#after I'd planned for a quick study | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

levandright · 6 months ago

Text

And oh, how I'd love to go Paris again

pairing : jake x f!reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : non-idol au, love at first sight, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers(not stated but heavily implied), tension, they're in love your honor, fate reference/mention, can be read as either hs or uni au its up to you ୨ৎ word count : 5.9k

synopsis. you're overwhelmed with your school finals close by, while you are taking a short break from your studying, you couldn't help but reminisce about your precious memories in the city of love when a song that reminds you of your time in paris play. ୨ৎ lev notes : the class trip may not be 100% accurate but its for the plot okay... i had to make it inspired by the 1975 cause i love them too much not to do so + it fits with how i literally have them as my top artist this year :3 (i started writing this days earlier before spotify wrapped lol) also i literally had paris on loop for like 7 hours in total while writing this... anyways hope y'all like this cause it took a lot of brain power to write it, trust i will post what the heart wants as soon as i finish a surprise fic im working on rn ꒰⠀for @sugarikiz event 'ʏᴏᴜʀ ℰ𝓎ℯ𝓈 ᴏɴʟʏ ☁︎.𖥔 ' ꒱

you're at your school's library, cramming for your upcoming finals. with a little over a week to prepare for months' worth of lessons across multiple subjects, the pressure is taking quite a toll on you. two cups of coffee sit beside your laptop, one already empty. even though you've been studying for less than 40 minutes, you already feel the urge to down all the caffeine left in front of you just to keep from dozing off again.

sigh, 'just gotta finish this whole powerpoint. then, i can finally relax for a bit' you silently hype yourself out. with the reward of a break for an hour of studying, you quickly go through the entire lesson in a flash.

grabbing the not empty cup of coffee, you take a much needed sip to keep yourself awake for more hours of studying.

a while later, you're stretching in your seat after having finished with that specific powerpoint. 'finally i can take a break' you think to yourself

as you sit, and stare at your laptop's screen. contimplating on what to do to pass time, you decide to play music to relax yourself.

clicking the shuffle button on your playlist. you put your headphones on and rest your head on your arms, as the familiar tune of paris by the 1975 play.

the music pulls you into a memory, that unforgettable class trip to paris.

꒰ and oh, how i'd love to go paris again ꒱

you’re on the bus, the city outside the window slowly coming to life. everyone in your class is chatting excitedly, pointing out landmarks and planning what to do when you finally get off. the eiffel tower is getting closer, its towering frame making your heart race with excitement.

“can you believe we’re actually here?” keeho says, leaning over to nudge your shoulder. his energy is infectious, and you can’t help but smile.

hyunjin, sitting across the aisle, snaps a quick photo through the window. “this already feels unreal,” he says, grinning. “i’m going to fill my camera roll today.”

the bus comes to a stop, and your teacher announces a short break to explore the area. the three of you quickly stick together as everyone spills out onto the cobblestone street. paris feels alive—the air smells like fresh bread and coffee, and the chatter of locals blends with the hum of passing cars.

“we need food. let’s find a café!” keeho declares, already marching toward a row of cozy-looking places with outdoor seating.

you follow, laughing as hyunjin drags you by the wrist to keep up. he’s scanning every building, taking quick snapshots of anything that catches his eye. “wait, stand here,” he says suddenly, pulling out his phone to snap a candid photo of you and keeho in front of a flower shop.

“are you going to take pictures the whole trip?” you tease.

“obviously,” hyunjin replies, unbothered. “someone has to document how good we look in paris.”

eventually, the three of you settle at a small café. the waiter brings over menus, and you all take a moment to soak it all in. keeho orders a slice of cake, hyunjin gets a croissant and coffee, and you decide on a simple baguette sandwich.

“okay, this is officially the best food i’ve ever had,” keeho says after his first bite.

“it’s just cake,” hyunjin says, rolling his eyes but stealing a forkful anyway.

you laugh as they bicker, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. sitting there with your best friends, surrounded by the magic of paris, everything feels perfect.

after finishing your meals, you and your friends head back to the bus to regroup with your class. the energy is buzzing as everyone talks about their plans for the rest of the day. your teacher announces that the next stop is a famous museum nearby.

the museum is grand, with high ceilings and beautiful architecture that makes you feel small in the best way. inside, it’s quieter, with your classmates dispersing into smaller groups.

hyunjin immediately pulls out his camera again. “this lighting is perfect,” he mutters, snapping a photo of a sculpture in the corner.

keeho rolls his eyes with a smirk. “he’s gonna be like this the whole time.”

“he’s consistent, at least,” you joke, earning a laugh from keeho as the two of you start wandering through the exhibits together.

the artwork is stunning—paintings that feel alive, sculptures that seem to breathe. you and keeho take your time strolling through the halls, sharing your thoughts on each piece.

“i don’t get this one,” keeho says, staring at an abstract painting.

“it’s open to interpretation,” you reply.

“so… the artist spilled paint everywhere?”

you nudge his arm. “be serious!”

keeho grins but then glances around. “hey, i’m gonna find the bathroom real quick. don’t get lost.”

“sure, sure,” you say, waving him off.

as he walks away, you wander aimlessly, letting your feet carry you through the museum’s winding halls. you stop to admire a large painting of a serene countryside when, out of nowhere, you bump into someone.

“oh, i’m so sorry!” you blurt out, taking a step back.

the stranger turns to you, and your words catch in your throat. he’s tall, with warm eyes and a gentle smile. his presence feels calm, yet somehow magnetic.

“no worries,” he says, his voice warm and calm, with a hint of an australian accent you catch right away. “are you okay?”

you nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “y-yeah, i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

he chuckles lightly, brushing it off. “happens to the best of us.”

he pauses for a moment, as if waiting to see if you’ll say anything else. you manage a small smile. “thanks for being so nice about it. i’m—uh…” before you can finish, keeho’s voice rings out from somewhere nearby.

“hey, y/n! where’d you go?”

the spell is broken, and you glance over your shoulder to see keeho waving at you. turning back to the stranger, you offer an apologetic smile. “that’s my friend. i should go.”

“of course,” he says, still smiling. “take care.”

you hurry off toward keeho, your heart still racing. as you rejoin your friends, you glance back briefly to see the stranger walking away. something about the moment lingers, a small spark you can’t quite explain.

after regrouping with keeho and hyunjin, the three of you continue exploring the museum. hyunjin has finally tucked his camera away, much to keeho’s relief.

“didn’t think i’d ever see the day you’d stop taking pictures,” keeho teases.

“i’m just saving space for later,” hyunjin retorts, grinning. “besides, i want to actually enjoy this.”

the three of you move through the museum, pausing at different exhibits. keeho offers more of his hilarious “critiques,” while hyunjin points out details you might’ve missed. for a while, it feels like time doesn’t exist, just the three of you soaking in the beauty of parisian art.

after some time, you excuse yourself to find the restroom. as you leave, keeho calls after you, “don’t get lost again!”

“i won’t!” you call back with a laugh, shaking your head.

once you step out of the restroom, you turn a corner and nearly bump into someone again.

“oh—sorry!” you start, looking up. and there he is.

the boy from earlier.

“you again,” he says with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“yeah, me again,” you reply, feeling your face heat up.

“i guess we’re just destined to keep running into each other,” he jokes, his tone light and teasing.

you laugh softly. “seems like it. i never got your name earlier.”

“jake,” he says, extending his hand. “and you?”

“y/n,” you say, shaking his hand. his grip is gentle but firm, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“nice to officially meet you, y/n,” jake says, his smile widening.

the two of you start chatting, the conversation flowing easily. he tells you he’s here with his own group, visiting from another school all the way from australia, and you share a little about your own trip. his voice is calm and steady, and his subtle humor keeps making you giggle.

at one point, he gestures toward a nearby painting. “what do you think of this one? please don’t say the artist spilled paint everywhere.”

you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “no, no, that’s keeho’s specialty. i actually think it’s kind of beautiful, in a chaotic way.”

“good answer,” jake says, grinning.

before you know it, the sound of footsteps and familiar voices echo down the hall. “y/n! where are you?” keeho calls, his voice unmistakable.

you glance in the direction of the sound, then back at jake, your smile faltering slightly. “that’s my friends. i should go.”

jake nods, his expression soft. “of course. it was nice talking to you, y/n.”

“you too, jake,” you say, stepping away reluctantly. as you walk toward your friends, you can’t help but glance back once. jake is still standing there, giving you a small wave.

you rejoin keeho and hyunjin, who immediately start teasing you for taking so long. but as the three of you continue exploring the museum, you can’t stop thinking about jake. and though you don’t say it out loud, you quietly hope that fate will bring you together again.

it’s been a day since the museum, but your thoughts keep circling back to jake. his kind smile, the way he made you laugh, and that unmistakable australian accent—it’s all stuck in your head.

after dinner with your classmates at the hotel, the buzz of chatter feels overwhelming. you decide to step outside for some fresh air, hoping a quiet walk will help clear your mind.

the streets of paris are calmer at this hour, bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights. a small park just down the road catches your eye, and you wander toward it, settling onto a bench beneath a tree.

you sit there for a while, letting your thoughts drift. the cool breeze carries the faint scent of flowers, and the distant hum of city life feels oddly soothing.

suddenly, you feel someone sit down beside you. you glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

it’s him.

jake.

the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

he notices your surprise and gives you that same warm smile. “hey,” he says casually. “fancy seeing you here.”

you blink, struggling to process the coincidence. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he says with a light chuckle, leaning back against the bench. “i was out for a walk, saw this park, and thought i’d sit for a bit. didn’t expect to run into you again.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “paris must be smaller than we think.”

“or fate has a funny way of working,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes sincere.

the conversation flows naturally from there. he asks about your class trip, and you tell him about your visit to the museum and all the places your group plans to see next. he shares stories about his own class, laughing about his friends’ antics and the moments that make the trip memorable.

“you’re telling me someone actually fell asleep in front of the mona lisa?” you ask, barely holding back laughter.

“yup. full-on snoring,” jake replies, grinning. “the security guard didn’t know whether to wake him or leave him there.”

the two of you laugh together, the sound blending into the quiet of the park.

after a while, jake stands up. “wait here,” he says, his tone playful but mysterious.

“where are you going?” you ask, watching him walk toward a nearby food stand.

“you’ll see,” he calls back over his shoulder.

a few minutes later, he returns, holding two neatly wrapped chocolate crepes. he hands one to you with a grin. “figured this would make the moment even better.”

you take it, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “thanks, jake. this is perfect.”

as you both sit there, enjoying the crepes and chatting under the parisian sky, you can’t help but feel like this moment is something straight out of a dream.

the days in paris pass like a blur, filled with sightseeing, laughter, and the magic of simply being in the city. but the most unexpected highlight of your trip that osn’t on the schedule—is jake.

you can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you keep running into him. these little moments have become the thing you secretly look forward to the most.

────୨ৎ────

you’re standing at the counter of a small café, debating between ordering a croissant or a pain au chocolat. the decision feels monumental, and you’re entirely lost in thought when a voice interrupts you.

“go for the pain au chocolat,” jake says, appearing beside you with an easy smile.

you blink, startled at first, before breaking into a grin. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“getting breakfast,” he says, holding up a cup of coffee and a bag. “didn’t think i’d see you again so soon.”

“neither did i,” you reply, chuckling. “are you always this lucky, or is paris just this small?”

“maybe both,” he teases. “need help deciding?”

“i was leaning toward the croissant, but now i feel like i have to trust your judgment.”

“always trust the chocolate,” he says, nodding sagely.

you laugh and order the pain au chocolat. as you wait, the two of you chat, his humor making the simple café feel like the best spot in paris.

────୨ৎ────

a couple of days later, you’re wandering through a mall with keeho and hyunjin, trying to find souvenirs to take back home. keeho is busy debating between two scarves for his mom, and hyunjin is glued to his phone, looking up recommendations.

you drift toward a small kiosk filled with handmade trinkets, running your fingers over delicate keychains.

“don’t tell me you’re buying one of those cheesy eiffel tower keychains,” a familiar voice says behind you.

you spin around, your heart skipping a beat. “jake!”

he’s holding a bag of his own, filled with souvenirs. “fancy meeting you here.”

“again,” you add with a laugh.

keeho spots jake and gives you a knowing look, while hyunjin just raises an eyebrow before wandering off. you try to ignore them and focus on jake instead.

“what’s in the bag?” you ask, nodding toward his purchases.

“just some stuff for my family,” he says. “and maybe a keychain or two.”

you laugh. “i thought you were against cheesy keychains.”

“only when other people buy them,” he says, his grin mischievous.

────୨ৎ────

the park has become your little escape, a quiet place to think and reflect. you’re sitting on the same bench as before, lost in thought, when you hear footsteps approach.

“do you have a permanent spot here, or are you waiting for me?” jake’s voice breaks through your daydream.

you turn, smiling as he sits down beside you. “maybe both.”

“lucky me, then,” he says, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “so, what’s on your mind today?”

you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. “just… thinking about how much i’ve enjoyed this trip. and how strange it’ll feel to leave.”

jake nods, his expression softening. “yeah, i get that. it’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”

“yeah,” you say quietly, and for a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

that evening. your teacher gathers the entire class in the lobby of the hotel to deliver the news.

“you’ve got two days left to enjoy paris before we head back home,” she says. “make sure you start packing your things and grab any last-minute souvenirs.”

the room fills with murmurs of excitement and relief. most of your classmates are thrilled to return to canada, and part of you is, too. but as you head back to your room, a bittersweet feeling settles in your chest.

two more days. that’s all the time you have left before you have to say goodbye to jake.

you don’t know why the thought stings so much, but it does. and now, more than ever, you hope for one more chance to see him.

────୨ৎ────

the second-to-last day in paris feels like a blur of excitement and nostalgia. you, keeho, and hyunjin make it a mission to visit as many places as possible, squeezing every last drop out of your remaining time in the city.

as the three of you step into the vintage store, you're greeted by the faint smell of aged leather and a mix of retro music playing softly in the background. the shop is packed with everything from old records to racks of vintage clothes and shelves lined with random knick-knacks.

“okay,” keeho announces, clapping his hands together. “this is the place to find hidden gems.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “hidden gems or overpriced junk?”

“you just don’t have the vision,” keeho shoots back, already digging through a rack of jackets.

you wander toward a glass display case near the counter, something catching your eye—a vintage digicam. it’s small, sleek, and looks like it’s been well cared for. you kneel to get a closer look, curiosity piqued.

“hey, what’d you find?” keeho asks, appearing beside you with a leopard-print scarf draped around his neck.

you point to the camera. “a digicam. looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

keeho leans in, inspecting it. “very cool. are you gonna get it?”

you hesitate. “i don’t know… do you think it still works?”

“only one way to find out,” hyunjin says, suddenly appearing on your other side. he gestures to the shop owner, a kind-looking older man, who unlocks the case and hands you the camera.

you examine it closely, turning it over in your hands. the lens looks clean, and the buttons feel intact.

“how much?” you ask the shop owner.

“twenty euros,” he replies with a smile.

keeho gasps dramatically. “a steal! you have to get it.”

“yeah, before someone else does,” hyunjin agrees, casually flipping through a rack of shirts.

you laugh at their enthusiasm and decide to go for it. “alright, fine. i’m buying it.”

as you hand over the cash, keeho strikes another pose with the scarf. “what do you think? parisian chic, or should i stick to my usual?”

“stick to your usual,” hyunjin says without looking up.

keeho sighs, draping the scarf back onto the rack. “you two have no appreciation for drama.”

you test out the digicam, snapping a quick photo of keeho mid-pout. the image pops up on the tiny screen, surprisingly crisp for something so old.

“perfect,” you say, showing him the photo.

keeho grins. “okay, maybe you do have an eye for the dramatic.”

hyunjin wanders over with an oversized sweater, holding it up against himself. “thoughts?”

keeho wrinkles his nose. “are you auditioning for a grandpa role?”

“i like it,” you say, defending hyunjin’s choice.

“thank you,” hyunjin replies, smugly tossing the sweater over his arm.

the three of you spend a bit longer in the shop, goofing around and trying on random hats, sunglasses, and jackets. you snap more photos with your new camera—keeho wearing an old captain’s hat, hyunjin attempting to look cool in aviator sunglasses, and a candid shot of the two of them laughing together.

by the time you leave, the bag with your new camera swings lightly at your side, and your heart feels full. the memory of this moment—just you and your friends being unapologetically yourselves—already feels like a keepsake all its own.

at a small crêperie, hyunjin’s crêpe is covered in whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

“how are you even holding that without it falling apart?” you ask, staring at the overloaded treat in wonder.

hyunjin shrugs. “skill,” he says simply before taking an enormous bite.

keeho watches in horror. “that’s going to end up all over your shirt, and i am not letting you borrow mine.”

“you sound like my mom,” hyunjin says through a mouthful of crêpe.

by the seine river, you take turns with the digicam, capturing moments that feel like they belong in a movie. keeho makes exaggerated poses on the bridge, while hyunjin tries (and fails) to look mysterious.

when it’s your turn to hold the camera, you take a candid shot of the two of them mid-laugh. it’s perfect—pure and genuine, a reminder of how much these moments mean to you.

“alright, photographer extraordinaire,” keeho says, pointing dramatically at the eiffel tower in the distance. “get my good side.”

“you don’t have one,” hyunjin jokes, earning a glare from keeho.

as the day winds down, you find yourself lingering outside the hotel while keeho and hyunjin head inside.

“we’ll be in the lobby if you need us,” keeho calls over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look.

once they’re gone, you make your way to the park. the same bench, the same tree, and this time, jake is already there, waiting.

he stands when he sees you, his smile soft but bright. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, walking up to him. “beat me here this time, huh?”

“had a feeling you’d come,” he says, shrugging.

you sit down beside him, the quiet of the park wrapping around you like a blanket.

“you’ve been busy,” jake comments. “i saw you earlier near the seine with your friends. looked like fun.”

“it was,” you say, smiling at the memory. “trying to cram everything into one day, you know? time feels so short now.”

jake’s expression shifts, just slightly, and you know he understands what you mean.

“speaking of time…” you begin, hesitating. “we’re leaving tomorrow. my class is flying back home.”

jake nods slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “i figured it was coming. my group leaves the day after.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

“do you think we’ll meet again?” you ask softly, not daring to look at him.

“i hope we do,” he replies, his voice quiet but firm.

the weight of his words lingers between you, saying everything that neither of you can.

you pull out your digicam, breaking the tension with a small smile. “can i take some pictures? you know, to remember this?”

jake’s face brightens slightly. “of course.”

you snap a few shots—some posed, some candid. jake laughing at something you said, jake looking off into the distance, and finally, one of the two of you together, taken with his help.

as the night deepens, you know it’s time to go. you stand, reluctantly. “i should get back before my friends come looking for me.”

jake nods but doesn’t move. instead, he reaches out, gently taking your wrist.

