#if someone shows interest in me I’m suspicious of why. what are they trying to get from me. because in the past people have taken from me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

okaylikesmomo · 9 months

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Photographer Part 1

“You’re welcome.”

“For what?” you asked, barely even glancing at the folder your coworker and friend just dropped on your desk as you focused on your screen. “Another session you need me to cover for?”

“No, this one is a gift.”

“A gift?” you asked, picking up the folder and taking a look. “So you’re telling me you could take this appointment if you wanted to?”

“Well, not exactly,” your coworker replied while leaning against your desk.

“Of course,” you sighed, putting the folder back down. “I’d love to help you again, but I’m already booked this time around.”

“Hold up, hear me out,” he protested, picking the folder up and holding it out to you again. “You’re right, I can’t make it, but I fought pretty hard to get you this gig.”

“And why did you feel the need to do that?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because I owe you for last time, take a look at who it is.”

Even though you were still suspicious of his motives, he had your interest. You accepted the folder again and looked more thoroughly.

“Lee Ji-eun, actress?” you read out. “I’ve told you before, I don’t watch Kdramas.”

“Yeah, but you listen to Kpop.”

“So what? Get me a photoshoot with Eunbi then.”

He looked at you in shock.

“Wait, you really don’t know?” he asked, his mouth agape.

“Don’t know what?” you asked, getting tired of his games.

“You’re really in for a surprise,” he laughed while turning around. “Get there at least an hour early, just in case.”

“I told you, I’m already booked,” you replied infuriatingly.

“I’ve already covered your schedule,” he said while walking away. “Thank me later, and make sure you don’t tell anyone else about this one.”

What made this appointment so special that he would go through the effort to clear your schedule? You shook your head, deciding you’d worry about it later, before turning back to your screen.

—

Are you there yet?

Even though you weren’t sure why this appointment was such a big deal, you made sure to be an hour early just like he suggested, and you also dressed up nicely to give a nice first impression. You sent him a quick test saying you just arrived before putting your phone away and walking into the building.

There was so much work to be done, you never got around to checking out who this Lee Ji-Eun girl was. Typically, you’d like to do a bit of research about your clients, but you were on track for a promotion and spent all night working on a project that you were certain would get you there.

“You must be the photographer.”

“That’s me,” you replied, handing the lady at the front desk your ID. “Beautiful building by the way.”

“Are you surprised?” the lady laughed while handing the ID back. “Are you a fan?”

“Um, sorta,” you said awkwardly, feeling extra embarrassed that you didn’t do any research. She likely played a role in some new drama that had everyone hooked.

“Just follow the hallway and take a right. The whole third floor is hers.”

It wasn’t unheard of for someone to request an outcall for their shoot, but booking an entire floor for the studio was a bit of a flex. You racked your brain, trying to figure out if you had seen the name before - it did sound a bit familiar.

“You must be the new photographer? I need to see some ID, please,” a security guard approached you as soon as the elevator arrived on the third floor.

“Oh, uh, one second,” you said while stumbling with your bag. “Here you go.”

He accepted the ID and looked you up and down before handing it back to you.

“I see you’ve heard the rumors based on how you dressed,” the guard said while gesturing for you to follow him. “She doesn’t care and just does whatever she feels like, but if she’s going to play her games then I like seeing a bit of effort on your end. Some of the other’s barely try, showing up in sweats and a hoodie.”

“Thank you, sir, we try our best to be very professional.”

He burst out laughing while holding the door to a small room open for you.

“Professional? That’s one way you can describe it,” he said. “Non-disclosure is on the table, give it a sign before anything happens.”

Slightly confused by the comment, you bowed respectfully before walking in and placing your bag down. The room was far more comfortable than most waiting rooms, in fact it didn’t even look like a waiting room - it was more like an office.

There was a luxurious desk with a huge window behind it, bookshelves along both walls, and a large couch on either side of an oversized coffee table. It was a bit strange, usually you’d just be given a little room with a coffee machine and some refreshments.

After admiring the room, you quickly signed the document. Not every shoot required you to sign one, it was somewhat odd now that you think about it, but it would make sense for an actress to require it. You decided it would be a good time to look more into who this girl was, but just as you opened your laptop, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Hello, I’m-” you began while opening the door before suddenly your heart stopped.

“You are?” she said while chuckling at your reaction with her eyebrows raised.

“You’re IU.”

“Yes, I am,” she said casually while watching your mind go blank. “But I think you were saying who you are, not who I am.”

“B-B-But, you’re IU!”

“We’ve already established that,” she laughed while entering the room and picking up the NDA you had signed earlier. “Perfect, am I safe to assume this is you?”

Speaking wasn’t an option while you stood there like an idiot, barely managing to nod in response to her question. She put the paper back down and walked forward, closing the door from behind you before taking you by your hand towards the empty couch. Her delicate fingers barely touched your hand as she pulled.

“You seem quite shocked to meet me,” she laughed while guiding you to take a seat. “Shouldn’t you have expected it? After all, you’re going to be doing a photoshoot with me aren’t you?”

I’m such an idiot you thought to yourself. Lee Ji-Eun, that was her real name. You had only ever called her by her stage name, but it just now clicked as to why that name sounded familiar.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I am a huge fan - am I supposed to say that? I bet you get this all the time, I’m-”

“Relax,” IU cut you off while smiling softly.

She took a seat on the couch next to you, her perfect posture leading your eyes to her body. For the first time since meeting her, you properly took notice of what she was wearing. You took a deep breath, in awe at how pretty she was up close.

Her salmon-colored dress fell beautifully down her body, the sheer sleeves giving just enough visibility to keep you intrigued - intoxicated. The little black buttons gave just enough contrast to break the steady hue down to her thighs, where the dress opened up to showcase those slender legs of hers. On the other end, her intricate butterfly necklace framed that unrealistically pretty face beautifully.

“It is an honor to meet you,” you said respectfully, finally finding your voice again.

“Likewise,” IU responded, still smiling in the most comforting and endearing way. “I assume, especially after that reaction, this is your first photoshoot with me? I generally don’t forget my photographers.”

“Yes ma’am, my first time.”

“I know we make you sign an NDA, but have you heard any rumors?” she asked while playing with her hair. “Do you know what usually happens next?”

“My guess is that I’m here to take your pictures,” you replied awkwardly.

“That’s right,” IU giggled, flipping her hair around. “You’re quite adorable.”

IU just called you adorable.

“T-Thank you,” you stammered.

“Before that,” she said softly while placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “I like to give all of my photographers a bit of a thank you.”

“Before the shoot? But I haven’t done anything,” you said, confused by her words. “Surely you mean after?”

She leaned back and tilted her head slightly, as if she was analyzing you in a lab.

“If you did a good job, I planned to thank you afterwards as well,” she said softly, still examining you. “This is so interesting, you’re the first person who has come here without knowing. Assuming you’re not just playing along.”

“With all due respect, without knowing what?” you asked innocently. “Not playing any games, I truly just don’t know.”

She ignored your question and stood up, walking over to the desk and looking out the big window behind it. After a few moments of silence between the two of you, she turned around and spoke firmly.

“Take my picture.”

“Right now?” you clarified, your heart rate elevated by her gaze. “Sure, just give me one second.”

After fumbling around with your shaky hands until you pulled out one of your cameras, you walked up towards IU to get a good angle.

“The lighting is a bit odd because of where the window is, but I think I can make this work.”

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again and smiling.

“Whatever you think works best,” she said kindly while posing for you.

She was unbelievably pretty. Despite the unoptimized setting, your camera loved her; It felt like every picture was a masterpiece - she was born to be a model. You had her pose in a couple of different ways before giving her full freedom to pose however her heart desired.

“That’s gorgeous,” you muttered, looking at her through your lens. She was showing off her side profile with one leg slightly raised on the desk. “You’re amazing at this.”

“I have some experience,” she commented casually while you took your last few shots. “There, now you took some photos, can I thank you?”

“You’re very welcome,” you said while bowing deeply out of respect. “But I still have many more to take.”

She looked like she was in shock with her mouth slightly opened, her lips curled up in a little smile.

“You’re really not playing games,” she said softly before walking past you. “We’ll start in fifteen minutes, I can’t wait,” she added over her shoulder before leaving the room.

—

“So, do you pitch for the other team?”

“What? No, why would you ask?” you replied, astonished at the forwardness of the security guard.

“I don’t mean any offense, many photographers are,” he said while squinting his eyes at you. “But if you’re not, then you are the first one I’ve seen who…”

“Who what?”

“Nevermind, it’s none of my business. Come this way, she’s ready.”

This whole situation has been an odd one. Despite being confused out of your mind, you followed the guard across the room, carrying your camera with you. When you arrived at the set, you realized that this whole floor was probably being used to record a scene for a music video or something.

IU smiled politely at you before you got started. Luckily, the rest of the staff seemed to be acting normal, and the shoot went quite smoothly. Working with such an expert of the industry made it incredibly easy - the most difficult part was controlling the inner fanboy inside you.

“You’re doing great,” you said while snapping pictures constantly. “Try to look a bit more pensive.”

“Pensive? Okay,” IU replied before adjusting her expression.

“Perfect! Just turn a little bit more to your left,” you instructed, trying to stay as professional as possible while your heart was beating out of your chest. “Absolutely beautiful, I can feel the melancholy flowing through me.”

She giggled softly before quickly focusing again, controlling her laughter.

“Wait,” you said while looking up from your lens. “I need to see that again.”

“What? A giggle?” IU asked as her lips curled upwards slightly, clearly amused by you.

“That smile is far too pretty to skip.”

“I didn’t realize that was part of this photoshoot,” IU replied, smiling fully with her head tilted slightly.

“When you’re this beautiful, you just have to act naturally,” you said calmly while resuming your barrage of pictures. “It’s my job to try and capture it.”

She laughed openly, allowing you to catch a few stunning shots before she quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, you have a gorgeous laugh,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes locked on her through the eyepiece of your camera. She truly was stunning, especially when she smiled. “Let’s take a quick five minute break, please.”

While a group of stylists quickly ran up to touch up her makeup and hair, you walked over to a table on the side and poured yourself a glass of water.

“She really likes you.”

As you turned towards the voice, you saw the security guard from earlier next to you.

“I’m sure she’s just being respectful,” you said after taking a sip.

“Trust me, I’ve been working with her for a while, she tells me basically everything,” the guard said while pouring himself a glass as well. “She likes you.”

Well, I’m glad. She��s great to work with, I see why this is such a sought after position.”

He gave you a look of pure confusion before setting down his glass.

“Such a sought after position, yeah,” he said knowingly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened in that room earlier?”

“Before the shoot? She came in and we just talked for a bit,” you answered while refilling your glass. “Oh, and then I took a few pictures.”

“What kind of pictures?”

“Just some casual ones, I think she wanted to see what I could do before the actual shoot started.”

The guard gave you one more bewildered glance before another staff member from across the room called you back over to finish the shoot. The rest of the session went by quickly, there was only one outfit change. Afterwards, you quickly thanked all of the staff and IU personally before heading back to the waiting room to collect your things.

After taking apart your camera, putting on the covers, and packing each lens individually, you were ready to go. You took one last look around the room, thinking about IU leaning against that desk earlier.

“Mind if I come in?” a sweet voice called out to you from behind.

“Oh, of c-course,” you stammered, turning around to observe IU leaning against the open door. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked while closing the door behind her, slowly.

Truthfully, you were desperate to get back to the office and finish this report, but there was no chance in hell you would deny IU right now.

“I do,” you lied as IU sat down on the couch.

“Please, join me.”

Your heart could be felt throughout your entire body, each pulse of blood coursing through your vessels. Taking pictures of her for hours didn’t change how nervous you were sitting right next to her, nor did it prepare you for how unbelievably pretty she was in this instant.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments. Despite it being painfully difficult for you, she kept her gaze locked on you with ease - she was remarkably seductive. It was unclear if she was waiting for you to say something, and you began to sweat slightly as she stared at you. Luckily, she eventually broke the silence.

“You did a great job,” she said softly while keeping her eyes locked on you. “I wanted to personally thank you, again.”

“You’re very welcome, if there’s anything else I can do for you-”

“There is one thing,” she said, finally lowering her gaze. “It’s a very strange request, but could you help me take off my shoes?”

