#oh the vibes here are immaculate... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solxamber · 5 months ago

Text

And I Choose...

In which you pick the dorm you want to join

Part 1: Choose Us

Heartslabyul

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d be willingly moving into Heartslabyul, but here you were, standing at the entrance with your bags (and Grim, who was loudly complaining about the lack of a tuna fountain).

Riddle was the first to greet you, looking as composed as ever. “Welcome to Heartslabyul,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was formal, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his excitement. “I trust you’ll follow the rules properly now that you’re part of this dorm.”

Before you could respond, Trey appeared beside him, looking far more relaxed. “We’re glad to have you here,” he said with a warm smile. “I already saved you a slice of cake—figured you’d need a snack after all the chaos today.”

Bless this man. Truly.

“Say cheese!”

You barely had time to process Cater’s voice before you were blinded by the flash of his phone. “Oh my Sevens, the new dormie vibe is immaculate! This is totally going on Magicam!” He snapped another selfie, this time pulling you into the frame. “And guess what? I’m using my clones to make moving day a breeze! You’re welcome!”

True to his word, Cater’s clones were already grabbing your stuff. You stared in disbelief as three Cater clones carried a single small bag together while laughing like they were in a cheesy sitcom. Efficiency clearly wasn’t their strong suit, but at least they were trying.

And then there was Ace and Deuce. The moment you’d announced your decision to join Heartslabyul, the duo had erupted into what could only be described as the most uncoordinated, chaotic victory dance you’d ever seen.

Deuce was spinning in circles like he was trying to summon a tornado, while Ace alternated between bad breakdancing and finger guns pointed at no one in particular. “We won! We won!” they chanted, completely ignoring the way Riddle’s eye was twitching in disapproval.

“You know,” you said, watching them make absolute fools of themselves, “I think I made the right choice.”

Grim snorted from his perch on one of your bags. “You’re surrounded by idiots, henchhuman.”

“Maybe,” you said with a grin. “But they’re my idiots.”

Savanaclaw

The moment you announced that you’d chosen Savanaclaw, chaos erupted.

Jack’s tail started wagging so hard it was like a propeller trying to take off. You half-expected him to lift into the air. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his usually calm voice brimming with excitement. “We’ll make sure you feel at home here.”

Ruggie wasted no time grabbing you in a headlock and giving you the noogie of a lifetime. “I knew you’d make the smart choice! You, me, and all this bribe cash—donuts for a whole year, easy! You’re officially part of the Savanaclaw hustle now!”

“Ruggie, I swear, if you ruin my hair—”

But the true shocker was Leona. At first, he played it cool, lounging lazily in his chair like your decision was no big deal. “Hmph, took you long enough,” he said, voice dripping with fake indifference. But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug grin.

And that’s when he pulled out his phone.

“Leona, what are you doing?” you asked, watching as he sidled up to you with the confidence of a king.

“Taking a picture. Gotta rub this in a little.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a selfie of the two of you. Then, with the smoothness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he took another.

One went to Vil. The other went to Malleus.

The captions?

To Vil: "Looks like I win. Stay beautiful, princess."

To Malleus: "Better luck next time, lizard."

You groaned, face burning. “Leona, was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and smirking like the cat who caught the canary. “Welcome to the pack, herbivore.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Savanaclaw wasn’t such a bad choice after all.

Octavinelle

The second you announced you were choosing Octavinelle, chaos descended faster than you could say “Mostro Lounge.”

Floyd let out an earsplitting cheer and, before you could blink, scooped you up and tossed you into the air like a beach ball.

“Shriiiimpy’s ours now!” he cackled, catching you before launching you up again like he was testing the room's ceiling height.

“Floyd, please!” you yelled, your life flashing before your eyes as you flailed. “I don’t wanna meet the Great Seven this soon!”

Eventually, Jade stepped in, placing a hand on Floyd’s shoulder. “Now, now, Floyd. Let’s not accidentally lose our new dormmate to an untimely accident. We wouldn’t want to scare them away before they’ve even unpacked.”

Floyd, grumbling, set you down but kept a firm arm around your shoulders, as if daring you to second-guess your decision.

Jade, meanwhile, adjusted his gloves with a serene smile that somehow felt a little too sharp. “Welcome to Octavinelle,” he said smoothly. “It’s wonderful to have you with us. I assure you, you’ll be treated with the utmost care here.” He looked way too pleased with himself, his gaze lingering like he was already planning your initiation.

Then there was Azul.

Azul looked like he’d just won a billion Madol jackpot. His eyes gleamed, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to break into a little dance right there in the lounge. But then, with Herculean effort, he composed himself, clasping his hands and clearing his throat.

“Well, this is certainly a wise choice,” he said, adjusting his glasses like he hadn’t just been doing mental cartwheels. “I’m honored you’ve decided to join Octavinelle. We’ll make sure all your needs are taken care of.”

But then… he slid a very familiar-looking contract across the counter.

“Of course,” Azul added with a dazzling smile, “just a small formality. You see, this document simply guarantees that you’ll remain a proud Octavinelle student until graduation—oh, and a few other things.”

You stared at the contract hoping it might spontaneously combust. “Azul. I literally just joined. Can I have a minute to breathe before I sign my soul away?”

“No rush, no rush!” Azul said, not looking remotely deterred. “Take your time. But, ah—do keep in mind that signing sooner ensures the best possible benefits…”

As Jade handed you a drink (which you were very suspicious of) and Floyd draped himself over you, already talking about all the “fun” you’d have together, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just made a deal with the devil.

Still, as Azul's smug smile softened into something almost genuine, you decided it wasn’t the worst deal in the world.

Scarabia

The moment you announced your decision, Kalim was on you like a whirlwind.

“YOU CHOSE SCARABIA!!” he yelled, tackling you into a hug so tight you thought you might pop like a balloon. Before you could even gasp for air, he was spinning you around the common room like you were some kind of trophy he’d just won.

“This is AMAZING! We’re gonna have so much fun! Parties! Feasts! Adventures! You’re gonna love it here!” Kalim babbled, his infectious excitement making it hard to even feel dizzy despite the rapid spinning.

“Kalim,” you wheezed, clutching his shoulders, “please put me down before my life flashes before my eyes.”

“Oh, right!” he said, gently setting you down with a sheepish laugh. “I got carried away. I’m just so happy!”

As you tried to steady yourself, a much calmer—but no less relieved—voice spoke from behind Kalim.

“I’m glad you chose Scarabia,” Jamil said, his expression carefully composed, though you could see the faintest hint of relief in his eyes.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jamil replied, crossing his arms and glancing away like he didn’t want to elaborate. But after a beat, he sighed and added, “You’re one of the few people here who keeps things balanced. With you around, maybe I’ll have a chance to stay sane.”

Your heart melted a little at his quiet admission, even as Kalim jumped in again, declaring he’d throw a party that night to celebrate your move.

“Let’s get food! Music! Oh, we should decorate your room! Jamil, can we hang up those golden lanterns I found last week? And—”

“Kalim,” Jamil interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips, “one thing at a time. Let them breathe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic, feeling a warm sense of belonging already. Scarabia might be a lot, but it felt like home.

Pomefiore

The second you announced your decision, Epel let out a laugh so sinister it would’ve sent chills down a villain’s spine. “HA! TAKE THAT, EVERYONE ELSE!” he shouted, whipping out his phone to snap a selfie with you.

Of course, Rook popped into the frame with perfect timing, striking an overly dramatic pose as Epel sent the picture straight to the first-year chat. “VICTORY IS OURS!” was the only caption needed.

Before you could even blink, Rook had swooped in, bowing theatrically. “Ah, mon cher, your choice has blessed us with the most magnifique triumph! Let us celebrate with a dance!”

You barely had time to protest before he twirled you around the room like you were in some period drama. His excitement was so contagious you almost didn’t notice when he dipped you dramatically—until you felt yourself tipping back, only to be caught by Vil.

“Honestly, Rook,” Vil sighed, steadying you with all the grace in the world. “Do try not to give them whiplash their first day.”

He turned to you, his usual poised demeanor firmly in place, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings. “Welcome to Pomefiore,” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve made the right decision.”

You were about to respond when Vil, ever the perfectionist, immediately began fussing over your uniform. “Honestly, you can’t be seen like this. Your tie is uneven, and—Rook, stop standing there and help them adjust their collar properly!”

As Vil worked, meticulously fixing every little detail, you couldn’t help but notice the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He might’ve been playing it cool, but there was no hiding how pleased he was to have you here.

Epel and Rook, meanwhile, had started arguing about who deserved the credit for your choice, while Vil made it very clear that it was his influence that sealed the deal.

And just like that, your chaotic new life in Pomefiore began.

Ignihyde

The moment the words “I’m choosing Ignihyde” left your mouth, Idia froze like someone had yanked his power cord out. His hair flickered erratically, and for a second, you thought he might actually pass out.

“Big Brother? Big Brother!” Ortho shook him frantically, his mechanical arms making a soft whirring sound. “Stay with us! They chose us! You can’t glitch out now!”

Idia finally snapped back to reality, though his face was still pale, his hair sputtering like a dying neon sign. “W-Wait, what?! You…chose here? Are you serious? This isn’t like, a prank, right? Did Ortho bribe you?!”

“No pranks, no bribes. I chose Ignihyde,” you said, trying not to laugh at his genuine bewilderment.

He blinked rapidly, processing your words. “B-But the PowerPoint… I thought it was way too cringe. I mean, I had like, fifty slides about food optimization! Who’d find that interesting?! You were supposed to be like, ‘Ew, no thanks,’ and leave!”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of cute,” you admitted, watching as his hair flared a bright pink.