“wait.”

you turn, surprised, as he pulls something from his jacket pocket—a pair of silver rings, simple and elegant.

“for you,” he says softly, slipping the smaller one onto your right hand’s ring finger. the fit is perfect.

your heart races, words failing you as he looks at you, his gaze full of unspoken meaning. then, he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“goodbye, y/n,” he murmurs, stepping back.

it takes you a moment to find your voice. “goodbye, jake.”

as you walk back to the hotel, your mind replays the moment over and over, the cool metal of the ring on your finger grounding you in the surrealness of it all. that night, lying in bed, you can’t help but wonder if the universe will bring you and jake together again someday.

꒰ paris again, and again, and again, and again, and again ꒱

a tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you lift your head groggily. you blink, trying to focus on the person standing in front of you. it’s keeho, grinning mischievously, while hyunjin stands behind him, sipping his americano with a slightly amused expression.

“y/n, what are you doing?” keeho asks, leaning in and waving his hand in front of your face.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “i’m taking a break. i can’t even keep my eyes open for more than a minute.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “yeah, we can tell. you’re practically sleeping at your desk.” he leans against the back of your chair, his voice cool but teasing. “how about you stop pretending to study and actually join us for once?”

keeho’s grin widens as he jumps into the conversation. “we’re heading to a café to study, and you’re coming with us. you need a change of scenery.”

you groan, feeling your body resist the idea of leaving the comforting quiet of the library, but deep down, you know you’ve been at it for too long. a change of pace might be exactly what you need.

“come on, y/n,” keeho insists, his voice full of that playful energy you can’t ignore. “we’ll make it more fun. you can’t study like this. plus, you’ll probably get more done with us around.”

you hesitate for a moment, your mind torn between the need for a proper break and the looming pressure of your exams. still, you can’t deny how much you need a little distraction. “fine,” you sigh, finally giving in. “but if we end up just talking the entire time, i’m leaving.”

hyunjin chuckles, giving you a knowing look. “i think you’ll be okay. we’ll actually study this time. promise.”

keeho grabs your arm, pulling you up from your seat with a playful tug. “good, because you need us to keep you sane. now, let’s get out of here.”

as the three of you leave the library, you let out one last sigh, knowing that even though you might not get as much studying done as you hope, you could definitely use the company.

the café is warm and inviting, the soft hum of background chatter mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods. it’s a stark contrast to the quiet, studious atmosphere of the library, and you find yourself breathing a little easier as you step inside.

you find a small corner table and set your laptop down, letting out a contented sigh as you settle in. keeho and hyunjin head to the counter to order, leaving you to fidget with your feet, trying to shake off the weight of the past few hours spent studying.

your eyes flicker to the window, watching people pass by as you idly tap your fingers against your coffee cup. eventually, you stop, catching sight of the ring on your right hand.

you pause, fingers tracing the smooth metal, your mind drifting back to paris. “it’s been three years since that time in paris,” you think to yourself, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. the memory feels distant now, like a dream you’re not quite sure was real.

you wonder if jake still remembers you, if he thinks about you at all. you’d been so wrapped up in the magic of those moments, so caught up in the fleeting connection between the two of you, that you’d completely forgotten to exchange socials, to keep in touch.

a soft laugh escapes you, tinged with frustration. you can still picture your past self—so carefree, so caught up in the magic of the moment, never once thinking about the things you should have done. and now, years later, it stings.

the photos you took back then are all you have left—memories frozen in time, but still, you find yourself wishing you had more. a way to bridge the gap between then and now, something more than a ring on your finger that’s become a quiet reminder of what you left behind.

a soft laugh from keeho breaks you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see him and hyunjin walking toward the table, their arms full of coffee cups and pastries. keeho places your cup down in front of you, his expression softening when he notices the faraway look in your eyes.

“you okay?” he asks, settling into his chair across from you.

you smile faintly. “yeah, just… thinking about paris.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. he simply places a croissant in front of you and nods. “we’ll make it through these finals. paris will still be there when you’re done.”

you nod, but the bittersweet smile remains on your face, the question still lingering in the back of your mind. will you ever see jake again?

you manage to get some work done, but there’s plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter between you guys. hyunjin and keeho constantly bicker over the most ridiculous things—whether iced coffee is better than hot coffee, or if studying with background music is productive.

“you’re seriously telling me you don’t like the classics?” keeho says, shaking his head dramatically. “what kind of music do you even listen to, hyunjin?”

“i listen to music that doesn’t make my brain want to shut down,” hyunjin replies with a smirk, taking a sip from his americano. “but hey, if you need classical music to study, you do you.”

you laugh at their back-and-forth, shaking your head at their silly rivalry. the sound of their bickering is strangely comforting, distracting you from the pressure building up inside your mind. you feel a little lighter, even if it’s just for a moment.

after a while, you excuse yourself and head to the bathroom inside the café, needing a quick break from the endless cycle of notes and coffee. the place is busy, but the hum of quiet conversations and the scent of freshly brewed coffee make it feel comforting.

you take your time, refreshing yourself and letting your thoughts wander for a few moments. when you finally finish and head back out, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, still lost in your thoughts.

and then—bam.

you collide with someone, the force making you stumble slightly. your reflexes kick in, and you immediately start bowing in apology, your words rushing out in a flurry of embarrassment.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but before you can finish, you hear a familiar voice, soft and warm, with that unmistakable australian accent.

“y/n?”

you freeze, and the world seems to stop for a moment. you slowly lift your head, and there, standing in front of you, is none other than jake. in the flesh.

for a split second, all your words get caught in your throat. your heart races, and your brain scrambles to process the unexpected reunion. this can’t be real. is this a dream?

jake’s brows furrow slightly as he looks at you with concern, his voice softening. “are you okay?” he asks, stepping a little closer to you, clearly worried about your sudden silence.

you blink, feeling your heart thumping louder in your chest as you try to find your words, but they’re nowhere to be found. you stand there, staring at him, completely at a loss for what to say.

he leans in slightly, just enough to make sure you’re okay, his face showing that familiar concern. “y/n?” he gently says your name, and your body snaps back to reality.

“i—uh… sorry, i just—didn’t expect to see you.” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing your face. "i thought… i thought i was imagining things."

jake chuckles softly, his expression softening with a smile that makes your heart flutter. “i didn’t expect to run into you here either.” his tone is light, playful, but there’s something in his eyes—something that makes the air feel a little thicker.

you both stand there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between you. the familiarity of this moment feels surreal, but there’s no denying the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of him.

“so, uh,” you start, finally finding your voice, “what are you doing here? i didn’t expect to run into you… again.”

jake’s lips curl into that familiar, soft smile. he shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a glint in his eyes, something unspoken. “guess it’s just fate.” he says, his tone playful but there’s a layer of sincerity underneath it, one you can’t quite ignore.

you chuckle lightly, but the tension between you both is palpable now, thickening the air around you. there’s an undeniable pull between you, something that neither of you have fully acknowledged, but it’s there, lingering in the space between your words. you feel the heat of his gaze, and the sudden awareness of how close you both are makes your heart beat just a little faster.

“so… how’ve you been?” you ask, needing to break the moment but also curious, wanting to know everything about him since that last time you saw him.

jake rubs the back of his neck with a small, shy smile, a gesture you remember well. “i’ve been good… just been busy, you know. but i’ve been thinking about our time in paris a lot.” his voice is casual, but his eyes hold something deeper, a hint of vulnerability that you weren’t expecting.

you nod, understanding exactly what he means. you’ve been thinking about paris too. every memory feels like a treasure, something you’ve carefully tucked away, not wanting to forget any part of it. you wish you had more time to ask him about the things he’s been up to, to know if he’s felt the same pull that you have, the connection that neither of you can explain.

you glance down at your hand absentmindedly, and that’s when you see it—the ring he gave you in the park, so simple yet so meaningful. the silver band glints in the soft café lighting, and your heart does a little flip.

jake notices too, his gaze dropping to your hand. his smile softens, almost imperceptibly, but you notice it. there’s a quiet understanding between you two that you don’t need to speak aloud.

“i see you’re still wearing it,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost tender.

you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, everything else fades away. you feel like you’re back in paris, standing in that park, with everything still ahead of you, full of hope and possibility.

“i didn’t want to take it off,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes locked on yours. then, without warning, he reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing lightly over your hand, and he gently presses a kiss to your right hand, right where the ring rests. the simple gesture feels like it speaks volumes, and you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth spread through you.

“i’m glad,” he says softly, his voice just above a murmur. “i’m glad you kept it.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the world feels like it’s holding its breath. the space between you feels charged, but neither of you is in a rush to break the silence. it’s as if this moment, this small, quiet exchange, is enough.

you blink, still a little stunned by the gesture, your heart racing, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you can’t help but feel the warmth in your chest, the way his simple action makes you feel seen, valued, even though you never really said all the things you wanted to say.

when you finally speak, your voice is soft but steady. “i didn’t think i’d see you again.”

jake takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “i didn’t either, but i’m glad i did.”

enha perm taglist. @dazzlingjaeyun @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone

©levandright

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disillusionedllove · 5 months ago

Note

Hii, I have a request. Could you do natasha romanoff? And about the song, i'd want "need to know" by Doja Cat. Pleasee

Need to Know

Pairings- Bodyguard! Natasha R. x Singer! Reader

WC: ~1500

Synopsis: Releasing a glimpse of your new music video caused an uproar, but what if it doesn’t go in the way you expect it?

A/n : i’m skimming through my rq’s right now. Studies have been a pain in the ass.😭 I have another one on the way!! This one has way more plot than lyrics🤦‍♀️

ᨖᨖೱᨖ⧗ᨖⴵᨖ🕷️ᨖⴵᨖ⧗ᨖೱᨖᨖ

Being in the spotlight seemed to be everybody’s dream. This wasn’t always your dream though. You imagined your future to be anything but that, hell you even assumed you’d be in the military.

You didn’t dislike being in the spotlight though, knowing the positive effect you have on a crowd with an appearance. But the resulting effect wasn’t always positive; stalkers and overly touchy fans were the main thing that kept you alert in public.

You didn’t have much to worry about once your manager introduced you to a bodyguard as beautiful as can be. Natasha Romanoff.

Getting to know Natasha was difficult, she never left time for pleasantries, always focusing on her main tasks. You couldn’t help but try to get closer to her, at the very least to be friends.

It took you at least a month to get a glimpse of her, not her work personality, just her carefree.

Two months after that, you felt weirdly attracted to the redhead. She was like a a siren, an insisting one, one you couldn’t get out of your mind no matter how hard you tried.

You felt safe with Natasha, going past professional boundaries, you just felt safe in general around her.

That all takes you here today, in a studio found in New York. You were accompanied by your friend, with the idea to collaborate together for a music video to a recent song you had released, Need to Know.

Originally, you weren’t planning to go all out for the video, until your friend proposed an idea.

Adjusting your fitted dress, you took one more glance at yourself. You wore an off the shoulder dress, the hem falling dangerously high on your thighs. You had assumed it was perfect for the music video.

Walking out of your dressing room, you were quick to spot your friend, Bucky. The same person that you were collaborating with.

Bucky was your closest guy friend, you cherished your friendship with him, grateful it hadn’t turned out to be any more. Although that didn’t stop fans from assuming the both of you were together.

He was clad in a dark suit, neatly worn, without a wrinkle in sight. Bucky’s eyes brightened at the sight of you, his smile brightening as he rushed over to you.

“You look beautiful, Y/n.” He winked, as his gaze playfully trailed up and down your figure.

“You clean up very well too, Buck.” You smiled, hoping you wouldn’t regret having chosen him as your co-partner in this project, silently wishing you had the choice to choose Natasha.

Your eyes slowly drifted off towards the redheaded woman in question as you pictured her in a beautifully tailored suit; black with maroon accents that would complement her hair and fiery nature. She would look flawless as she always does, but you knew she wasn’t present to be your co-star, only bodyguard.

“Let’s head off?” You questioned, your head tilting towards the set of where your music video would be filmed.

“Of course. After you.” Bucky angled his body, letting you pass through the doorway and leading the both of you towards the set.

Unsuspecting of the glare that a certain redhead sent towards the back of Bucky’s head, or the anguish that flashes through her eyes as she trailed behind you.

The lyrics of your song echoed throughout the set as you and Bucky rewatched the complete take.

You couldn’t help but still think of Natasha though. Imagining how she would caress you in a gentle manner despite her calloused hands, how the moment would feel more intimate.

Without a thought, your eyes found Natasha’s figure from across the room. The set lights casted upon her perfectly, as if she had just came out of a movie.

Her chiseled jawline, the way her red hair glistened in the light with shades of red, her eyes that sparkled every time the light met with them.

Shaking your head, you sighed, the exhaustion of the day wearing over you.

Turning on your phone, you had instantly been met with photos of you and Bucky. Remembering that you had taken a few funny photos with Bucky during the filming.

The thought of these photos made you think that they were great for promoting the upcoming video.

It hadn’t taken long for you to tap onto your Instagram profile, posting the photos, accompanied by a caption. “Can never get tired of shooting with this bum.”

Feeling proud of the post, you turned your attention away from your phone, setting it down.

Your gaze traveling towards the person that occupied your thoughts, her eyes were surveying the room with a hardened gaze. It was usual for Natasha’s features to be stern, but this time it seemed more… upset?

You were currently sat in front of your vanity that the hotel you were staying at provided, Natasha was stood guard at the door per your request.

The buzzing of your phone was consistent as you fixed up the makeup you previously wore.

Stealing a glance towards Natasha, you reached a hand towards your phone, skimming through the notifications.

“you and bucky are so cutee!! need more of you two!”

“i lowkey wish i was bucky😔”

“Yall looking real cute!! Wish you guys were together!💝”

Wow. You had expected comments on the photos, but these were past an extent. Did you two really look like a couple? You clearly made it clear before that you guys were close friends.

In the midst of a sigh, an idea formed in your head. Would starting a live clear the air? But how would you go about this?

The moment of hesitation made you pause in your tracks, the what if’s drifting through your head at 100 miles per hour.

Noticing the moment of pure silence, Natasha spoke up. “Are you feeling well? We don’t have to go to the interviews if you aren’t, I’ll call your assistant to postpone them.”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you were quick to rush out an answer. “I’m okay, Natasha.”

“Are you sure? The interviewers won’t be mad about postponing.”

“I promise you, I’m okay. I just got a little stuck in my thoughts. Thank you though, Natasha.”

A flicker of confusion flashed in Natasha’s green orbs, her eyebrow twitching up as she silently waited for you to continue.

You sighed before adding on, your eyes meeting hers as you asked, “How do you feel about going on a live with me?”

The viewer count to your live was quick to multiply, the chat flooding with comments about your previous post with Bucky. Your song was softly playing in the backround as you stared at the camera with a soft smile.

You peered at some comments pointing out Natasha’s appearance before you stole a glance at her in the corner of your eye.

You did your best with answering questions as they flew past the chat, avoiding certain ones commenting about you and Bucky’s relationship with a quick “Me and Bucky are just co-workers, we have nothing going on.”

But you certainly got a little sick of seeing the comments flooding in with more comments about the pictures. You appreciated Natasha’s gesture for swiftly changing the topic your music, but it hadn’t done much.

You’re exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me “Girl, come ride me”

Whispering the lyrics, you turned to Natasha, a glimpse of uncertainty with a hint of something else lingered in your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” You whispered, out of earshot from your phone, as your face inched closer to hers. You felt her hot breath mixing with yours as you looked in her eyes for a confirmation.

It hadn’t took long for it to click for Natasha, her facial features softening as she whispered out the word you wanted to hear the most. “Yes.”

The moment your lips touched, it felt like fireworks, her lips were softer than you imagined as her breath mingled with yours.

Fuck that feeling both of us fighting

Could he try me? (Yeah) most likely

Reaching a hand up towards your neck, you deepened the kiss, relishing the feeling of her lips on yours. Her lips were hot on yours, slightly chapped but you didn’t mind one bit.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the comments were flooding with various reactions from your crowd. Some of disappointment, some of shock, the rest of excitement.

Tryna see if you could handle this ass

Prolly give his ass a panic attack

Sorry if I gave a random erection

Prolly thinkin' I'm a telekinetic

Oh, wait, you a fan of the magic?

Pulling apart from her for air, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The both of you remained in a close distance, resting your foreheads on eachother.

You noticed the emotions swirling within Natasha’s eyes, her thoughts put to a pause while she stared longingly at you.

The live was long forgotten as you and Natasha shared unsaid words through the connection you two have made. Words that the both of you have been wishing to say, to preach, but scared of the what if’s.

This moment was one you knew that you would cherish forevermore, knowing you had found your equal, someone you could call your lover.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow x reader #mcu #black widow #natasha romanoff

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jamesmcalover · 2 months ago

Text

i'd let you break me

Simon Kalivoda x afab!reader

Warnings: slowburn, fluff, awkward!simon, so cute

Summery: Reader and Simon get assigned to do a project together

Part 2

3k words - not proofread!

do people still read simon fics?

Simon rested his cheek against his hand, eyes on the clock. Almost ten minutes left, and Mr. Harris was still droning on about genetics. He wasn’t even listening. Just pretending to take notes, mostly drawing tiny skulls in the margins of his notebook.

That’s when the words “partner project” snapped him out of his daze.

Mr. Harris tapped the whiteboard with a marker. “You’ll be working in pairs. I’ve assigned them already, so no trading.”

A few students groaned. Simon didn’t really care. Until Mr. Harris said his name.

“And Simon… you’re with Y/N.”

He blinked. Y/N?

Of all the people in class. Of course it was her. The one girl who made him forget how to function like a normal person.

He glanced across the room, heart thudding a little too hard.

You were sitting near the window, twirling a pen between your fingers. Head turned slightly at the sound of your name, but your expression didn’t change. You didn’t look surprised or annoyed. Just calm. Focused. Like always.

Simon didn’t really know you, but he’d noticed you. Everyone had. You weren’t loud, but you didn’t shy away from anything. You asked sharp questions in class. You walked like you had somewhere to be. Confident. Collected. Kinda terrifying.

He swallowed and looked back at his notebook, suddenly very aware of how dumb his skulls looked.

Mr. Harris moved on to the next pair. You started gathering your things before the bell even rang. No hesitation.

When it finally did, Simon stayed seated a second too long.