“Your… shoes…?”

“Yes,” she winced while reaching down to her feet. “I’m not trying to be a princess, the buckle is just too tight for me to take off myself.”

“Oh, of course,” you quickly dropped down to your knees in front of her and began working on the straps. She wasn’t lying, they were incredibly tight.

“Thanks,” she sighed, leaning back on the couch while you fiddled with the strap.

Eventually you got both open and slipped the shoes off before gasping in shock.

“Oh my God, are you alright?”

“Much better now,” she said while inhaling sharply as you began to rub the red marks on her feet.

“I can’t believe they made you wear these,” you commented while massaging her feet.

“Life of a celebrity,” she responded with a laugh before moaning out loudly. “Oh that feels so good.”

That sound she made immediately filled your insides with warmth, and you started to get slightly embarrassed. Without thinking, you looked up to see IU leaning her head back in pleasure - but by doing so you also happened to catch a glimpse up her short dress. Your face began to burn up as you quickly looked back down with the vision of IU’s underwear ingrained in your mind.

“You didn’t have to do that,” IU moaned softly while wiggling her feet before standing up. “I really appreciate it, though.”

“I know, it was just my instinct,” you said while trying to avoid eye contact. “I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Her single finger was placed on your chin as she knelt down next to you and gently turned your face. You started to truly notice how beautiful her eyes were now that you had to gaze right into them. No colorful contacts, just dark and rounded with a faint brown tint. All you could do was wait and pray that she didn't notice how anxious you were at the moment.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she whispered into your face, faintly hitting you with her warm breath, while putting a hand on your shoulder. You had no idea what was going on right now as she delicately pressed into your body with her slender fingers. “Were you uncomfortable?”

“No!” you answered a bit too enthusiastically.

She blessed you with another smile before patting the seat of the couch in front of you. Slowly, you got up off the ground and took a seat, facing IU who was now standing in front of you.

“Your shoulders are quite stiff,” she commented while leaning forward over you and pressing her fingers into your skin again. “You must be under a lot of stress.”

“Oh, yeah, work has been…” you trailed off, trying to find some distraction as this position made it impossible for you to not look down the neck of her dress. “Please, miss-”

“Just call me IU, if you’d like,” she whispered before standing up straight. “Do you mind if I massage your shoulders properly, just a bit?”

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do that for me,” you spluttered awkwardly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“I insist,” she said sternly, reviving that deep gaze of hers. “I’ve been learning how to find knots.”

You nodded, almost as a sign of submission, and then gulped, giving her the okay.

“I promise I’m good at this,” she said before casually straddling your lap. “It must be difficult carrying such heavy equipment around all day.”

Part of you wanted to scream. You assumed she would massage you normally, from behind, never in a thousand years would you have predicted her to position herself like this. Slowly, with her hands on your shoulders, she sat down on your lap; it was incredibly embarrassing because you knew she could feel the anticipation in your pants right now.

Not that it was your fault, surely anyone in your situation would be feeling the same way. A massage, a pretty girl on your lap, and your eyes situated perfectly to look down her neckline, these three facts combined meant you had no chance.

Even though she could most likely feel your erection, she ignored it entirely and focused on pressing your shoulders. It just now dawned on you how terrible this would look if someone walked in right now to see IU straddling you. Despite the nervousness coursing through your skin, it actually felt phenomenal.

Not only was IU sitting on your lap a dream come true, she didn’t lie when she said she was good at this. Frankly, she could have been completely useless at giving massages and it wouldn’t have mattered in this situation. Her whole body began to move up and down slightly as she really got into it, her crotch repeatedly bouncing on your lap did not help with the situation in your pants.

“Does that feel good,” she asked with her sultry voice in response to an involuntary moan you had let escape your lips.

“Mhmm,” you moaned again while she pressed all your pains away. “Why are you so good at this?”

“I told you, I’ve been practicing,” she said proudly before hopping off your lap. “I’m glad it’s paying off.”

“It really is,” you commented shyly while placing both your hands on your crotch.

“Is there anywhere else where you feel some tension?” she asked with extra emphasis on that last word, her eyes darting towards your lap. “I’d love to help relieve it.”

“Oh, thank you so much, but I’m alright,” you said shyly, trying your best to cover up.

For a second she looked disappointed, but quickly her beautiful smile returned.

“You are very cute,” she said tenderly before standing up and walking towards the door. “Have a lovely evening.”

After she left the room, your mind began doing backflips. Everything suddenly hit you at once as you sat there on the ground. You just massaged IU’s feet and she moaned. Not to mention that sight which you could not stop thinking about, that sight that would be living in your head for the foreseeable future.

On top of all that, she just called you cute.

—

“How did it go?!”

“I just finished the report,” you announced proudly, leaning back in your chair and grabbing your mug.

“Fuck the report,” your coworker shouted while slamming his hands down on your desk. “How did you get IU to personally ask for you again?”

“She did?!” you asked in shock, almost spitting out your coffee.

“I can’t believe this,” your coworker sighed heavily.

“Hey, you’re the one who gave me the shoot knowing it was IU of all people.”

“Well I owed you, and I figured in the off chance the rumors are true, you’d enjoy it more than I would,” he laughed while sitting down. “Also, it was my sister’s wedding last night, I couldn't exactly miss that.”

“What rumors?”

“Holy shit you actually don’t know?”

“Man, I feel like everyone knows something that I don’t,” you sighed. “What rumors?”

“Nothing’s confirmed, apparently she makes every photographer sign an NDA-”

“Yeah, I had to sign one, too,” you interjected.

His eyes shot wide open.

“If that part is true… word is that IU likes to personally ‘thank’ her photographers.”

“Yeah, she came in and privately thanked me,” you said, the view of her underwear flashing into your mind again.

“It’s true?!” he shouted before quickly looking around in a panic and whispering. “Sorry, but you have to tell me everything. Hands? Mouth? Some people say she goes all the way, but I don’t believe them for a second.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Bitch stop holding out on me,” your coworker replied angrily. “I might be gay, but I still wanna know.”

“Wait,” you mumbled, everything clicking in your head all of a sudden. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Hold on, did you or did you not-”

“I didn’t.”

“Hand?”

“No.”

“Mouth.”

“No.”

He flashed you an expectant look without saying anything.

“No, definitely didn’t do that either,” you answered his unasked question, making him stand up in disbelief. “All I did was massage her feet a bit.”

“Alright wait, that’s something,” he said, immediately sitting back down and leaning over your desk in excitement. “How the hell did you get your hands on her feet?”

“She was very…” you thought about how to word it. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah, clearly, if she let you suck on her toes.”

“I didn’t suck on her toes.”

“It sounds like she wanted you to!” he snapped back. “In what world does a girl casually let you massage her feet?”

“She said her feet hurt,” you mumbled quietly.

“She said her feet hurt,” he mocked you. “Did she also say her pussy hurts and ask for you to massage it too?”

“She also massaged my shoulders,” you muttered under your breath.

“She what?” your friend gasped. “She massaged you as well and you still didn’t get the hint?”

“I thought she was being friendly!”

“Saying ‘thank you' is friendly,” he said angrily. “Putting her hands all over you is three steps past friendly.”

“But she-”

“I can’t believe this,” your friend started pacing back and forth. “The rumors were true, the rumors were true.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I went?” you sighed while slumping back into your chair.

“Don’t blame me for your stupidity!”

He had a point.

“Wait, we're ignoring something very important,” he continued.

“I’m an idiot who can’t read the most obvious signs ever?”

“Well, that, and also she asked for you again.”

“You’re right!” you gasped, sitting back up in your chair with your eyes wide open. “But what if she’s only asking for me because I didn’t do anything?”

“I guess you’ll find out in two days,” he said while walking towards the door. “I have to get back to work, but I swear if she asks you to lick her foot you better swallow it whole.”

—

This time around you were far more nervous than when you didn’t know who she was. With extra care taken regarding your presentation, you walked into the building for today’s photoshoot. The man at the front desk directed you to where the shoot would be taking place and you made your way there. As you entered the photoshoot area, the same security guard from the last shoot approached you.

“Wow, two photoshoots in one week, and you didn’t believe me when I said she liked you,” he laughed while guiding you to a little room.

“Maybe she just liked the photos I took,” you suggested awkwardly while playing with the strap of your bag as you walked through the room, seeing IU on the far side surrounded by stylists. There were fewer staff this time around, and the room was considerably smaller.

“We haven’t even seen them yet,” the guard said while opening the door for you, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “Hey buddy, drink some water. It’ll help with your nerves.”

The waiting room was more typical than the last one, but it was still extremely luxurious with plenty of comfortable sitting room. There was a big table on the side and a small window overlooking the neighboring buildings.

“Nothing to sign this time, the one from last session is still valid.”

“Thank you, I’m ready to start whenever,” you said while putting your bag down.

Even though you had plenty of time before the shoot, you couldn’t focus on doing any other work. All you could think about was if IU was going to walk through that door personally again. Time ticked by, and you were starting to lose hope when suddenly the door flung open without a knock.

“Miss, sorry, I mean IU - may I still call you that?”

“Yes, you can call me IU still,” she said while attempting to stifle her cute giggles. “Why are you so flustered? We’ve already become acquainted, haven’t we?” she asked while closing the door behind her.

“Yeah that’s true, we’re basically friends at this point,” you said awkwardly, trying to suppress the urge to confess your love for her.

She gave you a long, thoughtful look as her lips curled into a smile and her adorable dimples were on display. It might have been your mind playing tricks on you, but you could have sworn she licked her lips as she eyed you up and down. Your face began to get warm under her gaze.

“I like you, you’re very cute,” she chuckled before walking up to you and unwrapping the blanket she was wearing off her body. “Since we’re friends, I wanted your opinion on my outfit for today’s shoot.”

“It’s… it’s… wow,” you mumbled while gawking at her beauty.

The outfit was simple, yet so charming. A white shirt with a white skirt, her midriff just peeking out ever so slightly, almost like she was teasing you with her body. The main attraction, however, were her beautiful legs. The skirt was short enough to where you could see her slender legs in their entirety. To top it all off, she had her hair tied up in an adorable ponytail with a purple hair tie.

“You look so beautiful,” you whispered under your breath with your mouth left hanging open afterwards.

“You’re so sweet!” she cheered happily while lunging forward and hugging you. “Thank you for coming again!”

“Any time,” you responded while your senses got overwhelmed by her divine aroma. As if you weren’t already in love with her, she smelled so delectable. “I loved working with you last time.”

“Me as well,” she said kindly with a bright smile after moving back. She glanced down at your lap before giggling softly. “I’ll be waiting for you, come out whenever you’re… ready.”

—

The photoshoot felt like it only lasted minutes, as the entire time that you were taking her photos all you could think about was how badly you were lusting for her. All that flirting, surely she meant for more to happen. Then again, would a celebrity as big as IU really be willing to do something like that with a random photographer that she just met? But why would she even flirt to begin with?

The internal battle raged in your head throughout the shoot. What did she really want? Maybe she just liked teasing - but all of those rumors, what if they’re true. Was there a chance IU would actually touch you? She already touched you, that hug wasn’t any normal hug; Unless you’re being delusional, in that case she really was just being friendly.

“Can you turn, put your legs on the other side please,” you instructed IU.

She nodded before tossing her legs across her body. In doing so, she very clearly gave you a view up her short skirt, flashing her light pink panties in your direction. You froze, being reminded of the last time you got a glimpse of her underwear.

“Is this not what you wanted?”

“Oh no, it’s perfect,” you answered, snapping out of your trance.

The photoshoot went on for a bit longer, and you had IU keep switching up the positions. Almost as if to confirm your suspicions, she put on a whole show each time - making sure to flash those pink panties into your view each and every time.

“We’re five minutes overtime, but if you need to continue it’s no issue,” one of her staff members informed you.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, lost track of time,” you responded before quickly putting the camera down. “I believe I have what I need, thank you again.”

Casual chatter filled the area as you made your way back to the little room. You began to pack your bag, as slowly as possible in the hopes that there would be a knock on the door. You were willing to accept any excuse - any delay - as you began to wipe your lenses with a microfiber cloth. Then it happened: That knock you craved so badly.