“C-CUTE?! AAHH, STOP, YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!” He clutched his hoodie like his heart was going to short-circuit.

“Big Brother, calm down!” Ortho interjected, practically beaming. “They chose us! Isn’t this the best thing ever?”

Idia rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. “…So, uh, do you wanna, like…celebrate or something? I-I mean, I know you probably have better things to do, b-but if you wanna…play a game or something, that’d be cool.”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

Ortho let out an excited cheer and zipped over to hug you tightly, his arms surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Ignihyde! I’m so happy you’re here! This is gonna be the best!”

As Ortho buzzed around you, already listing off all the things you could do together, you caught Idia sneaking a shy glance your way. His hair was still flickering pink, and he looked like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You weren’t sure what life in Ignihyde would bring, but if it meant seeing Idia like this—flustered, happy, and maybe a little hopeful—you knew you’d made the right choice.

Diasomnia

The moment you announced you’d chosen Diasomnia, Sebek practically burst into flames.

“OF COURSE YOU CHOSE DIASOMNIA!” he boomed, puffing up with pride. “It’s the only logical choice! With the Young Master here, there was no other dorm worthy of your presence!”

Silver chuckled softly at Sebek’s theatrics, stepping forward with a kind smile. “Welcome to Diasomnia. I’m glad you’re joining us. Let me know if you need help moving your things—I’ll be happy to assist.”

Before you could respond, Lilia appeared out of thin air, laughing like a mischievous ghost. “Ah, welcome, welcome! We’ve been expecting you…or at least, I have. Let me go fetch Malleus so he can hear the good news himself!” And with that, he vanished in a puff of green smoke, leaving you blinking at the empty spot he’d occupied seconds before.

Malleus arrived moments later, his towering presence filling the room. His emerald eyes softened as they landed on you. “I heard you’ve made your decision. Have you truly chosen Diasomnia as your dorm?”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I chose Diasomnia.”

The way his face lit up was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His usual composed demeanor melted into something warmer, brighter. He almost looked…giddy.

“This pleases me greatly,” he said, his voice rumbling with quiet joy. “Come. I’ll give you a proper tour of our dorm.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer before he gently ushered you forward, beginning the grand tour of Diasomnia. Lilia popped in and out of nowhere as you walked, adding bizarre and entirely unnecessary facts.

“And over there,” Lilia said, gesturing to a decorative suit of armor, “is what I wore when I once tripped and almost spilled soup on Malleus when he was a child. Ah, good times.”

Malleus sighed but didn’t stop him. “This area is the library. Feel free to browse the shelves at your leisure. I can show you my favorite tomes later.”

“And this hallway is where Sebek shouted for the first time when he thought Malleus was missing! Nearly shattered all the windows,” Lilia added with a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the whole thing feeling so surreal yet oddly comforting. Silver walked quietly beside you, throwing in the occasional useful tidbit, while Sebek followed behind, grumbling something about Lilia not taking the tour seriously.

By the time the tour ended, you felt strangely at home. The eccentricity, the warmth, the oddly familial atmosphere—it all wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

Malleus turned to you, his expression soft but sincere. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll personally see to it.”

Lilia smirked. “Safe and well-fed. I’ll whip up something special to celebrate!”

“Please don’t,” Sebek muttered, but you just laughed, already feeling like you belonged.

Secret ending: Ramshackle

When you finally dragged yourself back to Ramshackle, you were met with Grim, lounging on the couch like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, henchhuman? Which dorm are we moving to? I hope you picked the one with the best tuna," he yawned, tail flicking lazily.

You slumped down next to him, groaning. "None of them."

Grim's ears perked up. "Huh? What do ya mean, none of them?!"

"I told Crowley to just fix the worst parts of this place. I’d rather stay here. Everyone’s so excited for me to join their dorm—I don’t wanna disappoint them."

Grim blinked at you, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. "Eh, as long as you're still my henchhuman, I don’t care. Besides, this place has character! And by character, I mean it’s haunted, but still."

The next day, Crowley gathered the staff and shared your decision with them. You’d half-expected him to brush off his promise, but to your utter shock, the teachers actually…pitched in.

Vargas showed up first, flexing dramatically. "Alright! Time to show these walls the power of my biceps! I’ll have this place sturdy in no time!" He started hammering away, though you were slightly concerned when he tried to patch a hole in the ceiling using a workout bench.

Trein followed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "This building is a historical relic, and it deserves proper restoration." He brought Lucius along, who mostly supervised by napping in different corners.

Crewel arrived next, snapping his gloves on. "We’re not half-assing this. Ramshackle is getting a full makeover. And you’re going to help, pup. Start scrubbing those floors. Chop, chop!"

Even Sam surprised you by popping up with a toolbox and a grin. "Can’t have my favorite customer living in a death trap, can I? Plus, a little investment in the neighborhood never hurts business!"

The repairs were chaotic but effective. You spent days dodging Vargas’ overly enthusiastic demolition attempts, enduring Trein’s lectures on historical preservation, and running errands for Crewel while he barked orders like you were a rookie in boot camp.

By the end of it, Ramshackle was almost unrecognizable. The roof no longer leaked, the walls were sturdy, and the floors didn’t creak like a ghost was stalking you (though you were pretty sure the ghosts were still there, just quieter).

Grim looked around, nodding in approval. "Not bad, huh? Maybe this place isn’t such a dump anymore."

You smiled, patting his head. "Yeah, it’s still home."

And as you settled back into your slightly less ramshackle life, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Sure, your dorm might not have been the flashiest or fanciest, but it was yours. And that was more than enough.

Masterlist

4K notes · View notes

pencil-n-pen · 4 months ago

Text

YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi | next part

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

EDIT 2: part two is up you heathens :) (affectionate)

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

. ݁₊ ⚜️ . ݁˖

He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

3K notes · View notes

todayisafridaynight · 2 years ago

Note

Your brain is massive and your opinions are correct. I fucking LOVE SA2 and Shadow bro 😭 Last time I revisited my Sonic era I was trying to unlock training mode in Shadow by A-ranking all the missions and bosses. SA2/Shadow/Sonic Heroes/Sonic Riders were the ones I replayed (and still do every couple of years) the most :)

my god PLEAAASSE THE TRAINING/EXPERT MODE IN SHADOW i love how the hints just fuck off and are replaced by the cast chattin with shadow.... like black doom the fuck are you doin talkin to me you are dead.... leave me alone.....

as a part of my All-326-Routes playthrough of shadow im SO stoked to unlock that mode again for the first time in like. A Decade... i've just been clearing out all the routes from the very top all the way down but i might just A-rank all the levels and routes first just to get the mode..

the adventure games + shadow are my faves to play honestly like as much as i still do like sonic games nowadays i just really enjoyed that 3d free-roaming aspect of the gamecube era games (and even 06: just wish it wasnt such a glitchy mess and i was more of a fan of the models/art style)

PLUS WITH THE ADVENTURE GAMES YOU HAVE THE CHAOS LIKE WHY DID THEY GET RID OF THEM BRING THEM BACK !!!!! THEY WERE SO CUTE

#snap chats #you cant escape Sonic Kid era like every couple years ill be like #'oh my god i have a gamecube that still works' and ill just replay all them games #Hot Take i did enjoy big's campaign.... idk..... maybe its cause his vibes are immaculate .. im glad he's in frontiers <3<3<3 #im actually really stoked for the coming months because my fam and i've had sonic heroes for years right #but we only have it for the original xbox and we lost THAT a long while ago so i can't play it and it's just been taunting me all this time #BUT THEN I REMEMBER i am an adult with adult money. Sometimes. i can just buy my own gamecube copy #i have to start shilling my commissions more on twitter since i wanna get it before i go back to school #yk. so i can be a responsible student and play it when i have down time LMAO BUT EEEE IM SO EXCITED #yk whats a game i miss sooooo much tho.... i lost my copy of sonic chronicles....#I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW LIKE I STILL HAVE THE CASE i might just buy a new game card then....#that does mean ill have to start all over but.. thats ok.. sonic chronicles was SOO fun to me growing up.. i miss shade so much..#gen one of my fave sonic characters she was so cool and i loved her design and helmet so much #SPEAAAAKING OF ONE OFF CHARACTERS I MISS YK WHO I MISS THE MOST THO gamma.....#gamma was what introduced me to sad character stories i SWEAR LIKE THAT SHIT MADE ME SO SAD #i miss him eveyr day like i know he can never come back and that's a good thing cause Birdie's Parents Are OK BUT STILLLLL #my baby..... at least omega's here.... and he can threaten eggman every five minutes......#but when youre playing SA2 and you have to fight the robots modeled after gamma THATS SO EVIL STOP #UGH i love gamma sorry... but im not.. gamma was like. sega dippin their te into existentialism in sonic...#and then shadow was born LMAO tho i guess you can count metal sonic too if we wanna look at the sonic movie from the like. 90's #GOD I HOPE I STILL HAVE THAT DVD SOMEWHERE I LOVED THAT MOVIE SO MUCH GROWING UP it has the CUTEST artstyle #and knuckles' lil hat... ALSO METAL SONIC DYING AT THE END STOP when he bats sonic's hand away... metal bb come back...#and i mean at least he does but yk..... be nice to him..... he's going through a lot... he won't express it but i know he is...#OK SONIC RAMBLE DONE I SWEAR THANK YOU FOR WRITING IN ANON AND LETTING ME BE A DWEEB I JUST LOVE SONIC RAAAH #i have to end my ramble fr im running out of tags... now we'll never know of my chao gardens.......#OK BYE BYEEEE

1 note · View note

thewriteadviceforwriters · 24 days ago

Text

🧃 How to Develop a Vibe AND a Plot (aesthetic doesn’t cancel arcs. let’s balance them.)

hey you. yes, you. the one with the moody playlists, the 73-tab Pinterest board, and a half-written draft that just keeps…vibing in circles.

if you’ve ever written 10k of immaculate vibes but couldn’t tell anyone what your story is about, this post is for you. because here’s the thing: ✨ aesthetic is not a substitute for stakes. ✨

let’s talk about how to keep your ✨vibes✨ and actually have a plot that moves. no ✧ fluff ✧ just structure, character arcs, and some lovingly blunt advice from your local writeblr gremlin (me).

