a familiar comfort she always felt around me. She collapses in my arms as she muffles her sobs into my chest. It physically hurts to see her in this pain. Our bond, so deep, creates a gateway from her heart to mine. I feel her pain, her grief, her torment. I feel the restless resentment she holds towards Rio.

"I will never forgive her," she whispers, her voice trembling under the weight of her pain. Tears streak down her face, paths were made that glisten in the moonlight.

Pulling us apart to hold her face, I wipe her tears from her cheeks, and I whisper back with a heavy heart, "I know." Nose to nose, I go to kiss her softly, hoping to lighten her pain. When our lips meet, I'm hesitant at first, unsure if this was what she needs. She closes the space between us, deepening the kiss. Our kisses are delicate, slow, passionate, as I feel the tides of her emotions rushing in.

I feel my other lover hiding in the shadows, her heart aching from the bitter truth, wishing most to change the past.

#agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #rio vidal #rio x reader #rio vidal x reader #nicolas scratch

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yagirlwrites · 3 months ago

Text

(Not) My Baby (5)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is having girls night with her roomates when an odd call comes in. Rafe and Y/N meet up to discuss the wedding plans. Drama ensues.

A/N: Hiii! It's been a while, I know! Yet again, I apologize for the long wait. Hopefully this longer chapter makes up a little for how late it is 😅 I hope you all enjoy it! This one is funny and silly, with lots of girly dynamics, but also Rafe and the drama that always comes when they're together 🤭 There might be some sexual tension in this one but our girl loves to stay delulu 🤷🏻‍♀️

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments & feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading! 🥰

(Not) My Baby (Part 5)

She was putting the finishing touches on dinner when her phone buzzed on the counter with an incoming message. The salmon and veggies were still sizzling in the pan, the aroma of a freshly cooked meal making her insides flutter with both hunger and gratitude.

After the past several days, she was glad to finally be back to normal. At least, as normal as it gets under these strange circumstances she found herself in; because of a selfish, conniving, bit- No! No thinking about him tonight. Tonight is for the girlies.

Y/N, Stella and Lena all found themselves having a family dinner after quite a while. Deciding to put each other first and spend a peaceful evening together - complete with a cheesy horror movie and delicious food. Tonight was going to be fun and she wasn't going to let thoughts of him ruin that for even a moment.

A moan could be heard from the direction of the couch where Stella was impatiently waiting for food to be ready. She had been going on about how 'hangry' she had been all day and how much she missed Y/N's cooking. Even though Stella was a decent cook, and Lena could technically fry an egg, it was a known fact in their household that Y/N made "food for the soul". That's exactly what all three of them needed, all of them buzzing with excitement. Even Lena had turned her phone on silent and vowed not to text Kelce the whole evening, wanting to focus on her best friends she felt she had been neglecting.

"Hurry up, please!" Stella's whining made Lena roll her eyes and smack her shoulder causing the girl to pout in mock hurt. "I am an injured woman!"

Y/N laughed as she walked into the living room holding onto the food tray, thinking about how much she missed when all three of them were together like this.

"You'll live." Lena replied without missing a beat, plopping herself down on the chair next to the couch, while the chef presented them with their dinner. Stella's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and even Lena couldn't stop a smile from breaking through.

"Oh this smells so fucking good, Peach! Come to mama!" She practically jumped to fill up her plate, completely ignoring the other two who smirked at each other, knowing how she gets when she's hungry.

Lena had chosen a movie for them to watch while they eat and decompress. It was some old horror with bad practical effects, demons and gore - perfect for the occasion. They spent the first 20 minutes of the film just enjoying their food in peace while trying to catch up to the plot. Even though the movie was silly it was still spooky and they loved that. Once the food was finished, Stella cleared their plates and brought back ice cream for them to share. The movie was getting real weird and scary when buzzing broke through the intense atmosphere they were in. Stella gasped, dramatically; Lena spared a glance in the direction of the glowing phone and shot Y/N a glare for the interruption. She realized someone was calling her.

"Who the fuck calls?" She mumbled, begrudgingly getting up from her comfy position on the couch to grab the phone and end the annoying buzzing. There are only three people who ever called her, albeit rarely, and two of them were in the room with her. The third one being her mother and she never called this late.

Looking at the screen, her eyes widened and a panicked "what the fuck" left her mouth. The girls both looked her way in confusion, seeing her staring at her phone.

"What?" Stella whispered, as if talking any louder would disturb the fictional characters on the screen.

"Guys..." Y/N slowly turned her phone to face the girls and they both gasped in unison.

"What the fuck?!" Lena jumped from her chair and took her phone from her hands as if it were a trick of the eye and the words on the screen would change once in her posession. But the caller ID hadn't changed...it still clearly said "Devil's Spawn".

The movie forgotten, the silence was now filled with only the incessant buzzing. Whoever it was was not letting the call drop.

"Answer it." Lena spoke causing Stella to jump from the couch.

"Are you insane! No, do not answer that! That is horror movie 101 right there!"

"This isn't a horror movie, this is real life , Stel." Lena responded, exasperatedly. Y/N gulped, Lena's words ringing true.

"...Hello?" Her voice still nearly trembled with trepidation, but she managed to keep it steady. If this was some psycho demon she was not showing any weakness.

"Finally!" A breath of relief left her, and she closed her eyes trying to calm her racing heart.

"Why the fuck are you calling me?" Her voice now taking on a note of clear annoyance, hinting to the girls who might be on the other end of the line.

"Well, hello to you too, Y/N/N." She could just feel Rafe's eyes rolling through the phone. She was not amused.

"Why are you calling, boomer?" He scoffed out a laugh at that one.

"Well if you answered your texts I wouldn't have to call like some boomer, would I?" She rolled her eyes this time, looking down at her phone to see she had several unread text notifications.

"What's so urgent it couldn't wait until morning, then?" She wanted this conversation to be over and for him to stop constantly ruining her fun.

"I need your measurements." "What?" She was dumbfounded at his random request.

"For the dress? My stepmom's been on my ass about getting her your measurements for weeks so if you could-"

"Oh, you mean while I have been blissfully unaware of your schemes? Good times." She sighed wistfully and he had to take a deep breath to calm down.

"Yes. Could you just send me your measurements so I can give them to her, please?" He sounded mildly desparate and quite irritated and she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy that.

"Hmmm... fine. But only so I can end this conversation sooner." He sighed on the other line.

"Great, whatever." She scoffed at his attitude.

"You're such a brat." She couldn't see it but his eyebrows rose at her remark, a disbelieving smile on his face.

"A brat? That's a new one." She rolled her eyes once again at his attempt to keep the conversation going after she made it clear she wanted it to end.

"Yep, that's you. Bye, now! Don't call me again." She hung up the phone before he had the chance to respond and she smiled in satisfaction at her small victory. Lena and Stella were both staring at her, the former unimpressed and the latter barely holding in a laugh.

"What?" Y/N shrugged in confusion.

"Devil's Spawn?" Lena posed the question and Stella finally burst into laughter.

"Okay, yeah. So I might have saved his number under that name... And then forgot I did it." Y/N gave them both a sheepish smile, hoping they let it go and that they could forget the past 5 minutes ever happened.

"And in my defence, you were also freaked out for a minute!" Lena scoffed, faux offended, while Stella nodded somberly.

"It was the movie. It made us paranoid." Stella whispered again and the other two girls agreed.

"Sooo... Keep watching?" "Fuck yes!" "Lets do it." The trio agreed and made themselves comfortable in their assigned seats again, resuming the film. Y/N couldn't help but check her phone to see the texts he had sent her before that awkward phonecall.