“Please come in.”

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” IU peeked her head through the door.

“No! Please, I was just waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” she smirked, this time locking the door behind her.

It took her only two lines to get you all flustered, forcing your next slurry of words to become an incoherent mess.

“I just don’t… thank you… I was leaving soon.” you stammered, having the sense to put your camera down before you dropped it.

She walked right up in front of you, wearing a kind expression, and grabbed your hands.

“Is everything okay? Your hands are shaking,” she noted, rubbing your fingers up and down.

“Oh no I’m great, how are you?”

She chuckled softly, giving your hands a quick squeeze before letting go.

“Would you like to just chat for a bit? Unless you’re in a rush, of course.”

“No rush at all!”

“Mind if I get a bit more comfortable then?” she chuckled softly, knowing that she had full control over you right now.

“By all means, do you need help with your shoes again?”

“I think I’ll be fine this time, thank you,” she laughed openly.

She turned around before she began to very slowly bend over at her hips. Slowly, lower and lower she went - this time there was literally zero chance you’d miss this hint. Especially when she made it all the way down and started taking her shoes off, as this was the best angle up her skirt.

Those light pink panties she flashed at you earlier were gone - replaced by nothing. Even though you could barely see, you were completely hard now; hiding your excitement would be impossible. The pressure kept building up as IU faked a struggle with her shoes, grunting and moaning until they finally slipped off.

“Oh that feels good,” she moaned as she stood back up straight and turned to face you. “I enjoy dressing up for photoshoots, but taking it all off feels so good.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you stuttered as she began walking towards you.

“Being a celebrity can be so… hard,” she whispered right in front of you, pausing to look down for that last word. “Mind if I show you something?”

Before you could answer, she put one foot up on the couch next to you. Her skirt rode up her thigh, giving you the most jaw-dropping view. It was straight out of a dream, you could literally see IU’s pussy right now - and she knew it, too.

“Look at this bruise I got,” she said casually, pointing at her knee. She knew very well that you could clearly see her private bits, there was no chance that she didn’t know, but she pretended not to notice. “I don’t even know where it came from, I find random bruises all over my legs after busy schedules.”

“Yeah, that must… that must be… really… painful…” you faltered, attempted to make coherent sentences while absolutely failing to avoid staring.

“Can I ask another favor, since you’re my friend?” IU asked sweetly while putting one of her hands on the back of your head. “Could you kiss it better?”

You licked your lips carelessly and leaned in to place your mouth against her knee. As soon as your lips contacted her skin, she began to moan softly. Thanks to her lovely voice, even her moans sounded like music to your ears. While your eyes remained fixed up her skirt, you continued to kiss her, essentially making out with her leg.

“Oh yeah that feels so much better,” she moaned softly. “If you don’t mind, the inside of my thigh….”

This was unreal. IU was giving you permission to lick her legs freely: You knew there were no bruises. You got straight to work, kissing the insides of her leg - daring to go higher and higher with each kiss. She was squeezing your hair, but she never pulled back as you got closer and closer. At this point, it would only take a short plunge and you would have found yourself with your mouth against IU’s pussy.

You paused, your face close enough to notice the faint shine of her wetness. Your mind was begging for you to get closer, but you lacked the audacity to physically comply. For now, at least, you were satisfied with rubbing your tongue all over her inner thigh.

“Ah!” she cried out. “I’m sorry!”

It happened so fast, you were left in shock. One second you were admiring her thighs, the next second she had fallen forward - pressing her pussy directly onto your face. There was no doubt this was intentional, this had to be her way of giving you consent. You opened your mouth wide, accepting the sudden change of events as she began to grind on your mouth for a brief moment before backing up.

“I lost my balance,” she joked, quickly fixing her skirt, pretending to be flustered.

It took some time to get over the shock of having IU press her pussy to your tongue. She was so soft, just a bit wet, and driving you insane. You only made contact for a few seconds, yet your mind was starved for more - you needed more.

“Please, lose it again.”

She burst out laughing, dropping the act temporarily before recovering.

“Thanks for that, I feel so much better now,” she whispered, her eyes locked on your crotch. “Allow me to repay you?”

This time there would be no hesitation, no politeness; If IU wanted to touch your body, she had an all-access pass. You slid your hips forward slightly, slumping down into the couch. When she saw your enthusiasm, the corners of her lips curled up in delight.

“Finally you’re done making this difficult,” she whispered under her breath while dropping to her knees before you.

“I just wanted to give you some more massage practice,” you replied casually, trying to control your heartbeat. “Free of charge.”

“Well aren’t you a gentlemen,” she smirked up at you while fiddling with your buckle before turning her full attention to your crotch. Inch by inch, she lowered your pants all the way down to your ankles, leaving you with the bulge in your underwear staring IU in the face.

“Look at all this tension,” she moaned softly, bringing up fingers up to your underwear and outlining your cock with two fingers. “You’re all swollen.”

Despite wanting to flirt back, play her game, you found yourself incapable. With just two of those delicate fingers of hers, she began stroking you through the thin fabric. While toying with your cock, she leaned forward and puckered her lips before gently pressing them against your tip - this was when you truly realized this was happening.

“Please,” you begged, reaching for your waistband.

“Tsk tsk,” IU slapped your hand away. “Your job is to relax, let me do the work.”

She ran one finger up the underside of your shaft, pressing down firmly. Just the single finger, she moved it up and down, toying with you. When the teasing was starting to become too much, she reached up and hooked the top of your underwear with her finger. She pulled the fabric back, just far enough to expose your stiff cock, before letting it snap back to your skin.

Her eyes were taunting you, smirking while she watched your squirm. Your attention wouldn’t leave her lips. Those pretty, delectable lips, you needed them on your cock. Ideas flashed through your mind as you watched IU lick her lips, but you couldn’t act on any of them - yet.

“Can I remove your underwear?” IU teased, knowing it was the only thing you wanted right now.

After your enthusiastic nods, she took hold of the garment. In one very swift motion, she yanked the underwear down to your ankles, flinging your cock up straight towards the roof. As much as you wanted to make some cheeky comment, something to lighten the mood, IU gave you no opportunity as she immediately leaned forward and put your cock into that beautiful mouth of hers.

“Oh!” you gasped, briefly closing your eyes before realizing that missing this view was not an option.

Evidently, there was no more time to be spent because IU immediately started working your cock. Her lips moved up and down on your shaft while creating a tight seal. As her lips rubbed against each nerve in your shaft, her cheeks became completely hollow. It felt amazing.

She was unrealistically beautiful with a cock in her mouth. All of those pictures you took had absolutely nothing on this - the perfect face for sucking dick. Her expertise was clear as she started to look up at you, maintaining eye contact while your length repeatedly disappeared through her lips. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching when she released your cock.

“Does that feel good?” she asked casually as her hand temporarily replaced her lips.

“Good is…” you moaned softly, “an understatement.”

Her bright smile combined with the gentle strokes of her hand were making your cock twitch, but you weren’t read to cum just yet. This whole situation had made you more daring, more willing to push your limits, yet coherent sentences were still sometimes a struggle.

“Can I…” you groaned, her hand never giving your cock a break. “Please?”

“Can you what?” she chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your cock before smiling up at you with a confused expression.

Instead of attempting to speak again, you reached forward with both hands and pulled IU up. She followed your lead, still looking somewhat confused, when you pulled her onto your lap.

“The confidence,” she gasped before slowly grinding her hips on your crotch. Her wet pussy making direct contact with your saliva-coated cock. “I’ve never gone this far, what makes you special?”

“You tell me,” you whispered into her face while bringing your hands up the back of her skirt, planting them on her ass. “You’re the one who called me back.”

“That’s true,” she whispered back. Then she leant forward, right up in front of your face, and playfully bit your lower lip. “If you really want it, then take it.”

Ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth, you quickly moved one of your hands off her ass. You snaked it between her legs, feeling for your cock. With the base in your hand, you began to rub your tip against her folds.

“Put it in before I change my mind,” she begged softly into your face, her eyes angry yet compassionate.

You aligned your cock with her entrance while keeping your eyes fixed on each other. She slowly lowered herself upon you as her mouth gaped in delight. Your other hand squeezed down on her ass as she descended deeper down your cock, her pussy gripping even harder than her mouth was only moments ago.

Her pussy held your cock so tightly that it was initially challenging to move - arguably impossible. You gave IU some time to adjust before giving your hips a little pump to gauge her response; She gasped sharply, before taking control of her own movement. Slowly and delicately, she began to move up and down - relishing every inch of your cock inside her.

Now that she was really into it, she started to sweat. Her face screwed up in pleasure as your cock penetrated her deeply, and that seductive gaze she wore so expertly was no longer present. Your enthusiasm mirrored hers, and as she glided down, you softly pushed your hips deeper into her tight pussy.

“I’m getting…” you panted before leaning forward closer to her body, pulling your hands out of her skirt and embracing her back.

“On my face,” she whispered, her fingers running through your hair, pressing your face harder against her chest. “Tell me when,” she added with a soft moan.

You were straining to hold on while utterly out of breath from the panting and grunting. With how tight her pussy was, it was clear that you wouldn't last for much longer. While holding IU in your arms, you mustered your remaining strength and started pushing your hips up as quickly and forcefully as you could.

“Now!” you cried out into her chest when the pressure was too much.

She quickly leaped from your lap, leaving your cock twitching and poised to blow at the slightest touch. She was too swift for you when you attempted to grab it on your own, using her soft fingers to stroke you as she dropped into position. Your cock started spraying white lines before her knees even managed to make contact with the floor.

“Ah!” she squealed as she got onto the floor, her hand gently pumping your cock as it blasted your cum onto her.

There was a lot. IU’s entire forehead was painted white, the enthusiasm in your crotch launching your cum harder than you could have ever imagined. Ignoring the first couple that missed completely, each splatter on her face made her recoil just slightly, her eyes shut tight.

“Wow,” she mumbled, using her pinky finger to wipe the corners of her eyes before opening them.

Even though you wanted to say something, you were too winded to even attempt. You settled with watching as she walked over to grab some tissues off the desk, first wiping her hand and then bringing the entire box over to the couch where she sat next to you.

“That was a lot of cum,” she said casually while starting to wipe it from her face.

“Sorry,” you panted, starting to slowly recover.

“Don’t apologize,” she laughed, handing you a tissue as well. “It just means you liked the massage.”

“Why did you…?” you asked as you sat up straight and began wiping yourself off.

“Just as a thank you for the amazing shoot,” she answered.

“But you asked for me specially.”

She turned to face you, cum still all over her face.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You’re cute.”

Her comment made you shy, and also made you very aware of your pants still being around your ankles. You awkwardly bent forward and pulled them up before reaching for your bag and pulling out a wet wipe which you gave to IU.

“Always the sweetheart,” she said kindly while accepting the wipe. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”

“Oh, well, since you like me and all that, maybe I can become your regular photographer?” you suggested hopefully. “We’re still friends, right?”

She leaned towards you and kissed your cheek.

“Sure, but next time maybe I’ll just let you finish inside,” she giggled. “This was way too messy.”

---

A/N:

I wonder how many people could have predicted an IU fic. I'll admit, even I wouldn't have predicted this a week ago, yet here we are with a random 8k words release. Please pardon any mistakes!

Hopefully you guys like it, I wrote it fairly quickly. Special thanks to @capslocked for doing a preread, and @turtleturbulence for helping me pick a cover picture (also for elevating my IU mood lately)!

At this point I have a few more idols I want to write short little one-shots for, but I also have a lot of motivation to work on my Dating Seraphs series. Expect updates soon, I have a lot of writing inspiration at the moment!