🌊 1. aesthetic is a result, not a premise

the most common mistake i see is starting with a vibe as the story. like:

“sad girls on the beach in 1996”

“a cursed forest full of dead gods”

“a pastel academic rivalry with secrets and sexual tension”

cool. great. love that for you. but… what’s the story? what’s happening?

✨vibes = setting + mood + tone. ✨plot = choices + consequences + change.

your aesthetic can inspire the story (please keep making playlists. i love them). but don’t confuse the feel of your world with the function of your plot. start with tension. stakes. character flaws. emotional damage. that’s the engine. the aesthetic is the paint job.

🎯 2. define your “emotional throughline”

okay, so you’ve got an aesthetic. what’s the emotional core of it? your plot should orbit a single emotional question, like:

will this character ever let themselves be known?

what does it take to unlearn loyalty?

is love worth destroying something sacred?

start with that. then attach aesthetic scenes to it.

🧩 pro tip: aesthetic scenes are more powerful when they contradict or complicate your emotional throughline.

ex: your story’s about loneliness? show them at the loudest, busiest party. story’s about grief? show them smiling in photos while everything breaks behind the lens.

aesthetic is stronger with irony. contrast. juxtapositions. don’t just bathe the reader in vibes. weaponize them.

💥 3. let your aesthetic hurt your characters

whatever your aesthetic is--soft academia, vaporwave horror, regency witchcore, don’t make it just a backdrop. make it an obstacle.

your setting should create problems. friction. conflict.

if it’s a sleepy coastal town: what’s festering beneath the quiet?

if it’s a hauntingly beautiful forest: what does it take from people?

if it’s a cursed mansion: what happens to the girls who stay too long?

every time you design a pretty place or moody visual, ask: ❓ how does this setting test my characters’ beliefs or desires?

because then your aesthetic drives the story forward instead of just decorating it.

📚 4. develop plot like a playlist: structure the escalation

your aesthetic playlist has structure, right? (don’t lie. i know you’ve got a specific song for act 3 heartbreak.)

plot works the same way. it’s not a mystery. it’s escalation.

you want a structure? here’s a dead-simple one:

give your main character a desire (internal & external)

give them a reason they can’t have it (flaw, fear, lie)

make them try anyway (rising stakes)

make it cost them something (midpoint shift)

force them to change or break (climax)

let that change play out (falling action / resolution)

that’s it. apply that structure to your vibey little story and suddenly it’s a book.

👁‍🗨 5. plot is what they do - vibe is how it feels

don’t choose one. you can have both.

you can have a soft lighting scene on a rooftop and the secret betrayal reveal. you can have dreamy prose and broken character dynamics. you can give me worldbuilding so lush it smells like petrichor and rot and still give me a plot twist that leaves me feral.

you just need to be intentional.

every scene = a purpose. every aesthetic = an angle. every image = tied to stakes, desire, or change.

✨ that’s the difference between “ooh pretty” and “oh my god i can’t stop thinking about this story.” ✨

💌 so in conclusion:

start with an emotional arc

let your aesthetic scenes earn their place

make your world fight your characters

escalate, escalate, escalate

and stop hiding a lack of plot under “vibe” like a glittery throw blanket over a broken chair

you’ve got this. now go write the beautifully messy, aesthetic and emotionally devastating story you were meant to.

i believe in you.

🧃rin t.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

764 notes · View notes

w2soneshots · 3 months ago

Text

Over the years -W2S

warnings: mentions of pregnancy.

summary: your and Harry’s relationship each year from twenty-sixteen to now through instagram posts.

notes: hello lovelies! For once this isn’t a request, thought of it all busy myself🙂‍↕️. I used Bella Hadid for the face claim (I usually don’t use just one person but it made sense for this)🫶🏼. Also, omfg did this take ages… one thousand photos and a week later I’m finally finished! Don’t forget to reblog and enjoy��✨

2016... the year you became boyfriend and girlfriend

Liked by miniminter, zerkaa and others

y/username: love youuu @wroetoshaw

-comments-

wroetoshaw: love you more

-> y/username: 😋❤️

tobjizzle: ay! happy for u 2!

-> y/username: ty Tobes!!

y/nfanpage21: cuteeeee oh my gosh🫂

user: my two worlds colliding

y/username posted a new story!

2017... your first big holiday as a couple

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

Liked by wroetoshaw, freyanightingale and others

y/username: Italy🍝✨🇮🇹

-comments-

callux: looks sick, hope you had a great time!

-> y/username: we diddd! best pizza ever😌

y/nfanpage21: this is adorable💞

user: Harry in the unicorn floaty lol

2018... festival season

Liked by calfreezy, behzingagram and others

y/username: drunk, covered in glitter and hot, but ready for some bangin music!🤸‍♂️☀️🍺

-comments-

wroetoshaw: definitely hot😉🔥

-> y/username: lmao smooth

reevhd: vibes = immaculate

y/nfanpage21: outfit on FLEEK🤭

user: she's so perfect for Harry omg

y/username posted a new story!

2019... London and the boys

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

Liked by tobjizzle, mollymae and others

y/username: 19 you've been good to me, see you all next year!!🎆

-comments-

wroetoshaw: ⛷️

taliamar: gorggg!💓

-> y/username: mwah😚

y/nfanpage21: I live for y/n with the sidemen boys

user: she's the original icon⭐️

2020... the virus

Liked by ksi, wroetoshaw and others

y/username: haven't posted in awhile, here's a few very uninteresting photos from my week🥞🤍 stay safe everyone and please STAY INSIDE!

-comments-

calfreezy: daily runs entered the chat

-> y/username: running buddy 4 life🏃‍♀️

y/nfanpage21: ahh we've missed you girly!!😭

user: Harry and his biohazard bag against the world

y/username posted a new story!

2021... new beginnings

Liked by behzingagram, taliamar and others

y/username: a random dog turned up on our front step today (he has been safely returned to his owner dw🐶), pleaseee can someone convince @wroetoshaw that this is a sign we should get a puppy😫🙏

-comments-

wroetoshaw: brilliant, now my dm's are filled with people asking if your pregnant (also no puppy)

-> y/username: omg shit, forgot to specify that that's my FOOD baby vs Faiths ACTUAL baby🤣 (we're getting a puppy)

faithlouisak: love u wifey

-> y/username: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

y/nfanpage21: she's so unserious lmao the first and second pic

y/username posted a new story!

2022... the year he finally popped the question

Liked by sidemen, joeweller and others

y/username: we're engaged!! enjoy this dump from our week away, where I had NO idea I was going to become a fiancé hehehe💍💓

-comments-

wroetoshaw: only took me 7 years

-> y/username: not bad for you tbf babes😌🫶

tobjizzle: congrats again guys❤️

freyanightingale: AHHH! unbelievably happy for you y/n🥹💝

y/nfanpage21: our fav couples growing up

user: HE'S DONE IT!!!!

y/username posted a new story!

2023... bride and groom

Liked by chrismd10, wroetoshaw and others

y/username: random photos from my week + wedding prep commences!💫💝

-comments-

faithlouisak: SHE'S GETTING FUCKING MARRIED!!!🥳

-> y/username: hehe thank you once again for the cake girl, smashed the brief

callux: exiting stuff😯

y/nfanpage21: makeup... ate. hair... ate. cake... they ate it.

user: I can't WAIT to see what dress she picks

y/username posted a new story!

2024... the year you became mummy and daddy

Liked by wroetoshaw, dualipa and others

y/username: counting down the days until we meet baby girl...🎀🌟

-comments-

ksi: can't wait to spoil her😁

-> y/username: uncle JJ incoming...

faithlouisak: your GLOWING mama💕

y/nfanpage21: the book🥺

user: two youngest sidemen having a kid before the others lol💁‍♀️

y/username posted a new story!

2025... the life you've always dreamed of

y/username posted a new story!

Liked by zerkaa, faithlouisak and others

y/username: right where I want to be💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: my beautiful girls

-> y/username: love u💞

taliamar: brill, got Mushu trying to eat my strawberry😂

-> y/username: he stood there for a good ten minutes, bless him. maybe next time buddy🥲🐕

y/nfanpage21: oh... to have her life

user: fun fact: this was posted exactly nine years from their first couple post, how cute❤️‍🩹

648 notes · View notes

checkeredflagggs · 3 months ago

Text

Mr. and Mrs. ??

pairing: liam lawson x singer!reader

summary: What to do when you get married in Vegas, wake up alone with only your half of the marriage certificate? Wonder what your new last name is and sing about it at the F1 75 Live show.

a/n:what? is? happening? in? Redbull? like seriously?? I can’t even…

a/n2: some affectionate swearing is included

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n

liked by user, user, charles_leclerc, and 5,823,193 others

y/n: Hey mama, I made it! From my little garage concerts to playing in the Sphere! It was an amazing experience and I’d do it again in a heartbeat — Thank you Las Vegas!

view all comments

user1: what a concert!