Then you were there.

“So… Simon, right?” you ask, sliding into the chair next to him.

He nods quickly, caught off guard. “Yeah. That’s me. You’re, uh, Y/N. Right. I know. I mean– I knew that.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirk just barely tugging at your lips. “Cool. Want to meet after school to plan this out?”

He hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Where?”

You shrugged. “Library?”

“Cool. Sounds good.”

You nodded again and walked off, already slipping your headphones on as you left the room.

Simon stared after you for a second, then sat back down with a quiet exhale.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself.

He was so out of his depth.

The library was quiet, like always. You liked it that way. Just enough noise to think, not enough to distract. You’d claimed a table near the back, dropped your bag, and pulled out the project sheet before Simon even showed up.

You expected he might be a little late. You didn’t expect him to show up five minutes early… and hover awkwardly near the table like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down.

You looked up. “You can sit, you know.”

He startled slightly, then gave a quick nod and slid into the seat across from you, clutching his backpack like it might protect him from whatever storm he thought you were about to unleash.

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Totally.” He unzipped his bag, fumbled with a binder, dropped a pen, muttered something under his breath, then finally looked up with a forced smile. “Just, uh, unprepared.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t call him out. It was kind of cute, honestly, how someone like Simon could be nervous around you. You’d seen him around school a dozen times. Loud, funny, always joking with someone. The kind of guy who never took anything seriously.

Except apparently now. With you.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him a little.

“So,” you said, flipping open the project sheet, “we have two weeks, and we need a presentation and some kind of visual on sleep and circadian rhythms. What’re you good at?”

Simon blinked. “Good at?”

You nodded. “You know. Are you a research guy? The talker? The one who makes a slideshow at the last second and somehow still gets an A?”

He laughed, awkward, but real. “I mean, I have done that. Once. Or twice. Maybe every time.”

You smirked. “Figures.”

He looked up at that, like he wasn’t sure if you were mocking him or not. You weren’t. You were just curious. There was something disarming about him, even if he was fumbling through every sentence like his mouth wasn’t connected to his brain.

“I can handle the research,” you offered. “If you can handle visuals and talking. Deal?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Deal. You’re, uh… really organized.”

You shrugged. “I like getting things done.”

There was a beat of silence, then he blurted out, “Do you, like… ever get nervous?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Just– like, you always seem like you have it together.” He looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s cool. Just… intimidating. Kind of.”

You stared at him for a second, surprised. Then you smiled. Not the polite one you gave in class. The real kind.

“Of course I get nervous,” you said softly. “Just not about biology projects.”

That made him laugh again, a little less tense this time.

You looked down at the paper again, but not before catching the way he looked at you. Still a little in awe. Still a little overwhelmed.

You liked that.

The library became your go-to. You met there again a few days later, a little more comfortable this time, your folders more organized and your conversation a little less stiff.

By the third meeting, things were different. You invited him to your house. Casual. Easy. You needed a change of scenery. So did he.

You hadn’t really expected him to show up on time, but this time, he was actually late.

It was almost fifteen minutes past four when the doorbell finally rang.

You opened it, ready to tease him, but stopped short when you saw what he was holding.

A coffee in each hand, and an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry, I got caught up at the store,” he said, a little breathless. “I thought caffeine might soften the blow.”

You blinked, surprised. “Is that… for me?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed. It’s vanilla something. Didn’t seem too risky.”

You took it from him, fingers brushing his as you did. How thoughtful.

“Thanks,” you said, softening despite yourself. “You’re forgiven.”

He smiled, clearly relieved, and toed off his shoes like last time. This time, you noticed the way his eyes lingered on the little details of your space. Your bookshelf, the photos on the fridge, the candle burning low on the table. Vanilla and sage again.

You’d cleared the table already, the project folders waiting.

“You can sit,” you said, already sliding into your usual seat.

He joined you, a little more relaxed than before. Still awkward. But trying.

His hair was a mess today, like he hadn’t even tried. He probably hadn’t. But he smelled like laundry detergent and mint gum, and you were starting to recognize that combination before he even sat down.

You didn’t say it out loud, but… it was kinda nice.

He pulled out his half-crumpled notes and gave you a hopeful look. “So, you’re gonna save this whole thing with your brain again, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You do realize we’re being graded as a team.”

“Right, right. Teamwork. I’m great at moral support.”

“You highlighted an entire paragraph in pink last time.”

“Bold move. Very memorable. Teachers love that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. You hated to admit it but he was growing on you. Fast.

There was something weirdly sincere about him. He didn’t try to impress you. He just existed, nervously, like being around you short-circuited half his vocabulary.

And maybe you liked how he looked at you like you were made of something sharper, something cooler, something untouchable.

But you weren’t. And you kind of wanted him to figure that out.

For a while, you worked. You read a passage aloud. He listened. Asked a question. Wrote something down.

It was going fine until you reached for the same notebook at the same time and your hands brushed.

You didn’t pull away. Neither did he. For half a second, the contact lingered.

Simon cleared his throat and quickly scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry. You go.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Totally.” His voice cracked. “I mean. Yep. Normal.”

You watched him fumble with his pen, drop it, mutter a curse under his breath. It was so obvious now. The red in his cheeks, the way he kept glancing at you like he was trying to memorize your expression but didn’t want to get caught.

So you leaned back a little. Testing something.

“You always this flustered around girls?”

His head snapped up, eyes wide. “What? No. I mean– kinda? Not usually. I mean–”

You laughed softly. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.”

He gave a weak smile. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

That made you pause. Your smile faded. Just slightly. Not because you were offended. But because there was something in his voice. Something that almost sounded like admiration. Respect. Like you were this mythical creature in his head, and he wasn’t quite sure how you were real.

You looked at him for a moment too long.

“Simon,” you said carefully, “you know I’m just a person, right?”

He blinked. “Yeah. I mean, obviously.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “So stop looking at me like I’m gonna turn into a dragon.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, very quietly:

“I’m not scared of dragons.”

You arched a brow. “No?”

He held your gaze this time. Something steadier. Braver.

“No,” he said. “Just… fire.”

You didn’t smile right away. You just looked at him, heartbeat thudding a little louder in your chest than you meant to let on.

Then you stood, slowly, and walked toward the kitchen.

“You want water?” you asked over your shoulder.

His voice was a little hoarse. “Yeah. Sure.”

You worked a little longer. Not much talking now. Just the quiet scratch of pens, the soft clicking on your laptops keyboard, and the occasional clink of your coffee cups.

After a while, Simon shifted in his chair with a quiet groan and rolled his shoulders back.

“You okay?” you asked without looking up.

“Yeah. Just… back’s killing me.” He gave a sheepish smile. “These chairs are, like, spine assassins.”

You glanced at him, then at the couch a few feet away. “You wanna move?”

His eyes followed your gaze, then flicked back to you. “Uh– if you don’t mind.”

“I offered, didn’t I?”

You both stood. He grabbed his notes, you grabbed yours, and you plopped down onto the far end of the couch, legs curled under you. He settled onto the other side, leaving just enough space to be polite, but not too much.

The shift in setting was immediate. Less formal. Less focused. You leaned into the cushions. He sat with one leg tucked up, notebook balanced on his knee, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. His hair was still a mess. So was his posture. But he looked relaxed.

“So,” he said after a beat. “Sleep and circadian rhythms. Weirdly appropriate, considering I haven’t slept in, like, three years.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Let me guess– insomniac or night owl?”

“Bit of both. My brain’s allergic to silence.” He tilted his head. “What about you? You seem like you sleep with a perfectly balanced routine and one of those white noise machines that sounds like gentle rain on a tin roof.”

You smiled, slow. “That’s oddly specific.”

He grinned. “Just a vibe.”

You stretched your legs out a little, knee brushing the edge of his thigh. You didn’t apologize. He didn’t flinch.

“I sleep fine,” you said. “Most of the time. But I like being awake at night. It’s quieter. Less pressure to perform.”

Simon looked at you then – not just looked, but listened, like he’d never heard anyone say that before. “That makes sense,” he said softly.

You shrugged. “People assume confidence means control. But night makes it easier to just… exist.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I think I’m more alive at night. But not in the cool, mysterious way. More like… I do my deepest spiraling between 1 and 4 a.m.”

That made you laugh, warm and real. “Honest. I like that.”

He smiled again, almost shy. “Yeah, well. Not much of a filter up here.”

You watched him for a second. The distance between you was smaller now. The air warmer. Like the conversation had shifted from project talk to something that didn’t have a deadline.

“Hey,” you said after a moment. “You ever think about how weird it is? That we’re all just… wired to shut down for eight hours a day?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Vulnerable as hell. Whole species just, like, agrees to play dead for a third of their lives.”

You kept talking. About sleep. About how REM cycles worked, and how dreams were still kind of a mystery. But the conversation kept drifting, like neither of you really wanted to talk about biology anymore.

Eventually, Simon slouched deeper into the couch, his head resting against the cushion. His notes had slipped onto his lap, mostly forgotten.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low, “this couch is dangerously comfortable.”

You glanced over. His eyes were half-lidded now, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. “Uh-huh,” you said, amused. “That sounds like the beginning of an excuse.”

“Nooo,” he muttered, drawing out the word. “I’m just appreciating the… ergonomics.”

You snorted. “Right.”

He yawned, tried to blink it off. “Okay, but seriously. I might be dying. Of comfort. It’s a rare condition.”

“Tragic,” you said, setting your own notebook aside. “Should I call someone? Maybe a teacher? Let them know you couldn’t finish the project because you were terminally cozy?”

He chuckled, a lazy sound. “I mean… they’d understand.”

You were quiet for a second, just watching him. He looked softer like this. The usual tension in his shoulders had melted. He wasn’t overthinking his every move now. He was just… here. Honest in that way people only get when they’re too tired to pretend.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper now. “You’re kind of scary when you’re awake. But this version of you? Sitting on a couch, talking about sleep cycles? It’s actually… kinda nice.”

You tilted your head, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted. “You think I’m scary?”

“Terrifying,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut. “But, like… in a hot way.”

You stared at him.

Then: “Simon?”

No answer.

He was out.

Just like that.

You blinked, unsure if you should be annoyed or charmed. You settled on both.

The candle on the table flickered low. His coffee sat forgotten beside him. And Simon, the boy who could barely look you in the eye two weeks ago, was now completely asleep on your couch. Breathing soft. One hand curled under his chin.

You reached over and gently tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over him without a word.

Then you sat back, legs tucked beneath you, and just watched him for a second.

He looked peaceful.

You smiled to yourself.

Terrifying, huh?

Sure. If he said so.

You glanced over after a few quiet minutes and found him slumped a little lower than before, head tilted toward the back cushion. His eyes were closed. Mouth slightly parted. Completely out.

You didn’t move right away.

It was kind of funny, honestly. The way he’d spent the whole week fumbling his way through every conversation, half-tripping over his words like you might bite him if he said the wrong thing. And now here he was. Asleep. Next to you. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stayed quiet, letting the silence settle. Your leg brushed his, just barely. He didn’t stir.

Maybe five minutes passed. Maybe ten.

Then he shifted slightly, exhaled, and blinked awake with a faint, confused murmur.

“…Shit,” he mumbled, sitting up straighter. “Did I–? Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” you said. “You were out cold.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, clearly mortified. “Ugh. Great. That’s a strong first impression.”

You tilted your head. “Pretty sure we’ve already had a few of those.”

He laughed under his breath, still groggy, and dropped his hand back into his lap. “Right. Yeah. This one just comes with snoring.”

“You didn’t snore.”

“Good. Would’ve been a dealbreaker.”

You let the smile linger on your lips for a moment. Then, more softly:

“You really that tired?”

Simon hesitated. Then shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“How come?”

He looked down at his hands. Picked at the dead skin on his thumb. “Sometimes I just… can’t. Like I’m tired, but my brain’s still going. You know?”

You nodded, quieter now. “Yeah. I get that.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

For a second, you thought he might say something else. Something heavier. But then he huffed a soft laugh and leaned his head back against the couch cushion again.

“This is gonna sound dumb,” he said.

You glanced sideways. “Try me.”

He didn’t look at you when he said it.

“You make it hard to think straight.”

Your chest tightened just a little.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him. Messy hair, tired eyes, flushed cheeks and all.

Then, steady as ever:

“Good.”

That made him glance your way. Surprised. Hopeful.

You looked back at him with a small, knowing smile.

“Means it’s mutual.”

And suddenly the space between you felt smaller than it was. Softer. Like something important had just shifted, but neither of you were quite ready to name it yet.

So you let the moment breathe. Let it settle.

Then you nudged his foot with yours.

“Now drink your coffee before I start thinking you only came here to nap on my couch.”

He grinned, the warmth returning to his face.

“Honestly? Best nap I’ve had in weeks.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile said otherwise.

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Part 2 <3

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Taglist:

@reidsstuff

lmk if you want to be added to any specific or general taglist!!

#simon kalivoda x you #simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #fear street #fred hechinger #fred hechinger fanfic #fred hechinger fanfiction #fred hechinger x reader #fred hechinger x you

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newobsessionweekly · 1 year ago

Text

A night to remember

Part 2 of Secret signals

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: Your date with Tim took an unexpected turn before confessing your feelings. And you wouldn't change a thing.

Fluff | A bit of angst

A/N: Oh, how much I enjoy writing teasing and bantering fluff. If you enjoyed the first part of Secret signals, I think you'll like this one just as much. Also, I wanted to let you know it's the last chance to leave any requests. Starting maybe next week I'll have to focus on studying for med school cuz I have the admission exam in July. Thank you for all your support and requests so far! I really appreciate every single one of you! Lots of love, bubs and take care! ❤️

Warnings: description of panick attack, not proofread yet Requested: yes Words: 4.7k GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across her face. "Tim Bradford, going on a date... I never thought I'd see the day," she teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he grumbled, his embarrassment evident.

But Lucy's grin only widened as she leaned in closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. "So, where are you taking her? Any special plans?"

Tim hesitated, his mind racing as he considered his options. "I haven't really had a chance to think about it yet because someone doesn't keep their mouth shut for a second!" he bursted, his brow furrowing in thought. "But I want it to be special."

Lucy's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned in closer, eager to offer her input. "Well, if you're looking for somewhere nice, you can't go wrong with 71Above," she suggested, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's got amazing views of the city, and the food is top-notch. Trust me, Y/N will love it."

Tim's car was parked outside your place at 9 pm sharp. You weren't ready on time, but Tim knew that. Yet, he still was there as promised, hands sweating and trembling as he moved them frantically from the steering wheel to his lap and back on the steering wheel, a milion times. He was acting silly, like a high schooler on the first date with his crush. But he couldn't help it, you weren't just a crush, you were his best friend. His rock that kept him from drifting apart so many times. And the only person he actually enjoyed.

As he glanced at his phone, he saw the time ticking away. He couldn't help but worry that listening to Angela and Lucy's advice and taking you on a date might ruin the friendship you both cherished. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was worth the risk.

A million thoughts race through his mind, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. What if this date ruins everything between you? What if he says or does something to make things awkward between you? What if he messes up the one chance he has to tell you how he truly feels?

With a heavy sigh, Tim pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Lucy. "If it goes wrong, you'll beg for Tim Tests." he types out, pressing send before he can second-guess himself. Lucy pressed Tim into this after all. Without her nosy personality, Tim wouldn't have acted impulsively and arranged a date for you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you emerge from your apartment, a radiant smile gracing your lips as you approach Tim's car. You're momentarily struck by how effortlessly handsome he looks. Dressed in a casual yet sophisticated attire, Tim exudes a rugged charm that never fails to captivate you.

His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in your beauty.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft and warm as you slide into the passenger seat beside him. "Sorry I'm late."

As Tim's eyes land on you, he can't help but feel a rush of awe. You look incredible, and he can't tear his gaze away. Your smile lights up your face, making his heart skip a beat and your eyes sparkle with warmth, drawing him in like a magnet.

Tim shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he meets your gaze. "No need to apologize," he says, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "You look amazing."

A blush spreads across your cheeks at his compliment, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks, Tim," you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper as you fumble for words. "You're acting strange.

"No, I'm not."

Tim started the engine and pulled away from the curb, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking. There was something about the way he held himself, a quiet confidence that you found strangely alluring.

As the two of you drove through the streets of LA, the sound of the radio filling the silence between you, you found yourself lost in thought. You couldn't deny the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, the nervous anticipation of what the night might hold.

When Tim glanced over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

"You know, Tim, Lucy seems pretty cool," you remarked, glancing over at him. "She's got this energy about her, like she's ready to take on the world."

Tim raised an eyebrow, a skeptical expression crossing his features. "Cool? More like a walking disaster waiting to happen and constantly sticking her nose where it doesn't belong." he retorted, his tone tinged with amusement.

You laughed, shaking your head at his blunt assessment. "Come on, Tim, give her a chance. She's just trying to find her footing," you insisted, nudging him gently.

Tim let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm all for giving her a chance, but she's got a long way to go before she's ready for the streets," he argued, his tone firm.

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for her, she's got the best training officer in the department to show her the ropes," you teased, earning a chuckle from Tim.

"Yeah, lucky her," he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But despite his grumbling, you could see a flicker of pride in his eyes at the mention of his role as Lucy's training officer.

As the familiar streets of LA passed by, you couldn't help but notice that Tim wasn't taking the usual route to your favorite bar. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you glanced out the window, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Uh, Tim? Are we going a different way tonight?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

Tim shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I've got a surprise up my sleeve," he replied cryptically, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward in your seat, trying to catch a glimpse of your surroundings. "A surprise, huh? Well, color me intrigued," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Tim chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. "You'll just have to wait and see," he said, his tone playful as he focused on the road ahead.

Finally, Tim pulled the car to a stop in front of a sleek, modern building that towered above the surrounding skyline. The sign above the entrance read "71Above" in bold letters, and you couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

"Tim, is this...?" you began, trailing off as you turned to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

He flashed you a grin, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Surprise," he said simply, his voice soft yet filled with meaning.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what Tim had done. He'd gone out of his way to take you to one of the most upscale restaurants in the city, a place you'd only ever dreamed of visiting.

As you stepped out of the car and followed Tim, a wave of excitement washed over you, your eyes sparkling with wonder. "Tim, I can't believe you brought us here!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing on your toes as you took in the elegant surroundings.

Tim glanced at you, a hint of surprise flickering across his features before a warm smile spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You nodded eagerly, unable to contain your enthusiasm as you rambled on about everything you'd heard about the place. "I've been wanting to come here for months! I've heard they have the most amazing views of the city from up there, and the food is supposed to be out of this world," you gushed, your words tumbling out in a rush.