#kpop smut #smut #iu smut #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #iu

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43qh · 2 months

Note

your writing is so lovely, I’m a writer myself but don’t think i’m that good but i wanna see you write quinn dating a very girly reader like one who loves pinks & purples, dresses, being dolled up sometimes, has an interest in vintage designer items or even has hints of pinks all around in her apartment. i could not stop thinking about what he would gift her if he would spot stuff in window shops on one of his days off that screams you all over it. like him buying it with a nice stain pink ribbon for your anniversary ugh i’m in awe thinking about it this past week 😩

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 641 (sorry it’s so short !)

warnings: none! just quinn thinking of reader and being sweet

quinn observes you, looking at the pink skirt that dangles off your waist that is perfectly paired with a white shirt. you looked gorgeous. he felt out of place as he sat on the edge of your bed, wearing all black. quinn knew you liked bright colors, wore them often and your room was decorated like a fairytale.

he hums to himself as he watches you finish up your look, making you turn around at the sound. “do you like it?”

quinn smiles softly, “yeah, of course i do.”

you feel your body heat up at the genuine compliment, trying your best not to look nervous in front of him. he urges you to come towards him with a nod of his head. you follow, walking and standing between his legs. his hands trace along your bare thighs, looking up at you with love. you shiver at the touch, smiling down at him.

“i got you something,” he mumbles, looking at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

you pout, “you didn’t have to.”

he shakes his head, “wanted to.”

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a delicate box. you frown, seeing a designer name on it. he knew you loved things like this, but you knew it had to have been expensive. it wasn’t like quinn cared, though. as long as you were happy. spoiled and happy.

“open it,” he encourages, handing you the box.

you slowly open it, eyeing him for just a few moments before seeing what was inside. it’s a gorgeous heart necklace, a beautiful pink as it shines brightly in your room. your gasp and the smile on your face makes it all worth it to quinn. he had window shopped for hours before coming upon that gift. he always likes getting you something nice, something you can remember him by.

“put it on me?” you smile, turning around. quinn stands from his sitting position, taking the necklace out of your hands and clasping it together.

you reach a hand up, feeling the jewelry between your fingers and sighing. “thank you, quinn. i love it so much.”

quinn kisses you softly, “i’m glad you do, sweetheart. you look gorgeous in it.” he eyes the necklace around your neck, proud of his own gift as it matches the outfit you currently wear.

quinn never thought he would end up with someone who dressed the opposite to him, had an aura the opposite to him. but he did, and he didn’t find any flaws about it. you were his girl. the girl who loved to dress up, wear all these pretty clothes, show it off for him.

and damn, did he feel lucky.

quinn pulls one last thing out of his pocket, surprising you again. it’s another box. you eye him suspiciously, but don’t hesitate to open it. it’s a gorgeous satin ribbon, one for your hair. it’s a light pink, making you smile and bite your bottom lip.

“why am i being spoiled?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him. “i know it’s our anniversary but you didn’t need to-”

“because i love you.” he blurts out, looking you in the eye and putting a pause on your sentence, “i love you so much, and every time i’m out, i think of you. i think about the things you would and wouldn’t like. i think about putting these things on you and watching you flaunt.”

you smile up at him, tears starting to form quietly, “i love you so much, quinn.”

he dips down for a kiss, feeling how soft and pillowy your lips are. and it’s nothing short of sweet, nothing you aren’t familiar with but something you can’t get used to. it causes your knees to almost buckle below you, feeling him smile against your lips.

you were quinn’s gorgeous girl.

#nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes scenario #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl fluff

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elia-the-bibliophile · 3 months

Text

Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader (Social Media AU)

Carlos Sainz new beau is a professional ballerina.

Liked by @carlossainz55 and others

@(yourusername) Sneak Peek🩰🩷

View all 4.380 comments

@carlossainz55 Whoaah😧

↳ @(yourusername) Umm can someone tell me why Carlos Sainz Jr is in my comment section?? Absolutely flattered though!

@(fan 1) IS CARLOS TRYING TO SMOOTH OPERATE RN⁉️⁉️

@(fan 2) *insert audio when worlds collide* 😭😭😭

@(fan 3) Good luck on your show, mother

___________________________

Liked by @(yourusername), @charles_leclerc, @landonorris, and others

@carlossainz55 A different kind of night out

View all 10.187 comments

@(fan 1) I might be delulu but I’m seeing some sort of pattern here🤨🧐

↳ (fan 2) IKR what’s with the sudden interest

@landonorris Why didn’t you bring me along

↳ @carlossainz55 You’re noisy

↳ @charles_leclerc AND YOU’RE BEING SUSPICIOUS

@(fan 3) Please tag me if anyone finds anything

@(fan 4) Y/N is in his likes….

___________________________

Liked by @carlossainz55, @charles_leclerc, and others

@(yourusername) All the love <3

View all 6.500 comments

@(fan 1) Beautiful show, Y/N!

@(fan 2) LITERAL GODDESS

@carlossainz55 Felicidades hermosa

↳ @(yourusername) Returning the favor asap

↳ @(fan 3) RUE WHEN WAS THIS

↳ @charles_leclerc 🫣🫣

@(fan 4) Not the Ferrari boys in her comments🚩🚩🚩

___________________________

Liked by @carlossainz55, @charles_leclerc, @lilymhe, and others

@(yourusername) When in Monza… (considering a career switch)

View all 15.763 comments

@(fan 1) NEW WAG ALERT

@(fan 2) Is she really dating Carlos Sainz then???

↳ @landonorris As soon as he got the balls to ask her out👀

↳ @carlossainz55 Shut up, mate

↳ @(fan 3) THIS IS GOLD

@(fan 4) He better be worshipping her

@lilymhe I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN I SWEAR

↳ @(yourusername) ILY GF

↳ @alex_albon So where do I fit into all this???

↳ @lilymhe Stay on your lane, Albon

@charles_leclerc It was great having you there!

↳ @(yourusername) Aww thanks, Charles

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #ferrari #social media au #carlos sainz jr x you

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 11 months

Text

Ding dong, here’s the final chapter! I have an epilogue in mind so that may come later, but for now, Thanks so so much for the response to this series and Enjoy!

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

[talking] [talking passes]

Gai: You knew right away, didn’t you? Kka: Correct. I knew something was wrong when you weren’t trying to do situps or anything..... You little criminal, who smuggled that in for you? Gai: Naruto

Kks: How did you get him to do that? /I/ cant even get Naruto to do things. The tear tracks and shit eating grin are cute. Kinda wanna kiss you. Gai: Don’t let me be a hindrance to-

Gai: What are you giggling about? Kks: I just remembered

Kks: I get to hold over your head that I held mirai before you. Gai: You what?! Your first baby hold and I missed it? Get off of me Kks: So mean! Near death made you crabby. Gai: I won’t give into this Kks: You will, you always succumb. [gai sighs annoyed]

Gai: [Groans] When are they making you swear in as hokage? Kks: That’s not happening anymore thankfully. Gai: Huuuh?? Tenzou didn’t tell me that!

Gai: He said Lady Tsunade was retiring and you were the only choice. Naruto even tried to- Kks: Where do you think i’ve been all day? I convinced her to hold out until Naruto or whoever took over next. Gai: How did you smooth talk that one? Kks: I agreed to do her paperwork and cover for when she needs R&R. I also advised her to ditch the elders so she can actually run this shit show right. Gai: And they... took that well? The elders? Kks: No, not at all. Let’s just say I said some... things that made them backtrack on their decision.

Gai: YOu cant just say that and not tell me now!! I gotta know! Kks: Well... Homura: Absolutely not! Kks: If I am appointed, I’ll be replacing you regardless. Naruto certainly will. It’s inevitable. Koharu: Those kids don’t know how this village runs!

Kks:Those kids just won your war and this is how you speak of them. Or are “those kids“ only respectable to you when they’re eager to die at your beckon call and shut up. Elders: How dare- Watch your tongue! Kks: I won’t be someone who you can walk all over. Things will change. Just so my intentions are clear

Gai: What next?! Kks: That’s is really. Kinda tuned the rest out and passed out for 3 hours. Gai: Rival, I was so invested Kks: Sorry Gai: So you agreed to essentially split the work of a hokage but not publicly take the title? Kks: Mhm Gai: So cool! Apologies, I had just assumes since you were gonna accept last time Kks:[hums] Things changed. Konoha’s not on the brink of war, Tsunade’s still here. The village can breathe and rebuild now.

Kks: After a glimpse of the hassle and public attention the last time, I’m just... Not interested in any of that. I’ve never dreamed or desired to be the hokage. That was always something others wanted /for/ me. So I said no. I know you were happy for me so- Gai: Kakashi

Gai: I’m so very proud of you for expressing how you truly feel. You and tsunade will do amazing work supporting the next generation. Even If you chose to retire today, I’d still be just as proud of you. Also a selfish part of me if happy to have more time with you. [kks huffs]

Kks: I’m proud of you too, y’ know. All your hard work, you’re fucking incredible. Glad my dad made me talk to the cool kid in the green jumpsuit. 2nd coolest shinobi. Gai: Only took 25 years, but I’ve finally caught your eye! Kks: Yup, let’s move in together.

Gai: WHAT?1 Whu-! Kks: I’m fixing up dad’s old house with Tenzou. you should live there with me Gai: Why? Kks: Why are yo suspicious? I’m serious. Space, accessibility for you... I want you around more. Gai: Ok Kks: Ok? Gai: An exciting change is just what my youthful journey needs!! Kks: So yes?

Gai: I would love to share a home with you, Rival [kks giggling] What now?

Kks: Did I just make you succumb, Gai-kun? Gai: When can we have a match next, I need to consensually slap you in the head [kks laughs] Why did you say it like that? Kks: I’m sorry! Your pout looks so cute.... You are still moving in with me, right? That wasnt a joke.

Gai: I’m gonna let you sweat on that one awhile... [whimpers]

Kks: Love you so much, Gai

[gai snoring]

#KakaGai #gaikaka #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #might guy #naruto #tsunade senju #shizune #//teeth

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Pictures of You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!artist!reader

Summary: While patrolling the fairgrounds, Lucy convinces Tim to have their picture drawn. She doesn't expect you, Tim's wife, to be the artist.

Warnings: fluff! mention of a bomb threat

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“Why are you acting like you’re being punished? This is fun!” Lucy exclaims.

“Feels like a punishment,” Tim mutters, not slowing down as he looks around while he walks. “Fairground duty is not my idea of a good time, Chen.”

“What do you have against fun and showing you have a personality, Bradford?”

“If you’re having so much fun, why don’t you focus on that instead of me? You just do your thing, and I’ll do my job.”

Lucy groans but continues walking through the endless rows of booths. There’s food, games, face painting, vendors, and more local artists than she can count. Tim keeps his eyes on the people rather than the entertainment, only looking away when his phone rings.

“Bradford,” he answers.

“Bradford, how’s it going?” Wade asks. “We haven’t seen any indication that the threat was legitimate at any of the other venues.”

“Someone called in a fake bomb threat? Who could imagine such a thing,” Tim answers with his unique blend of sarcasm and grumpiness. “I haven’t seen anything here other than the usual suspicious individuals that show up for cheap booze and carnival rides.”

“It’s not a carnival!” Lucy interjects. “If you’re going to hate on it, at least hate on it correctly.”

“Sounds like you’re having a good time,” Wade teases. “Keep an eye out, the day isn’t over yet.”

“Yes, sir,” Tim answers.

“Oh, and one more thing, Bradford. Loosen up and have a little bit of fun for once, would you?”

“And risk finding out that the bomb threat was legitimate, no thanks. Bye, Grey.”

“Tim, look!” Lucy squeals. “Caricatures! Can we please get one?”

“We are on the clock, boot.”

“I’m going to ignore the ‘boot’ comment and simply remind you that I am no longer a rookie, but I’ll let it slide. I’ll say please again.”

“No deal. We’re here for work, Chen, not to get temporary tattoos or eat funnel cake.”

“You like funnel cake?”

Tim glares at Lucy before saying, “Not the point.”

“Tim,” she groans, tilting her head back. “What did Wade say?”

“To keep an eye out.”

“And to have fun?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Lucy bounces in place.

“One booth,” Tim concedes. “And then we’re going back to foot patrol. Don’t forget why we’re here.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Lucy answers, mock saluting him before she hurries to the first booth in a row of artists. “Are you more of a ten-minute portrait or a caricature guy? Do you know the difference?” she asks when Tim joins her side.

“You pick. But you only have five minutes before I leave, whether the picture is done or not.”

Lucy nods enthusiastically before she begins walking. She slows down to look in several booths while Tim keeps an eye out for anyone matching the description from the call this morning.

“This one,” Lucy decides before pushing Tim into the empty tent.

“Hi,” Tim greets.