↳user2: was it as amazing as it looks?

↳user1: it was so much better

user3: you looked ethereal in those lights

↳user4: i mean she always does — a face card that never declines

↳user3: oh but she shone brighter than the Strip tonight

user5: ok but why is a vroom vroom boy in my girl’s likes?

↳user6: Right? That’s what I want to know

↳charles_leclerc: talent recognizes talent?

↳user7: we stan a king that knows a good thing when he hears it

user8: jealous of literally everyone in Vegas this weekend — Max winning WDC, Mercedes dominating, AND y/n’s final show in the Sphere?!?

↳user9: as someone who was at both?? Immaculate vibes. 100+/10, would definitely do it again

↳user8: you have no idea how jealous I am…

user10: ok but what are the chances we get an f1 x y/n crossover???

↳user11: just because they’re all in Vegas doesn’t mean they have to interact??

↳user10: but wouldn’t you like to see that?

↳user11: …ok yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily gonna happen

↳user12: we could only hope…

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 4,920,293 others

y/n: celebrating my last night here and I met some guys that can party almost as well as I can!

view all comments

user13: girl that is 4x World Champion Max Verstappen and runner up Lando Norris

↳y/n: Mr. Drink Man and Mr. Music Man!

↳landonorris: MS MUSIC

↳user14: oh I love it when y/n drunk posts

↳user13: she’s hilarious 😂

maxverstappen1: Ms. Music! Where are you!

↳y/n: IM AT THE BAR. WHERE ARE YOU

↳user15: why are you typing in all caps?

↳y/n: ITS VERY LOUF IM HERR

↳user16: You’re typing in all caps because it’s loud in the bar?

↳y/n: YED

charles_leclerc: Hou’re lartying wiyh us? Where? I WANNA MERT YOU

↳y/n: HI IM AT THE BAR

↳charles_leclerc: IM AT THE BAR. YOU ARNT AT THE BAE

↳y/n: SHHH A CUTE BOY SAID I WAS PWETY

↳charles_leclerc: BUT I WAMTRD TP MEET YOI

↳user17: this is the best thing to come from Vegas this year and I’m a max fan 😂😂

y/n has posted a story, charles_leclerc has posted a story, yukitsunoda0511 has posted a story

[DRINKD EITH MT NEE FRIENDS][@.y/n WHERR SRE YOI???][I leave him alone for just a minute…]

user18 replied are your new friends f1 drivers??

user20 replied loving the energy here

user21 replied I know you go crazy in Vegas but I think you’re going a little far…

yourbff replied bitch take a drink for me!

↳y/n oh you know it!

landonorris replied WHERR ARE YOU BESTIE

↳y/n drinks!!

↳landonorris YES BUT WHERR

pierregasly replied calmar where are you?

↳charles_leclerc IM LOIKING FOR MY NEW BEDTFRUEND

↳pierregasly you have a new best friend?

↳charles_leclerc YES HRR NANE IS Y/N AND SHED THE VERY BEDT

maxverstappen1 replied WHAY DID YOI DO WITH Y/N

↳charles_leclerc IM LOOLING FOR HER NOW

↳maxverstappen1 YOI LODT HER??

↳charles_leclerc NOO

↳charles_leclerc MAYBE

user22 replied how do you lose a woman??

user23 replied man how much have you had to drink??

user24 replied who is that??

user25 replied is…is that Liam?? And a girl??

user26 replied now you’re even shorter!!

user27 replied man I’m so jealous right now…

user28 replied what I wouldn’t give to be in Vegas right now…

Private Messages, y/n and yourbff

Private Messages, Yuki and Liam

(Translations — Idiot, How are you so stupid, idiot, lol)

Private Messages, the Grid (Unserious)

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, user, and 4,824,029 others

y/n: had some thoughts, sang some tunes…surprise coming soon!

view all comments

user29: oh my god NOBODY TALK TO ME

user30: this was NOT on my bingo card for the year…

↳user31: it absolutely was not

yourbff: is this about you know who??

↳y/n: shut up?

↳user32: does y/n have a boy now?? liked by yourbff

user33: Surprise? What surprise? What’s happening??

↳user34: 🤞🤞🤞 it’s new music

user35: ok but who is the muse? y/n has talked about how she only writes when she’s been inspired…

↳user36: is it a breakup? has she been seeing someone?

↳user37: not to our knowledge?

charles_leclerc: New music? Without me?

↳user38: Stop. Wait. What? When? Who? Why?

↳y/n: Vegas

↳charles_leclerc: Vegas!

↳user39: Not the pairing or situation I was expecting to come from Vegas…

↳y/n: haha

↳charles_leclerc: …

↳user39: wait what?? What is that?? What’s happening??

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, user, user, and 3,924,103 others

y/n: my new single “Who Are You” is out now!

view all comments

user40: oh my god yes!!

↳user41: I’ve been praying for days like this..

↳user40: big mood!

user42: best birthday present ever!!

user43: ok but this song? slaps? like the best ever?

↳user44: I wanna know who it’s about!

↳user49: Same! The yearning…the confusion…the wishfulness of it…

↳user50: ok but what if that’s the point?

↳user51: what do you mean?

↳user50: maybe y/n had a mysterious guy and she doesn’t actually know who it was?

user52: love this!

↳user53: gonna be the song of the year for real

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landornorris, and 4,822,193 others

y/n: I’m happy to announce I’ll be performing at the F1 75 Live show this February!

view all comments

user54: oh my god yes!!

↳user55: IM SO EXCITED

user56: this is the best news ever!

↳user57: oh the fomo…

charles_leclerc: it’ll be good to see you again!

↳y/n: yes it will!

↳user58: still don’t really understand how this friendship was born…

maxverstappen1: this might actually be interesting…

↳y/n: well hello to you too Mr. Drink Man!

↳maxverstappen1: Ms. Music!

↳user59: this is even more unexpected…

liamlawson30: wait a minute…

DM’s, Liam and y/n

liamlawson30

liked by yukitsunoda0511, lorgansargeant, pierregasly and 492,920 others

liamlawson30: days with you 💙

view all comments

user60: soft launching? in this economy?

user61: what in the world?

yukitsunoda0511: What? Something you want to share with the class?

↳logansargeant: Seriously? Not even a heads up in the gc?

↳liamlawson30: shockingly you aren’t part of my relationship?

↳user62: relationship confirmation!

oscarpiastri: is this what i think it is?

↳landonorris: i think it is!

↳user63: ok but what do you guys know??

↳liamlawson30: generally, nothing

↳oscarpiastri: bold words for someone in your position…

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user and 1,824,240 others

tagged: liamlawson30

f1gossip: Liam is letting out the juicy gossip today — when asked about what races he was looking forward to this year, he mentioned how he liked Vegas although it probably wasn’t going to be as exciting as last year.

view all comments

user64: ok but does anyone remember yuki’s story from last year?

↳user65: No? Why would we?

↳user64: he posted that he lost someone while at Vegas!

↳user65: So you think he lost Liam? And what?

↳user64: well what is Vegas really know for?

↳user65: Do you seriously think he got married in Vegas?

user66: I’m gonna go with the very mundane reason — max won his WDC last year in Vegas…

↳user67: same thoughts here…

user68: idk I think I’m with user64…Liam had the look of a man in love…

↳user69: oh I see the delulu is strong this season…

↳user70: ok but you’re the one who thinks Ferrari is capable of having a perfect strategy?

liamlawson30

liked by y/n, yukitsunoda0511, logansargeant, and 1,284,592 others

tagged: y/n

liamlawson30: a little late but here’s to a honeymoon with you 🥂 💍

view all comments

user71: HONEYMOON?!??

↳user72: What is the Sebastian Vettal is this???

y/n: better late than never!

↳logansargeant: hi! I’m Logan and I’m one of Liam’s best friends. Where did you come from?

↳liamlawson30: go bother her on your own post?

↳liamlawson30: and y/n…better with you than anyone else 💙 liked by y/n

user73: Liam? Is? Romantic?

↳yukitsunoda0511: since when??

↳user74: that’s what we’re trying to figure out!?!

user75: silly season is starting early again this year…

↳user76: this better not be like last years’ silly season — my heart can’t take it..

user77: ok but how did HE pull HER?? liked by yukitsunoda0511, logansargeant

↳user78: asking the real questions here…

y/n

liked by liamlawson30, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 6,273,193 others

tagged: liamlawson30

y/n: all wife’d up! (And we both go down 🥵)

view all comments

user79: I don’t think either pr team is gonna like that caption…

↳user80: who cares about the caption — look at those photos…

liamlawson30: babe really?

↳y/n: 🥵🥵🥵🤤🤤🤤

↳user81: oh these 2 are gonna be my new favorites…

user82: can Liam fight? Like can he fight?

↳logansargeant: no

↳liamlawson30: I can and I will liked by y/n

↳y/n: that’s hot

charles_leclerc: your mysterious Vegas girl is y/n????

↳y/n: awww he told you about me?

↳alex_albon: i mean we did learn about you…

↳logansargeant: some of you did!

↳alex_albon: oops 🙊

user83: did you guys really get married in Vegas??

↳y/n: we did! And we ended with our own half of the marriage certificate so we didn’t even know who we got married too…

↳user84: how even did you find each other?