Devil's Spawn: hey sry 2 bother u at girls night but could u send me ur measurements?

Devil's Spawn: my stepmom needs them

Devil's Spawn: for ur dress n stuff

Devil's Spawn: btw she made reservations at the Modiste 4 Tuesday so u can try some stuff out

Devil's Spawn: pls lmk the measurements asap

She read through his texts with a raised brow. How did he know they were having girls night? Kelce must have told him, she guessed. The Modiste? What was this, Bridgerton? A scoff escaped her, met by shushing from Stella by her side. Her friends were once again deeply engulfed in the film playing on their TV screen. Y/N, however, was distracted.

She couldn't stop thinking over everything that had happened recently. Thinking about Rafe, or the 'Devil's Spawn' as she had aptly named him. She had forgotten all about the little nickname she dubbed him with in her phone, right until she picked up and heard his voice. Then it came back to her - the group chat Lena had created to keep them all in the loop over a trip they had planned, her tipsy and giggling to herself while she saved his contact at how funny and clever she was. Truth is she never expected to use it, she just wanted to spite him, even if it was petty and just for her own amusement. But that was so long ago now, and the little rebellion completely escaped her memory. Which is why she had given into the horror induced paranoia tonight. It was funny though, even funnier since it was all three of them who fell for the spooky caller. She looked over at her friends, smiling. She had missed this so much. She finally let herself sink back into the couch and tried watching the rest of the movie but she soon dozed off from exhaustion.

The next day she woke up groggy and confused. She realized she was still on the couch, but this time alone and covered by a blanket. The girls took care to make her comfy before going to their respective beds. She took a deep breath, looking at the time on her phone seeing it was just past 7, wondering if she should just move to her bedroom and go back to sleep when a text came through.

Devil's Spawn: can u send me those measurements??

She rolled her eyes at his insistence and lack of patience. It's not like she had the numbers lying around. She needed to measure herself first. That would prove a challenge since she didn't have a tape measure. She pondered on whether Stella might have one when Lena made her way into the living area.

"Oh, you're up?" Lena had been an early bird for as long as she knew her. Stella was the opposite, she could sleep forever. Y/N was somewhere in between, not quite a morning person like Lena, but definitely not comfortable staying in bed until the afternoon.

"Yeah. Morning." Y/N rubbed her tired eyes giving her friend a sleepy smile.

"Good morning." Lena smirked and went to the kitchen to start on her coffee.

"Hey, do you have a tape measure?" She asked in hopes she wouldn't have to wake up Stella and risk losing a limb.

"A tape measure? Why?" Lena's confusion echoed from the kitchen area and Y/N slowly got on unsteady feet to patter closer to her.

"Just need to take my measurements." She sighed, smelling the coffee Lena was brewing.

"Why?" Lena repeated the question and she knew she wouldn't let it go, she was stubborn like that.

"Rafe needs them." Lena gave her a knowing look. Knowing of what she was unsure. He was such a pain in her ass.

"Why does Rafe need your measurements?" Lena posed the question as she pulled out two mugs and started filling them with the precious liquid.

"I don't know. Something about his stepmom and the wedding. Do you have one or not?" Y/N grabbed the oat milk from the fridge and handed it to Lena who thanked her with a smile.

"Not." Lena poured herself a bit of milk and Y/N a generous amount. The girl was looking at her friend with a deadpan expression after her answer.

"Stel does, though." Y/N groaned, realizing she'd have to sneak into her best friend's room because of Rafe. Ruining her day before it even started, the prick.

"Do you know where she keeps it?" She asked hopeful, praying it might be a quick in and out mission and the risk of waking the lion would be low.

"Hmm. No, sorry. Maybe her desk drawers? That's where she usually keeps her craft supplies." Lena shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee, closing her eyes in pleasure at the strong aroma waking up her tastebuds.

Y/N let out a breath and braced herself for the mission ahead. It would be fine. Stella was probaby knocked out cold. She'd just do a quick check and if she can't find it in the drawer she'd text Rafe to leave her the hell alone until Stella woke up. She crept into Stella's room, her sock clad feet making as little noise as possible as she inched towards the desk. She was almost there when Stella stirred and she froze in place, bracing for an attack. But it never came and Stella kept snoring. She sighed out in relief and went searching through the desk with minimal noise. She managed to find it, in the last drawer of course.

She retraced the footsteps back out of the room and felt impressed when she made it to the living room without waking her friend. Maybe she could be a spy or a cat burglar cause that was seriously cool. Lena was looking at her with a blank expression as she crept back to the kitchen. She swore she had the two most dramatic women for roomates. Stella took the cake of course, but Y/N definitely acted up sometimes and gave Stella a run for her money. It was hard being the reasonable one in the household.

"I got it." Y/N whispered, showing off the prize.

"Good job, bub." Lena said, semi sarcastically, but Y/N just grinned proudly.

"Can you help me?" Lena rolled her eyes but got up to help her friend. They had to look up instructions on how to take measurements correctly and wrote them down in Y/N's notes app. It took longer than they thought it would. Once they finally finished, she sent them to Rafe with what she deemed an appropriate warning.

Baby: here are your damn measurements

Baby: I expect you to be a lot less pushy from now on

Baby: I'm doing you a favor, don't forget that

Lena had packed up her stuff and left the apartment not long after and Rafe responded in suit.

Devil's Spawn: why thank you your holiness I wouldn't dream of being pushy with thee again

She scoffed at his idiotic response just as the next text came in.

Devil's Spawn: u want me to buy u a purse for ur troubles madam?

Baby: that's sexist

Devil's Spawn: so that's a no on the birkin?

She rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him and his sarcastic little messages. She could feel how tired she still was and since it was a day free from classes she figured going back to bed might be her best option. She poured her coffee into a bottle and put it in the fridge for later and then made herself comfy in her own bed. After a night on the couch her back was screaming in protest. She had to remember not to fall asleep in the living room again because her back hurt for days every time it happened. She was just about to fall into a slumber when her phone buzzed on the night stand. She almost groaned but checked it anyway.

Devil's Spawn: can we meet 2day?

She hated the way he texted. Was it so damn hard to just spell out an entire word? She was about to ignore him but the phone buzzed again.

Devil's Spawn: we need 2 go over some stuff 4 wedding

She groaned into her pillow after reading that. Couldn't she go one day without dealing with his bullshit? One day without thinking about the damn wedding she is forced to attend with him? At least she had the car, she reminded herself and smiled. She hadn't had much of a chance to drive it yet, so why not take advantage of it?

Baby: fine. 6pm at Rooftop

The Rooftop Bar was a gorgeous place right outside of town at one of the hotels overlooking the ocean. It was a 30 minute drive so she could enjoy the ride and the beautiful view. That was at least one good thing to come out of this whole mess.

Devil's Spawn: ok see u

With one final eye roll she finally laid her head on her soft pillow and traveled all the way to dreamland. Unfortunately so did her thoughts of a certain irksome boy and his blue-green eyes.

--------

After waking back up around 11, she went on with her day somewhat normally. However, the cloud of her approaching meet up with Rafe kept gnawing at her mind, never letting her fully relax. She debated cancelling at least 20 times, but she didn't. She knew it was time to accept her fate and make peace with the predicament she was in. She reminded herself she'll be getting something out of the deal too. That and the car. She smiled at the thought of the Mustang parked in front of their building.

It was only a few days ago that Rafe reluctantly handed her the keys to his most prized posession. He was sulking the entire time, a pout on his face she would have made fun of if she hadn't been so damn excited nothing could rain on her parade. And frankly, taking something from him that he loved would probably humble him a little and he desparately needed some humbling.