You look up from the sketchpad in your lap and smile. “Hello, officers,” you greet. “How can I help you?”

“Hi! We want a caricature,” Lucy answers. “Oh, and I’m Lucy and this is Tim; we’re off the clock for a few minutes, so we wanted to have some fun.”

“We’re not off the clock, boot,” Tim grunts.

“Boot?” you inquire. “You’re a rookie?”

“Not anymore, he’s just grumpy and doesn’t understand how much fun I can be.”

“Well, Lucy, what kind of fun would you like to have? I can do, or at least try, just about anything you’re interested in. Though if you want a portrait in ninety seconds or less, there is a guy down this row that can do that.”

“Are they any good?” Lucy asks quietly.

You shake your head before gesturing toward two seats on the other side of your canvas.

“I’m giving you free reign, but if you can make it kinda caricature-like, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Lucy says.

Looking over at Tim, you decide what you want to do. The wedding ring on your fingers glints as you reach for a marker, and Tim’s eyes drop as he watches your hand before meeting your eyes.

“I’m going to regret this,” Tim grumbles.

“Tim, be nice,” Lucy scolds under her breath. She sends you an apologetic look, but you only smile.

“I’m used to it,” you promise.

“Lots of unwilling models?”

Turning your attention to your paper, you shake your head. “Officer Bradford, care to explain?”

“Lucy, this is my wife,” he says reluctantly before saying your name.

“Wait. Oh my gosh, I have so many questions!” Lucy responds.

“You only have four minutes, so make everything quick before I send you to check the portable restrooms,” Tim snaps.

“Tim,” you warn.

“Bradford?” someone asks from outside your booth.

You chuckle as Tim closes his eyes. He rubs a finger over his left ring finger, and you smile when his eyes return to you.

“Officer Thorsen, good to see you,” you greet.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” he replies. “Makes a whole lot more sense now.”

“You didn’t think Tim would willingly have his picture drawn?”

“Aaron, you knew?” Lucy asks. “I knew Tim was married, but- Tim, why didn’t you introduce me?”

“I actually met Aaron on accident while I was at the station once,” you offer, adding the finishing touches to the caricature.

Aaron steps to your side, pressing his lips together to hide his smile before he radios for all nearby officers to meet at your booth.

“Thorsen, you just saved Chen from a long afternoon of checking the backside of this event,” Tim interjects.

“Worth it,” Aaron responds happily.

“Bradford?” Nolan asks as he approaches. “Oh, you got a caricature! Can we see?”

A small crowd gathers in your booth: your models, Aaron, Nolan, Celina, and two other officers wait to see your picture.

“You told Aaron to call for backup for when you get mad at me, right?” you joke, winking at Tim.

You smile at Lucy before turning the board around so they can see the finished picture. Tim remains impassive, but Lucy laughs, leaning backward as the other officers yell in surprise before laughing so hard tears come to their eyes.

“Who’s the boot now, Bradford?” Lucy asks through her laughter.

The picture of Tim as a cowboy boot with a police badge and Lucy as a puppy in a police uniform goes over well with every cop in the booth.

“I’m getting you back for this,” Tim says. “Both of you.”

“Don’t threaten civilians, Bradford,” Nolan chides.

“Don’t threaten your wife!” Aaron amends.

Celina and Nolan leave first, and soon you, Tim, and Lucy are alone in the booth again. Lucy happily takes the picture, holding it against her chest as she watches Tim.

“We got a bomb threat this morning,” Tim says softly. “So, if you want to head out early, I’ll be home as soon as my shift ends.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to pose for your own copy?” you ask.

“If you want to draw me, just ask,” Tim replies as he stands. “But we both know who’s on every page of that sketchbook.”

“Who?” Lucy asks.

“Me,” Tim answers. At the same time, you say, “Kojo.”

Tim rolls his eyes and snatches it from your side. He laughs as he sees the most recent picture of Kojo. After he flips a page, though, he’s met with a picture of him. Lucy coos, immediately commenting on how cute the two of you are.

“Let’s go, boot. A word about this, and I’ll have you assigned to cavity searches,” Tim says as he steers Lucy out of your booth. He turns back to you to add, “I love you. I’ll see you at home.”

“I love you,” you answer. “And don’t be too hard on her, I drew the picture after all.”

“You’ve got ring immunity,” he says, pointing to your wedding ring. “So, I make no promises.”

“Tim!” Lucy yells. “There’s funnel cakes!”

Tim rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he steps away from you. You laugh as he waves over his shoulder, glad you got to see him, even if he will be teased about it for a while.

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader

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reiderwriter · 9 months

Note

do you think you could write where reader is a part of the BAU and gets kidnapped/ hurt by an unsub and spencer saves her? much love and i love your fics!

Hi! Thanks so much for your request. I'll admit this took a bit more brain power than usual 💀 may have gotten slightly carried away creating an unsub lmao

Summary: You go undercover for a case and Reid keeps you company through online messages, only to feel absolutely worthless when you go missing.

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kidnapping and abuse of Y/N, Reid self-deprecating again but it has a happy fluffy ending so a win.

My Requests are Open! Send me an ask if you want me to write something~ 💕 And check out My Masterlist!

“Y/N, what do you think? I’m not going to send you in if you’re not confident you can complete the mission.'' Your Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, was briefing you on the plan. Luckily for the team, or rather, unluckily for you, you fit the victim profile of your latest case, and with an absence of leads, your last chance to get him before he took another victim was an undercover mission.

“I can do it, but can we establish a background in enough time? He’s devolving and he’s going to need to pick up another victim pretty soon.”

You’d been called in to consult on the case two weeks prior. Local women who lived alone in the metropolitan area had been going missing on a weekly basis for the last three months, and the BAU team had been called in when they’d finally found the dump site of the first three victims.

You’d so far managed to figure out how he was finding his victims from their home computers - a site for young women to look for sugar daddies. You’d previously profiled him as a man in his mid-40s who was going through a personal loss and was lashing out at women who represented someone specific to him, and after searching through the dating profiles, you were pretty sure his stressor was a recent or impending divorce.

But try as Garcia might, these dating websites had a whole lot more encoded data than was expected, and after the Ashley Madison scandal of the previous decade, they’d taken to deleting the majority of their user data regularly so that certain accounts couldn’t be found. Which meant that you were left with a geographical profile you couldn’t pin down, a profile that could match half the men in the city, and a killer that was almost ready to strike again.

“Garcia can get something ready for you in the next 8 hours, and we have some access to some FBI safehouses in the area that we can ready in at the same time. Go get yourself prepared for cover.”

And that’s how you found yourself living in a dingy studio apartment on the south side of the city for two days, waiting to report back about whatever men approached you. There wasn’t much for you to complain about, but you were getting pretty lonely.

You’d greeted your new neighbors and made a show of attending some ‘new to the neighborhood’ events, making sure to get out and about to let the team assess if the unsub was stalking you. Other than that you’d spent the rest of your time in your apartment a constant tab open at the sugar baby website. A few men had been interested, and your computer was cloned and running simultaneously on Garcia’s system so the team could do their best to track suspicious accounts.

The rest of your spare time was, surprisingly enough, spent messaging Spencer Reid. You’d been on the team now for three months, joining the team as a transfer from the blue collar division you’d worked in straight out of the academy. You had spent the same amount of time doing your best to gain confidence to work in the field. Sure, you’d trained for this, but theory and practice were so different and you really didn’t want to fuck up so early into your job.

Which is why, you supposed, that Doctor Spencer Reid was so intimidating to you. Though he admittedly wasn’t the best at field work, noting the amount of exceptions the FBI had to make to allow him outside of the office at all on your first meeting, he was just so damned competent. With three PhD’s, three BA’s and a pending fourth on the way, he was the golden child of the BAU, and you found yourself desperate for his approval. It surely didn’t help that he was also your exact type to boot, and sometimes you found yourself conflicted if you wanted his approval because he was so good at his job or because he was go goddamn good-looking.

With no way to know how the unsub was tracking his victims before he kidnapped them, your team theorized it was unsafe to have physical check-ins, opting instead to set up another account on the sugar baby website, that would be manned around the clock. And tech-averse Reid had volunteered to do the bulk of the manning, leaving you with all the time in the world to talk to him in your private chat room.

sug4rbbY/N: Good evening, Doctor, got any interesting facts for me today? ;)

D0ct0rD0ct0r: Did you know that it is illegal to flirt in Haddon Township, New Jersey? Under the section “Peace and Good Order,” a person may be punished for approaching “any person of the opposite sex unknown to such person and by word, sign or gesture attempts to speak to or to become acquainted with such person against his will.”

sug4rbbY/N: Well, aren’t I glad that we do not live in New Jersey then.

D0ct0rD0ct0r: There’s more where that came from if you’re ever interested.

sug4rbbY/N: I’ll certainly keep that in mind.

sug4rbbY/N: Any plans for the evening, doc?

D0ct0rD0ct0r: Just sitting here talking to you :)

sug4rbbY/N: All by yourself? ;)

D0ct0rD0ct0r: Never feel like I’m alone when you’re online.

sug4rbbY/N: Haha that’s sweet.

sug4rbbY/N: BRB, Doc, my doorbell’s ringing.

You stood up from your desk, a glance at the mirror betraying your feelings, as your flush was prominent. You weren’t sure if it was the intimate nature of the messaging system, or just for the sake of your cover, but the flirty tone of your messages had certainly been leaving you wondering if there could be more to your relationship with your coworker in the future.

You quickly walked over to the door, opening it wide and came face to face with a bouquet of flowers.

“Miss Y/N Harper?” the man behind the bouquet used your cover name to address you, and you hesitated a little before nodding in the affirmative. “Can you sign here please? It’s standard procedure for deliveries like this.”

“But I didn’t order any flowers…” you took the bouquet from the man and grabbed the pen in his hand ready to sign.

“Oh yeah, our shop specialises in anonymous flowergrams. That bunch you’ve got in your hand has some aconite, some white lilies and jasmine flowers.” The delivery man explained, and something in your gut twisted as you listened to his words.

“But aren’t lilies usually meant for funera-” you didn’t get to finish because he had pushed a wet rag to your face, and you had just enough time to shake some small petals off and push them far enough underneath a nearby shoe storage unit before you faded into unconsciousness, your last thought a prayer that your team would uncover your clue.

–x–

Needless to say, when you didn’t check back in a few minutes later, Spencer had alerted every cop in the vicinity of your new apartment that you were gone, and they discovered your apartment empty within ten minutes.

“She was right there,” Spencer ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She was talking to me and then she just got up and he took her.”

“Reid, calm down, she can’t have been gone long, and we have security cameras all over the building. We’ll find her.” Morgan reassured the younger male while searching the entrance of your cover apartment for clues.

“That’s easy for you to say, it isn’t your fault that she’d gone.”

“And it isn’t yours either, Reid. You did your job, but he wasn’t going to stop until he had her.”

“I should’ve notified the standby officers as soon as she sent through that last message and what was I doing instead? Trying to figure out if she was flirting with me for real or not. I’m pathetic.”

“Reid, get your head back in the game. She’s gone and theres nothing you can do to change that now, but we need your head here or we’re not going to find her. Y/N’s an agent too, remember, she can hold her own. Now look and think.”

“SSA Morgan, Doctor Reid, we may have something over here,” one of the local detectives called the two men over. They’d found the remnants of the petals you’d done your best to scatter, and even though the unsub had taken the bouquet with him, he hadn’t been as thorough as he should have been.

“We didn’t set her up with any flowers when she started her cover, so these must have been bought in by the unsub. I’ll call Garcia, tell her to look for any flower shops within his comfort zone.” Morgan hit the number on his speedial, but before he could start, Reid cut him off.

“Wait, I think we can narrow the search a bit further. Those are Aconite petals, they’re not often stocked by local florists because they have a pretty sinister meaning. They’re usually used to express hatred for the receiver, and because of their poisonous properties most florists don't stock them for fear of doing harm and causing lawsuits. He must be specifically ordering them in to give to his victims. Garcia, can you crossreference the list of florists in the area and check to see how many of them have purchased this plant recently?”

“Just the one. Sending you the address now. Go find our girl Doc.”