↳liamlawson30: I saw her at the f1 show and knew she was the one… liked by y/n

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @Lilbitchfromfaraway @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @tukes @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @raizelchrysanderoctavius

411 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 5 months ago

Text

media day shenanigans | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: you are notorious for your interesting takes on media day but alexia just wants one good picture to hang up

warnings: none

notes: new series yall 💪🏾

You bounced through the halls of the training center, Alexia close behind you attempting to rub her headache away. Carla, the social media manager, was waiting at the end of the hall with the rest of the crew filming players on their walk to the locker room.

"Bon dia!" You greeted. "Media day!"

Media day was your favorite day of the season. You had a reputation to upkeep with your media day photos. Each one planned with care, your first year you dressed as a wizard from Slytherin, you second year you dressed as an emo person, and this year was going to be your best on yet.

The only downside of this media day, Alexia was your partner- per the captain's request. Alexia just wanted one good media day photo of you to hang up on the mantle at her Mari's house to go up with her and Alba's pictures, and today was the day.

Your antics began almost immediately after Carla handed her a camera.

"Here," Carla said, thrusting the camera into your hands. "Media team all agreed that we need behind-the-scenes content, and you're the only one who somehow makes chaos look marketable."

"You mean iconic," You corrected, grinning. "You've chosen well, Carla. I won't- nay can't let you down."

Alexia groaned behind you. "Great. As if she needed more encouragement."

You spun, pointing the camera at Alexia. "Say hi to your adoring fans, Ale!"

Alexia waved half-heartedly, her expression deadpan. "Hi. Help me."

You turned the camera on herself as she walked into the interview room, where Ale was already seated, looking poised and professional.

"Welcome to the Estrella Show!" You announced dramatically. "Today's guest is Ale—footballer, fashion icon-ish, and... part-time owl?"

Alexia raised an eyebrow, amused. "Excuse me?"

"Why is your face fixed like that? Like you're about to chirp 'who.'" You cackled and pointed to the reporter, who was trying not to laugh.

The reporter composed herself and smiled warmly. "Alright, ladies, let's dive in. Alexia, what's do you expect of the team this year?"

"The same thing every year. Trying our best, giving 110% every time and constantly improving," Alexia responded.

"Y/n?"

"Me? Oh, easy—vibes. I expect this team to have immaculate vibes. We win? Vibes. We lose? Vibes, but sadder. As long as we're all vibing together, it's a success," You nod, approving of your explanation.

Alexia facepalmed. "Why do I even try?"

"Because you love me," You grinned, suddenly going limp and leaning on Alexia.

The reporter laughed. "Alexia, what's it like partnering with Y/n for Media Day?"

Alexia sighed but couldn't help a small smile. "Exhausting. But... entertaining, I guess. She keeps things interesting."

You gasped in mock offense. "Only 'interesting'? Ale, venga, I'm phenomenal."

The interview proceeded somewhat smoothly—Ale stayed composed despite you trying to "spice things up" by asking Ale to rank her top five weirdest pre-game rituals. Midway through, you panned the camera toward Alexia, who was sitting nearby, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"She's pretending to be annoyed," You whispered to the camera. "But she loves me. Deep down. Very deep down."

The cafeteria was buzzing as the team settled in for a break. You, ever the opportunist, set your camera down on the table at just the right angle. Mapi sat across from Lucy, deeply engaged in a conversation with Ingrid.

You filmed the camera panning over plates of food. "We have here a wild Mapi and if you look closely you can see her famous pasta—delicious, tantalizing, guarded like the crown jewels. But today... today it's mine."

In the background, Alexia's voice could be heard faintly. "Do not start something."

Your eyes gleamed mischievously as you reached out, snagging a bite from Mapi's plate. Nobody noticed—at first. Then another huge bite. And another.

By the time you went for a fourth, Ingrid burst out laughing. "Mapi, are you really not seeing this?"

"What?" Mapi frowned, looking confused as the table burst into laughter as you filmed yourself dramatically chewing.

You feigning innocence. "What's so funny?"

Mapi's eyes narrowed, finally realizing her plate was half-empty. "Estrellita!"

In an instant, you was on your feet, camera in hand as Mapi bolted after you. The chase wound around the cafeteria, chairs and tables screeching as the team laughed and cheered.

You darted around the room, camera in hand, screaming, "THE CROWN JEWELS ARE MINE!"

Later in the afternoon, you and Alexia sat under bright studio lights for their second interview of the day. A staff member handed them a stack of photos, each one zoomed in on a teammate's body part—eyes, hands, or tattoos.

You rubbed your hands together. "Oh, I love this."

The first photo appeared on the monitor: a close-up of a tattooed arm.

Alexia leaned forward. "That's easy. Mapi."

"Correct!" the staffer said.

You groaned. "Ugh, you're no fun, Ale. Let me have a go."

The next image was a zoomed-in ear with a small earring. You squinted dramatically. "Hmm... Ingrid?"

"Wrong," Alexia said smugly. "It's Pina."

"Dang it!" You threw your head back dramatically while Alexia shook her head with a grin.

The next image popped up on the screen—a close-up of someone's knee.

"That's Caro!" You shouted immediately.

Alexia squinted. "That's not Caro. It's... Frido?"

"Wrong," said the host. "It's Ingrid."

"SEE!" You said triumphantly. "You doubt me, but you're wrong."

"So are you," Alexia rolled her eyes as her comment was ignored by the excited teen.

The next image was a zoomed-in elbow.

"Definitely Salma," Alexia said confidently.

"Nope, that's me!" You said, holding up your arm dramatically. "See? I'm an icon."

Alexia muttered something under her breath about needing a transfer to a quieter team.

By the end of the game, Alexia had a comfortable lead, but you declared yourself the "people's champion" anyway.

Finally, it was time for the photos. You stood beside Alexia, camera in hand, narrating her every move.

"And now, dear viewers, the moment you've all been waiting for. The photoshoot!"

When it came time for the pictures, you bided your time, waiting for Alexia to get distracted. Sure enough, while Alexia was chatting with the photographer about lighting, you made your move.

You grabbed a wig that matched Alexia's hair almost perfectly and threw it on, smoothing it into place. Grabbing a jersey with Alexia's number, you turned to the camera Carla had left nearby.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you said in a low voice, imitating Alexia's serious tone, "I am now the captain of this team." You strutted onto the set, striking Alexia's signature intense pose. You'd even managed to replicate Alexia's serious expression.

The real Alexia turned around mid-conversation and froze. "Estrelleta..."

"What are you doing? What are you wearing?"

"I'm you," You declared, striking a pose. "This is my homage to our captain."

The photographers and crew burst into laughter, snapping photos as you leaned dramatically against Alexia, mimicking her every move. You gave your best captainly glare. "Focus, team. This is serious business."

Alexia sighed deeply but couldn't fight the grin tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."

"And you're my partner today," You said, taking off the wig, switching her jersey, and tossing it to Alexia. "Now come on, Capitana. Let's make this photo mantel-worthy for Eli."

#woso x reader #fcb femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x platonic!reader #woso x teen!reader #barca femeni #barca femeni x teen!reader #⋆｡˚ stargirl

507 notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 24 days ago

Note

okay, so, it’s rainy and dark and i’ve got a nice scented candle burning—truly immaculate PEAK cozy vibes, basically, and it just made me think of how some of the older one piece dudes would enjoy spending some nice cozy quality time with an s/o. definitely mihawk, i think, but i’d also be very interested in croc, shanks, and/or smoker, if you have the inclination. love your work, have a great day, thank you for feeding us quality content

DESCRIPTION: Quiet, cosy quality time with them

WARNINGS: none, just fluff. small amount of insecurity in Smoker's

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks, Smoker

WORDS: 1,891

A/N: Thank you for this request! I love the cosy prompts so much and this was so nice to work on. I hope you like what I managed to come up with for this

First fic written with the new laptop. Guys it's such a relief to be able to write without fear it's all going to die and I'll lose everything. Here's some fluff and I hope you all enjoy! 💕

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

MIHAWK

Mihawk thrives in the quiet, he knows the life of a pirate and the fighting will always bring noise and chaos and the constant sound of attacks and the song of his sword slicing through those that he’s deemed his prey. Since founding Cross Guild the noise has only seemed to grow, no thanks to the clown and his rowdy followers. In a way he is in a small part grateful to the increased noise because now in moments like these, in the time he spends with you, he savours the peace so much more. From the shared bathroom he looked up at the sound of the door opening and offered you a small, calm smile when you emerged.

You’d been out on your own mission and had just returned but managed to get caught in the torrential rain on the walk back to the base. After a successful hunt and stretch of time away, the hot water, fresh change of clothes, and being back in your own sanctuary with Mihawk was already working wonders. Immediately you crossed the space and settled on the sofa beside him, curling up against his side and letting out a long content hum. The lazy smile on your lips grew when you felt Mihawk press a tender kiss against the side of your head.

The heat from the shower still clung to your skin and he curled his arm around you, squeezing you just another fraction closer even though you were already as close as you possibly could but still he needed just a little bit more. You were always happy to comply, pressing more and wrapping your arm over his chest and laying your head against him. As the heavy rain fell against the windows you felt your body grow even more relaxed. After letting out a long yawn you rubbed your eyes and focussed on the book in Mihawk’s hand, your mind sharpening slightly to crane you head back enough to look at him.

“Is that one of my books?” You asked with a small smile while Mihawk turned the book to show the cover to you, in false, innocent curiosity.

“It would seem so.” He mused idly, adjusting the book to continue reading while letting you see which part he was at.