She had been eyeing the Mustang for years. She didn't know a lot about cars but she always liked the classics, fawning over them if she saw one on the road. She didn't care for the men driving them, obviously. She just found older cars to have more character, as most new cars all looked exactly the same to her - she couldn't even tell you what make any uber she'd ever taken was. But the old cars were different, pretty, special. She had always wanted to drive one but never had the opportunity. Suffice to say she had been jealous of Rafe having such a gorgeous car, believing a dickhead like him did not deserve it. And as soon as she had the idea to barter for it, she was ecstatic.

When she slid into the sleek leather seat, turned the key and heard the engine roar, she was in heaven. Rafe's misery at the arrangement was quite enjoyable too, given that he put her in such an impossibly awkward position in the first place. She felt it was only fair he suffer as well. So she didn't feel guilty driving away from him, in his old Mustang, while he looked after her with anger and sadness as she left him in the dust.

She hadn't told her friends what she was going to do, what she would ask of him in the end. They were mad at her for keeping them in suspense and she knew they'd lose their minds once she drove home in Rafe's baby.

She had barely stopped the car in front of their building when she impatiently dialed Stella's phone. Once the girl answered, Y/N only relayed a quick, criptic message of her "coming downstairs, now" and hung up. Stella had been confused but made her way out of the building all the same. As soon as she saw her in the black Mustang, Stella's jaw dropped and Y/N couldn't hide her smirk.

"No. Fucking. Way." Y/N just laughed at her friend's shocked expression.

"You took his car!? Oh my God, you're an evil genious! Remind me never to piss you off." Stella joked as she ran to hug her, both of them beaming in excitement.

"How did you convince him to give you his car? That's like his baby!" Stella shook with nerves and excitement.

"Like you guys said, he couldn't say no." Y/N shrugged, seemingly chill. However, she also couldn't quite believe she managed to get him to give her his fucking car. He really was desparate for this deal to work, otherwise he would have told her to go fuck herself and never spoke to her again. What a mess. But hey, it was a mess he got them into himself and she wasn't going to pass up a good opportunity by feeling guilty about it. He was a dick and he deserved a nice portion of humble pie.

It wasn't until later that night, while Stella and Y/N were in the apartment doing their respective work, that Lena burst through the door looking dishevelled, like she ran all the way to the third floor. The two girls were completely bewildered at their friend until she spoke.

"Where's Rafe?" Lena was looking around the apartment expecting the boy to pop up from behind a counter or something.

"I don't know? What-" Y/N started, but was interrupted.

"Why is his car in the parking lot?" Once Lena posed the question the two girls gave each other a knowing, mischievous look. Lena looked at them confused.

"About that..." Y/N started the story. Suffice to say Lena had been thoroughly shocked and amused by the ordeal.

"I can't believe you took his car. You are devious. He loves that thing more than himself." Lena chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Well, that just isn't true or he wouldn't have agreed." She smirked and the girls nodded in agreement. Lena praised her for her nerve and Y/N thanked Lena for giving her the push to go after what she wanted.

That was two days ago and aside from classes she hadn't had a chance to drive her new car which was tragic considering how excited she was to have it. But tonight that changes. She'll finally have an oportunity to get in her new Mustang and cruise. She was buzzing with butterflies at the prospect. She had picked the location of their meeting specifically so she could enjoy the drive there and back. Also she really loved the place, rarely getting a chance to visit it. It had a gorgeous view, loads of fresh air and affordable drinks. What was not to like?

She decided to put some effort into how she looked tonight, wanting to enjoy herself to the fullest, ignoring the fact that the person she'd be meeting would probably piss her off at some point. She chose to focus on the fun parts of the evening. She picked out a cute outfit, leather jacket in tow, put on a red lip and looked herself over in approval. This is exactly the aesthetic she wanted, the kind befitting a girl driving a car like that. She grinned in excitement and got ready to leave.

She had told the girls she'd be meeting Rafe tonight and she was glad they weren't home to see how much effort she put into her appearace. She knew they'd assume it was for him when it wasn't. Not even a little bit. She was dressing for herself. And while that usually meant comfort to the max, she really wanted to look good tonight.

------

The drive was peaceful, filled with her favourite playlist and the roar of the Mustang she was falling in love with. The sea air was refreshing, helping her calm herself down. No matter how much she was enjoying her ride, the fact was it would end with meeting him. She tried so hard to keep herself cool and carefree but when it came to him it was an impossible feat. He always managed to get under her skin, no matter how much she claimed she didn't care. This whole situation was so messed up and she hated him for putting her in it. It was so absurd she couldn't believe she agreed to it. Even with the stunning automobile she was currently driving.

She forced herself to put it out of her mind for the rest of the trip; so she could enjoy the wind in her hair, fresh air in her lungs and Chappell Roan on the stereo.

Once she stopped the car she noticed he was already there, she could see his bike in the parking lot. A very nice bike, she had to admit. But of course it was, his family was loaded, he only had the best of the best. He had tried making her feel bad about taking his mode of transportation, knowing full well he had his bike to fall back on. She scoffed at the memory. What a bitch.

She had hoped she'd get there first and perhaps have a drink in peace before having to deal with him but alas the universe was not on her side tonight. Well, it seemed like it hasn't been on her side for a while.

Putting aside her anxiety, she held her head up high when she entered the hotel, beelining for the elevator that led to The Rooftop Bar where Rafe was waiting for her. He was early, she realized. It wasn't even 6 o'clock when she parked the car and he was there already. He wasn't usually late, as far as she remembers from their hang outs, but she doesn't think she'd seen him be early either.

Once she stepped out into the fresh evening air she felt herself relax slightly. The twinkling lights spread around the open-air bar were beautiful and the view of the coast breathtaking. She loved the smell of the sea, it always brought her peace. She supposed that's part of the reason why she chose this place, to help her out while she dealt with the one person who always managed to get under her skin.

Her eyes moved across the rooftop until they met his blue ones. He was sat at one of the tables closest to the edge, one with a great view. His eyes had been on her since she stepped foot out of the elevator, having been anxiously waiting for about 20 minutes. He wasn't sure why he came so early but for some reason he just didn't want to be late and risk angering her.

He had the chance to take her in before she noticed him. And boy was she a sight to behold. She looked good, too good. With a dress that hugged her curves just right and a black leather jacket making her look sexy and cool.

She always looked good when they were out together with their friends but for some reason he thought she looked extra nice tonight. Perhaps she was trying to mess with his head. Or maybe she wasn't thinking of him at all when she got dressed. Which was a thought that kind of stung given how much effort he put into his own outfit. He changed at least four times, feeling shockingly nervous to see her. He spent the whole day anxiously awaiting 6pm. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so amped up, maybe because they were meeting up alone, in a really nice and maybe even romantic place. Maybe because it was finally setting in that this whole thing was really happening and that less than two weeks from now they'd be playing a couple in front of his entire family. He chose to chalk his nerves up to the latter, not wanting to dwell on anything else.

It would have been comical, how fast her body language changed once she saw him, if it didn't cause a sharp pain in his chest. A moment ago she had seemed relaxed and maybe joyful but the moment their eyes met she stiffened up, as if she had to be on guard around him. It sucked, thought he knew she had every right to be upset with him, he did put them both in an awkward predicament. It still kind of stung that she felt so unwelcoming toward him. He chose not to dwell on that either and gave her a nod in greeting.

She mentally prepped herself on the walk over to their table, trying to remind herself that she is a grown woman and this man couldn't unhinge her unless she let him. And she wouldn't let him.

"Hey." He stood suddenly and rushed to pull her chair out, the action taking her by surprise.