–X–

When you came to, in what you assumed to be a backroom of some kind of flower shop, you were bound at the ankles and wrists and there was a gag in your mouth. You struggled a bit against your bindings but it was no good, and you had to reassure yourself that you were going to be okay, doing your best to push down the tears and clear your head.

You decided your best bet was to get to know your surroundings, check to see what was around you and what you could use to your advantage. There was a clock on the wall, and you realised that you’d only been gone half an hour. Reminding yourself that the unsub kept his victims for a minimum of two days did a lot to get your heartbeat back to a normal pace, but it spiked again as soon as you heard the door slam open and your captor walk in.

“Stupid little bitch,” he slurred his words slightly and you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he moved closer to your space in the corner. You tried your best to scamper as far away from him as possible, but he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you up to his face.

You winced at the pain and tried to squirm out of his hold. “Look at you all pathetic now, begging me to let you out. It’s not going to fucking happen, y'know. I’m going to be the last person you see, last person you hear,” he throws you against the wall, pinning you up with his hand on your arms as he sends a leering glance down your shirt and then gives you a disgusting grin. “Last person you touch.”

Your bindings mean your movement is limited, but you still manage to bring both your legs up to knee him in the groin, effectively pushing him off you but landing hard on the ground yourself after you manage to do so.

“Fucking whore,” he shouts at you standing up and dealing a sharp kick to your head that has your vision going white for a minute. “I’ll teach you to fucking mess with me again, you little bitch.” He makes to grab you again, but before he can you hear the blissful sounds of a door being kicked down and the shouts of the FBI to stand down.

Two agents are on him in minutes and you finally allow yourself to let out a deep sob in relief, as a third, very recognisable agent, makes his way to your side.

“Y/N, shhh baby, it’s okay. You’re okay now, I’ve got you,” Reid whispers in your ear as he unties you as gently and carefully as he can. The moment your arms are free you leap into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your face deeply against his chest. He pulls away just enough to untie your legs, and then lets you burrow into him again.

“I knew you’d find me. Knew you’d understand something from those fucking flowers.” You sob into his chest now, as he strokes your hair, just holding you like that on the floor until you’re ready to move.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve sent someone to check sooner, and I should’ve never let you accept that stupid cover mission,this is my fault and I'm going to make it up to you. I'm never going to let anyone hurt you ever ag-” he begins rambling but you shut him up again, this time by firmly pressing your lips into his.

“Before you say anything else, this is not transference and I’m not doing this because you saved me, we both know I would’ve done that eventually anyway,” you rest your forehead against his, and after he has time to process what has just happened, he’s wiping the tears away from your face, and gently holding it with both of his hands, leaning in to do it again, gently pressing his mouth against yours as if he’s afraid you might bolt at any second.

“Thank you, again. For finding me,” you whisper to him, the space between you so miniscule now that you barely had to move your lips to know that he understood you.

“Thank you, for letting me find you.” He grinned at you and held you again, determined to never let you out of his arms ever again.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom

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treysimp · 2 years

Text

Do You Wanna Make Out On My Couch? (Explicit Remix)

Side: Ignihyde (Idia)/AFAB!Reader (Reader has a vagina)

Idia/AMAB!Reader Version

The time has come, lovely readers, for a spicy conclusion.

This is a continuation of the work "Do You Want to Make Out on My Couch (Part 4)". Said fic is also included below if you want to re-read the beginning or this is your first time seeing this work.

Reader not described other than their junk, and pronouns are not used for them.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, M/F sexual relations, handjobs, oral sex, questionable use of the word "smoocharoo", ask to tag for more.

SFW Works in this series:

To skip straight to the action, scroll to the second picture of Idia, thanks!

“…are you okay? Did you like… hit your head or something?”

Idia flatly questioned you, his shoulders shrugged up to his ears and his eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare. It was very him to be so blasé and sarcastic at the first sign of vulnerability, but you had to admit you were a bit hurt. You were putting yourself out there, you know?

“Are you really going to pretend that I am not into your cringe ass at this point? Who do you take me for?” You spat, crossing your arms with a huff. If he was going to play dumb, you were simply going to drive him into a corner until he couldn’t.

“Cringe? You’re cringe! You couldn’t even beat BloodScorne without my help, and you put it on easy mode!” He threw back, his glare melting into a sardonic smile that showed off the razor-sharp teeth behind his cool-tinted lips. “Fake gamer.” He finished with a shrug, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“I can and have beat it! I just did that so you’d spend time with me, moron!” Oh this bitch, you were going to kill his skinny ass.

“Moron! Are you kidding me? You’re the moron! Asking me to make out with you out of nowhere when I’m clearly in love with you, how stupid can you get?”

Your expression curled into a smirk equally as fast as Idia’s face fell in horror.

“So you’re in love with me?” You ask triumphantly. An eyebrow quirked in mock derision. You tilted your head to the side in faux-curiosity. And this guy says he’s a genius, pfft.

“Ah…” eyes wide, shoulders trembling and hair flickering pink at the tips, Idia suddenly finds the ground under his shoes incredibly interesting.

You could barely hear him mumble, “What does it matter? You’re never going to reciprocate so…” he signed, "...why even try?"

You inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Okay, so it was the self-hate thing. You could work with that.

“Idia. Do you think I go around propositioning randos every damn day?” You say, your eyes crinkling at the corners at the idea.

Part of why you both got along so well was because of how badly you both were when it came to relationships. It was a common topic of your late-night bitching sessions: 'what awkward thing did you do today?' or 'do you wanna hear this dumb thing I did as a kid' or 'wow I relate to this anime I just watched, it's about this loser gamer who gets a harem' (okay that last one was just Idia).

His jaw snapped shut. Of course, he didn’t think you went around hitting on strangers! But how could… someone like you… and him…

“Why me?” He asked, “Out of all of your options how could it possibly be me?” He almost felt like crying in disbelief. If he were you... He would never...

“Because we have a lot in common. And because I like oblivious assholes apparently.” You say, rubbing your forehead. You felt a headache coming on.

Feeling driven into a corner, Idia stood in silence. He had imagined this scenario so many times, he had run the calculations in his mind over and over but they never gave him good results. Even in his fantasies, he failed.

Try as he might, Idia was quickly running out of excuses, and the intentional evenness of his voice was long-lost in his squeaky attempts at arguments.

“Look,” you sigh, “I promise this smoocharoo won’t kill you.” You punctuate your sentence with a wink, which did nothing to calm down Idia as you gently tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Very funny.” He replies flatly. “I almost died, you know.”

You laughed, “Yeah, that would have been a shame.”

“...I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that suit again though.” You mumble mostly to yourself, but Idia 100% heard you.

Coincidentally, Idia was also suddenly overcome with the thought of how you would look in formal wear, like if you were to go to a wedding together - ah, no no no not going there! Shut the fuck up, brain Idia! SHUT UP!

Noticing his distress, you took the opportunity to lean forward to rest your forehead on his. As you suspected, it felt like a furnace. You frowned.

“Do you have a fever or something? Is that why you don’t want to kiss me?” He had already admitted to liking you, what's the hold-up?

Idia shook his head aggressively, flame hair splaying out frantically at his denial. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, taking in your features and how soft your skin felt against his own. Your eyes gleamed in the dim light, teeth sparkling as you laughed at his frantic head motion and he was hit with a slight scent of mint from the gum he had given you earlier. What would you taste like? Would you also taste like that gum?

Unthinkingly moving despite his previous over-the-top protests, Idia let that intrusive thought carry himself to your lips in a feather-light peck.

Your eyes widened, but just as he was about to apologize for his sudden change of mind, you pulled him back in place.

Anime and manga said that kisses felt like marshmallows and tasted like lemon, but he couldn’t say he agreed.

This one, right here right now? It was mint, and something else warm and wet and entirely unique, but certainly you. He inhaled through his nose as you both continued your soft and shy kisses.

His hands threaded through your hair to pull you closer and he wondered if all of this was just a very realistic dream. You both separated for a moment, eyes half-lidded and breath coming out in short puffs that were lightly defined in the cold air.

“Are you going to let me inside?” He asked, feeling newfound confidence pulse through him as he nibbled at your ear.

He felt the sharp inhale you took against his neck, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was the one making you act like this. No one else. Just him.

Pulling away from his embrace, you slowly nodded as you opened the door to Ramshackle to let you both inside.

Idia followed you silently with his hands in his pockets. Despite how warm he felt, burying himself in his hoodie let him think for a moment. He wished you both were in his room right now instead. It would be way more comfortable than… this.

He supposed that you’re not supposed to complain when the hottest commodity on campus is coming onto you, though. Not that he would dare. As much as he liked to complain, he did like you more… not that he would ever say it out loud.

You physically pull Idia out of his thoughts when you push him onto the couch gently. He lands with a soft thud and a squeak of surprise.

Idia really could be cute sometimes, huh?

You climbed onto his lap, looking down at his face and slowly taking in all of his features. His kohl-lined eyes, his dark lips, the flickers and waves of his hair, you loved all of it.

It was hard not to stare at him sometimes, his beauty was so otherworldly and yet somehow the only other person who took notice was a damn ghost!

Not that you minded the lack of competition.

“Idia…” you breathed, lowering your face down so that your lips almost skimmed his again, “...are you okay with this?” You asked.

You had been incredibly forward this whole time, but you didn’t want this thing to be one-sided. As much as you would be disappointed, you would back off if he asked. You’ve waited this long, after all.

Idia was silent, pointed teeth worrying over his lower lip. He seemed to be having a very heated internal debate, but you let him stew in silence for a moment. It was okay not to rush him, as much as you wanted to.

Finally, with a look of determination, Idia placed his hands on either side of your hips and ground up against you, a whine slipping from his mouth while the rose color that had been dip-dying his hair began spreading slowly upward.

“Haah…” he exhaled with a hiccup, watery eyes looking up at you pleadingly.

“Please, don’t stop.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you watched his face as he so desperately begged for you. He thought that he got to be haughty this whole time and you would still indulge him?

Well okay, he was right but you would never admit it.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you say, grinding down even harder on his lap, pretending like you couldn’t decide what to do next.

Clawing at your hips, Idia bucked into you again, desperately seeking friction that he wouldn’t be able to get through the fabric separating you. Looking at the flush on his face you couldn’t help but think that you weren’t going to let this boy sleep tonight without having him scream your name.

Teasingly, you pull yourself from his lap, ignoring the whine from Idia and the way that his hand trails through your hair as he whimpers at the loss of your warm body from his own.

Snapping open the button of his pants with a flick of your wrist, you opt to go a little showier and pull his zipper down with your teeth, earning a thick swallow from Idia as his eyes once again became as large as saucers.

“You look really good like this.” you chuckle, grasping his waistband to gingerly pull his pants from his hips. Idia obliged you, lifting his hips to allow you to slide the fabric down to his knees.

You eyed the shape of his bulge in his pants, curiously smoothing your hand over the thin cotton of his boxers. Idia softly gasped, and you continued to trail your hands up his torso. Arriving at his collarbone and tracing it lightly, you gently move to push his jacket from his shoulders and lift his shirt so you could get a view of his chest.

You weren’t entirely sure how you felt to see that he had a little tone to his chest and waist. Some people won the genetic lottery, you supposed.

“Like what you see?” came a shaky snark from above you. Snapping your gaze to his golden one, Idia’s face was clouded with an air of overwhelming smugness. You grabbed a light blue nipple and rolled it between your thumb and pointer finger in response, earning another harsh breath from him.

“...yeah. I do,” you say, lowering your face to his unattended-to nipple to slowly run your tongue across it.

“N-not fair…” he replies, uselessly bucking up himself at you, not able to find purchase in the threadbare fabric of your shitty couch. “Let me do that…” he pleaded, half-lidded gaze intensifying as he pulled you back onto his lap, making quick work of your blouse and jacket and throwing them to the side.

He stared at you unashamedly, hands drifting behind you to unsnap your bra (but not without a bit of a struggle, which made you giggle and made him bite your neck lightly in annoyance).

Idia’s hands fell to his side as he stared at you openly. It felt like he was trying to burn this image into his mind forever. You rubbed at your neck anxiously, feeling embarrassed at his prolonged gaze. Snapping back to the present moment, Idia gingerly reached for your chest and began lightly massaging.