Tim chuckled softly, a fondness shining in his eyes as he watched you talk. "Let's check it out, then."

As Tim led you towards the entrance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. The restaurant was located on the upper floors of a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the glittering lights of the city below.

The elevator ride to the top floor was swift but exhilarating, each passing floor heightening your anticipation. When the doors opened, you were greeted by breathtaking panoramic views of the city spread out before you, the glittering lights of Los Angeles stretching as far as the eye could see.

As you followed Tim to your table by the window, you couldn't tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing sight. The city seemed to come alive beneath you, a vibrant tapestry of colors and lights that danced in the night. It was a moment of pure enchantment, and you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you as you settled in to enjoy the evening ahead.

Tim couldn't help but smile as he watched the excitement dance in your eyes, a warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your joy. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the moment, marveling at the beauty of the city alongside you.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" he remarked, as he followed your gaze out the window.

You turned to him with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. "It's incredible!"

As the night progressed, you and Tim found yourselves immersed in the magic of the evening. The ambience of the restaurant, the delicious food, and the lively atmosphere created the perfect backdrop for an unforgettable night.

You couldn't remember the last time you laughed that much, the sound of your laughter mingling with Tim's in a symphony of joy and happiness. Each moment spent together felt like a precious gift, a fleeting glimpse into the depths of your friendship and the possibility of something more.

Tim's infectious laughter echoed through the restaurant, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he regaled you with stories from his time on the force. His smile was like a beacon of light in the darkness, drawing you in and filling you with warmth.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by good food and even better company, you felt truly alive.

But amidst the laughter and the lighthearted conversation, there was something else simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken and electric. It was a tension that crackled in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing attraction that pulsed beneath the surface of your friendship.

Yet, despite the palpable chemistry between you, Tim was content to simply bask in the warmth of your presence, to lose himself in the moment and forget about the weight of his own feelings.

And as the night wore on, you found yourself falling more and more in love with him, with every smile, every laugh, every stolen glance. It was a feeling that consumed you, filling you with a sense of euphoria that you never wanted to end.

The restaurant gradually emptied, leaving only a handful of lingering patrons scattered throughout the dimly lit dining room. Tim and you found yourselves among the last remaining guests, reluctant to let go of the magic of the evening.

With a satisfied sigh, Tim leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with contentment as he glanced around the nearly deserted restaurant. "I can't remember the last time I had such a great night," he admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded in agreement, a warm feeling spreading through you at the thought of the wonderful evening you'd shared together. "Me neither," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "It's been amazing. I can't remember the last time you laughed that much!"

As the last of the patrons trickled out of the restaurant, Tim turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what do you say we keep the party going somewhere else?" he suggested, his voice filled with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh? And where did you have in mind?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't know, maybe we could head to a bar for a nightcap or something," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The idea sounded perfect to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Tim. "I'm in," you declared, a grin spreading across your face.

As you and Tim stepped into the elevator, ready to continue your evening adventure, the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

The elevator hummed to life, beginning its descent down to the ground floor.

But just a few floors down, the elevator jerked to a sudden halt, the lights flickering ominously before plunging you both into darkness. A chill ran down your spine as you felt the floor beneath you come to a stop, the suddenness of the situation leaving you feeling disoriented and scared.

"Tim," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the elevator. "What's happening?"

Tim's expression mirrored your own concern as he reached out to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tight with apprehension. "But it looks like we're stuck."

Panic began to rise within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. Trapped in a malfunctioning elevator with no way out, your heart raced in your chest as fear gripped you tight.

Instinctively, you sought refuge in Tim's arms, seeking comfort and safety in his familiar embrace. For a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you as his strong arms wrapped around you, providing a brief respite from the chaos of the situation.

But as reality sank in, you knew that you couldn't stay there forever. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled away from Tim, the weight of the situation pressing down on you once more.

"We need to figure a way to get out of here," you said, your voice determined despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

With a heavy sigh, Tim reached for the emergency call button, pressing it in hopes of summoning help. But as the seconds ticked by with no response, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both of you.

"We need to wait for help."

As the minutes dragged on, your panic intensified, threatening to consume you whole. The confined space of the elevator felt like a suffocating prison, each passing second amplifying your fear of being trapped so far above the ground.

Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as your heart hammered against your chest, the darkness pressing in on you from all sides. "We're going to die in here, Tim," you choked out, your voice trembling with fear.

Tim's heart clenched at the desperation in your voice, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he moved to your side, wrapping you in his arms once more. "Hey, look at me," he urged, his voice firm yet gentle as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"We're not going to die, I promise," he said, his words laced with a quiet confidence that helped to anchor you in the storm of your panic. "Just focus on breathing with me."

His steady voice was a lifeline in the darkness, guiding you back from the brink of despair as he led you through a series of slow, deep breaths.

But the panic was relentless, its grip tightening around your chest with each passing second. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Tim's voice was a distant echo, his words barely registering as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. But he refused to give up, his touch a steady anchor as he guided you through the storm of fear.

"Listen to my voice, focus on my words," he urged, his tone firm but gentle. "You're safe with me, Y/N. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Tim's voice softened, his fingers gently brushing the stray strands of hair away from your face as he continued to soothe your frayed nerves. "You're doing great, Y/N. Just breathe with me, okay? In... and out."

His calming presence enveloped you like a warm embrace, his words a balm to your frazzled mind. With each inhale, you felt a sliver of tension melt away, replaced by a newfound sense of tranquility.

But even as Tim worked to calm your panic, his own worry lingered just beneath the surface. He couldn't shake the nagging fear that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe, that somehow he would fail you in your moment of need.

Yet he pushed those doubts aside, focusing all his energy on being there for you, reassuring you with every word and gesture. In that moment, nothing else mattered but your well-being, your safety.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the sound of your breathing gradually slowed, your panicked gasps giving way to steady, even breaths. And with each passing moment, the darkness seemed a little less suffocating, a little less daunting.

As Tim continued to hold you close, his arms a steady anchor in the darkness of the elevator, he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, hoping to distract you from the looming sense of fear.

"Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse in your backyard?" he asked, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes.

You responded faintly, the memory flooding back vividly. "How could I forget? We ended up with a pile of sticks and a broken arm."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, and your mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw us dangling from that rope ladder."

"I still can't believe we thought we could build a treehouse with just a hammer and some nails," you admitted.

"Well, we were what, eight years old? Seemed like a good idea at the time," Tim reasoned, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"True," you agreed with a chuckle. "But I think we learned our lesson after that."

"Definitely," Tim nodded, a reminiscent smile playing on his lips. "Although, knowing us, we probably found some other scheme to get into trouble with."

"Oh, no doubt about it," you agreed, sharing a knowing look.

As the tension in the elevator began to ease, Tim shifted the conversation to another memory from your past, a smile playing on his lips as he recalled a particularly memorable event.

"Remember when we went to homecoming together?" Tim chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You cringed at the memory, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Oh, please, don't bring that up," you pleaded, shaking your head in embarrassment.

Tim grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Why not? It was hilarious!"

"Yeah, for you maybe," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

Tim's grin softened into a warm smile as he reached out to gently touch your arm. "Hey, you looked amazing that night," he reassured you, his voice sincere.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, right. I was a total mess."

Tim shook his head, his expression earnest. "No way. You were the most beautiful girl there, hands down."

As the memories of homecoming faded, replaced by more somber recollections, you found yourself opening up to Tim about a time that had left you feeling scared and vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing. "When you were back in Iraq, I was so scared, Tim. Every time I got a call from you, it felt like my heart was in my throat. And then those calls started getting shorter and more distant, and I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if you were okay, if you were coming back..."

Your voice trailed off, the memories still vivid in your mind despite the passing years. Tim reached out, gently squeezing your hand in silent support as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your fear and uncertainty during that time.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to worry you like that."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips despite the lingering sadness. "It's okay. You were doing your job, and I knew that. But it was hard not knowing if you were safe, if you were coming back."

Tim's gaze softened, his hand finding yours as he met your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I'm here now," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He paused, weighting his words,"I... I think I have feelings for you from back then," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the most tragic part about this is that I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to."

His admission hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of his words sinking in as you struggled to process the magnitude of what he was saying.

"Tim..." you breathed, your own emotions swirling as you searched for the right thing to say."I mean, I've thought about it too," you admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your tone. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

A flicker of surprise crossed Tim's face, quickly replaced by a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "You did?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I did. And I guess... I guess I've been hoping you'd say something like this for a while now."

Tim's smile widened, a sense of relief washing over him as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Well, I'm saying it now," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "And I meant every word of it."

Tim's touch was gentle yet electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced delicate patterns along your jawline. You found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort he offered in that moment of uncertainty.

His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he gazed into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and longing. In that moment, it felt like the world had faded away.

With a soft sigh, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotion. It was a moment of surrender, of letting go of all inhibitions and fears, and allowing yourself to be consumed by the warmth of Tim's embrace.

As your lips moved together in perfect harmony, the world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the rhythmic beat of your hearts and the gentle whisper of your breath mingling in the air. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken longing, of whispered confessions and silent promises, sealing a bond that had been years in the making.

The elevator finally jolted back to life, breaking the moment, but the warmth of Tim's embrace and the taste of his lips lingered on.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you and Tim stepped out into the lobby, still caught in the afterglow of your kiss. With a playful smirk, Tim nudged you gently as you made your way back to his car.

"Well, that was unexpected," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, swatting his arm lightly in retaliation. "You're one to talk. Who knew getting stuck in an elevator could be so... romantic?"

Tim chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he unlocked the car doors. "I guess stranger things have happened," he remarked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

As you settled into the car, the tension of the past few hours melting away, you found yourself laughing as you recounted the events of the evening. From the unexpected elevator malfunction to the heart-stopping kiss that followed, it had certainly been a night to remember.

"So, remind me never to take the elevator with you again," you joked, earning a mock offended gasp from Tim.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm a great elevator companion," he retorted, a playful glint in his eye. "Just ask anyone who's ever been stuck with me."

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "I'll take your word for it," you replied, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned back in your seat.

As Tim started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, the warmth of his presence beside you filled you with a sense of contentment you hadn't felt in a long time. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, that made you grateful for the bond you shared with him.

"So, about what you said in the elevator," you began, breaking the comfortable silence as Tim navigated through the streets.

Tim glanced over at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, about that. I hope I didn't scare you off."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not a chance. If anything, it's nice to know I'm not the only one feeling a little... sentimental."

He grinned, his gaze returning to the road ahead. "Sentimental, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep it classy."

Tim chuckled, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Well, in that case, I guess I should apologize for any lack of classiness on my part."

You laughed, reaching over to gently nudge his arm. "No apologies necessary. Besides, I think we both know we're not exactly the poster children for romance."

Tim smirked, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Speak for yourself. I've been known to be quite the charmer when I want to be."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "Oh, please. The only charm you have is the one you use to get out of speeding tickets."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

"You know," he continued, his voice soft, "despite all the craziness of tonight, I wouldn't change a thing."

You smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. "Me neither. Even getting stuck in that elevator couldn't ruin the night."

Tim chuckled, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Yeah, well, I guess it's just one more adventure to add to the list."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude for the shared experiences that had brought you to this moment. "I wouldn't want to go on these adventures with anyone else," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I feel the same way," he confessed, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that took your breath away.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet hum of the car as it cruised through the night. And as you leaned in closer, the distance between you disappearing with each passing second, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them together, hand in hand.

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writingonwings · 5 months ago

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Sugar cookies

✵ Pairing: Fred Weasley/f!reader

✵ Word count: 2k

✵ Summary: You were notoriously horrible at any form of baking or cooking, but hopefully having another shot at it could improve the well-earned reputation

✵ Warnings: Established relationship, possible inaccurate cookie baking (I'm no baker), really nothing but fluff

Baking was a form of art, and you had never been that kind of artist. Every time the thought even crossed your mind, something had already gone wrong. Something was on fire, severely burnt, the wrong consistency, or just tasted awful. No matter how many times you tried, there was never any sort of improvement. No food or dessert had ever survived in your hands. So it wasn't often anymore you could be found in the kitchen, having mostly accepted that this was simply not your strong suit. However, every so often, you found a sudden urge to try and prove you could learn, even if you already knew the likeliest outcome. Today was one of those days, that urge tempting you into giving it another try.

It was a warm and quiet morning in the burrow, Molly and Arthur being away and most of the others busying themselves in different ways. You took the opportunity to try yet again at baking something. It was safer for everyone if there were fewer present to witness it, or possibly taste it. If you could get that far this time.

You approached the situation optimistically. The plan was to choose something simple to make and an even simpler recipe to follow. Just cookies couldn't hurt, right? It seemed easy enough, as long as you were careful.

Leaning against the counter, you studied the little book. There were very few ingredients, and that only meant fewer places where mistakes could be made. You were definitely capable of this. So with a newfound confidence, you got to work gathering an array of bowls, pans, ingredients, everything you thought you may need and more. As you scattered them across the counter at random, You were caught by the only other Weasley in the household.

Fred walked in on what was turning out to be a manic episode. You could tell he knew this based on the sudden panic in his face. "What are you doing?" He questioned, fearing the day he'd find you here again. Flashbacks of previous incidents were likely spinning through his head.

"A good morning would suffice." You replied without looking up from what you were doing. Another quick check of your book and you were ready to go, carrying hope for a more positive ending this time. Fred strode over lazily, sleep clearly still clinging to his mind. He slid his arms around you to gaze over your shoulder.

The embrace briefly distracted you from your task. And to further this, he pressed a long kiss to the top of your head. "I'm sorry, love. Good morning." His voice was muffled against your hair, but the way it sounded was almost tempting enough to drop everything in your hands and give him your full attention. Unfortunately, you were far too determined for that.

"That's much better," You remarked, earning a chuckle. Against your better judgment, you wiggled out of Fred’s arms to continue on with your cookies. After a few words of complaint, He leaned an arm on the counter beside you, finding the only open spot that hadn't yet been touched by your wave of disaster. You prepared your first ingredients, movements followed by his curious gaze.

"Now, don't tell me," He started sarcastically, continuing only once you glanced up at him. This look only lasted a moment, as you were in the middle of measuring flour. "You're making something."

"Clearly," Was your simple response. You were so focused on getting everything right.

"Something simple?" Fred gestured down to the not-so-simple mess on the counter. "I'd guess it's something even you couldn't ruin? Dare I say cake? Cookies, maybe?" He watched you pour the flour into a bowl, which came back up to coat the front of you in a white puff of smoke. A snort of laughter escaped his mouth, resulting in an immediate glare from you. It was very early in the game for you to be wearing your cookies.

"That's enough from you." You pointed a finger of your now powdered hand at him. "Unless you'd like to be covered in flour as well."

His expression changed as he considered your words. "Well, I could think of worse things to—” You put an end to his statement by launching a handful of flour at him, coating the both of you in a thin layer of white. He first tried to wipe his face with the back of his hand, only to find it would smudge. You roared with laughter at this discovery.

After your fit had calmed, you picked up a spoon in an attempt to return to your work. But you had started something Fred would be more than happy to finish. "Oh, no you don't." He grabbed your arms and pulled you to him, tickling and completely disarming you. Laughter jumped back into your throat and your utensils clattered to the ground.

"Fred! No!" You struggled to say, squirming to find an escape. By the time he had stopped, you could barely breathe and practically choked on the giggles that tried to escape your lips.

Fred picked up the spoon off the ground, narrowly dodging a slap to the arm. If your cookies turned out poorly now, you could place some of the blame on him. He went to rinse it off, which gave you enough time to add most of the remaining ingredients to your bowl.

You checked back with the book to ensure it was still going well. Other than the rapidly growing mess in the kitchen and all over you, it seemed fine so far. As long as there were no other setbacks, you may actually succeed this time.

As if you spoke it into existence, Fred turned around at the sink, just as you were placing the cookies in the oven. "Slight problem," His hands were held away from himself, face twisting into concern.

Your gaze was pulled to him to see he had tried and failed to rinse the flour off his hands and arms. Instead of washing away, it clumped and stuck to his skin. The realization hit you at the same time and you stared at each other, both covered in more flour than what was in the cookies.

Water did nothing against the powder. It was mixed with whatever other ingredients escaped the bowl, turning it into a glue and making the situation far worse. You took ahold of one of Fred's arms, but it immediately made your hands sticky as well. No matter how much you scrubbed, it only further spread across the skin

"It's not coming off," Fred announced simply, as if you weren't actively trying to fix the problem.

You sighed. "I can see that, love." You pointed to a bar of soap at the edge of the sink, beckoning Fred to hand it over. He obliged and reached for it. The soap helped significantly, freeing some of the sticky paste.

It took no small amount of effort, but you eventually had clean arms and hands. Fred took the bar from you, wetting the soap in his hands and lifting it to work it into the flour on your face. You gazed up at him while he did this, letting out a little giggle as he struggled to keep his eyes from finding yours.

Fred had very little self-control when it came to you. It didn't take any convincing for him to give in and meet your stare. It was intoxicating. Whatever you had been doing previously was easily forgotten the moment the look was exchanged. He practically melted, thumb still brushing across your cheek while his mind drifted away from cleaning your messy faces.

You did try to resist– or so you told yourself– But a flicker of your eyes toward his lips and it was over. You met in a sweet kiss, the chalky taste of flour finding your tongue. It was warm and gentle and filled with the same longing you felt every time you kissed him; even back to the very first time. The act was so simple, and yet was more than enough for him to take over your entire mind and body. You were completely at the mercy of your lover.

His hands cupped your face, the mixture of soap and flour making a mess of your skin. He held you there with no intention of moving and in turn, rapidly draining any of yours. This only lasted until a distinct burning smell reached your nose.

Fred noticed before you, lips parting from yours as his eyes fell on the sight. "Y/n," He muttered and let his hands drift down to your shoulders.

"Hm?" Was your oblivious response, further proof you belonged nowhere near an oven. Realization hit you at the same time as the harsh scent.

"Is that supposed to be on fire?" You jerked your body around to follow his gaze, only to find that your cookies had gone up in flames. How? You had only taken your eyes off them for a few minutes at most. Your hands went to your pockets, but there was empty fabric where your wand should have been. So Fred's was the next best option.

He wasn't one to handle emergency situations well. While you calmly tried to locate a solution, Fred seemed to lose any instinct for survival. "Fred," You snapped a finger to get his attention. "Your wand, love."

"Right," He searched around the counter for it. A sigh escaped your lips and you put a hand on his arm to stop him, taking his wand from his pocket. With a swift flick, water sprayed from the tip of it and extinguished the flames, which had roared on during the moment of panic.