"Hey. Thanks." She gave him a small awkward smile and he nodded, sitting back into his own chair across from her and waving over a waiter.

She took him in while he was distracted. He looked good and she hated it. With a button up and a leather biker jacket draped over it, he looked efortlessly cool. She was worried for a minute she might be slightly overdressed and he'd be in his usual t-shirt and backwards cap combo but he seemed to have cleaned up too. She supposed it was this place. It had a fancy vibe that made people want to dress just a little nicer for it. That was it, no other reason.

The waiter came and took their order, she realized he had not ordered a drink yet so he must have gotten here only minutes before her. He ordered a craft beer the waiter recomended and she asked for a fruity cocktail. One drink wouldn't hurt, it would help with her nerves. One drink only though, so she could safely drive back home.

"Thanks for meeting me today." He gave her a sweet smile and she responded with a mere nod, not willing to risk speaking when she felt so confused about how nice he was being. It was uncharted territory and she didn't trust it. She had to keep herself on guard.

"I love this place." He looked around with a small genuine smile, and she could tell he was being sincere. "It's a shame we don't come here more often."

"It is, yeah." She gave a tentative smile as she agreed with him. Another extremely unusual occourence - the two of them agreeing on somehing. The silence started dragging on so she decided to stop it before it spread any longer and it became awkward.

"So, what is it you wanted to discuss?" Her voice took him by surprise, breaking him out of a haze he found himself in for a moment.

"Oh, um. Just, stuff for the wedding. We should be prepared, you know." He looked sheepish and her suspicion was rising.

"Sure. So go ahead." She gave him a pointed look.

"Hm?" He looked out of it and her brow furrowed.

"Tell me more about this wedding. Your family. You know, prepare?" She was looking at him oddly, slightly concerned with how airheaded he seemd to be acting.

"Oh, of course yeah." He nodded and readied himself to spill the beans.

"Right. So we should probably start with my family." He looked uncomfortable saying it but she agreed. It did seem like the most important part. Getting them to believe they were a couple.

"Yeah, so theres my dad, my stepmom - her name is Rose, by the way - and my two little sisters." As he recounted his family dynamic and threw in tidbits of information she should probably be aware of, she found herself in awe for a moment. She had known he had sisters but she did not expect the love he exhibited while talking about them.

He mentioned how his relationship with Sarah had been rocky when they were younger but they found a way to communicate in the past year and how relieved he was that they were finally talking again. That he missed her. There was an embarrased but endearing blush on his cheeks at the revelation that made her smile. Once he noticed it, he smiled too. It was an oddly comfortable moment between the pair.

He spoke of his younger sister Wheezie with unbridled adoration, retelling a few childhood stories that made them both laugh. It was weirdly nice, sitting there together like that. Neither of them really expected it to feel that way. Almost, natural. Like they were just two regular people, sitting in a bar and chatting about their lives over drinks.

Soon enough the mood shifted as the story got to his father - Ward Cameron. She found herself bearing resentment towards the man and she'd barely even met him. He was always pompous at any event he'd come to at their college but she wasn't too bothered by him. She knew how to work people like that, figure out what they're like, tell them what they want to hear and she'd be golden. But the cloud over Rafe's head as he spoke about his dad made her heart clench with empathy for the boy. She couldn't imagine having such a terrible relationship with your father that you'd look so miserable at the mere mention of him. It tugged at her heart.

He explained how Ward very much cared for appearances, which she knew already. He mentioned that he always saw Rafe as a disappointment and he really didn't want to be one anymore. She kind of felt bad for him even though in his desparation to impress his dad he put her in this shitty position. The ice around her heart was slowly melting. She still hated the entire ordeal, obviously, but she kind of understood why this was important to Rafe.

She still didn't like that he was using her as a pawn in his game of "win dad's approval" and she wouldn't pretend otherwise no matter how much of a sob story he sold her, though. She knew he was laying it on thicker than necessary to try and gain her sympathy. And while it kind of worked, the method didn't go unnoticed and she resented his manipulation tactics.

He described his stepmother as a vain woman, just as obsessed with image as his father, which made sense. She wasn't sure if his negative image of her was warranted or not, given that she'd never met the woman. She decided to keep his warnings in mind but leave an open mind for Rose. As far his sisters went she already knew she'd like them. She just felt bad that she'd be lying to them. That part sucked.

He mentioned some of the influential people who would be attending this wedding, and she was kind of surprised with just how many people relevant to her future career would be there in one place. And she'd get the chance to network. This really was a good opportunity for her, he wasn't lying when he said that. She was impressed.

She knew he was smart, but it took her by surprise just how much he knew about who she'd be interested in meeting and even giving her some pointers on how to impress a few of them he knew more closely. Rich people really do all stick together. She almost scoffed but refrained as he was doing her a solid giving her these bits of information that could definitely help her when she approached her targets.

When he had finally reached the conclusion in his debrief, the waiter returned to take their empty glasses and ask if they'd like to order more. As much as she enjoyed the sweet cocktail she remembered the promise she made herself and ordered a coke. Rafe ordered the same and gave her a cute smile.

It was odd, how natural it felt opening up to her. Even for a bit. He didn't quite understand how this woman managed to make him feel both exposed and understood at the same time. Like she could see right through him but she simply listened and empathized. It was fucking with his head.

He had spared her most of the details about his father which he deemed not necessary for her to know. It was all about preparing her for the wedding, that's all. He was amused at the way her eyes sparkled when they talked about her part of the deal, all the people on the guest list she would no doubt be able to wow. She seemed kind of excited and it made him feel glad. So far she had only expressed anger and disapproval over their arrangement. But there was a great opportunity for her in it too, which she had been ignoring for the most part. He knew she would manage to charm any one of those guests she wanted to. She was like that, incredibly charismatic and charming. He simply wasn't on the list of people she wished to charm. And he was fine with that, it didn't matter that there was a short burst of pain inside his ribs at the reminder that the only reason she was sitting with him right now was the deal they made.

"So what's with this "Modiste"?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm at the use of the word.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Rose likes to keep things looking perfect. She wants us to match so we need to try some things out." He rolled his eyes at what he deemed his stepmother's dramatics. "The clothes need to be tailored, not a single crease in sight."

For Y/N, it was beginning to sink in just how different their worlds were. The mere clothes they wore were so startlingly different in price, she shuddered to think what this entire wedding would look like. She did not belong in the world of oppulence. She was a small town girl, on a scholarship, trying to make a difference in this world. But the world was quite literally tailored to the upper classes, and her dislike of them had to take a back seat if she wanted to fulfil her dreams. Change starts from within, small steps and all that. She had to remind herself to breathe as her thoughts nearly spun out of control.

Rafe noticed her expression change and frowned.

"Everything okay?" She startled at his voice breaking her out of her daze.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah all good." She gave him an unconvincing smile and he had to hold back from calling bullshit. He didn't want to piss her off, things were finally going somewhat okay between them and he wanted it to continue on like that.

"Okay so we just gotta pick out a few outfits on Tuesday and that's what we'll be wearing. Rose will take care of everything else, like always." He attempted a joke in order to relieve the tension that was radiating off of her.

"Right. Makes sense." She nodded trying to focus on the topic at hand. "Wait a few outfits?" She questioned, confused.

"Oh, yeah. Well one for the first day, the rehersal dinner-" she interrupted him before he got to finish his thought.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on." He looked bemusedly at her.

"What?" Her brows furrowed in confusion at his words.

"What do you mean the first day?" He was looking at her like she had grown a second head.

"Well, the rehearsal dinner, as I was saying. Then the wedding on Saturday-" he didn't get to finish again.