As impossible as it seemed, he was getting even harder below you. Idia curved at the waist to reach you as he mirrored the actions you had taken upon him earlier, giving one nipple the softest of kitten-licks at the other busied itself twisting and pulling on the other.

Your breath was growing short. It was embarrassing to be like this, embarrassing to see how he was looking at you, but you couldn’t help but want to pinch yourself, flashing back to all of your wet dreams that had paled in comparison to this moment.

Idia leaned forward and pushed you onto your back slowly, keeping a palm on the back of your head to be sure that you didn’t hit it.

“Let me taste you… I’m dying to taste you…” he said, sharp teeth gleaming in the low light. You nodded slowly, he could probably ask to kill you at this point and you’d let him.

Making quick work of your bottoms, it suddenly felt significantly colder with the lack of fabric covering your body. You struggled not to cover yourself, but Idia’s hungry gaze and the lick he spread across his lips were certainly helping to distract you.

Feeling warm puffs of air on your navel, you felt a sudden enticingly warm wetness trailing down to right above your pussy. You could hear Idia’s breath speed up as you felt a soft kiss being placed on your lower lips, a scrape of pointed teeth catching them gently.

Your breath hitched as Idia’s mouth traveled lower, tracing your lips thoroughly with surprisingly dexterous flicks of his tongue. You looked down at him in awe, hand covering your mouth as you panted from his motions.

“It’s even sweeter than I thought,” he said with a chuckle, sparing a piercing glance at you from between your thighs. “Don’t cover your mouth like that, okay?”

You nodded and lowered your hand just in time for Idia to slowly press a single digit inside of you, his smile widening as he looked at the way your body shook from his actions.

“Mine… you’re mine, right? Right now… all mine…” his words sounded slightly feverish, but you couldn’t help but notice how harshly he was palming himself through his boxers while he continued his motions.

“I-idia…” you whispered, he lifted his head from watching himself push his fingers in and out of you and looked at you in surprise like he had been caught red-handed.

“Yes?” He said, not stopping his movements for even a second, he might even be pressing harder than he was a moment ago.

“I want…” you trailed off. What did you want?

“I want to feel you, inside… please.”

Idia’s eyebrows shot up to the sky as he finally paused his motions. He swallowed thickly and nodded, pushing his boxers down and kicking them (and what little of his pants were around his calves) off of him.

You had to take a moment to stare. His cock was thickly veined and long, the bloom of the head was the same blue as his lips. You thought you wanted him a moment ago, but you needed him now.

Idia began moving forward towards you, but you pushed back against his chest firmly. Looking at you in confusion, you cleared your throat to explain yourself.

“Let me ride you… please?” You whimpered, looking him straight in the eyes.

Idia did everything he could to not just fucking cum on the spot.

Nodding his head dumbly, Idia stumbled backward and situated himself with his thighs spread and his knees hanging off the couch. His gaze bore into you, and you felt like you might faint.

Gathering all of the bravery you could muster, you climbed in his lap and ground back and forth on his swollen length. Idia’s hand dug into his scalp, and it seemed like he was doing everything he could to not slam you down like a fleshlight and start pounding you right there. You internally decided that you wouldn’t mind if he did, though.

Taking a breath, you grabbed his dick and teased it at your entrance, both of you gasping in tandem at the first contact.

You pushed him back and forth for a moment, teasing the both of you before you were in too deep.

“Will you…” Idia grunted, “just fuck me already.” He continued, “If this takes much longer I…” a strained hiccup, “I’ll just get on top myself…”

Well, now or never you guessed.

You slowly began lowering yourself onto him, and you felt like you got even wetter when you watched the way his eyes were glued to watching himself slowly sinking into your body.

Body shivering at finally taking him to his base, Idia laced his fingers through yours and curled up to give you soft kisses on your neck and cheek.

“You okay?” He whispered.

“Yeah, it’s just…” you breathed in hard through your nose, “it’s just a lot.”

Idia started looking smug again, which you took as your cue to start moving, in an effort to wipe that superior look off of his stupid sexy face.

Rocking your hips slowly, you began experimenting to see what felt best. You moved slower, faster, lifted yourself off of him less, more.

The squelches of your bodies meeting would have mortified you in any other situation, but seeing the sweat drip down Idia’s face while he bit his knuckle left you feeling some kind of way.

You started pulling him out almost completely and then slamming yourself down on him, relishing in how this motion made you both moan loudly in tandem. Idia’s nails were leaving perfect crescent moons on your hips as he gasped and tried to grind up into you every time your body was close to him.

Seemingly having had enough of you setting the pace, Idia pushes you over, your back firmly against the couch and his back to the air of the lounge.

He sets upon devouring your mouth with his, grabbing your right leg behind the knee and pushing it over his shoulder.

Having you just where he wanted, Idia begins messily pounding into you. Your gasps and calls of his name only spur him to go faster, harder.

Idia rested his forehead on yours as he split you open within an inch of your life. You felt like a prey animal being hypnotized by the snake that would soon swallow them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Gasping your name and you screaming his in turn, you felt a final slam into your body with a prolonged grind, and Idia cried out a final time. With a couple of weak thrusts of his softening dick, he pulled out of you slowly, keeping eye contact as he did so.

Smoothing his stray hairs from his sweaty face, you felt like you could almost see the hearts in his eyes at the current moment.

“How did… I do?” He nervously questioned, leaning his forehead against yours.

You sighed, it was pretty damn hot, but you were going, to be honest with him.

“Play with my clit more next time, and then maybe I’ll cum.”

The color drained from Idia’s face.

“S-shit, yes! Okay!” He nodded feverishly.

“….wait. NEXT TIME?”

And there we have it babes, both sides of Idia are now posted.

What do you want to see next? More new dorms? More NSFW continuations of previous chapters?

Let me know, and thank you all for being so sweet and supportive.

Love you, reader!

Requested tags: @stygianoir @naniky

#twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #idia shroud twst #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia x y/n #idia x yuu #idia smut #female reader #twst reader insert #reader insert

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gardenschedule · 5 days

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Perceptions of Paul as calculating & John's paranoia

“McCartney’s mistake, which he now admits, was to seem invulnerable. […] And yet, he says, the contrast between himself and Lennon, so assiduously cultivated by journalists, was a fabrication. “I wasn’t brilliant at school. I was trouble, just like John. I got caned practically every day, and the only exam I ever passed was Spanish. John and I weren’t black and white, although people took John, for all his aggression, to be the good guy, because he showed his warts. I’ve only just realized, after all this time, that people like to see warts. It makes them sympathetic. I’d always though that, in order to be liked, you had to be unwarty.””

Living with The Beatles’ legacy, the smears that Lennon left behind… and the battle to win my babies back, The Times Newspaper, Monday January 4, 1982.

Paul was the easiest to talk to. He had such energy and such keenness and, unlike John, enjoyed being liked, at least most of the time. I don't see this as a criticism; John himself could be very cruel about Paul's puppy dog eagerness to please. The irony was, and still is, that John's awfulness to people, his rudeness and cruelty, made people like him more, whereas Paul's genuine niceness made many people suspicious, accusing him of being calculating. Paul does look ahead, seeing what might happen, working out the effect of certain actions, but he often ends up tying himself in knots, not necessarily getting what he thought he wanted. I think there is some insecurity in Paul's nature, which makes him try so hard, work so hard. It also means he can be easily hurt by criticism, which was something that just washed over John.

Hunter Davies, Western Mail: The Beatles. (April 9th, 2004)

Even Paul’s immaculate manners could not thaw her. ‘Oh, yes, he was well-mannered–too well-mannered. He was what we call in Liverpool “talking posh” and I thought he was taking the mickey out of me. I thought “He’s a snake-charmer all right,” John’s little friend, Mr Charming. I wasn’t falling for it. After he’d gone, I said to John, “What are you doing with him? He’s younger than you… and he’s from Speke!”’ After that, when Paul appeared, she would always tell John sarcastically that his ‘little friend’ was here. ‘I used to tease John by saying “chalk and cheese”, meaning how different they were,’ she remembered, ‘and John would start hurling himself around the room like a wild dervish shouting “Chalkandcheese! Chalkandcheese!” with this stupid grin on his face.’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

“He always suspected me. He accused me of scheming to buy over Northern Songs without telling him. I was thinking of something to invest in, and Peter Brown said what about Northern Songs, invest in yourself, so I bought a few shares, about 1,000 I think. John went mad, suspecting some plot. Then he bought some himself. He was always thinking I was cunning and devious. That’s my reputation, someone who’s charming, but a clever lad. “It happened the other day at Ringo’s wedding. I was saying to Cilia [Black] that I liked Bobby [her husband]. That’s all I said. Bobby’s a nice bloke. Ah, but what do you REALLY think Paul? You don’t mean that, do you, you’re getting at something? I was being absolutely straight. But she couldn’t believe it. No one ever does. They think I’m calculating all the time.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

In the wake of his death you didn’t tour for most of the ‘80s. People suggested that you were scared to go on the road. Was that true? No. People speculate about anything. They always credit me with motives I haven’t even dreamed of. It’s interesting, the way they sort of perceive my life and analyse it for me. In that case, I never thought about touring much. People used to say, “Oh, it’s 10 years since you’ve toured.” I’d go, “Is it? Y’know, I’m not counting.” That’s all that was, really. I don’t know why. Maybe I didn’t fancy it.

The Q Interview, 2007

Astrid in Germany was always a bit suspicious of Paul at first, though his relationship with Stu was also bound up in this. 'It used to frighten me that someone could be so nice all the time. Which is silly. It's ridiculous to feel at home with nasty people, just because you feel that at least you know where you are with them. It's silly to be wary of nice people.'

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

Paul is the easiest to get to know for an outsider, but in the end he is the hardest to get to know. There is a feeling that he is holding things back, that he is one jump ahead, aware of the impression he is giving. He is self-conscious, which the others are not. John doesn't care, either way, what people think. Ringo is too adult to think about such things, and George in many ways isn't conscious. He is above it all.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

Paul today is still the public Beatle, giving interviews at fairly regular intervals, being open and honest about himself and his past, his worries and his pleasures. Naturally, as ever, there are people who suspect his motives, putting him down for being too charming. Paul may be a bit of an actor, acting the part of Paul McCartney, the charming superstar, still loved by every mum, which can make him sound rather prissy at times, but I believe he does tell the truth about himself.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

“My problem is to me, I come over as this very together guy, always got his finger on top of everything: the man with no problems. School – a doddle, got all the exams. This is the sort of image of me. Actually, I had murder getting through exams, like I was saying about being on tour during my GCEs. I was like the kid who was getting the cane. Just like John was, but he [Phillip Norman] makes me the very shrewd, always-going-to-succeed guy, and John is the kind of cute, working-class hero. In actual fact though, John was just as shrewd and ambitious as I was. What does me in is he adds to this image I’ve got; I resent that, because I know I’m not that, and I know I’ve never been that.

Paul McCartney’s thoughts from 1983 on Phillip Norman’s ‘Shout!’

The funny thing is, when Apple [started], everything was laid out on the table, it’s like a Monopoly game. We saw who had what. I suddenly had more Northern Song shares than anybody, and it was like, oops, sorry. John was like, “You bastard, you’ve been buying behind my back.” John saw everything like a Harold Robbins movie, you know, which it was. He’s not incorrect. I couldn’t get over the fact that we were really involved in all this. I think to this day, he’ll not understand. I don’t think he would accept right now, my naïveté in it. I think he still suspects me of trying to take over Apple. He still suspects that when I offered the Eastmans as [managers] instead of Allen Klein, he naturally assumed that I would be taken care of better than the others, and that the Eastmans could never be moral enough to be equal in their judgment and do the Beatles’ thing rather than Paul’s thing. I think they still suspect to this day.