As the fire subsided, you lost any hope in salvaging your dessert. They came out of the oven pitch black, hard as a rock, and now waterlogged; definitely not edible. You set them on the counter so you both could get a good look.

After a moment or two of dead silence, Fred made a poor attempt to lighten your disappointment. "Well, this isn't the worst thing I've seen you take out of an oven." You shot him the makings of a glare, which confirmed his attempt had ended in failure.

The expression turned into a frown. "Maybe I'm just destined for burnt cookies." As the words came out, so did a giggle. You really were cursed. Every single time, without fail, something goes wrong. You were convinced you were the only one with such terrible luck when it came to baking.

"Or maybe you just need more practice." Fred suggested, giving you his smile. Somehow he had become more enthusiastic about this than you.

You leaned onto the counter, sinking down in defeat. "I think I’ve had a little too much practice." Adding another kitchen disaster to your resume didn't make you any more eager to jump back into it.

"One more couldn't hurt, darling." He pulled out another set of ingredients, this time indenting to help you rather than distract. With Fred, your chances for success were greatly increased but still slim. Even with the odds stacked against you, how could you refuse? Especially at the sight of him standing there, so ready to try again with you. So with an exaggerated sigh, you got back to work.

These cookies had made it much farther than the previous batch. Even just surviving long enough to make it out of the oven was a victory. You could admit there was an obvious improvement. But even though they looked the part— mostly— One taste and you found they were not the most appealing to consume. It was a sign of progress, but still not something anyone else would find edible.

Finally, you were able to start coming to terms with your skill; or lack thereof. Baking was such a delicate art, and you just had to accept that not everyone was meant to be that type of artist.

Find more like this here!

#fred weasely x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x you #hogwarts fanfiction #weasley twins #weasley twin fanfiction #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fandom #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x y/n #Fred Weasley x y/n oneshot #oneshot

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cozzzynook · 3 months ago

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Adding onto Earthspark Prowlbee since its so rare

As the weeks went on Bumblebee couldn't help but feel content all the stress of being a mentor to the Terrans or what ever plan Optimus had to try and get them back home, none of that mattered when ever he was by Prowl's side. Said mech was currently recharging next to Bee with a peaceful expression on his face while softly snoring.

Despite wanting to stay in berth a little longer and snuggle, Bumblebee had some early morning chores to do. With a quick huff the yellow mech hoped off the berth and made his way out the hab and into the main hallway. After a couple of sleepy steps Bee found himself inside the mess hall while sluggishly grabbing a cube of fuel before sitting down at a table. Despite the lack of stress Bee still felt horrible due to early mornings however today was a little worse .

"Up already?" Elita hummed as she took a sip from her cube. "Did Prime want you to scout out another old base, again?"

Bumblebee gave a warm smile as he greeted Elita. "No, I wanted to take an early drive before heading to the Malto's farm. The Tarrens wanted me to take them exploring"

"That sounds fun" Elita smiled warmly before narrowing her optics for a moment. A soft hum rumbled in her chest as she studied Bumblebee a little closer. "Though I should think you should head to the bay first before you leave"

"Huh, why do you say that?" Puzzled the yellow mech raised a brow while one door wing flicked uncommittable.

Giving her best 'Mom Glare' the Terrens would put it, Elita would gently press her free servo onto Bee's helm checking the mech's temperature. "You just seem off today, but you're not warm or cold so that rules out a virus"

"Greeaaat" Bee rolled his optics as he finished off his cube "I'll quickly stop by but I don't feel too 'off' "

"I mean it Bumblebee, I know very well how much you and Prime like to try and avoid your mandatory health checks"

Letting out a nervous chuckle Bumblebee quickly got his pedes and made his way to the bay, the sooner he got this over with the sooner he can get Elita off his back.

Prowl woke from recharge to the sound of his comm going off, with a groggy sigh he sat up and answered with a sleepy sigh. "Who is it?"

"Prowler... uhm sorry to wake you up" On the other side of the line soft shaky vents escaped from Bumblebee's voice. "I-I really need to tell you something..."

Snapping to his senses, Prowl was already halfway out of the berth and was only mere seconds away from running out of the hab. "What's wrong?"

"I'll be blunt with you..." Another sigh "I may or may not be sparked" For a few long minutes the comm line was silent already adding to the amounting anxiety Bee was already feeling. Flicking his door wings Bumblebee checked the line's connection before speaking. "Prowl, you there?"

Without warning the med bay door swung opened quickly followed by a very panicked Prowl rushing to the yellow mech's side. "Are you serious? Are you really sparked?" Gentle servos quickly found themselves pulling Bee closer to his frame.

"Yeah, I mean the sparkling is only the size of a ping-pong ball right now but yes I'm sparked" A soft chuckle found itself escaping Bumblebee as he softly gazed up at Prowl.

"And I thought we were going to take things slow at first" Prowl joked as he already began to place little kisses on Bee's cheek and helm. "Does anyone else know?"

Bee shook his helm before leaning up to place his own kisses. "No just you right now and Wheeljack" A soft hum rumbled in his chest as he felt servos carefully pet his door wings.

"Good, I just want it to be us right now and not have Optimus venting down my neck more than he already is" Another short chuckle followed after as Prowl continued to lazily pet his mech-friend's door wings. The threat of falling back into recharge was slowly getting closer as soft purrs escaped them both. "Want me to cover your shift, little Bee?"

"Mm, Sure. I'd doubt Jackie will let me leave the base anyway, not until he's given me the all clear" Lazily smiling Bumblebee pulled away from the hug only to place a gentle peck on his partner's nose. "And please don't be too aloof with the Tarrens, they can and will come up with every possible theory to why you act like that"

"Hehe, I promise"

"Love you, Prowler"

"And I love you too, Little Bee"

Kfkfoaoofjfowo AAHHHH I LOVE THIS!!!!!

#prowlbee #transformers #bumblebee #prowl #mechpreg #earthspark #transformers earthspark

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mist-see · 2 months ago

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Hii I saw you were looking for requests and I thought I'd share one, hopefully I didn't get anything wrong lol. Would you mind writing some headcanons, fics or whatever you feel like for Gaz and Ghost (separately ofc) who have a crush on a sassy and clever teammate? For example how would they realise their feelings, act around the reader and maybe even confess ? I'd love to see your perception on this. Ofc you don't have to do this at all if u don't feel like it. Thanks and good night/day!!

Crush on you

Headcanons. Gaz x reader & Ghost x reader

Rubbing my hands like bird man at this bc I haven’t had an ask in forever.

Gaz

How he realises he’s into you:

▫️Honestly? It hits him in the middle of banter. You outsmart him in front of the team — not in a way that undermines him, but enough to leave him looking at you like damn, you’re now my wife.

▫️He’s quick-witted himself, but you’ve got this sharp tongue, and every time you toss a retort his way, he finds himself grinning like an idiot.

▫️ There’s a moment during a mission briefing where you correct the intel, smooth as hell, and he’s supposed to be annoyed — but all he can think is why do I love this?

How he acts around you:

◽️ He leans hard into playful teasing. Constantly trying to match your energy.

◽️ If you sass him, he claps back, but you notice he’s always just shy of really trying to win — he secretly likes losing to you in banter.

◽️ Finds excuses to pair up on missions: “Command says we’ve got flexibility on fireteams, so, guess we’re a pair today.”

◽️You’ll catch him watching you with this soft, amused smile when you’re not looking. And when you do catch him? He doesn’t even hide it.

Confession:

⬜️He probably slips up during a heated argument — the two of you bicker over strategy, voices raised, sparks flying. He blurts:

“You know I only fight with you like this because you drive me mad — in a good way.”

⬜️Cue stunned silence. He realises what he’s said.

⬜️ Doubles down with a crooked smile: “Yeah. I like you. And don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”

Ghost

How he realises he’s into you:

▪️It creeps up on him slowly. At first, he thinks he’s just entertained by your quick wit and sharp tongue.

▪️Then he catches himself looking — not just admiring, but studying you. The way you don’t back down, how you meet his gaze when others shy away.

▪️You call him out, too. Casually. Fearless.

“You gonna keep starin’, Ghost, or you planning to say somethin’?”

▪️It rattles him. In a way he likes far too much.

How he acts around you:

◾️He tries to act unaffected, but you get to him like no one else.

◾️Quiet appreciation — you’ll notice him subtly positioning himself near you in debriefs, on missions, even in downtime.

◾️If someone else tries to flirt with you? His posture shifts immediately: colder, tenser. Protective but not possessive.

◼️When you sass him, he doesn’t fire back right away. He lets the silence linger, watching you with a dark glint in his eye — then delivers a deadpan retort that makes your stomach flip.

Confession:

⬛️He’d probably confess in an unexpectedly vulnerable moment.

⬛️Maybe after you save his life — patching him up in the field, your hands steady despite the tension.

⬛️His voice is low, rough:

“You keep doin’ that — savin’ me, gettin’ under my skin.”

“Maybe you like it,” you tease.

He pauses, eyes meeting yours, mask hiding the lower half of his face but his eyes saying everything.

“I do,” he admits. “More than I should.”

#black!reader #dom!reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #gaz cod #ghost cod #simon riley x you #gaz garrick x reader #task force x reader #tf 141 headcanons #gaz headcanons #ghost headcanons

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agirlwithglam · 3 months ago

Text

studying for exam week! 📑🎀📚

hi loves! so i have tests & exams coming up so in case it would help anyone else, i'm gonna be talking about my study schedule including some more additional things like mindsets and other actions that keep me motivated!

routine!

i have latin, spanish, 2 math, 2 science and a geography paper coming up. for me, the priority is the math, science and spanish tests so i will be focussing more on those.

so here's how i'd make a game plan:

choose the priority subjects, so you know what you need to work on.

do practice papers/ whatever revision technique that works for that subject. then anytime you make a mistake, note it down somewhere so you know thats something you may have to touch on ex: for studying math, i do practice papers and any time i don't know how to do a question/ get something wrong, i make sure to write it down somewhere so i know what i need to remember/ work on.

if creating a rigid schedule that u must follow after school doesn't work for you, create a bare minimum of studying that you need to do daily so even if u have literally 10 mins, you can still do something. what i do is that for the very bare minimum, I do at least a certain set of practice math questions everyday. that way even if i don't have too much time to do a lot of studying, i don't just put it off and say "oh i only have 20-30 mins, i'll just do it tmrw"

a couple things i'll be doing to keep me sane & motivated: 🎆🧁

~ changing up the environment. i'll go to starbucks or a nearby boba shop, or you can stay late at the school library- that way you can't get distracted, or if you can only stay at home, JAZZ IT UPP! work on the floor, in the living room, on the dining/ coffee table, or if ur on ur table, move some things around, light up candles, play different types of music to fully just romanticise and change things up!

~ study buddies - it can be really discouraging and boring to study all day long, but remember: you're not in it alone! find a friend who you can study with and won't get distracted. sometimes this won't be ur bff or someone you're super close to but maybe the girl you sit next to in math class who's very academic will be the one who you can face time when ur at home to study together and if one of you has questions, you can ask the other!

~ during study breaks... there is so much you can do which is so satisfying and fun + will motivate you to keep going like for example;

scrolling through pinterest in a study board/ for study motivation. (i have an academic weapons pinterest board with videos, images, quotes, etc that motivate me to try harder!)

watch gilmore girls or smth

read a book you ACTUALLY like

listen to upbeat music that u love and dance (or you can just sit and chill to let urself regenerate)

take a quick video of yourself and check in with what you've done so far

~ create an aesthetic notion page! this will 10x your fun in studying, TRUST ME. you can either search up on yt 'how to make a notion for studying' or check notion's library as they have loads of options! (or ofc u can make one urself based on ur own needs and wants <3 )

the mentality & reasons to study: 💋☕️

girl these mindsets is what has and will get me fighting through the studying & wanting to reach for even more!! i KNOW that at the very least, one of them will get u fighting harder. so here are some of mindsets/ reasons to study!

aint no way i'm going to let that stupid stereotype of "men are smarter" to be true

the thought of a man saying "you're nothing without me" disgusts me SO MUCHHH

the devil couldn't reach me so now he's trying to bring me down with distractions and hard math problems. AM I GOING TO LET HIM WIN???

become everything i would ever want in someone else.

becoming everything i would ever want to be MYSELF. - an act of true self love.

i have things to do in my life. i am going to become a powerful, confident, rich woman.

because being educated and smart is so freaking attractive like to myself personally.

i want to be the top of my class.

learning! sometimes we often forget that the purpose of the tests is to ensure that we've truly learnt the information. so develop an interest in learning to things! in becoming cultured, educated, rich in knowledge because thats what makes you so powerful.

i am the beauty & brains

inspiring icons: 💬👠

1) emma watson

"Don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't do or achieve. Do what you want to do and be who you want to be."

i love this queen so much its unreal. she's everything i wanna be. shes a strong, confident, educated woman who is also so beautiful. also hermione granger is an amazing studying icon as well (played by emma watson). she prioritises herself & her education over anything else thats irrelevant yet still maintains that feminine aspect by being kind and empathetic (though you'll never catch her letting someone walk over or take advantage of her). she's articulate, well spoken, and confident in herself & who she is which is the type of mindset i need in the test!!

2) blair waldorf

"destiny is for losers. it's just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen." she ate with that one. oh and another one: "forget boys, keep your eyes on the prize" . she has so many iconic quotes i cold make a whole post listing them but i will leave these 2 for now.

i love blair waldorf's study ethic and determination, i think its something we all should strive for. she knows how to handle herself, she knows what she wants, and she gets it + doesn't let anyone distract her or get in her way. no matter what. thats what i admire about her! the vibe is posh, elegant, studying in a way where you get everything done <3

3) kat stratford

"you forget, i don't care what people think"

ugh i love her and her i hate men attitude lowkey. she's so confident in herself and she does not try to please anyone else but her. shes also so educated and knows what she wants & aint afraid to be herself! QUEENNN

when i'm pretending to be her/ studying like her, i feel like it gives the vibe of studying furiously, angry in a way and not letting anyone or anything get in your way because you're literally just better than that.

BMAC

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chaotic--pixie · 3 months ago

Text

And they called it Puppy Love

10k x f!reader/OC

Wordcount: 3.7k

Warnings: None

The whole camp is buzzing.

Alex and Letta went on a supply run yesterday and came back last night with a group of survivors. They were taken straight to medical for one of their members and then led to one of the empty houses for the night.

It's been months since we've had outsiders come through. So a group of six has a lot of people curious, especially considering one of the men is blue. A vitamin deficiency, according to the leader.

Yeah right

But I don't care about whatever condition he has, my interest is held elsewhere. In spiky black hair and pale skin. Full lips that curl up in the corners everytime blue eyes connect with brown.

We're sitting at opposite ends of the table as my father talks to Warren, their leader, about their injured member and their plans of going West.

“Best way to get to California is going to be taking this route here.” My dad tells her, tracing along the map in front of him.

“That's going to be difficult for us to do with our friend's leg messed up”.

“You’re welcome to stay here a few days while she rest,” he interrupts her, “We've got plenty here and you were kind enough to help our people out of a sticky spot “

I tune out the conversation again as my eyes drift back to the dark haired boy. He’s too cute to be in the apocalypse, I think to myself watching the sun reflect off the goggles atop his head. He must know I'm thinking about him because his eyes dart to mine and he smirks like he hears my thoughts.

Our staring contest is cut short by my father standing up and motioning me to follow. As we walk away he warns me not to get too close with the group. It's fine to help them but they aren't staying. I take one last look over my shoulder.

….

It's after noon before I see anyone from the group again. I'm in the lookout tower with Jim, a short bearded man who never wants to make conversation. The shift is dragging by which is a good thing really, means no zombie activity today. But God was it boring. Jim eventually announces that he's going down to do one last walk of the fence before our shift is over.

Once he leaves I reach into my pocket and pull out my cigarette case and lighter. It's not often I get a moment alone, dad always has someone around to watch me. I'd just pulled my first draw when I heard a thud behind me. Preparing an excuse I whip around expecting Jim but instead find myself staring into blue eyes.

“Hi.” Is my quiet greeting, shocked to see the star of my wandering thoughts. . Is that the best you can do, I think slightly embarrassed.

The smirk from earlier slides back onto his face and he glanced down.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, a hint of an accent comes through. He makes his way over to me taking a seat in Jim's empty chair and slides his gun off his shoulder, “Sorry to pop up on you like that.”

“No worries, long as you can keep a secret.” I say, giving him a small smile and waving the cigarette between my fingers.

He watches me bring it to my lips for another draw and licks his own, “Yeah no problem. Mind if I bum one of those secrets from you?”

I pull the case from my pocket again and pass him a cigarette. Instead of using the lighter again I lean forward and light the end using the cherry from my own.

He sits back and takes a deep inhale, blowing the smoke into the air above us. We let the silence carry on a bit while we study each other, this time with long stares instead of quick glances.

My eyes glide over his frame. He's tall and lean, an athletic build from years of surviving the apocalypse. He's not rippling in muscle but his arms are well toned. The rest of him too I bet.

My train of thought is derailed by him introducing himself.

“10 Thousand.”

“What.” Confusion clear in my voice.

He smiles again, “10 Thousand, it's my name.”

I nod, “That's an interesting name. Where'd it come from?”

“Picked it myself. It's the number of Zs I plan to kill.” He explains easily taking another drag.

“Impressive, that's quite the goal”

“Thanks. Do you have one?”

“A goal?” More confusion

“A name.” He laughs.

I feel heat creeping up my neck, “OH, right sorry, it's-”

“Y/N you up there!” A shout comes from beneath us. I flick my cigarette over the edge as I jump up and turn toward the ladder. 10 Thousand follows my lead.

“Yeah, coming down now! Post is yours!” I yell back down to Alex as he comes up for his watch. I turn back to the boy at my side and decide to take a chance.

“Since we got interrupted, you wanna have lunch with me?”

…..

The next couple of days are the best I've had in years. Every moment I can spare is spent with 10k, while trying not to alert my father of our new friendship.

“So he's overprotective?” 10k grunts, stabbing a Z through the chain link as we walk the fence together.

“Overprotective was pre-z, there's not a word strong enough for what he is now.” I laugh. The afternoon sun beaming down on us.

Mornings are spent like the first. Sneaking looks at each other over the tables, only to dart away when our eyes connect. Fighting back grins so we don't draw attention. I think the old man knows though. The two are especially close, even among the tight knit group. And 10k talks about him the most.

We're tucked away behind the greenhouse I'm supposed to be working in sharing a cigarette. Clouds cover the sun casting us in a nice shade while we talk.