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna stop you right there." He was barely holding in his annoyance at her rude interruptions.

"You're saying this is a two day deal?" She was looking like she was about to pass out and alarm bells finally started ringing in his head.

"It's actually three days." His voice was careful, trying not to upset her further because she seemed like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Three days?!" Her voice was louder than she expected, and she got a few dirty looks from the table next to them.

"I told you this?" It came out as a weak attempt to placate her.

"No. You did not." She was glaring at him, and if looks could kill he would be a full 6 feet under this hotel.

"I swear, I thought I told you!" His desparation could be felt through every syllable.

"Rafe I swear to God-"

"I'm sorry! I really thought I did..." he looked petrified. Like the very thin line they had been toeing was about to break and he wasn't sure he could ever fix it if it did.

She got up from the table and walked away without a second glace. It happened so fast, one second she was there, steam practically coming out of her ears, then he blinked and he was faced with her back leaving the bar. He jumped into action, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill and ran after her.

She had already gotten onto the elevator by the time he reached it and she purposefully closed the doors on him... Fuck. He realised his only option was to run down the stairs as fast as he could in hopes he reaches her before she takes off.

By the time he runs out of the staircase the elevator is empty and he curses his luck. He rushes out, panting, panicking, ready to see his car gone but it isn't. The car is still parked in front of the hotel but she's nowhere in sight. His relief turns to confusion, turns to concern until he notices something moving across the road and sees her standing at the railing overlooking the ocean. He hurries to join her. Her eyes are closed and she's breathing in a deliberate manner.

"Y/N/N-"

"Don't." She interrupts him again, this time he lets the silence roll. They stand there for what feels like eons but in reality was no more than 2 minutes. She opens her eyes and stares at the sea bellow them, the waves crashing into the cliffside. Her breathing evens out and she exhales a deep breath.

She had to get away from him, she needed a minute to breathe, calm herself down. She was reaching an anxiety attack up there and she needed out.

He stood a few feet away, mimicking her posture, waiting for her to speak or move or do something. He was so scared he screwed the whole thing up by not telling her. He really did think he had. But to be frank, he mostly blocked out those extremely embarrassing moments when he revealed to her the truth of his transgression and begged her to help him. So how was he to know if he actually did or didn't mention it? By her reaction though, it was clear this was the first time she was hearing about it. He wanted to slap himself.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, small, defeated almost.

She finally looked at him then and realized he wasn't lying about believing he had told her about the wedding being a three day affair.

She wanted to cuss him out, slap him, tell him to take his car keys back and to leave her the fuck alone for the rest of time. But the way he was looking at her, so broken, so desparate, sad. Like she was holding his entire world in the palm of his hands and if she dropped it he wouldn't survive it. And she cursed herself for being empathetic because he really kept pulling the rug from under her again and again. Just when she thought she was finally in control, understood what she was dealing with, he reveals something else that tilts her world off its axis.

She sighed again and looked out at the setting sun. He kept his eyes on her. He was sure she would have cussed him out by now or maybe pushed him over the railing by how angrily she had looked at him back at the table. But she hadn't. Hadn't left either. She was still there. Maybe there was still hope.

"I swear, I thought I told you." He repeated himself pathetically, not knowing what else to do. She looked at him, the intensity in her eyes knocking his breath out of him. He was at her mercy yet again.

"I know." He looked dazed at her words. Hopeful for her next.

"You hate me now?" His voice was barely a whisper at that point. Why does he always fuck everything up?

"I don't know." Ouch. He was kind of hoping for a no. By the dejected look on his face she realized her words were a mistake. And untrue.

"No. I still don't hate you." She spoke looking back at the horizon. His head swiveled back to stare at her gauging if she was being truthful or playing with him. He was greatful it was the latter.

"Are you gonna back out?" The silence and the suspence were bad for his health, he felt faint. She let out a loud breath, seemingly fighting with herself.

"No." His eyes snapped up to hers incredibly quickly. But before he could say anything she continued.

"But you need to be honest with me. No more surprises, okay? I can't deal with any more of this shit." He was nodding along with her words enthusiastically, trying to hold in a smile that was desparate to come out. She wasn't abandoning him. She was still with him.

"I swear!" His hands were in the air in an apologetic manner.

"So is that it? Or is there anything else I should know that you forgot to mention?"

"No, that's all, I promise." He was nodding again, trying to convince her he was serious.

"Rafe, I swear to God if anything else pops up-"

"It won't!" He came closer to her, staring in her eyes, begging her to believe him. His move startled her but she didn't move, couldn't. It was as if his eyes were keeping her in a trance. She could see no sign of deception in them, so she nodded.

He finally let the smile out, the relief and gratitude overwhelming him. She hated that the sight of him made her want to smile too. She kept hold of herself though. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"So, three days?" He realized she was asking for an explanation.

"Right. So the plan is we get there on Friday in time for the rehearsal dinner. Then Saturday is the wedding and reception. That's where you get to make your move." He gave her a cheeky wink and she rolled her eyes.

"And then Sunday is recovery from the wedding and a continuation of the celebration for the bride and groom's closest family and friends. A way to spend some time together before they go off on their honeymoon."

"So three whole days of playing the part." She was deep in thought. Partly doubting her ability to pull it all off for so long, partly hyping herself up at the prospect of those connections that were so close to her reach.

"Look, I know it's more than you exepected but it's not a big deal." The look she gave him showed him her thoughts. Bullshit. He cracked a smile. She wanted to slap it off him. He was too damn cocky for either of their goods.

"You do realize we have to convice your family, friends and everyone else there that we're a couple, right?" He nodded, as if it was obvious.

"And we have never been able to not piss each other off for more than an hour." She waved back toward the hotel, reminding him of their most recent disasterous interaction. He sighed, putting his head in his hands, exasperated.

"So what then? I don't know what you want me to do. You're the one who ran away from me." He looked at her and noticed her glare was back. And they had just fixed things. This was exhausting.

"I needed a moment to breathe and think after getting yet another major reveal from you." She was right.

"I know. I'm sorry." He approached her again.

Why did he keep getting into her personal space, looking at her like that? Why did it keep affecting her the way it was? Why did she keep letting him? He was a breath away, it seemed. And those eyes looked anything but sorry then. They looked wild. As if their proximity was ruining both of their resolves. She had to put an end to this tomfoolery. So she stepped away, crossing the street back to the parking lot, leaving him dazed and confused.

After a moment he followed, hands in his pockets portraying a picture of nochalance which was nothing more than a facade. She saw through it but she didn't want to know whatever it was that was going through his head now. She needed this interaction done with, once again feeling drained of all energy. It was like he had this annoying ability to rattle all her senses just by being near her. She hated that. She opened the car door, his car door, feeling his stare boring into her.

"I'll see you at the Modiste." She offered a neutral, but somewhat friendly goodbye. He nodded, looking at her with an intensity she didn't know what to do with.

He hated seeing her like this. So calm and collected when he was anything but. Hated how easy it was for her to walk away from him, time and time again. How pathetic he felt wishing she wouldn't, again and again.

She looked infuriatingly good, standing by his car, like she owned it. Like she had the right to drive it. It pissed him off that it suited her, looked like it was made for her when it was his most prized posession, which she stole from him. He hated how much he liked seeing her getting into the drivers seat, how he got a great view of her ass as she did. Hated how much every little thing about her seemed to affect him in the worst ways. Mostly he hated that he didn't hate any of it, how much it stirred inside of him, stuff he wanted to pretend did not exist. And he resented her for not feeling the same unhinged way he always seemed to when they're together. He hadn't moved from his position by the car, not even an inch. Just staring at her while she turned the ignition on and the familiar sound of the old muscle car roaring to life shot a pang through his heart.