“Oh my favourite part’s coming up!” You softly gasped with as much enthusiasm as your sleepy, relaxed body could manage. You looked to Mihawk once more, not surprised to see he was already meeting your gaze. You never knew how it was possible but the sharp, shining gold in his gaze filled you with a reassuring warmth and steadiness. “Will you read to me?”

“Of course I will.” Mihawk’s simple compliance to your request was so soft but made you smile broadly and you settled back down. As Mihawk’s deep, comforting voice began to read to you and fill the room it melded perfectly with the sound of rainfall and pulled you into the purest and strongest feeling of calm and protection. Eventually Mihawk paused in his reading, gaze softening to see you were fast asleep. Gracing another loving kiss against your head Mihawk returned to reading aloud for you to ensure he honoured his promise to you and that you heard your favourite part.

SHANKS

There isn’t much time or opportunity for you and Shanks to enjoy one-on-one quality time where it’s simply just the two of you and didn’t include when you were in bed together. Without fail you’re both surrounded by the crew as you sail, when you fight your enemies, and when you’re settled on an island for the chance to party and resupply. Even on the quieter days on the open water the two of you were not left to your own devices, there would always be someone-usually most of the crew- wanting either of your attentions in some capacity. Neither of you felt annoyed by the dynamic and constant presence of the crew in your free time, both of you were used to it by now. It just meant that when those singular little moments did occur they were embraced and made the most of all the more.

You woke first, curled up on your side with Shanks’ arm curved around you protectively, holding you tight against his chest and his head pressed as close as possible in the curve of your neck. For just a moment as you felt the haze of sleep lift from your relaxed frame you enjoyed the warmth of Shanks’ body and soaked in as much as the peace and quiet as you could of the early morning. You listened keenly to the slow rock of the ship and gentle lapping of water but there was no other sign of life. Then you remembered that you’d docked on an island, so many of the crew had scattered the night before to make the most of all they could see, do, eat and drink so it was correct to assume they found other places on land to lay their heads. Knowing this was a safe harbour, very few remained on board. Which meant…

You blinked and a slow grin spread on your lips as the realisation dawned on you. Ordinarily you would have just laid as long as possible but this was your chance to have time with Shanks without it just being in bed or with the constant chance of interruptions. Slowly you adjusted your position and managed to push yourself up just enough to smile at Shanks, amusement growing when his calm expression immediately shifted into one of childish annoyance. Even asleep your presence was something he was keenly attuned to and the added distance-no matter how small- was felt. “Shanks, wake up.”

“Just five more minutes, love.” Shanks mumbled, trying to pull you back against him again. You let out a soft breathy laugh and leant in just to press a quick kiss against his cheek.

“Shanks,” you sang out pulling back a little more this time, grinning when he pouted and cracked his eyes open. “Listen, no crew.”

“No crew,” Shanks repeated, his eyes sharpening just enough to show you he was waking. You began to inch closer to the edge of the bed, smiling the more Shanks’ expression shifted as he watched your movements. He wasn’t ready to get out of bed just yet and if he was he needed convincing.

“Lucky’s not here to guard the kitchen.” You coaxed him softly and Shanks grinned at the sparkle in your eyes, already anticipating the words forming in your mouth. “Let’s make pancakes!”

With a grin Shanks immediately followed you out of bed and to the empty kitchen. Any time Lucky left his inner sanctum unsupervised you and Shanks took it upon yourselves to show you were capable cooks.

By the time the both of you managed to make an edible batch of pancakes there was flour and batter on your skin and dusted in your hair, and all over the kitchen. With the kitchen looking like a canon ball hit you you and Shanks sat happily together, at peace and smiling, only focussed on the other and already planning what else to do with the limited alone time together before the crew made their presences known again.

SMOKER

Everyone knew Smoker was a gruff, abrasive, typically no nonsense man. If anyone thought lighthearted, soft, calming his face usually wouldn’t be the first thing that came to mind. Smoker knew how he was perceived, he was aware fully of his personality. Which was why it left him confused at times in how it came to be that you reciprocated his feelings and gave him a chance. Even more puzzling to him was that you continued to stay with him, always smiling and enjoying his company. Enjoying him. You were both busy with your constant workloads. Smoker being on long missions more than you meant the quality time together was sparse and when he did have his paperwork caught up on and had a day off, more often than not he was tired. Still you never complained and as Smoker glanced at you as you made coffee for your both, his frown deepened.

You approached the sofa and handed him his coffee, made exactly how he liked it, smiling softly as you settled down to lounge beside him. Smoker immediately adjusted his own position to let you settle your back against his chest. Wordlessly he handed you the morning paper and a pen. This was the routine it seemed, you worked through the crossword and he let himself relax from a long mission. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, the whole thing seemed unfair. Sometimes he barely made conversation with you, especially if the mission had been a long and stressful one. Smoker sighed and dropped his arm to rest loosely around you. You let out a soft hum and lay your head against him more, sipping on your drink and pen absently tapping against the paper as you read over the clues. After a while he spoke up. “Is this okay?”

“Hm?” You asked, turning your head to look at him gently. Then you smiled broadly. “More than okay. You’re very comfy to lean against. You’re like a fluffy, smokey cloud.”

“That’s…reassuring but that’s not what I meant.” Smoker cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment. When he looked back at you again, you’d sat up and turned to face him. Your smile now turned to worry. “I meant is this okay with us? Are you happy that this is how we spend our alone time?”

“What’s wrong with it?” You asked curiously and Smoker felt relief to see your worry had receded now that he had explained himself a little better. “How should it be?”

“Well I don’t know…I just don’t want you missing out on exciting dates like the others seem to constantly talk about.”

“Ah, you’ve been listening to your subordinates again.” You mused with a growing grin. “I think we live exciting enough lives as it is. Getting to just put our feet up and relax? That’s the best, Smoker and it’s made perfect when I have you here with me. I’m happy, are you?”

“Yes, very happy.” Smoker admitted with a small smile pulling at his lips, feeling like a weight had been lifted. With a small nod and satisfied smile you returned to your previous position while Smoker leant back and let his eyes close as the usual tranquility settled over you both again. “Oh, you should know this one: ‘another word for adorable’…What do you think?”

“Cute?” Smoker guessed, cracking an eye open to see you’d craned your head back to look at him with a playful grin.

“Nope…” You laughed, lifting your paper to show you’d already answered the clue, filling the spaces to read ’S-M-O-K-E-R-♡‘

Smoker blinked at the answer and then at you, feeling the tips of his ears heat and tinge a light pink as he quickly grabbed a cushion and lightly hit you on the head with it as your giggles filled the room. He allowed himself a small chuckle of his own as he admitted to himself that yes, the time with you, no matter what it was you did was more than ‘okay.’

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs@sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover

331 notes · View notes

mooningningg · 12 hours ago

Text

"ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴀʙɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ?"

Sukuna, Toji, Nanami, Gojo, Suguru, and Choso.

Genre, Fluff!!! Notes, what a fun request from an anon, I had sooo much fun making this.

★ SUKUNA RYOMEN

He was lounging on the couch, one arm behind his head, the TV playing something he wasn’t watching. His son climbed up beside him, plopped onto his stomach, and asked the forbidden words.

“Daddy? How are babies made?”

Sukuna blinked. “What?”

“Babies,” the kid repeated innocently. “Like… where do they come from? How do they get in tummies?”

He sat up like he’d been electrocuted.

“Who the hell taught you that question?” Sukuna demanded, scowling.

“No one,” his son said with a shrug. “I just thought maybe you’d know.”

Sukuna looked around like he was searching for backup. “Shit. Why the fuck ain’t your mother here for this?”

“Is it a secret?” the kid asked, eyes wide.

Sukuna scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, the kind that ruins childhoods.”

He sighed hard, then muttered, “Fine. Babies are made when—when two people… ugh. Never mind.”

“Do you even know, Daddy?” his son said smugly.

“Course I know! I made you, didn’t I?” Sukuna snapped. Then paused. “Shit, that sounded worse.”

He got up. “Go ask your mother. Or Google. Actually, no, don’t Google. I’ll block the internet.”

When you walked in and asked what was going on, Sukuna pointed at your son and shouted, “Your spawn asked me about reproduction. You deal with it. I’m going outside to scream.”

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

You weren’t home. It was just Toji and his son at the dinner table. Spaghetti night. Sauce on faces. Vibes were immaculate.

Until your kid slurped a noodle and casually asked:

“Dad, how do babies get in mommies’ tummies?”

Toji froze, fork mid-air.

“Uh… what?” he asked, swallowing too fast.

“Like, how was I made?”

Toji looked around. “Shit. I was hoping I’d be dead before this conversation.”

His son tilted his head. “So…?”

“Alright, listen,” Toji muttered, rubbing his face. “There’s a thing called privacy, yeah? And your mom and I—we, uh…”

He trailed off.

His son blinked. “Do you not know either?”

“Don’t get smart with me, I invented you,” Toji grumbled.

Then he leaned forward, voice low.

“Look. When two people love each other, or get bored enough, they… do a thing. A grown-up thing. That ends with nine months of suffering and one hospital bill.”

“Oh,” said his son.

Toji leaned back, relieved—until the boy said, “So like wrestling?”

“…Worse.”

★ KENTO NANAMI

He was reading the paper when his daughter padded into the room and tugged on his sleeve.

“Papa?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him, serious as a heart attack. “How are babies made?”

Nanami blinked slowly.

He folded the paper with surgeon-like precision. Set it down. Cleared his throat.

“I see.”

His daughter waited, eyes wide.

“Well,” he said, straightening his tie despite being at home, “When two adults love each other very much, they share a special moment. That moment creates life.”