“One time he got stuck in an air shaft and passed the time getting high with a Z that was stuck with him.” He tells me leaning against the glass.

I blew the smoke out in a laugh. “Did it actually work? Like did it calm the Z down?” Passing the cigarette to him, my fingers tingling when they brush against his.

“He says it did.” He replies before taking a hit. “Swears it almost put it to sleep.”

“Marijuana the plant of a thousand uses.” I snort

He keeps me company for the rest of my shift. We trade stories about our lives and share laughs. At one point he hides under a table when Miss Helen comes to check on my progress. I'm certain she heard the hushed giggles as she walked away.

The rest of the day is spent seeking each other out whenever we can. Whether I'm on guard, laundry, or greenhouse duty 10k always has a way of finding me. The moment my partner leaves my side 10k is filling their space. At some point he even manages to bribe Jim into letting him take over guard duty with me. It helps that he's such a good shot in case word gets back to my father.

We're in the tower now playing cards with a deck he borrowed from Doc. He's telling me about the scouting run tomorrow. Alex and Letta are going out again with Warren to check the town and roads. And he wants to go with them.

“I'm the best shot and this run is for our group. I should go along.” He reasons with me, throwing a card down on the pile between us.

My lips purse as I throw my own on top of it. “I know, plus you've got your count to keep up.” I flash him a small smile. He snaps his fingers and points one at me “That is true.” and throws down another card.

“But work is going to suck tomorrow without you there.” I admit shyly. A last ditch effort to persuade him. I've gotten used to his presence over the last few days and I knew that if the roads are clear enough they'll be continuing on their mission. I didn't really want to give up the time I had left with him.

"Maybe you could go on the run with us. We could check out the next town together, kill some Zs. I could teach you to shoot.” He offers with a wide grin excitement clear in his eyes.

I hate to spoil it, “As fun as that sounds, there's no way my dad's letting me out that gate.”

His shoulders deflate a bit, “Right overprotective dad. How come he doesn't let you go on runs?”

I shrug my shoulders and look down at the cards in my hand. “He used to. I mean we survived out there for a while before we found this place but then I had my little accident and it's been lockdown ever since.”

“What accident?” he asked me, propping his chin on the arm resting on his bent knee. The card game was forgotten.

“I went on a run after we got here with Alex and some others and we ran into a small horde passing through town. The group got separated and I ended up twisting my ankle so I had to hide out in a car. Alex and I are the only ones that made it back but it was two days before we did.” I explain easily. It really wasn't a big deal but my father would not agree.

He's quiet for a second, deep in thought before nodding his head, “Yeah I'd keep you locked up too.” he says finally.

My jaw drops, “EXCUS-”

“You are accident proned. Earlier your foot slipped coming up the ladder.” He interrupts me smoothly.

“Okay so-”

“Yesterday you tripped over a log while we walked the fence.”

“That was-”

“You hit your head on th-”

“SHUT UP!” I shriek throwing the cards in my hand at him as he laughs.

.…

Jim and Cory come to relieve us hours later. It's dinner time which unfortunately means I have to part ways with my new friend. We walk to the make shift cafeteria before splitting up, he goes to the table where the rest of his group sits and takes his usual seat beside Doc. As soon as he takes his seat the old man is leaning into him and whispering. From my place next to my father I have the joy of watching his face flush with heat. I wonder what they're talking about I think just as his eyes snap to mine.

It takes effort to look away, turning to my father as he asks me how my shift went. I tell him how boring it was, pushing the food around on my plate. I think about asking him about the run. But the memory of our last fight holds me back. I'd rather not have a yelling match in front of everyone. Again.

Instead I half listen as he talks about his day. The problems he fixed between camp members and his plans for the next set of crops. None of it is as interesting as the pretty boy at the next table, making faces at me over his mash potatoes.

….

It's early the next morning when they set out. I pushed a granola bar and extra water into 10k hands, making his promise to stay safe. He tells me not to worry, that he'll be back after lunch.

Now it's nearly sunset and there's no sight of them.

My shift ended hours ago but I stayed in the tower even as the guys took their post. My stomach is tied in knots and I think I've worn the planks down with my pacing. Huffing everytime I look to the horizon and find it empty. I don't even care that Jim is standing there when I pull my cigarette case out and light one. I see him shake his head and I brace myself for a lecture. But he surprises me.

“Stop worrying yourself over that boy. He's gonna come back.” The tone is so matter of fact like he's saying the grass is green.

It makes me choke a bit blowing out the smoke. “What. I'm not-”

He stops me with a loud snort, “I had a wife and three daughters once. I've seen it before. I know what it looks like.”

I pause. I want to ask what ‘It’ is, but I'm too scared now to know. Instead it's a whispered “...How do you know he'll be back?”

Jim looks up at me again from his seat. He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Cause he's got something to come back to.” And goes back to sharpening his knife.

It's silent after that. Jim lets me finish my cigarette before he pats the chair next to him and passes me a knife and stone of my own when I sit down. We sit there together, I ask him about his family to distract myself and he seems all too willing to tell me about them. It's the most I've ever heard him talk in all the time we've been on duty together. And I think maybe he needed it as much as I did.

The sun was just starting to sink down when Cory's shout gets our attention.

“Car!”

I leap from my seat and toss the knife and stone on the little table. In the distance I see a truck coming down the road with a figure standing in the back. I don't have to get a good look before I know instantly who it is. I turn and rush down the ladder, almost slipping again. There's already a crowd at the gate when I make it and the truck rolls in.

The group piles out of the truck quickly, and 10k jumps out of the bed. They all look exhausted and they're covered in blood and dirt. Our eyes connect over the crowd of people I'm pushing through. His look so tired that I just want to wrap him in my arms and let him rest. To keep the whole world away from him. But before I can make it to him my father's voice sounds over the crowd.

“What happened? You were supposed to be back hours ago?” He asks, his eyes darting around the group.

Warren is the one that steps up to answer him, “We ran into another group and they weren't friendly.“

My father curses and runs a hand over his face. He jerks his head for them to follow. Likely to discuss this in a more private area so the camp doesn't panic. The crowd disperses as the group follows him to the house.

I hang back, waiting till my father gets a ways ahead before I grab 10k’s hand and pull him with me towards the greenhouse. As soon as we're behind the building he falls into me. Wrapping his arms around my waist and my own go around his shoulders holding him to me.

“Told you I'd be back.” He whispers into my hair and squeezes me tighter.

I shake my head where it's buried in his chest, “You're never leaving my sight again.”

We move to the grass, sitting against the glass. His arm stays around my shoulder as I lean against him. I have his other hand pulled into my lap, playing with his fingers while he tells me what happened.

“Most of the trip went fine, we got some supplies, killed a few Zs. But on the way back through we ran into a group of guys and it got ugly.” He paused, sliding his fingers in between mine. “Big fight broke out, we got some of the guys but the rest ran and the noise attracted a herd. We took out as many as we could and led the rest away before circling back.”

I nod along to his story. There weren't supposed to be any other camps in the area so hopefully the people were just passing through. Either way I'm glad 10k wasn't hurt. I snuggle deeper into his side, laying my head on his shoulder. “What number did you get to?”

“Three thousand seven hundred and sixty-seven.” he boasted, pride clear in his voice.

I hum and tilt my face up to look at him, “That's a big jump, you should give yourself prizes after every thousand till you get to the grand name change.”

“Prizes huh. Like what?”

“Anything you want. Like a-” my sentence is cut short by his lips crashing into mine.

My brain freezes, stopping all thoughts except the one screaming to kiss him back. I pull my hand free and bring them to cup his face as our lips move together. His other hand slides around my waist and tugs me closer until I'm practically in his lap.

But there's no rush to it. It's slow and sweet. Both of us just enjoying the feeling of the other. His arm around my shoulder moves so his hand is cupping the back of my head. His tongue brushes against my bottom lip shyly. I tilt my head a bit and part my lips. We're so lost in each other we don't hear the footsteps approach.

At the sound of a throat clearing above us we spring apart. And there stands Warren and my father, holding flashlights, the latter looking furious.

“Get up.” Is his cold command as he stares right at us. We rise slowly and once we're on our feet my father grabs me by the arm and starts pulling me along. 10k is right behind us trying to stop him. But my father's anger makes him unreasonable.

“Enough! I let you in for safe haven and you repay it by pawing at my daughter!” My father spins on him.

10k shakes his head rapidly, “No! It's not like that, I care about-”

My father won't let him finish, “You stay away from her. You and your group are gone come first light!” he begins marching me to the house again.

10k tries to follow again but Warren stops him. She says something to him and his shoulders slump. And he can't do anything but stare after me and run a hand through his hair.

.…

We walk into the house and the door slams behind us. I jerk out of my father's grip, “You can't just send them away like that! There's another group out there and a herd!”

“That isn't my problem! I helped them all I could, they're on their own. My job now is to deal with you.”

“Deal with me for what?!”

“For being childish and sneaking around with that boy!”

“He has a name!”

“I don't give a shit what his name is! You know better than to get caught up with some drifter! You have a responsibility t-”

“Oh bullshit! What responsibility?! You don't even let me leave the damn compound!”

He first slams into the table, “Because I am your father and it's MY responsibility to keep you safe since you want to act like a fucking idiot!”

The silence is deafening. I turn in my heel and march to my room, slamming the door behind me.

.…

Sometimes later I'm still pacing around my room. I'd heard the tale tell sound of glasses clinking in the kitchen before my father's door shuts. Off to drink himself to sleep.

I'd just turned to make another lap when I heard a faint tap on my window. Snapping my head around I rush over and pull back the curtain. There standing in the darkness is 10k, wide blue eyes looking so pitiful. I unlock the window and raise it slowly so it doesn't squeak.

“Hello Romeo.” I greet him with a grin as he uses the window seal to climb into my room.

As soon as he stands to his full height he pulls me into his chest. “I'm sorry, I should have been paying attention.” He says glumly

“It's fine.” I reassure him, “he would have caught on eventually. According to Jim we aren't very subtle.” I tease.

It wins me a small smile but it falls quickly. He stares into space above my head and I know he's thinking about tomorrow. So I decided to distract him. Running my hands up his chest I bring them to cup his face once more and pull him down to me.

He let out a sigh when our lips touch and all the tension drains from his body. This time the kiss doesn't stay soft.

His hands travel down to my hips and squeeze. Pushing his tongue into my mouth when I gasp. My hands are in his hair now, tugging at the dark locks. And he moans.

The noise sets me on fire and suddenly we're falling into my bed. He's braced above me on his elbows as our lips move in tandem. Kissing each other breathless as the heat spreads. From my chest to my stomach and lower. Warms blooms as his lips make their way to my neck. Nipping and sucking along my skin until he finds the spot that makes me buck into him and sinks his teeth in.

My breath lodges in my throat, and I tug on his hair again. He moves back to my lips as his hand slips under my shirt. Moving slowly up my ribcage until his large palm covers my breast. It's only then that he pulls back, just a hair width.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispers, his breath fanning across my face.

I stare into his eyes as my hands move down to his belt, “Never.”

…..

We lay there together basking in the afterglow. My head rests on his bare chest as he runs a hand along my back. His other hand twirls a piece of my hair. I release a long sigh of contentment and place a kiss over his heart. He places one on the crown of my head.

It's not long now til daylight. And the outside world comes to drag us apart.

I'm lost in thoughts on how I could get my father to reconsider sending them away. But that's only a temporary fix if he'd even agree. They still have a mission to complete after all. I'm so deep in my head I almost don't hear 10k’s voice.

“Come with me.”

#10k z nation #z nation #10k fics #10k imagine #10k x oc

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suddencolds · 7 months ago

Text

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks.

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around.

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow.

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says.

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

“He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this…

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him?

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return.

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will.

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that.

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe.

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #i wrote the majority of this on 4.21.2024 😭 initially with the intention of writing much more #(atypical occurrence part... 3?)#but i think it feels most fitting to just end it here :') that is what i have the stamina for in any case #i feel the need to apologize for how short this is + for the fact that vincent is entirely absent #you can maybe see why i hesitated for almost 7 months before posting it #a couple notes:#mikhail (yves's former college roommate and current best friend) is mentioned in the first installment i ever posted #but he shows up most substantially in foreign home #i am fond of their friendship dynamic... is it obvious? 😭#yvverse #my fic

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

Text

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 11

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky had no idea that someone was making an evil plan against him. He had been advising you on managing Velari’s business for the past few days.

You quickly grasped the management concepts, learning from the best, Bucky. Another reason for your quick understanding was your previous business studies at a prestigious university. However, you couldn't continue your education due to internal conflicts within your family.

That was your biggest regret. You only bark but never bite. You managed to continue your education only because Cassandra sold her jewelry. You will never forget the sacrifice she made for you. You clenched your fists, remembering the heartbreak in her eyes when she sold her cherished possessions.

But still, whenever you tried to rise, life seemed determined to bring you down again. Genevieve used all her connections to prevent you from learning business and management.

You discovered this when you confronted the dean, who said, "Mrs. Sinclair donates a lot to this university, and we don’t want to disappoint her." You had felt a cold rage, your hands trembling as you realized the extent of her influence.

Most prestigious universities denied you. The only place that accepted you was a community college, where you randomly chose to study health and physical education because, at that time, you felt utterly lost and alone.

You just wanted to get a degree, any degree. You sighed, recalling the sense of defeat and the hollow feeling in your chest as you enrolled in a field you had no passion for.

Sometimes not expecting anything gives the best gifts. The lecturer and friends you met were the most supportive and kindest people you had ever encountered. That’s how you got the job as a teacher at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

It was tough at first; your teachers and the principal had warned you to be careful. But you felt like you could make some changes because you knew how the students felt: not being listened to, getting bullied, not being appreciated, and being ignored. You remembered the frustration in their eyes, a mirror of your own past struggles.

Comparing the discipline required for dealing with delinquent students who always gave outrageous excuses, working at Velari seemed easier.

After redefining the clothes' design with Andrea, you felt like the old Velari was back. You never thought redoing the design would be easier than looking at the accountant's records.

It was a mess. You ran your fingers through your hair, your brow furrowed in disbelief.

You scratched your head, unable to believe how much the business was bleeding. Bucky was also reading the numbers. "If you don’t do something, Velari will be closed in two years." His tone was serious, and his eyes met yours with concern.

"Urgh." You threw your head onto the book on the table and hit it a few times in frustration.

Bucky extended his hand and placed it on your forehead. His warm hand held your head gently. "Don’t worry, you can fix this." His touch and reassuring words made you pause, feeling a flicker of hope amid the chaos.

You felt your face warm up. Bucky noticed too. "Are you having a fever?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

You quickly moved your head away from his hand and shook your head. "No, I guess I hit my head too hard," you replied, trying to downplay your flustered state.

The chat between you and Bucky didn’t go unnoticed by Andrea, the senior designer. She bit her lip and continued drawing, stealing glances occasionally.

Bucky cleared his throat. "If you want, we could make a press release for a new rebranding for Velari."

"That’s a good idea," you nodded. "Can we also include AstraNova Group in the press release?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure." He looked at his watch and got up. "I’ll send the PR team to help you with the press release."

"Thank you," you said, your gratitude showing in your smile. Bucky smiled back and left the room.

"It was so sweet, I can't even describe it," Andrea remarked, taking off her glasses and smirking at you.

You felt your cheeks warm up again. "It's not..."

Andrea raised her hands in a mock surrender. "I won't tease you, but I saw how he always comes here and even stays with you until late at night. It says something."

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I don’t know... To be honest, I don’t believe in romance after what I saw happen to my parents."

Andrea nodded sympathetically. "I understand, but not every story ends the same way. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance."

Andrea sighed, then approached you and gently took both of your hands in hers. She looked at you with a mix of concern and nostalgia. She remembered the first time Ophelia brought you to the shop.

You were cheerful, always laughing at the most minor things. But everything changed after Ophelia died, and not even a year later, your father remarried. Understandably, you have trauma around love and opening your heart to another person.

“Give it a chance,” Andrea said softly, squeezing your hands. “If both of you share the same feelings, that’s good. And… if Bucky cheats, I’m sure you could give him a lesson.” Andrea chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled too, the tension easing from your shoulders. It would be a lie if you said you didn't have feelings for Bucky. You glanced down, your cheeks flushing slightly.

Andrea noticed your expression and gave your hands another reassuring squeeze. “You deserve happiness, just like anyone else.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Andrea. I'll think about it."

Andrea smiled warmly, patting your hands before letting go. “Good. Now, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot to do.”

👗👗👗👗👗

Since his memory returned, Bucky has been practicing touching other people. He started with his parents first. Though he still couldn’t hug them, he could hold their hands without feeling disgusted. His mom and dad were astounded and cried at the same time.

Finally, they could have physical contact with their son again without Bucky feeling nauseated or acting like they were germs. As parents, it was heartbreaking to see him struggle. The kidnapping stole Bucky and their chance to be an average family.

Juliana sipped her tea while watching her son read the newspaper. "So, today you’re going to be the honored guest at Velari?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Bucky nodded, not looking up from the paper.

"I never thought my son could be interested in fashion," she teased again, her eyes twinkling.

"Mom… I’m just… repaying the favor," Bucky replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah… right," Rowan and Juliana murmured together. Because of Bucky’s condition, he never had the chance to have an intimate relationship with someone. He spent his youth only studying. So now, with Bucky and you? They couldn’t be happier.

Bucky wanted to smile at his parents' teasing but held it in. He stood from his seat, adjusting the buttons on his jacket. "I don’t want to be late."

"Why so early?" Juliana asked, looking up from her tea.

Bucky kept walking toward the door where the car was already prepared for him. "I have to stop by her house first."

"Tell her I said ‘Hi’," Juliana called after him, a knowing smile on her face.

Bucky paused at the door, turning slightly to nod before stepping outside. As he approached the car, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you.

🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖

Bucky arrived at your house and, as usual, greeted Cassandra first. She looked much healthier, having gained some weight since the first time he met her. Even with her dementia, Cassandra was always friendly to everyone. She was sitting in the garden with a blanket on her lap.

“Hello, Grandma,” Bucky greeted her warmly.

Cassandra’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ah, Patrick. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? Did you have breakfast?”

Bucky smiled softly, though he didn’t understand why she called him Patrick. After meeting a few times, she started using this name. He had mentioned it to you, but you didn’t know who Patrick was either.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you said, walking into the garden while adjusting your earrings.

Bucky fell silent, momentarily mesmerized by how different you looked today. Cassandra noticed, too, and clapped her hands in delight. “You look so beautiful, Ophelia. Did you make the clothes from my design again?”