He resented how good she looked driving his car. It was so fucking unfair.

She looked back at him, confused as to his state of mind, from the intensity on his face and the way his eyes just wouldn't leave her. She felt an overwhelming urge to break the tension somehow. Just driving away while he stared at her seemed too unnerving of a prospect.

"You promise no more surprises?" She managed to break him out of his reverie then. He clearly did not expect her to speak again. He processed her words and smirked.

"What would life be like if there were no surprises, Y/N/N?" The look she gave him made him laugh and reassure her.

"No. No more surprises. Scout's honor." Dramatically, he puts a hand over his heart.

"Good. Because if I show up there and find out that it's actually our wedding or something, I'm going to murder you."

Those were the last words he heard before she took off in his beloved Mustang. Once again leaving him in the dust, this time a live wire from their encounter. He was left with the unfortunate image she had now put in his head. Why would she say that?

Why would she say that? What was she thinking? At least she managed to take him by surprise and break whatever daydream he was in. But why did she say that? Now she was thinking of how awkward it was. She wanted to leave on a funny and unaffected note but now she was left embarrased.

She took a breath and made a conscious decision not to dwell on that cringe mistake and leave it in the rearview along with him. And as she drove further away from the hotel and the man in front of it she managed to convince herself the worst was behind her and whatever came from now on would be easier.

Just as she was starting to believe it, she heard the roar of a motorcycle and she knew it was him. She expected him to zoom past her but he slowed down to match her pace. She looked over at him confused, but couldn't see his face. So she did the only thing she could think of in that moment and waved at him. That seemed to do the trick as he waved back and finally took off in front of her, leaving her to wonder what the hell just happened.

-------

When she finally got into bed that night, freshly showered and tummy full, she noticed a text notification on her phone.

Devil's Spawn: it looks good on u

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. And then it dawned on her. The weird moment on the road. He was checking her out while she was driving his car. Her cheeks turned a furious shade of red as it sank in. And he had the audacity to send that text. Not only was he checking her out but he wanted her to know it too. What a pompous douchebag.

She decided that the fluttery feeling in her stomach was caused by the anger at being so blatantly objectified, not because he was flirting with her. His message went unanswered as she forced herself to calm down and get some sleep. This would prove a futile attempt, him once again making her too riled up and forcing her into yet another long and restless night.

-------

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

Omg I'm loving your response to my prompts!! thank you

I have a few ideas (You don't have to do them all) just throwing them out there to see what sparks ideas!!

I love secret admirer stories (I know its no where close to valentines day but still) maybe Reader is Rebecca's assistant and keeps getting gifts leading up to valentines day but she is pretty sure its like Sam or Isaac and tells friend Jaime (even though its really him) then the day of the grand finale and she comes to the lovely surprise of it being Jaime!

also if you could include Scarlett red roses in it for me (They are my favorite flower and the only flower I'm not allergic to)

So. I liked this one. Maybe too much? It might be the longest one I’ve written so far, so, uh, sorry about that. But I liked it a lot. It might be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy. also the gif isn’t Jamie Tartt but it is Phil Dunster so hopefully that’s ok

honey, i’ll give you all my time

Good god, it’s February all ready. You have a love-hate relationship with the month; love, because Galentine’s Day and hate because Valentine’s Day. You and your friends would go out on February 15th to get discount chocolate from the shops, then return home for an ungodly amount of takeout and a movie. On the whole, you all preferred action movies with a good romance.

You’re dreading Valentine’s Day because it’s when your boyfriend of two years held your hands in his, and told you he wanted to break up.

That was a year ago. You’re mostly angry that he’s a dark stain on one of your favorite holidays. You’re absolutely determined not to let him ruin your enjoyment.

This is also the first year you’re not with your friends. You moved away last March because you realized your ex had been holding you back in far too many ways.

So. To recap.

You’re alone. You love Valentine’s Day, despite it forever being the day of your breakup. Your friends aren’t here. You have new friends. There is no one to go to the shops with on the 15th. But discount chocolate is still discount chocolate.

Your current job is as a personal assistant, something you excel at. You basically anticipate needs, meet them, and just generally make your employer’s life a whole lot easier. The application said the job required a lot of travel, but all expenses (minus some food) were covered.

You were shocked when you got an interview, then a second, then a third, then were hired.

Your boss is a woman named Rebecca Welton, and you’re half in love with her, but who isn’t, really?

You swear you’ve never been in such a healthy work environment. You mention it one day, early on, and she says it’s all thanks to their head coach, someone named Ted.

You meet him for the first time later that day, and you understand.

It’s impossible not to love him, because he has vision. He knows what he wants from his team, and he knows how to get it.

He believes the team extends far beyond the players.

He believes it extends to you, too.

Ted and Coach Beard steal you from Rebecca as often as they can, claiming emergencies such as “a toxic amount of testosterone from all these boys,” “life-threatening boredom,” and last but not least, “there’s a new pun Ted absolutely needs to test right now and he won’t take no for an answer.”

(You like to give Ted honest feedback on his puns.)

You also find yourself in their office when Rebecca is out for lunch, eating your respective sandwiches and swapping life stories.

They remind you a lot of your parents.

It’s mid-June when you mention the Valentine’s Day story.

It doesn’t hurt as much when it’s punctuated by Ted’s “he didn’ts” and Beard’s perfectly-timed gasps.

You find yourself laughing halfway through, unable to stop.

“And anyway,” you finish, cheeks painful from smiling so hard, “that’s why romantic love is a joke and I am drowning myself in platonic love forever.”

Ted and Beard share a look. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Beard says.

You shoot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“Well sweetheart,” Ted says, “between the two of us collectively,” here points between him and Beard, “we know of at least three of the boys on the team who are madly in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp, “How did you- where did you- who??”

Ted zips his lips and Beard tips a finger to him. “We know of five if we count Rebecca’s intel.”

You’re sitting cross-legged on the edge of Beard’s desk, in shock. “Rebecca knows about this??”

Ted and Beard shrug in unison. “We all have our opinions on which one should shoot their shot, but that’s neither here nor there,” Ted says.

“Coincidentally, it’s the one thing we unanimously agree on,” Beard nods.

You’re cut off from saying anything by the door opening. One of the players stands in the doorway.

“Excuse me, coach,” he says, accent thick.

Ted motions in a you have the floor type of way, and the footballer turns to address you of all people. “We’re all goin’ out tonight, and Keeley sent me to invite the new girl. None of the lads have really met you yet, just seen you ‘round. Thought it might be good for team bonding, or something. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “I guess- yeah, I guess I haven’t really met them. I mean, I see you guys around and stuff and I’m at your games, but I don’t really know you. Are you sure you want me to come?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach is always on us about bein’ a team or some shit. And, havin’ a girl around makes the lads look good.”

You think that makes sense, and then find yourself agreeing to go out that night with a group of footballers you don’t know, and (thank god) Keeley Jones.

You’re going to figure out which five before the summer’s over.

—

You have nice time out with the lads. They go to a bar and cram into separate booths. You’re wedged in between two who have introduced themselves as Isaac and Dani, and across from Sam, Bumbercatch, and Jan Maas. Roy, Richard, and a few others you don’t know are milling about, and you see Jamie and Keeley at a table, surrounding by giggling girls. The sight is so absurd that you catch yourself smiling and turning back to whatever conspiracy Bumbercatch is telling you about now.