His daughter nodded thoughtfully.

“And how does that moment work?”

Nanami stared into the void.

You walked in just in time to hear him say, “—and that’s why you’ll learn biology when you’re older.”

You raised a brow. “What did she ask?”

“She asked how babies are made,” Nanami said plainly. “And I gave her a legally sound, age-appropriate, emotionally distant answer.”

“…So you avoided it?”

“I restructured it.”

★ GOJO SATORU

“Dad, how are babies made?”

Gojo choked on his juice box.

You both stared at him as he sputtered.

“Where—where did that come from? Who put you up to this? Was it Nanami? This feels like a Nanami thing.”

“Just tell me!” your child whined.

Gojo held up a finger, suddenly Very Serious. “Okay. But only because I love you and I don’t want you to learn from the internet.”

He bent down to their level. “Babies are made when two adults really love each other. Or when they make a huge mistake. Either or.”

You smacked his shoulder. “Satoru—”

“I’m kidding!” he laughed. “Okay, for real—when two people kiss real hard, and cuddle super close, a magic stork comes from the clouds and—”

“Liar,” your kid frowned.

Gojo clutched his chest. “Wounded! My own child!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll handle this.”

He grinned. “Please do. I'm sweating.”

★ GETO SUGURU

It was quiet. Too quiet. Suguru was sipping tea, reading peacefully, when your daughter crawled into his lap.

“Daddy?”

He hummed. “Yes, darling?”

“How are babies made?”

Suguru blinked.

Set the tea down. Smiled politely. “You know… I think that’s a question best saved for when you’re a bit older.”

“But I wanna know now,” she pouted.

He tilted his head. “Alright. Well… there’s a seed. A very special one. That’s kept safely in a… garden.”

You walked in right as he said that.

“A garden?” you repeated.

“It’s a metaphor,” he said, not missing a beat.

Your daughter squinted. “So you planted a seed in Mommy’s tummy?”

Suguru smiled. “Exactly.”

You: “Don’t teach our daughter flower sex.”

Suguru: “I panicked.”

★ CHOSO KAMO

He was lying on the floor with your kid watching cartoons when the question dropped like a bomb.

“Dad, how are babies made?”

Choso blinked slowly. “Huh?”

“I mean… where did I come from?”

He sat up, thinking hard. “Okay. You ever seen cake batter?”

Your child blinked. “What?”

��So like, Mommy and I are the ingredients. But there’s mixing involved. Stirring. Heat. A whole mess.”

“Did you bake me?!”

Choso snorted. “Kinda.”

You peeked in from the kitchen. “Choso!”

He turned. “I’m making it fun!”

Your child gasped. “Am I a cupcake?”

“More like a spicy muffin,” Choso said proudly.

You sighed. “I’ll buy a book.”

192 notes · View notes

nameless-jamie · 5 months ago

Note

✨💖 The vibes of your writing are immaculate. And I love your series and the new chapters. Would you ever write about an anxious/ shy reader?

Blush

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! shy receptionist reader

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Are you ready for a looooong one? Thank you for the request! I had a whole field-day writing this because I myself am pretty shy in real life. That's why it is veeery long. I actually also had another few paragraphs of the morning after their date, but I edited it out because I guess it would've been too long.

The AFC Richmond front desk was Y/N’s safe space. She had a whole routine. Come in early, set up at the front desk, answer calls, and avoid unnecessary conversations. She liked her job as a receptionist—AFC Richmond had always felt like a family, even if she sometimes felt like the quiet cousin at the reunion. She had her friends, though: Will, the ever-cheerful kit man, Roy Kent, who, for some reason, had taken a liking to her despite his usual grumpy demeanor and of course Keeley!

Most people in the club were kind enough to respect that she wasn’t the most talkative person, even though it is literally her job to greet people.

Jamie Tartt was not most people.

Jamie was… different. Not in the way Roy was—gruff but secretly soft. Not in the way Ted Lasso was—easygoing and goofy. Jamie was loud, confident, and impossible to ignore. And worst of all, he had somehow decided she was his new favorite person to talk to.

“Alright, love?”

She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. That familiar, cocky voice sent a nervous jolt straight through her. Slowly, she lifted her head, only to find Jamie leaning against her desk, arms crossed, signature smirk in place. It was too early in the morning for that level of handsomeness. Yup, Y/N had a crush on Jamie since she started working here. But, oh no, she would never make a move or even show it.

He grinned. “Hi, Jamie,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “C’mon, you gotta give me more than that. Thought we were mates by now.”

Mates. Right. Because that was a normal way to describe their dynamic—Jamie showing up at her desk every day, teasing her until she was a flustered mess, then walking away like it was just another training session.

Y/N cleared her throat, fingers tightening on her pen. “Do you… need something?”

Jamie tilted his head. “Nah. Just here to check in on my favorite receptionist.”

She bit her lip. “I’m the only receptionist.”

“That’s what makes it so easy.” He winked. “Just wanted to see you.”

God, he was relentless. And it wasn’t just the flirting—it was how easy he made it look, how effortlessly charming he was. Her face went hot instantly, and she ducked her head, pretending to be very interested in the email she had already finished.

Every time he saw her, he had some new way to fluster her, whether it was winking at her from across the hallway, complimenting her dress, or just plain staring at her until she got nervous.

It wasn’t fair. He was a world-class footballer, and she was… well, the receptionist.

Before she could figure out how to respond, Will the kitman appeared, grinning. “Oh, is this the daily ‘Jamie makes Y/N blush’ session? Should I be taking bets?”

“Shut up, Will,” she mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

Jamie, completely unfazed, smirked. “You should. I’d win every time.”

Roy walked by just then, glancing at the scene before stopping. He squinted at Jamie, then looked at Y/N, who was still avoiding eye contact.

“What the fuck is goin’ on here? Is the prick bothering you?”

“Actually...Jamie’s bullying me,” Y/N blurted out and pointed at the latter, because she found it funny how Jamie shrunk in Roy's presence. She can be a tease if she wants to.

Jamie clutched his chest like he's been shot. “Bullying? Me? Love, I’m flirting. If I was bullying ya, you’d be crying.”

“I don't like any of you, but you,” Roy jabbed a finger at Jamie. “Quit makin’ her uncomfortable, Tartt.”

Jamie held up his hands in mock surrender. “She’s not uncomfortable. Are ya, love?”

Y/N hated that the question made her heart race. He was looking at her like she was the only person in the room, like her answer actually mattered.

“No! I mean—well—I—I mean, it’s fine,” she mumbled.

Jamie grinned like she had just told him she loved him. “See? She likes me.” Roy groaned.

Roy let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re both fuckin’ idiots.” Then he jabbed a finger at Jamie. “Quit pissin’ her off.”

“Never,” Jamie shot back cheerfully.

Roy muttered something under his breath and stomped off.

Will snickered. “Roy’s gonna end up chaperoning your first date at this rate.”

Y/N let out a strangled noise. “There is no first date!”

Jamie, though, just smirked. “Not yet.” Then he winked and strolled off, leaving her an absolute, blushing mess at the front desk.

The next few days were worse.

Ever since Jamie’s little not yet comment, Y/N had been on high alert. She tried to convince herself that he was just joking, just messing with her like he always did. But then he started upping his game.

It wasn’t enough that he stopped by her desk every morning—no, now he had to wink at her across the hallway, greet her with a Good mornin’, love like he was starring in some kind of rom-com, and worst of all, he started waiting for her after work.

The first time it happened, she thought it was a coincidence.

“Oi, you’re taking really long,” Jamie said, leaning against the front doors of the clubhouse, arms crossed as she finally stepped outside.

She blinked. “What… are you doing here?”

“Waitin’ for ya, obviously,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “S’not safe for a pretty little thing like you to walk alone.”

Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet. “I—I always walk alone.”

Jamie frowned like this was a deeply troubling fact. “Well, that’s fuckin’ tragic, innit?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Colin and Isaac, who where the last to leave besides the locker room, grinned. “Ooooh, bodyguard Jamie.”

Jamie smirked. “Damn right.”

“You’re not my bodyguard. He's really not.” Y/N muttered in her soft voice, slinging her bag around her shoulder.

Jamie only grinned wider. “Nah, but I could be.”

Colin gave her a pointed look. “You should just let him walk you home. You know he’s not gonna give up.”

Y/N sighed. They were both right—Jamie Tartt was nothing if not persistent.

So, against her better judgment, she let Jamie walk her home.

And then he did it again. And again.

And again.

By the end of the week, it was just a part of her routine, like he had wormed his way in without her even realizing. He’d meet her at the doors, hands in his pockets, waiting for her like he had all the time in the world. They’d talk, mostly about silly things—Jamie complaining about Roy, Y/N teasing him about his shoe obsession, Jamie trying to make her laugh.

And she did laugh. More than she had in a long time.

Which was exactly why it was terrifying.

Because Jamie Tartt was flirty, and charming, and kind, and so out of her league that it was almost funny.

And yet…

She caught him looking at her sometimes. Not in the way most guys did, not like she was just another girl to conquer. It was softer, something she couldn’t quite place. Like he actually liked being around her.

Which was ridiculous. Right?

She was still trying to make sense of it all when, one afternoon, the teasing from the team finally reached its peak.

She was organizing paperwork at her desk when Dani Rojas, Sam Obisanya, and Colin strolled past.

“Sooo, Jamie and the receptionist,” Dani said in a sing-song voice.

Y/N froze. Oh no.

Colin grinned. “Yup, they’d be cute together.”