You bent down and kissed her cheeks. “Yes.” Bringing your mother’s and grandmother’s designs to life was one of your greatest joys.

At least Genevieve and Victoria had never gotten their hands on the earlier designs. Kneeling beside Cassandra, you took her wrinkled hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to revive the old Velari.”

Cassandra tilted her head and caressed your hair gently. “I believe in you,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and trust.

🚗🚗🚗🚗🚗

The ride to the press release was quiet. You kept silently memorizing the speech you were going to deliver to the journalists and critics. In the fashion world, critics' words held significant weight.

Bucky sensed your nervousness. “Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said, his voice steady.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes, I can do this.” Then, you looked at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude. You had reached this point mainly because of him.

“Bucky… I…” Your eyes widened when you saw Bucky’s intense focus on you, and he reached for you. “Wait…”

“Get down!” Bucky shouted, dragging your body away from the door. The movement was swift. As the car stopped at a red light, a big SUV suddenly rammed into Bucky’s car.

The car window shattered, showering you with glass. “What the fuck?” you exclaimed, feeling a mix of shock and fear.

Then you realized the person who had shielded you was trembling. You looked up to see Bucky, his face pale, his body rigid.

The traumatic memory of his kidnapping had resurfaced with startling clarity. He had just wanted to go home early from an event hosted by AstraNova, finding the party boring with no kids his age. But that decision had led to his abduction, a memory now mirrored in this moment. The nightmare was returning: the darkness, the cold, and fear.

“Bucky?” you called, trying to snap him out of his frozen state.

‘Bang.’

You hear the door closed from the SUV and see three big guys coming into your car. You saw the driver is fainted. “Shit.”

You touched Bucky's face urgently, trying to break through his fear. "Bucky, look at me! I know you're scared. Me too! But we can't stand still. We have to run. Argh…" Suddenly, strong arms grabbed you from behind.

The person was big and rough, wearing a ski mask. He muttered, "You're a firecracker, aren't ya?" His confidence wavered when you stared directly at him.

You continued kicking and squirming to escape his grasp, but his strength was overwhelming compared to your students'. Where was Bucky?

“Bucky!!!” you screamed, desperately searching for him.

“Don’t worry about him. We just want you,” the abductor sneered as he dragged you toward the waiting car.

Fear surged through you as you realized what was happening—had you just been abducted?

You kept kicking and struggling against the abductor, but he gripped your leg harder. “Be good, or I’ll break your fucking legs…”

“Help!” A voice suddenly cried out, weak and desperate.

You and your abductor both turned toward the sound.

What you saw was beyond anything you could have imagined. Bucky, whose body was smaller than the abductor's, had launched himself into action. With surprising strength and speed, he grabbed the other abductor and threw him in a wide arc.

The abductor struggled, choking and gasping for air. His resistance faded, and he went limp, unconscious. Bucky discarded him like a sack of garbage.

Your abductor's voice trembled with disbelief and frustration. “Fuck, she didn’t mention any of this.”

You were equally shocked. You had never imagined that Bucky possessed such strength and skill.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky had been quietly preparing himself for such situations. He had learned various martial arts and survival techniques, practicing diligently despite his physical limitations. Unable to spar with others, he had honed his abilities with machines and workout equipment, constantly pushing himself to the highest levels.

Now, faced with real danger, Bucky's training revealed itself. His strength and determination were beyond anything you had ever seen from him.

Andrea echoed in your mind, "If Bucky cheated, you could give him a lesson." If she could witness this moment, she would indeed be astounded.

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jsprnt · 1 year ago

Text

Americano PT. 10 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: wrote this in between study breaks, I’m totally spent 😭😭

W/C: 3.523

part nine

"So, uh- do you have any allergies?"

I mutter awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on Jude as he sits across from me at the kitchen island.

He folds his arms across his chest, raising his head to look over at me.

"Are you planning something?" He eyes me suspiciously, causing a tired sigh to leave my mouth.

"Shut up- answer the question.." I raise my wooden spoon, threatening him.

"No, I don't have any allergies. Is that good enough?" He replies, Brum accent making him sound even more defensive.

"Ungrateful ass.." I mutter, turning around and starting to work on breakfast.

I had slept horribly after last night’s events. I'd reckon- maybe, six hours in total. It was our day off- thankfully, but that didn't mean that I trusted Jude to rummage through my house on his own while I rotted away in bed.

My dad had called earlier, wanting to explain the situation to me clearly without leaving any important details out.

Apparently, last night Jude's place was broken into again. This time, he was at home to actually witness it happen. I'm not sure what transpired between the intruder and Jude. Since, my dad had told me it would be too invasive for me to know.

From what I knew, it was the same person as last time- or how many damn times this had happened. This case had been keeping my dad busy for months now, and it only found a way to piss me off even more.

Either Jude had the shittiest security, or- did he even have security?

"Can't believe I'm cooking for you.." I mutter, hearing the drag of his house slippers against the floor as he walks up to me.

"What are you making?"

I move away, so he doesn't touch me, giving him a side eye as I crack four eggs in a pan.

"Eggs.." I say, moving back when oil splashes up.

"Can you cook?" He asks, eyes moving in between the stove and my face.

"Kind of.." I say, hesitating with my reply.

I knew how to cook the basics. Say, your pastas and soups. Though, I like to think I'm improving every time auntie Carmen comes over to show me how to cook another delicious meal.

"How do you like your eggs?" I ask, raising my head to look up at him. He has a confused expression on his face and his gaze is fixed on me.

Fuck, did that sound wrong?

"More runny or cooked?" I ask, grimacing to myself as I sprinkle salt and pepper into the pan.

"You've cooked it- enough.."

"Oh, okay.." I mentally curse at how stupid I sound, looking away from him.

I quickly plate it up for him, not forgetting the avocado and barely toasted pieces of bread.

Well, too bad for him.

We eat our breakfast without speaking to each other. I can only hear the crunch of my bread and clatter of the cutlery against the plates.

I look up at him when I've cleared my plate, wiping crumbs from the corners of my mouth.

"How long are you staying?"

"Are you trying to kick me out already?"

I give him a look, raising my brows as if to tell him he already knows my answer.

"I don't know- depends on the situation.." He says, rubbing his hands against his gray sweatpants.

I sigh, rubbing my temples in irritation.

"Where's your mom anyway?" I ask, remembering that they literally lived together.

"I made her go back to England for my brother’s games. She's always spending more time with me- felt bad for the lad.." He answers, looking away.

"Last night?" I ask, raising my voice in surprise.

"No, during international break. I wasn't playing remember.."

"Oh- that's good, I guess.." I trail off, realizing we're going to be home alone for a while.

Silence falls in between us, and I begin picking at the loose threads of my old pajama top. It was old, but so comfy to sleep in.

"Okay, uh- let's clean up, and I'll give you a quick tour of the place." I jump up from my seat, grabbing my plate off the table, and walk over to the sink.

I look back when he doesn't get up. I raise a brow, sending him a questioning look.

"What are you doing? Clean up.." I say, waving him over. I watch him grab his plate and cutlery- a comical sight that had me struggling to keep my composure.

He places the plate in front of me, looking at me like he's expecting me to do something.

I step back, folding my arms.

Woah, he looked clueless.

"Do you even know how to do- like the dishes or laundry?" I ask, eyeing him up and down.

"Not really.."

"You're what? Twenty and don't know how to do your own laundry?" I pull a horrified face.

"Do you think it's okay to freeload?" I question, immediately grabbing his wrist to drag him upstairs to the laundry room.

Did he think this was a five-star hotel or something?

"I can't believe I have to drive you there. Why don't you have a license?" I whine, walking into the bathroom and seeing him fix his hair. The array of skincare, haircare and bodycare all on the counter in front of him.

Why did I think that he only used a block of soap and aftershave?

He turns away from the mirror, taking a step closer to me as I passive aggressively grab my toothbrush.

"Why wouldn't you want to drive me?" He questions, his voice full of mockery.

I wet my toothbrush and the blob of toothpaste, starting to brush my teeth as I look up at him.

"Do you know how crazy it looks for a staff member to arrive with a player in her car?"

I mumble, probably half audible, as I spit foam into the sink.

He grimaces at me, and I watch him take a step away from me via the mirror.

"Oh, you're dramatic.." I mumble, running the brush over my teeth again.

"Everyone thinks we're together anyway- does it even matter at this point?"

I freeze, turning to him with white foam dripping down the corner of my mouth.

"That's even worse.." I shake my head, giving him a once-over before starting to rinse my mouth.

"Pre-match meal is at...?" I question, waiting for him to finish the sentence while I dry my hands and mouth.

"Half past two." He replies, making me nod.

"Okay- give me an hour.." I say, quickly running to my room to change and get ready.

It was match day against Granada. Thankfully, after this we got some more days off.

We had to get to the training center early, mainly due the fact that I had become Jude’s private driver.

When my father told me I had to drive him around, I almost fell to my knees in sheer despair, not believing the torture I had to go through.

I didn’t even get anything in return, well, maybe I’d bug my dad for another pretty handbag- or two.

Pre-match meals are usually about three to four hours before the match. Normally, I could arrive very late and still manage to snatch a nice plate, but because of Jude - that wasn't possible today, and probably until he’s moved out of my place.

y/n's only half-way through her 'getting ready' playlist when she hears multiple loud knocks on her bedroom door.

"What?! Stop banging on my door! You don't even pay rent!" She shouts over the music, watching the door handle twist.

She turns away from her vanity mirror, makeup brush in her hand, as she sees Jude walk into her room.

"Who invited you in?" She questions, gasping when he goes to sit on her nicely made bed, wrinkling the fabric.

"Me, you’re taking so-” He begins, but he's immediately cut off when she shouts.

"Wait- shut up.."

She says, turning away to sing along with the song currently playing from her phone.

"We do the things but we know it's wrong

All on my skin, you all in my palm

I sent you a envelope, came with a poem

You possess venom that came with a charm

You get the good out me when I perform

I know the bad in you, that's what I want

And you a baddie, you turnin' me on."

Seems like she forgets he's even in her room, singing along to the Future verse while she dots a good amount of blush on the apples of her cheek.

He sighs loudly, continuing to stare at her from behind. She doesn’t notice at all, now way too invested into getting ready while listening to her favorite songs.

Jude runs a frustrated hand over his face, taking in the way she sings along with the all-too-familiar-sounding song lyrics, hoping she can hurry up soon.

"Do I have to take you home too?" I ask, getting up from the comfy chair I'm in. Following Jude towards the dressing room. Relieved after a 2-0 win against Granada.

The sound of his cleats hitting the floor is loud, and I stop right at the entrance of the dressing room when he stops in his tracks.

"I can call a taxi, probably.."

I search his face for any annoyance or anger, but don't see anything like it. Instead, in a strangely familiar way- his eyes are wide and expressive. He looks more unsure and uncomfortable than I've ever seen him.

"It's fine- we're going to the same house anyway.." I whisper, dismissing his words with a wave.

"I have to go back to the training center though.. Can you stand tagging along with me?" I question, raising my brows in anticipation.

"Yeah, I'll just get freshened up really quick.." He says, stepping inside and closing the door since he was the last player to enter.

After saying bye to everyone, I sneakily walk up to my car. Almost jumping out of my skin when I see Jude already standing at the passenger door.

"What are you- get in.." I sigh, unlocking the door and stepping in.

The ride over to the training center is awkward and quiet, to say the least. I'm not in the mood to look through my playlist- and I'm sure he isn't either, by the way he's busy scrolling on his phone.

I park my car in my designated spot in the staff parking lot, looking over at him.

"Do you want to stay in the car?" I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt, and glancing at him.

"No, I'll come with you.." He replies, stepping out of the passenger’s seat and following me inside.

"I need to leave this bag here.." I inform, locking the car as the both of us walk inside the center.

He doesn't reply, not that it's necessary.

I walk up to the office, still hearing Jude walk right behind me.

"You're following me like a lost puppy.." I mutter, unlocking the door of the room I'm supposed to leave the equipment in.

"Okay, damn, I'll be downstairs.." He sneers, turning away and leaving immediately.

I shrug to myself when he leaves, finishing my business before going down as well.

I shove my keys into my bag, swinging it on my shoulder, then go looking around for Jude.

I enter the meeting room he and other players would hang out in, but don't see him. Stepping out, I look up from the door, walking in and out of the other meeting rooms.

"Where the fuck are you?" I mutter, reaching for my phone to call him, only to remember that I don't even have his phone number.

"Looking for something?"

I almost scream out loud when I hear a deep voice behind me. I turn, trying to not look like the person scared the crap out of me.

Oh, the creepy coworker. How fun.

"No, just dropped off some equipment upstairs.." I quickly say, rubbing my hand against my jeans.

I watch his eyes flicker to the keycard around my neck, which I forgot to take off.

"Coming from Bernabéu, y/n?"

Why did he know my name?

"Yeah, busy day.."

He stares at me, not saying anything else. I mentally hype myself up to say something, maybe to learn more about him.

"What's your name? We've seen each other around, but I don't know your name.” I say, shifting nervously as his blue eyes peer into mine.

"Andrés, fitness department. I'm new.." He says, sticking out a ghostly hand for me to shake.

"Right, nice to meet you. I would introduce myself too, but you seem to know already. How come?" His grip is tight, so I tighten it even more.

Give me a rough handshake, and I’ll break your hand out of pettiness.

"Everyone here knows you.." He replies, there is a harsh, but breathiness to his voice and it causes chills to run down my spine.

I clear my throat, realizing he still hasn't let go of my hand.

"Because of my father, yeah.." I fake a chuckle, trying to pull my hand back.

"No, not because of mister l/n.." My breath hitches audibly at his tone, and I try to snatch my hand back even more forcefully.

He doesn't even flinch, continuing to stare down at me.

"y/n, here you are.." I hear a familiar voice say, breaking out of this weird fucking trance.

My head snaps up, my eyes going wide, when I see Jude stepping out of the meeting room I had not checked out yet.

I use the opportunity to snatch my hand away from Andrés, rubbing my hand to fix my blood flow.

I watch Jude give him a look, death stare imminent when he walks up to us.

"Andrés? What are you doing here, it's late." He says, for some reason, slower than I have ever heard him speak.

"Work, busy.." He answers, trying to speak English with a broken Spanish accent.

Oh, he didn't speak English?

I watch a strange interaction between them, a jumble of Spanish and English. I try my best to understand, but it seems like both men throw in some gibberish too.

Finally, when they're done with their simlish, I'm grabbed by my hand, dragged away by Jude.

"What the hell is his problem?" I exclaim, still feeling my hand ache from the pressure.

"He's been fuckin' weird, don’t like him..” He mutters, walking ahead of me while still dragging me along.

I struggle to catch up with his long strides, his warm palm pressing into mine as he looks back at me.

"You okay?" He questions, stopping abruptly, causing me to smash my face against his arm.

"Ow- not anymore.." I mutter, rubbing my nose in agony with my free hand.

"Oh- shit, sorry.." He spits, his hand still on mine. I remove my hand from my face, raising my chin to look up at him.

"Am I bleeding?" A dramatic question, but you never knew with his rock-hard, muscular- arms..

I blink up at him, feeling his hand come up to my chin. He pinches my face, making me move my head.

"No, no blood- I think.." He breathes out, eyes roaming around my face to check for any blood.

I make sudden, close eye contact with him. His brown eyes catching mine, breath fanning my face.

We stare at each other for a moment. His hand still clearly on mine while he cups my face to look at me.

I realize the position we're in and step back. I eye our intertwined hands, looking back up at him as if to tell him to let go.

He clears his throat, dropping my hand like it's hot, and stepping back.

I decide to pretend I don't give a fuck. Ignoring the drumming of my heart, and grab my car key out of my bag.

"Get in.."

"Smash.." I say, maybe for the 10th time this hour.

"Oh my days, can you stop saying that?" Jude exclaims, a bewildered expression on his face as he looks over at me.

"Can't, it's Michael B. Jordan, and you want me to sit still?" I ask, earning a grunt from him.

"You're unbelievable.."

I ignore him, continuing to drool over the screen while I shove popcorn into my mouth.

"What are you going to do? You're off for four days.." I ask, sprawled out on the couch, in front of the TV.

"I have physical therapy every day, can't leave the city.." He complains, sitting on the couch across from me.

"Oh, how inconvenient- wait, who's driving you?.."

"Don't you worry, I've got someone driving me.." He sneers, folding his arms.

I roll my eyes, going back to watch the movie on the screen.

A hot man could make a boring movie so incredibly interesting.

"I'm not home tomorrow. Will you survive being home alone for the rest of your day?" I question, flickering my eyes back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking my last exam, library helps me focus better.." I stuff another handful of popcorn into my mouth.

"Last one?"

"Yeah, I need to go revise a little." I sit up, pausing the movie, and getting up from the couch.

"Have it.." I shove the bowl of popcorn into his hands, walking up the stairs to my room. Ready for this exam to be over already.

“What the fuck was that.." I whisper to myself, hitting my head on my steering wheel repeatedly. I had long driven home from the library, not caring to step out of the car, parked in the driveway.

I had studied hours on end, but when I was presented with the questions, my brain practically short circuited, causing me to blank out so much information I needed to know.

I'm on the verge of tears at this point. Normally, after the last exam of the semester, I'd be jumping from joy, but the way this exam had gone- I wanted to cry buckets of tears.

I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. Not caring about the foundation stain left on it, and grab my bag from the backseat. I get out of my car, unlocking the front door of my house quickly.

I expect the house to be quiet, but instead I hear loud music. Old 80s songs, solely about love. Music only I knew auntie Carmen loved listening to while cooking.

I drop my bag at the front door, blinking repeatedly to hide the tears in my eyes. I shrug my jacket off, the December cold had come in full force. Though, to me, nothing was worse than winter in London anyway.

"Harina, say it, young man.." I hear auntie Carmen say in Spanish, a voice following behind her.

"Harina? Harina.." A broken accented voice says. I raise my brows, my tears and worries in the back of my mind now.

Curiosity takes over, and I immediately walk towards the kitchen, where the noises are coming from.

I'm greeted by the sight of auntie Carmen and Jude standing next to each other. Both wearing aprons as they are kneading dough on the kitchen island. Flour sprinkled on the marble as I hear Jude repeat random Spanish words, often getting corrected by my auntie.

She didn't even speak a lick of English. How did they even communicate?

I clear my throat, taking their attention away from the slabs of dough on the counter.

"Oh- you're home.." She smiles warmly at me, beckoning me over with a flour-covered hand.

"What's this?" I ask, stepping closer and speaking in Spanish.