—

You put Sam at the top of your list as soon as you get home. The man wears his heart on his sleeve, or maybe in his eyes, but you’re positive that he’s one of the five Ted and Beard referred to. One down, four to go.

—

It’s the end of July, and you begin to become friends with the team. You know for an absolute fact who is not interested in you, Jamie being one of them. Coincidentally, he’s the one you become closest to. You think it’s because you’re not worrying about sending mixed signals or leading him on. You dropped public hints about not really looking for anything romantic, just to be sure you wouldn’t hurt anyone.

As it is, Jan Maas and Dani have made the list. Jan Maas, because he stifled his Dutch bluntness for you and Dani, because he openly declared he was madly in love with you in front of the whole team.

—

Isaac makes the list in December. It had been in between him and Bumbercatch, but Isaac was the one who walked you to your car every night and the first one to say hello to you every morning.

You’re not gonna lie, it was cute.

You shared some of this with Ted and Beard, who remained impressively stone-faced. Rebecca proved to be equally impervious.

You shared all of it with your lunch-buddy-turned-work-bestie, Jamie.

You ate with him because Rebecca was constantly in lunch meetings these days, and Ted, Beard, and Roy were always revamping their football strategies.

Jamie would plop down at your table and say, “What’s the news, Amy Hughes?” in his perfect Mancunian accent, and then listen/add commentary to whatever you had to say.

You explained to him that the reason you wanted to know who liked you was so that you could be extra careful with their hearts. You knew what it was like to be led on, and you did NOT want to do that to someone else.

Jamie nodded thoughtfully at that and then said, “We’re all footballers though, ain’t we? We get the shit end of the stick all the time, hearts broke by models and whatever. Even ends up in the fucking press. Everyone here’s has their heart broken before, and we all know you aren’t doing it on purpose.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s short end of the stick, Jamie.”

And thus begins your lunch hour of bickering.

—

No one has made a move on you yet, and you don’t have a read on number five. You still think it may be Bumbercatch, but in reality, it slips from your mind. Sam’s moved on, Jan Maas has accepted defeat, Dani swears he will love you until the day he dies, and Isaac stays, well, Isaac. Still sweet. Still walking you to your car, coming round extra early in the morning with a coffee or a water, depending on which “looked less like shit.”

Really though, you don’t think about it until February first, when you walk into your office to a small box on your desk.

At first, you think it’s a box of Ted’s biscuits.

Then, you notice a small, scarlet-red rose taped to the top. There’s no note, and all that’s inside is a tiny paper heart.

It’s folded with extreme care, and you place it on your shelf, smelling the rose. It smells amazing and you make a mental note to figure out where the heck it came from. But for now, it’s time to work.

—

You don’t mention the gifts until February third, because now there’s been one a day. Each one with a scarlet red rose, and a different gift. Yesterday was an incredibly expensive bar of chocolate (it was life-changing) and today is a tiny gold bracelet.

It’s a simple enough chain, but it is absolutely breathtaking. There is no mistaking the fact that it is not cheap, so you take it and march straight to Rebecca’s office.

“Rebecca,” you say, hands outstretched, “look.”

She does, smiles, then says, “It appears you have a secret admirer.”

“But I don’t want that!” you cry. “I don’t even have time for that! I don’t even like anybody right now!”

She peers at you over her glasses. “Don’t you?”

The sheer weight of those words is enough to physically knock you back two steps.

You don’t, you swear you don’t, you’re absolutely sure.

What about Vienna? a voice in the very back of your head nags.

You reply, out loud, “We don’t talk about Vienna,” and Rebecca just shrugs.

“Have it your way,” she replies in a tone that means this conversation is over, but you’re the one ending it.

You turn on your heel and find yourself taking the route to Ted and Beard.

You burst into their office in such a flurry that the entire room turns to look at you. “Close the door,” you say with such urgency, that Trent hurries to comply. Beard even shuts the blinds.

“What’s on your mind, Ollie Cline?” Ted asks.

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. You point to Roy. “Do you want to be here? It involves feelings.”

“Fuck no,” says Roy, “thanks for being fucking considerate.” He follows it up with a pointed glare at Ted, then goes into his office and firmly shuts the door.

“Can he be here?” Ted asks, tilting his head toward Trent.

“I don’t care, he’s probably a good one to have around for this because look!” You present the three collected roses and the bracelet.

“Someone’s started leaving me gifts, and I’m pretty sure it’s a Valentine’s thing because of the roses, and it was fine for the first two days but this is expensive, and I can’t accept this!”

Ted and Beard share a look. You hate it when they do that and leave you out.

Ted sighs. “Listen, do you think this about Vienna?”

You fix him with a glare. “No. We are not talking about Vienna ever again.”

Trent pipes up, “What’s Vienna?” and you wheel around on him, taking your glare with you.

“Vienna," you spit, like it’s poisonous, “is a terrible, awful place where people think terrible, awful things. I never want to talk about it again and I never will.”

Trent nods. “Noted.”

You turn back to Ted and Beard, pleadingly. “What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

Beard gets up and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Kid, if you want my advice, take the damn roses and wear the damn bracelet. These boys make more money than they know how to spend, so just let it go. They all know how you feel about dating, so if someone’s shooting their shot, they know the stakes.”

You shake your head. “Fine. Fine. I’ll let it go.”

—

You decide to tell Jamie on day five, because it’s a Friday and you’re dying to get his take. You tell him everything, show him the roses in your office (hanging upside down to dry), and then hand him the notebook that was in today’s box.

“Jamie,” you say, “this is an expensive notebook. There was a typed note inside that said, ‘for your drawings.’ How did this person even know I like drawing? I never talk about it!”

Jamie looks at you and laughs a little. You’re very flustered for something most people would enjoy. “Dunno, love, but we’ve all seen the sticky notes you leave Coach. That might be it.”

You groan and flop down into your chair.

“At least tomorrow’s the weekend,” you say.

—

Jamie’s phone dings at 9:00am on Saturday with a text from you that says, what the actual heck and a picture of a brown bag at your doorstep. Inside is a plastic box of your favorite lemon muffin from a local bakery. He emphasized the image, then waits for your response.

It was still warm, you write. It was someone who knows where I live and knows what time I leave to get breakfast.

Jamie grins and sends you a shrugging emoji, and you respond with an eye roll and a you’re no fun.

Jamie reads that and privately disagrees. He thinks he’s lots of fun

—

You’re pretty sure it’s Isaac. After all, he’s the only likely candidate. He’s one of the few who knows where you live and knows your routine. Not in a creepy way, in a we’re-good-friends type of way. You bring this up to Jamie, after personally banning all talk of this with Ted, Beard, and Rebecca. Stupid Vienna. You should never have told them.

Jamie shrugs for the millionth, infuriating time. He’s been noncommittal this whole time. You’re over here pouring out your heart and soul, considering whether you like Isaac romantically or not, and all he can say is, “I dunno?”

This is not the Jamie Tartt you’ve become best friends with.

That Jamie would be down to hunt this secret admirer with you. That Jamie would be helping you figure out if Isaac had a chance with you. That Jamie would be way more engaged than the one sitting in front of you right now.

But, you suppose maybe that Jamie died in Vienna, so you stop bringing it up.

—

It’s day ten. Valentine’s Day is in four day, and you’re nervous.

You’ve decided you don’t like Isaac like that, mainly because it shouldn’t take you that long to decide if you like anyone. There has to be an initial spark, and you shouldn’t try to manufacture it.

Still, you’re not sure it is Isaac, so you’re not going to say anything about it. The scarlet red roses hang on your office wall, permeating the room with their scent.

You feel like you’re dying.

This is a cruel joke and you’re dying.