“I think they are already together,” Sam added thoughtfully.

Y/N choked on absolutely nothing. “Uhm- No actually we are not together.”

Dani gasped. “But he walks you home every night!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

Sam and Colin exchanged a knowing look.

“But you like him,” Colin said, pointing at her.

“No, I don’t.”

“You do,” Sam said. “And he definitely likes you.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but then—

“I definitely like who?”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

The universe hated her. That was the only explanation for why Jamie Tartt had appeared at the exact worst moment, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Dani beamed. “We were just talking about how you and Y/N like each other.”

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t even blink. He just turned to her, a slow, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I mean, I do.” he said, then turned to her. “That true, love, you like me?”

Y/N clenched her jaw, face burning. “I don't like any of you.” She mumbled.

Colin grinned. “That’s not a no.”

Jamie chuckled, eyes locked on her. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll admit it eventually.”

And then, just like always, he winked and walked off, leaving her to suffer.

Dani patted her shoulder sympathetically and ran out the door. “You should just date him.”

“I should just quit,” she muttered to herself.

But we all know she wouldn’t.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t really want to.

Y/N had two choices this next week:

Continue pretending that Jamie Tartt wasn’t blatantly flirting with her every single day.

Accept that she was completely, undeniably screwed.

She tried to go with Option 1. She really did. But then Jamie started making it impossible.

It wasn’t just the daily morning greetings anymore. Now, he even brought her coffee.

“Dunno what ya drink, so I got three different kinds”

He sat across from her at lunch even when she definitely did not invite him, and—worst of all—kept finding excuses to touch her.

A light hand on her shoulder when he walked past. A nudge of his knee against hers when they sat near each other. Once, when she had been carrying a heavy box of paperwork, he had taken it right out of her hands, smirking at her grumbled protests.

It was driving her insane.

She was still overthinking all of it when she got to work one morning and found Jamie already there, leaning against her desk like he had nothing better to do.

She frowned. “Why are you here before me?”

Jamie grinned. “Missed ya, didn’t I?”

Her brain short-circuited. “You—what?”

Jamie just shrugged like he hadn’t just sent her into cardiac arrest.

“I have missed you, did I not." he repeated himself doing his best to talk accent-free, as if she didn't understand him the first time.

"Also, I might’ve left my headphones in the gym. But mostly the first thing.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “You… are insufferable.”

“Yeah, but I assume you love it.”

She did not. Except—okay, maybe she didn’t hate it. And maybe, just maybe, she had started to enjoy their little routine. Fuck, she loved it.

Which was exactly why it was so unfair that Roy Kent had to go and ruin everything.

Because of course, right as Jamie was giving her one of those stupid flirty smirks, Roy appeared out of nowhere like a grumpy, swearing bat signal.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Y/N groaned. “Roy, Hi! Jamie was just—”

“No,” Roy cut her off, pointing aggressively between her and Jamie. “I cannot watch this anymore.”

Jamie blinked. “Watch what?”

Roy let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “This. The fuckin’ pining. The flirting. The lookin’ at each other like a couple of lovesick puppies.”

Y/N’s soul left her body. “We do not do that.”

“You absolutely do,” Roy grumbled pointing at Y/N. “ You're doin' it right fucking now! It’s disgustin’.”

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t even pretend to be offended. He just raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “So, you have been lookin’ at me?”

“I—no!”

Roy groaned. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie said, laughing as he held up his hands. “I get it. You think we should just shag and get it over with.”

Y/N choked. “Jamie!”

Roy looked physically ill. “That is not what I’m sayin’.”

Jamie smirked. “So, you want me to take her on a proper date, then.”

Roy stared at him like he was debating whether or not to commit actual murder.

“I hate you,” Roy muttered. “But yeah, you’re both bein’ fuckin’ stupid, so someone’s gotta do somethin’ about it.”

Jamie turned back to Y/N, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You hear that, love? Roy Kent’s givin’ us his blessing.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Roy let out another long-suffering sigh and turned to leave. “Just sort it out before I retire, yeah?”

Once he was gone, Y/N peeked up at Jamie, who was still smirking at her like she was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen.

“You do like me,” Jamie said smugly.

She groaned. “I am going to throw myself into the Thames.”

Jamie just grinned. “Nah, you won’t.”

Y/N didn’t know how it happened. It was the day after the incident.

One second, Jamie was teasing her at the front desk like usual, and the next—

“So, what time should I pick you up tomorrow?”

She blinked. “What?”

Jamie smirked. “Our date, love. Thought we should make it official, yeah?”

Official. As if this wasn’t already the most humiliatingly obvious crush in all of AFC Richmond. As if half the team hadn’t already been placing bets on when Jamie would finally get his act together and ask her out.

She swallowed hard. “You’re… serious?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Obviously. Been serious since the day I met ya.”

Her brain short-circuited.

“Um,” she said intelligently.

Jamie’s smirk softened into something… gentler. “Look, if you don’t wanna, that’s alright. I can handle rejection. Probably. I actually never been rejected,” He grinned. “But I reckon we’d have a good time.”

She was so screwed.

“…Seven?” she squeaked out.

Jamie beamed. “Seven’s perfect.”

And that was how Y/N found herself sitting across from Jamie Tartt at a very nice restaurant, wondering how she ended up here.

Jamie, to his credit, was being ridiculously sweet. No teasing, no cocky comments—just full-blown, charmingly attentive Jamie.

He pulled out her chair for her. He asked her about her day (and actually listened). He even gave her his jacket when she shivered, despite insisting she was fine.

But now, as she stared at the menu, her anxiety was creeping in.

The restaurant was a bit fancier than she was used to. And while she technically knew how to read a menu, the pressure of making a decision in front of Jamie was immense.

She didn’t want to pick something stupid. Didn’t want to mispronounce anything. Didn’t want to hold up the waiter.

So, when the server came over, she panicked and just pointed at something random.

The problem? It was not what she wanted.

She realized it too late, eyes widening as the waiter scribbled down the order and walked off.

Jamie noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “I… I meant to order something else.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

She swallowed. “I—I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Jamie’s face softened.

“Babe,” he said, voice low and warm, “you’re never a bother.”

Before she could even process that, Jamie waved the waiter back over without hesitation.

“Hey, mate,” Jamie said easily. “Think we got the wrong order—she actually wanted the pasta.”

The waiter nodded, jotted it down, and walked away without a fuss.

Y/N, meanwhile, wanted to melt into the floor. “I could’ve just eaten the other thing…”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. If you want pasta, you get pasta.”

She bit her lip. “I just—I don’t like making a fuss.”

Jamie leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied her.

“I get it,” he said. “But you don’t gotta be scared with me, yeah? I like lookin’ out for ya.”

Her heart did something stupid.

“…Okay,” she whispered.

Jamie grinned. “Good.”

And the thing was—he meant it.

All night, he made sure she was comfortable. He didn’t rush her when she had her shy moments, didn’t tease when she took a little longer to answer. Instead, he just smiled at her, soft and patient, like this—like her—was exactly where he wanted to be.

By the time the check came, Y/N had stopped second-guessing everything.

Because Jamie liked her, exactly as she was.

And maybe—just maybe—she was finally starting to believe it.

Jamie insisted on walking her home after the date.

“You know I always do that, love,” he had said when she tried to protest. “Can’t have ya gettin’ kidnapped, can I?”

She had rolled her eyes, but she didn’t fight him on it.

So now, they were strolling through the quiet streets, their hands occasionally brushing as they walked. Every time it happened, Y/N felt like she was about to combust, but Jamie acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “best date you’ve ever been on, yeah?”

Y/N smiled to herself. “You sound confident.”

Jamie smirked. “Well, obviously. I planned the whole thing, didn’t I?”

She laughed softly. “Alright, I’ll admit it—it was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jamie grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah? Who knew I was a proper romantic?”

“You are,” she murmured, half to herself.

Jamie glanced at her, his smirk faltering into something softer. His voice dropped. “Careful, love. Keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to kiss ya.”

Her breath caught.

Jamie must’ve noticed, because his smirk came back—smaller now, more teasing than cocky. He nudged her shoulder with his. “Relax, I'm just joking, yeah? Not gonna do anything you’re not ready for.”

That was the thing about Jamie—he flirted, teased, pushed just enough to make her heart race, but never too far. He knew her limits, never made her feel like she had to do anything just because it was expected.

She liked that about him. Really liked that about him.

Maybe that’s why, as they reached her front door, she hesitated.

Jamie stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Guess this is goodnight, then.”

She nodded, suddenly nervous.

Jamie chuckled. “You’re lookin’ at me like you wanna say somethin’.”

She swallowed hard, gathering every ounce of courage she had. “I just… wanted to thank you. For tonight.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Was my pleasure, love.”

She took a shaky breath. “It really was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jamie’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

And then, before she could overthink it—before she could let the nerves ruin it—she leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

It was quick, just a press of her lips against his, but Jamie froze like she had just short-circuited his entire brain.

By the time she pulled back, her face was burning. “Um. Goodnight.”

She turned, reaching for her keys, but before she could even get the door open, Jamie’s voice stopped her.

“Oi.”

She turned hesitantly.

Jamie was grinning. Beaming.

“That was—” he said, voice warm and full of love, “you are full of surprises.”

And with that, he gave her one last lingering look before stepping back, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked away.

Y/N stood there for a moment, heart racing, before slipping inside and leaning against the door.

She had kissed Jamie Tartt.

And by the look on his face—he was definitely going to kiss her again.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #afc richmond #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #roy kent #sam obisanya

182 notes · View notes