"We're making pizza from scratch, sweetie." She says, giving me a kiss on my cheek.

"With him?" I point to Jude, watching him pound the dough with unnecessary aggression.

"What do you mean? Jude is so good at this, look at him go..” She smiles, saying his name with the utmost affection. He looks up confused, but I ignore him further.

What the hell did he do to make her like him already?

"Your boyfriend is a better cook than you already..”

I pull a horrified face, eyes going wide as my arms fall to my sides. I glance at Jude, noticing that he hadn’t even flinched at the words.

Thankfully, his Spanish classes weren’t so advanced yet…

I lean in close to her, whispering, well whisper-shouting.

“He’s not my boyfriend..” I say, pulling a face. I watch the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

“I know, I’m just joking. Your dad called me about this entire situation already..”

“Why would you say that, then?”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he..” She says out loud, making me facepalm.

First, he steals my dad’s time, then my house, and now my auntie?

I look at him, watching him knead the dough, a smirk forming on his face.

I want to strangle him right here and now..

It’s only been a couple days, and this was too much for me already.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #real madrid fc #real madrid #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #football #bellingham x reader

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choccy-zefirka · 5 months ago

Text

Living Bodies

Woe! 3K words of body worship with Emmrich and a plus-size Rook, who that had a horrible first time as a teen and internalized her partner's disgust, be upon ye!

Content warning for references to bullying, dubious consent during the aforementioned first time, fatphobia, and also everyone's privates being out among the Necropolis flowers :3 (They are doing it in a cute skeleton-adorned gazebo that came to me in a dream)

Dear Lottie,

I am so terribly sorry you fell sick and missed all the fun! But we did it! We actually did it, all according to plan! Sprung the trap for my "secret admirer"! And our suspicions were correct!

All those gunky little lumps of soap Papa found folded in my laundry — they were put there by the washer girl! That knife ear, the one that looks like a toad! I think her name is Len-something, but who cares? And yes, she made them herself, out of whatever goop she's gathered round the alienage — because she has a """"crush"""" on me! The cheek! As if just because I don't like boys exclusively, I'd ever give the time of day to a walking, talking potato! She isn’t even cute in that scared rabbit way, like elf girls are supposed to be!

She did come to the "date" me and the girls arranged, too, and blathered on and on about how beautiful I am (fact) and how much she likes me (yuck)... Until we had enough and pushed her into the river!!! Oh, I wish you were there with us, it was ab-so-lu-te-ly hilarious!

Say, since you are sat by the window in your chair all day, have you heard any news out on the street? From the paper criers, maybe? I want to know if Len-whatever ended up drowning.

Correspondence between two traders' daughters. 9:40 Dragon

***

Happy now, Sticks?

Did her like you told me to. All the way. What a shitshow. Lardy Lenny is even lardier naked, that's for sure. Felt like sticking my dick into a giant slug. Next time I lose this stupid game, just send me into a shem's mabari kennels with salami for a sword. That will be way less painful.

Don't know how I'll fuck normal girls no. The fat cunt ruined it for me. Think I'll be having nightmares for years after this. Told her that, and she started bawling. Didn't even look funny like she usually does in tears. Just gross.

So yeah. Enjoy, I guess.

Note from an alienage boy to his friend, attached to a crumpled set of girl's underclothes. 9:42 Dragon

***

At first, Lenore is too distracted by turning and flexing her left hand. Her wrist has been getting a little stiff lately: she probably holds her arm at an uncomfortable angle when mixing potions. No surprise, since she is self-taught. Aching joints and sleepy pin pricks are the least of her problems, really! When she was just starting out, on a work bench that was just a half-rotten plank of wood balanced on a rock in the alienage backyards, she'd splash hissing, blistering liquid all over herself, turning her forearms into pale clumps of scar tissue, like cold leftover noodles plastered sadly at the bottom of a bowl.

Maybe if she observes Emmrich more closely during their studies together, she will figure out how to position her arms properly... Ugh. She'll find any excuse to "observe" him, won't she? Well, she's allowed; they are a couple now, outlandish as it sounds!

A couple.

All at once, her mind catches up to what her ears heard after Emmrich, gentle and attentive as always — what has she done to deserve him? — pointed out her stiff wrist.

Finer points of anatomy.

Her eyes dart upwards from her hand, and she gapes across their elegantly arranged tea table. Emmrich smiles, soft yet playful, eyes half-lidded and shining in the wisp light.

There is that side of him, that confidence — decades' worth of it — that sometimes makes her, all flushed and boiling alive in unspoken greed, wish for more than just quick kisses and lingering glances and fingertips resting on knuckles, shoulders, waists, whenever they stand too close. As if all of that was not already a gift far more generous than normally granted from someone like him to someone like her.

It has been a harmless enough indulgence to entertain, she supposes. A guilty pleasure, something titillating to think about in the secret alone hours while she touches herself. Not that she does it too often; bodies like hers aren't really meant for this, she's well aware... But still, that's also something couples are allowed to do, right — imagine each other's faces in place of characters from the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection?

But here and now, with Emmrich looking at her like that, it hits her with the full force of a Venatori blood forge trampling her to the ground. A keen, panicked awareness that this is not the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection. This is real — they are real. Especially her. Too real, too heavy, suddenly suffocating under her own weight, suddenly feeling the scented air of the Memorial Gardens with every pore of her skin, so tangibly, disgustingly physical that it begins to itch.

Most of her is carefully concealed underneath her usual Veil Jumper leathers, but if Emmrich, the real, non-fantasy Emmrich, decides to explore these finer points of anatomy, if he lifts the covers and sees just how much she the opposite of that...

Oh. Oh no.

She still remembers, a decade later, how the sight of her naked body broke the first and only boy that agreed to touch her. And that was before she got most of her scars!

She can't do that to anyone else, ever again. Especially not to him, not to her most treasured friend, not to the man who has been so kind to her that she dared bother him with her clumsy attempts at romance. Because with him, she could be certain, at last, that it would not turn out to be a prank.

How can she repay him by giving him nightmares?!

"Dearest? Why are you crying? Was I... Was I too forward? Too much?"

She did not even notice when the tears came. But here they are, marring her vision, so that there are two Emmrichs circling the table, kneeling in the grass next to her. Unafraid of the stains that will be left on the pristine Nevarran satin. Clasping her hands.

"I know that not all experience attraction the same way; if you would rather not explore this side of romance, that is perfectly fine, and wonderful! Your affection has already been such a beautiful gift."

Past her, the one that clung to the shadows, beyond the welcoming golden glow of camp fires, outside the reach of a friendly embrace; the one that spoke in sparse, grunt-like words, and kept her head down, beaten more than once, and shy far, far more than twice — that her would have made a vague noise and slunk away, never to bring this up again. But Emmrich — and Manfred! — was the one who brought her out of her shell. He deserves the truth, spoken with her whole chest.

"I... I do feel that kind of attraction towards you. You are a beautiful man, inside and out, and when I am with you, I sometimes forget myself and... pretend I am beautiful too."

She draws in a long, labored breath. She needs all the air in her lungs before this next plunge — she should know, she almost drowned once.

"But I am not. Especially not... from the neck down. You may have gotten used to my face..."

She dips her head — a habitual motion by now — letting her long, side-shaved fringe fall into her eyes. There's always quite a bit to hide under her hair: the dark rivulet of a birthmark on one side, the scar and the squinty damaged eye on the other. At least now she can do alchemical experiments in a mask and protective goggles. Less of an eye sore for Emmrich, to be sure.

"But trust me... My body is much worse."

She shuts her eyes and shrinks back into her seat, momentarily losing her present, adult, more or less mature and competent self (at least when it comes to alchemy and to… saving the world?) in the sheer blood-curdling terror of being seventeen again.

"The boy who took my virginity was so appalled that he said I'd scarred him forever. This has haunted me for ten years. And the... deed itself was punishment from his friends for losing some sort of dare. Do you understand?"

She forces herself to look into his eyes, even as the unseen, tightly wound strings holding her together begin to snap, one by one.

"Being with me... in that way... it's torture. I care for you too much to ever — "

"Lenore, my darling..."

Still on his knees — and still so tall that their faces are level — Emmrich pulls her hand to his lips and covers it in kisses. First on the outer side, swift, soft, each touch a beat of velvety butterfly wings; then, long, nearly reverent, on the inner side, where her pulse hammers against her bluish-pale wrist.

"Thank you for being frank with me. And I am truly, deeply sorry that you were betrayed with... such utter cruelty, in one of your life's most vulnerable moments. That fool of a boy was not the one scarred. You were. And oh, my dearest, you are still bleeding."

She listens to him in petrified silence, still as a startled halla before a long, soundless leap away from danger. She does not mean to — she knows Emmrich better than this by now; if he is disgusted by her, he will be much more polite about it — but instinctively, she braces herself for him to recoil away, grimacing like he is about to vomit. Overwhelmed by the sheer mental image of her laid bare before him. A slug; a toad; the stuff of nightmares.

Any second now. Any second.

He never does recoil.

"I know I cannot close this wound with a few words, much as I wish I could... But, darling, please try to take them to heart nonetheless."

His eyes, fully open now, reflect so much of the Gardens' ephemeral glow that it feels like she's sinking into two pools of starlight.

"Every body is as unique, as precious, as beautiful as the soul within. We study them, we mend them, we venerate them, in life and beyond. Your body is already dear to me because it is yours... And if you were ever to open it to me, like you opened your beautiful mind, there would be no greater honor than to discover — to savor — every last inch of it."

"I..."

Lenore swallows, her head swimming. If this lofty speech were delivered by anyone else, she'd have scoffed in doubt. Does she look like someone to whom a man (or woman, or anyone) would wax poetic about the sanctity of mortal flesh? What's the catch? But it's Emmrich, her Emmrich, whose voice and touch make it so easy to... Well. Forget herself.

"I want you to. Please."

He beams at her, placing one final kiss in the middle of her palm. Like a seal for a secret pact.

"Of course, dearest. Follow me."

They both get up, leaving Manfred (who has been off chasing the see-through Fade butterflies among the headstones, bless his innocent makeshift heart) to clean up their little picnic... Or at least to amuse himself with exploring how tea cups can be neatly stacked together.

Emmrich leads her to a secluded gazebo, crowned by yet another rendition of the embracing skeletal lovers that she has seen throughout the Gardens. Its threshold is barely visible, overgrown by a rustling carpet of delicate white blossoms that heave like the softest seafoam around Lenore's ankles.

"Shroud's kiss," Emmrich muses, after plucking one fragile white cup and placing it in Lenore's hand, right over the spot he kissed. The petals feel weightless against her skin, effervescent as a melting snowflake, as if woven from the Veil itself.

"I always loved the legend around this flower. They say that it grows on lovers' graves, and that one moves closer to the Fade simply by inhaling its fragrance."

He gestures to a bench under the intricate dome of metal lace, which is also cushioned in countless white flowers. She sits down, and a pale blue barrier shimmers into place around the gazebo. Shielding them from prying eyes. Emmrich's doing — or the Gardens'? Was this a secret rendezvous nook for someone else, once? Someone who might be buried underneath? Or, knowing Nevarrans, cast into the statue at the top of the dome?

"Do you think that legend is true?" Lenore asks, momentarily unable to contain herself. The fingers of her free hand race along the tips of the blossoms, and her alchemist's mind races in tandem.

"If we could maybe extract the essential oil and run a few experiments; but oh, that would require sacrificing so many of these beautiful flowers..."

Emmrich chuckles. He has leaned over her, bringing his lips so close to hers that she can drink in his breath, a pulsating heat beginning to rise at the bottom of her stomach.

"It is true if I will it, my dear," he murmurs, and the second he closes the distance, his tongue meeting hers in a kiss deeper than any they have shared before, the air all around them erupts in a cascade of pale-green sparks. Ghostly petals glide through the air, and if Lenore truly does tumble into the Fade, it is in a part of it that is as serene and sheltered as their Lighthouse.

The fragrant breeze is like silk against her burning cheeks, caressing her, each stroke leaving her more and more light-headed. Somehow, her body stops feeling like a heavy heap of scrap metal that she has to lug around while everyone stares at her; it is hugged gently by the cushion of petals, while Emmrich, as promised, explores it with both affection and... and gratitude.

He is still kissing her, diving deep with no fear of drowning, when his gloved hand unbuckles her belt and slips past the innermost layer of her traditional elven tunic. Her insides clench at the sensation of velvety fabric against her stomach rolls, and then her chest. As if she is balancing on a precarious clifftop somewhere back among the floating ruins of Arlathan.

But that startled pang soon dissolves into sweetest bliss. Emmrich has loosened the tunic's collar, allowing her shoulder and breast to escape, out into the warm, perfumed air. How scandalous! How very like the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection! Does she... Does she actually belong in one of those stories?

He continues to trace the outlines of her half-bared form, and his fingers are soon joined by his lips, which wander away from her gasping, half-parted mouth, and keep slowly moving down, paying a tribute of little kisses to each curve, each mole, each stretch mark. With a few motions of his deft, scholar's fingers, the layers of clothing peel off her torso completely, like she herself is a blossom unfolding.

His gaze measures her, from the flaming tips of her teardrop-shaped ears to the contours of her stomach. He smiles, a languid, hazy smile.

"Thank you for letting me see you, dearest."

"Can I..."

She clears her throat, part of her still dumbstruck in disbelief that this is actually happening. That she is actually saying this — to him.

"Can I see you as well?"

"I would be delighted."

She bites her lip, unsure where to start. But, ever so helpful, he weaves his fingers through hers, and patiently directs her through unclasping first his largest bracelet, then his collar pin.

Her heart hammers in her throat when she removes his jewelry and lays it on the bench beside her. With the bulkiest pieces out of the way, the buttons on his vest and shirt go next, and each of her little conquests over the delicate buttonholes is rewarded with a kiss from Emmrich. It does not slip past her that each of those grows a little sloppier than the next, a little more intermingled with bites and short, panting breaths. It's as if... As if he's enjoying her touch as much as she enjoying his.

At long last, his shoulders are bare as well. Exhaling softly, she marvels at the way the shadows of the gazebo’s lattice sculpt his bony clavicles, and runs her hands over the bristly cloud of short silver hair on his chest, and up his throat, where the skin is more worn with years of living, experiencing, being... him.

"You are perfect," she whispers, her thumb trailing over his cheekbones. At the sound of her words, his skin radiates rosy heat, and her body responds in kind.

"As are you, my darling."

His hands are back on her chest, as hers are on his. She chokes back a sound that might be a moan, or might be a sob. He pauses his chain of tender touches, uncertain if she is distressed. But she assuages his doubts by pressing into his mouth with another kiss, and if any tears do roll down her cheeks, those are tears of relief.

He hums in contentment at the back of his throat, and his fingertips, in their endless conductor's dance, brush along the texture of Lenore's many potion splash scars. She shudders when the cold metal of his few remaining rings glides over her, and the pulse between her legs, which has been growing stronger throughout their tender exchange of touches, of admiration, teeters close to its peak.

"Emm... Emmrich?"

She resurfaces from the kiss, dizzy and emboldened by the taste of him, and fumbles about for his hands, guiding them, like he guided hers, to push down her pants. His name comes out sounding as an awkward, stumbling mix between a needy plea and a tentative question. Emmrich, she means to say. Can you... Do this?

The thing is, she has no clue how to accommodate him between her thighs, underneath the soft pillow of her stomach. The worst parts of her, as the mirror says, as the memories in her head jeer.

But he smiles at her, and lavishes her with even more kisses, while she squirms under his searching lips, both nervous and aroused. Soon enough, he finds a comfortable angle... And again, he is on his knees before her. Fully giving himself to worship.

In romance serials, the good, beautiful partner with the perfect body orgasms when they are pleasured by their equally good, beautiful, perfect lover, and merely pretends to orgasm when the bad, comically inept or tragically forced lover, always fat, sweaty, and disgusting, slams against them like a dying tusket. What happens to the fat lover in the meanwhile, tends to be left out of the picture, because theirs is not the part of the story that the reader is here for. Perhaps, when the good lovers elope together into the sunset, the bad, fat lover is left to touch themselves all alone, in shameful secret, making a point not to overindulge, just like Lenore has in the past, because that would be disgusting...

And yet here she is. With a song of short, gasping notes coaxed from her lips, as his tongue circles within her and the ghostly blooms all around them merge into a flash of blinding white light.

When the peak is reached, when the wave hits her, and she, for once, is unafraid to drown, she impulsively grabs at the hair on the back of Emmrich's head... Which she only realizes once her mind stills a little — and instantly lets go, tumbling from the realm of pleasure back into awkward, clumsily physical reality. Apologizing for hurting him, again and again.

He looks up at her in half-drunken confusion, his hair in disarray, the pearly thread of her sex glinting in the corner of his mouth.

"Darling..." he manages to slur, his breath hitching. "You did not — "

Despite herself, she glances a little further down. And, for the first time — oh, by the Maker, Mythal, whoever, she is still so clueless! — she notices the bump in his pants. The little wet spot.

Oh. Oh.

He liked that.

"I wish I knew how to use my mouth the... the same way..." she stammers bluntly, still not looking away from the straining fabric.

"That is quite all right," he mouths, carelessly unspooling the band of red around his waist.

"There will be more nights like this one."

Until you become a lich and your duties take you away from someone so small and insignificant, a stray thought, like a charge of ice magic, runs through her brain, down her throat, impaling her very heart.

Grinding her teeth slightly, she wills her mind to return to the present moment. To the here and now. To Emmrich, brought to blissful ruin by the sight and feel and taste of her innermost self. To his sweet little moans and the rhythmic, almost elegant up-and-down pumps of his jeweled fingers, as they cup around the cock he finally brought out of his pants.

She never thought that Focus on his cock, focus on his cock, Lenore! would be a little chant of reassurance. The last time she saw erect, leaking flesh before her, she would rather have focused on anything else. But who knew that intimacy could be so different... even for the likes of her?

She bends forward and sneaks in a few kisses — on his wet mouth, over the desperately thrumming vein under his jaw — before his shuddering release leaves a messy splash of evidence over the both of them. She will help wash it off, of course; she knows the best potion mixes to do that... But it won't be something shameful, something that she had to get over with, retching and doubling over, her underthings stolen as evidence that the brave hero had survived the battle with the oozing, lumpy giant slug. It's simple, and natural — something that bodies do.

Bodies that are cherished and taken care of and worshipped. Hers revealed to him, his revealed to her.

Alive, here and now. Their skeletal forebears watching over them, in kindness and understanding.

#dragon age #da:tv #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #rook aldwir #lemon #age gap ship #original things

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