The building is basically empty right now. Rebecca and Higgins have some meeting, the team is on the pitch (including Will) and various other staff are somewhere far away from you. So, you jump a little when Trent Crimm comes tripping into your office.

“Vienna,” he says, no greeting. “If you didn’t want to talk about it, you wouldn’t have told anyone. I’m assuming you do want to talk about it, but you don’t want judgement from the people you love. I’m here to offer my services as a neutral party.”

You look at him. “Trent. You are a journalist. Your whole job is writing down people’s secrets. Why on earth would I talk to you about the worst day of my life?”

Trent shrugs. “I’m good at keeping secrets. This would be off the record. I’ve never lied to people about off the record, also. I consider it bad journalism.”

You consider this for a moment, then sigh.

“Alright,” you concede. “At least if this gets out, I know whose head I’m shaving in retaliation.”

Trent looks at you in surprise, seeing you in a whole new, slightly threatening light.

“It happened two months ago. It was around Christmas, and I didn’t have anywhere to go…”

—

Your family all had their own separate plans that Christmas. Plans that didn’t really involve you. Same with your friends. You said something casually to Rebecca, and the next day she told you she had booked you a trip to Vienna. Call it an early Christmas present, she said. It was at the Aumaris Vienna, and it was gorgeous and ridiculously out of your budget, but she said you worked hard and gave her peace-of-mind, and you can’t really put a price on that, can you?

So you went.

But here’s the thing.

Someone else didn’t have Christmas plans.

So when you brought up your trip at your daily lunch, said someone else casually asked, can I come?

You almost choked on your sandwich.

Because here’s the other thing.

You were, maybe, kind of, possibly just a little bit head over heels in love with this someone else.

You’re not sure when it happened, really, just that it was probably in August and that it was soul-crushing because you knew for an absolute fact that he did not, and never would, feel the same way.

You didn’t tell anyone except Keeley, but under the condition that she just let you say it and that she never, ever give you a response to it. Just listen.

She did, but you were pretty sure she almost combusted.

But who are you to say no when Jamie Tartt invited himself on your luxurious Christmas vacation saying, I’ll pay extra to get a plane ticket next to you?

You were doomed from the start.

To make matters totally and impossibly worse, he couldn’t find another room.

He had his tickets, but the hotels, he said, were packed.

It was Christmas, after all.

So that’s how you ended up in a luxury hotel with Jamie Tartt for a week and a half, one day of which was Christmas.

You know the, “there was only one bed” trope that everyone thinks is so cute?

It was that, but only if you add deep, shattering heartbreak to it.

Because every night, you had to listen to Jamie say, “goodnight, love,” and then get into that giant, soft bed as far away from him as you could manage.

Every morning you woke up to the pillow barricade long gone, one of his arms thrown around you. Or one of your legs on top of his. Or a million different scenarios where you end up literally asleep together, some weird gravity pulling you to each other.

You were falling so hard and so fast, that you felt like the air was knocked from your lungs when Jamie started talking about the girl he liked.

“She’s just so fucking beautiful,” he’d say, staring at an Alpine mountain. Or, “Swear she’s the smartest fucking person I’ve ever met,” while traipsing through the city. Or, “Pretty sure she’s ruined me for everyone else,” while getting facials at the hotel spa.

To be fair, you were the one who teased him into admitting he liked someone.

You just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

The entire trip felt like heaven and hell had simultaneously converged on you, and you never wanted to leave but also desperately counted the days till it was over.

You came back and broke down in Rebecca’s office. Ted and Beard were there. The whole thing came spilling out, about how you loved the trip so much it felt like your heart would explode but that Jamie loved someone else.

They all exchanged looks amongst themselves and did their best to comfort you.

You pulled yourself together and they promised never to say anything to anyone.

—

“So that’s Vienna,” you finish.

Trent is just staring at you, mouth slightly agape.

He finally says, “My god, that’s fucked,” with such emotion that you decide right then and there that you like Trent Crimm and his rainbow mug.

Now, you just shrug. “I did it to myself, honestly. That’s why I’m tripping out about this secret admirer thing. And god, Trent, the roses. They’re so beautiful and it’s so romantic, and whoever it is obviously knows me well so there’s a part of me that wants to like this person, but…” you trail off.

“But there’s a part of you that’s hoping against hope that Jamie’s behind it all,” Trent finishes.

You let out a little laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Trent looks at the roses, then at you. “Maybe you should talk to Jamie,” he says, gently.

You reply with a forceful, “No,” and then follow up with a small, “That’s what Ted and Rebecca say, too.”

Trent stands up, shrugs, says with a small smile, “Just a thought,” then he’s out the way he came.

—

It is Valentine’s Day. And it’s a Sunday, which means you are legally required to stay in bed until 10, at which point you will get out only to make yourself decent enough to go buy a good cup of coffee and maybe (definitely) something to eat.

You’ve just finished putting on your shoes, when there’s a knock at the door.

You take a breath, and get ready to let down your secret admirer as gently as possible.

You swing open the door to reveal-

“Jamie! What are you doing here?”

Jamie Tartt is on your doorstep, hands behind his back, looking shyer than the day you first met.

He opens his mouth and says the last thing you’d ever expect:

“D’you remember Vienna?”

Your heart, which had already been going fast because his dumb floppy hair was all dumb and floppy in his stupid, cute headband, is now working double time. You manage a nod.

Jamie takes this as permission to continue. “D’you remember how I couldn’t get another room, no matter how hard I tried? That wasn’t true. I could’ve.” He pauses, and you wait for him to continue.

“And d’you remember when we met, when I told you Keeley told me to invite you out? That was a lie too.”

You tilt your head, confused. He keeps going.

“Look- I fucked it. I fucked it a million times and I told Ted and I told Beard, but they kept helping me un-fuck it and giving me chances, and then Rebecca bought two tickets to Vienna and slipped me the other one, and they all told me I had a perfect shot.”

You’re still not understanding what he’s saying. He might as well be speaking another language. Jamie sees the confusion in your eyes, takes a breath, and tries again.

“Keeley told me to invite you out, but only because I’d seen you around and thought you were fit. Then Isaac and all the lads thought the same thing, so I didn’t even get to fuckin’ sit with you. And then you started sayin’ things about not bein’ ready for a relationship, so I tried to let it go. I really fucking tried. But I just couldn’t. Your eyes are too sparkly and your laugh is too fucking cute and I couldn’t let it go, so I started eating lunch with you and you fucking let me. I knew the moment I said anything about liking you, it was over.”

Comprehension has started to dawn, but you push down hope until Jamie’s done speaking.

“Everyone told me to shoot my shot in Vienna. We shared a bed, for fuck’s sake.” Here, Jamie looks bewildered. “But I dunno, I didn’t want to make shit weird. So when you asked if I liked anyone I said yeah, and started fuckin describing you, but you never fucking picked up on it. That’s when I got the idea to try one more time. All by meself, no help from anyone else. So…yeah.”

Jamie Tartt is standing on your porch confessing his love for you on Valentine’s Day and it is not a dream, because if it were your teeth would be falling out and his hair would probably be neon pink.

“I’m an idiot,” you breathe. “You like me? Like, like-like me?”

Jamie quirks a smile at that. “Not quite, darling. Pretty fucking sure I love you.” He pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a bunch of scarlet red roses. The same from each gift.

“Got these for you,” he says. “D’you know how hard it is to get red roses in February?”

You don’t answer him because you’re leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve thought about doing every day for what feels like forever. He’s kissing you back, hand with the flowers pressed against your back, other hand in your hair.

“I love you too, Jamie,” you whisper against his mouth. He smiles and pulls you in again.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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