The point I was trying to illustrate is that it wasn’t so much John being a bastard as it was his being suspicious towards me, always being suspicious towards me. There was Northern Song shares. And I swear on any holy book you want, I know he won’t believe it, but I know for sure that I didn’t buy them with the view to— If I was really trying to do it, I could have bought an awful lot more. So it does hurt a little bit that there’s someone who still thinks, like, I’m out to get them, or that I always was. That’s one of the nice things about it— It’s a pity [I never said to John, “Fuck off, I’m not trying to do it”—and never was]. But he knows I was kind of— We were behind the scenes, and we did a few little [things] that we had to do, and our ambitions, and it was never a kind of terrifying skeletons in the closet. It was always just normal—but, uh, they …

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

SG: Were the other Beatles anti-Linda? PMcC: Uh, yeah. I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko. But you know John and Yoko, you can see it now, the way to get their friendship is to do everything the way they require it. To do anything else is how to not get their friendship. This is still how it is with John and Yoko. I know that if I absolutely lie down on the ground and just do everything like they say and laugh at all their jokes and don’t expect my jokes to ever get laughed at, and don’t expect any of my opinions ever to carry any weight whatsoever, if I’m willing to do all that, then we can be friends. But if I have an opinion that differs from theirs, then I’m a sort of an enemy. And naturally, paint myself a villain with a big mustache on, because to the ends of the earth, that’s how they both see me. They’re very suspicious people [John and Yoko], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

I was never out to screw him, never. He could be a maneuvering swine, which no one ever realized. Now since the death he’s became Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn’t him either. He wasn’t some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker. “For ten years together he took my songs apart. He was paranoiac about my songs. We have great screaming sessions about them.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

SALEWICZ: Oh, he was presumably very paranoid. PAUL: I think so. I mean, he warned me off Yoko once. You know, “Look, this is my chick!” ’Cause he knew my reputation. I mean, we knew each other rather well. And um, I felt… I just said, “Yeah, no problem.” But I did sort of feel he ought to have known I wouldn’t, but. You know, he was going through “I’m just a jealous guy”. He was a paranoid guy. And he was into drugs. Heavy.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

Miles says, “I think Jane was always a bit irritated by John. Because he was so acerbic and difficult to get on with. And paranoid. He didn’t make life easy. I suppose it’s a sort of rapier wit, but it was usually just plain ordinary rudeness. There was nothing special about it.”

Paul McCartney profile for FAME Magazine (March 1990)

“They [Lennon & McCartney] saw each other again in 1977. The Lennons and McCartneys ate dinner together at Le Cirque, Paul’s favourite French restaurant in New York. John regretted going; it was a loathsome night. Paul and Linda blathered on and on about how perfect their lives were, how they had everything they’d ever wanted, and how they were as happy as they’d ever been. Something very paranoid suddenly occurred to John. Maybe Lorraine Boyle was spying on him for the McCartneys! He woke up the next morning still feeling disturbed; he consulted the Oracle. Swan assured him that Paul and Linda were frustrated and unsatisfied. Their marriage was in trouble, he said, predicting it would break up within the year. Lately Swan’s visions had been astonishingly accurate. Relieved, John began composing a song—a little ditty, really, that would never be released—in praise of the Oracle’s powers. But he still couldn’t understand why Paul and Linda had been together for as long as they had. There appeared to be a psychic connection between John and Paul. Every time McCartney was in town, John would hear Paul’s music in his head.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

JOHN: […..] And he’s (Jagger) goin’ on about “he never calls. Do you think he ever calls? He never calls me. And he keeps changing his phone number all the time… And he’s hiding behind the kid.” I was hurt by it! You know… The fact that… A, I never call anybody. It’s not pride, it’s just that I never, ever have. REPORTER: Why? JOHN: I never call the other Beatles, I never call anybody. They always call me. REPORTER: Why? JOHN: Cos I’m self-involved! I’m paranoid, too. I don’t like phones… There’s nobody on this earth ever got a call from me that isn’t related, probably. Or a very old friend…

Sept 1980 – John

“Yoko was an extremist and was even more intense than John taking any idea or comment of his to the limit. If, for example, he complained about any of his fellow Beatles she would hint that that Beatle had always been an enemy implying that John should never deal with that person again. Her extreme positions fascinated John and help him take his mind off himself but when she became self-involved and paranoid herself -her paranoia usually dealt with her career, her fame and the fact that even though she had always been famous everyone conspired to keep her from getting even more famous- he had no place to turn. His insecurity about his solo career, his childhood, his relationships with the other Beatles, the way the public perceived Yoko overwhelmed him and he became more and more involved with drugs.”

May Pang, Loving John (1984)

John was lucky. He got all his hurt out. I’m a different sort of a personality. There’s still a lot inside me that’s trying to work it out. And that’s why it’s good to see that wedding-funeral bit, because I started to think, ‘Wait a minute, this is someone who’s going over the top. This is paranoia manifesting itself.’ And so my feeling is just like it was at the time, which is like, He’s my buddy, I don’t really want to do anything to hurt him, or his memory, or anything. I don’t want to hurt Yoko. But, at the same time, it doesn’t mean that I understand what went down.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986)

Some three year later, during the making of Abbey Road, Lennon installed a twin bed in the studio so that Yoko, recuperating from a car crash, could survey proceedings and pass comment though a mike he had suspended over her. The other Beatles positioned themselves around the room as best they could. Yoko would later tell Paul that if, for any reason, he’d seemed to be standing too close to her, all hell would break loose when John got her home. Lennon, she said, was ‘very paranoid’ like that.

McCartney by Chris Sandford

But we were actually quite supportive. Not supportive enough, you know; it would have been nice to have been really supportive because then we could look back and say, “Weren’t we really terrific?” But looking back on it, I think we were okay. We were never really that mean to them. But I think a lot of the time John suspected meanness where it wasn’t really there.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Chris Salewicz for Musician: Tug of war – Paul McCartney wants to lay his demons to rest. (October, 1986)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #i wonder how much of their issues were due to john suspecting paul of things that just weren't true #then again maybe paul is secretly an evil mastermind #can't put it past him

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suddencolds · 6 months

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Foreign Home | [1/1]

hello!! I am back after 8 months of not-really-writing with an 8k word fic (which I cut down from 9k words). this is another OC fic w/ Vincent and Yves, who were introduced here!

anyways, this is very character-centric and establishes some things I wanted to establish about them / their world... I hope the little detour into character-development territory is okay.

Summary: Yves has told all of his friends that he's dating Vincent, so it's going to look increasingly suspicious if Vincent never shows up. Good thing Vincent is compellingly good at lying. Anyways, what could go wrong at a housewarming party? (ft. banter, fake dating, cat allergies)

—

Yves spends three weeks turning down invitations.

It’s lucky, he thinks, that he’s been able to stay in contact with so many friends from university—that so many of them have settled here, in New York. It’s less lucky considering his current circumstances:

Out of the people who made it to Margot’s New Year’s party, almost all of them remember Vincent. And—even more inconveniently—many of them seem set on inviting Yves and Vincent places.

Yves thinks up a dozen excuses. No, Vincent can’t join on our coffee outing—he’s got an important, un-reschedulable meeting with a client that Saturday. Sunday? His Sunday’s booked through until 5pm. I know, busy season is the worst to plan around. Or, I think Vincent’s going to be out for a business conference that weekend. The 22nd? I can check with him, but he’s taking a redeye flight the night before—I think he’ll be jet lagged.

The number of excuses he is capable of coming up with is unfortunately finite. Perhaps sorry, I think Vincent has an optometrist’s appointment that afternoon isn’t Yves’s best work, but he has to say something.

Really, it’s just more work to invite Vincent elsewhere—to explain that they’ve played their role as a couple a little too convincingly. That his friends all want to meet Vincent, now.

Back during his days of rowing crew, Yves has given out his fair share of relationship advice to the underclassmen, which has unfortunately—according to Margot—“cultivated an air of mystery about his personal love life.” It was always him and Erika, until it wasn’t. (Ex-matchmaker Yves and his mysterious, highly coveted new boyfriend, Leon says, when Yves complains, which is how Yves decides he will no longer be consulting Leon on the matter.)

“My friends really like you,” Yves says to Vincent, offhandedly, when he runs into him on the way back from lunch.

Vincent blinks at him.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They really like you,” Yves says. “They want to meet you. They think we’re an interesting couple, and they keep pestering me for double dates and inviting you out to a whole bunch of events. I’m running out of excuses as to why you can’t come.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, deadpan, but there’s a slight twitch to his lips, as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m dead serious,” Yves says. “I told Nora that you couldn’t make it to dinner because of an eye appointment. Now if I want to keep this up I’ll need to photoshop you with new glasses.”

“I am a little overdue for new glasses,” Vincent says.

“Not the point. Regardless, I need to keep this up until we stage a breakup.”

“A breakup?”

“A fake breakup. To our fake relationship.”

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?”

“No,” Yves says. “But I’m preemptively saving you the stress.”

“The stress of playing your boyfriend?” Vincent says. “Last time, that just entailed going to a well-organized New Year’s party. I wouldn’t consider that exceptionally stressful.”

“That’s just the beginning. Don’t tell me you want to be dragged along to every dinner party and every downtown outing and every birthday I go to in the foreseeable future,” Yves says. “On top of working 60 hours a week, you’ll have to say goodbye to your weekends.”

“So that’s why you’re plotting our breakup.”

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’d need to explain to everyone how I dropped the ball.”

“I’m sure those new glasses must’ve been the dealbreaker.”

Yves laughs. Truthfully, Vincent could wear the most terrible, unflattering glasses in the world and still manage to look like someone whom Yves wouldn’t bat an eye at upon spotting at a photoshoot. The fact that his current glasses actually complement him very well, and the fact that he knows how to dress himself is just salt to the wound. “Yes, that’s the entire reason why I dated you in the first place. The glasses.”

“If you wanted to keep our false relationship up for a couple months,” Vincent says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Yves—who, until now, has been walking in the opposite direction of the floor on which he works—stops walking. “Pardon?”

“I like your friends,” Vincent says. “And more importantly, I don’t think it proves a point to Erika if you’ve just gotten into a relationship you couldn’t keep. So if you wanted to keep this arrangement for a little longer, I would be fine with it.”

Yves considers this.

He’s asked more than enough of Vincent already. But Vincent is right. He’s sure Erika must have her fair share of doubts about all of this—about Vincent, about their fake relationship, about its longevity. She seemed skeptical, when he’d last seen her, that Yves could’ve moved on so quickly. The worst thing about it is that he can’t blame her for that doubt. The worst thing about it is that he’d spent so much time accounting for his future with Erika that he hadn’t seen her start to slip away, hadn’t noticed the first sign of inadequacy, the first time her gaze lingered on someone else, the first time he ceased to be all that she wanted. He hadn’t steeled himself for a future without her, and now, half the time, it feels like he’s still playing catch-up.

If he wants to commit to this fake relationship, he’ll need more than one outing to show for it.

And, despite all odds, Vincent is offering just that.

“Okay,” Yves says, before he can think about how bad of an idea this is. It is really, really inadvisable. He’s sure if he weighs his options for more than a few seconds, he will come to the conclusion that he should be shutting his mouth. “If you’re sure—and only if you’re actually sure—what are your plans after work next Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing as of now,” Vincent says.

“Great. If you can make it, there’s a potluck. Joel’s hosting. He recently finished moving into a new apartment, so I think it’s something of a housewarming party. He lives a little North, past the stadium, so I think I’ll head there right after work—I can drive you.”

“That works,” Vincent says. “What kind of food does he like?”

“I’m not actually too sure,” Yves says. “I think he’s a fan of spicy food. But honestly, I think he’ll be grateful if you bring anything at all—which you don’t have to, by the way. You’re the esteemed guest, here.”

“I’m sure Joel’s new apartment is technically the esteemed guest,” Vincent says. “But I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “It’s a date. I’ll make it up to you in any way you want, by the way—if there’s ever an instance where you need me to lie for you, I’ll do it.”

“Duly noted,” Vincent says. For what Vincent would ever have to lie about, Yves can’t guess.

More importantly, he has a date for next Tuesday. Something about it is more exciting, even in its dishonesty, than it has any right to be.

—

It’s only a few moments after Yves presses the doorbell that Vincent emerges, holding a couple plates covered meticulously with aluminum foil.

“I haven’t cooked for anyone in awhile,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I hope this doesn’t make a bad impression on your friends.” “Are you kidding? It smells really good,” Yves says, and it does—from the doorway, he can make out the scent of sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger. “They’ll definitely like it.”

Vincent looks off to the side. “We’ll see.” It takes a moment for Yves to properly parse his expression for what it is.

It never occurred to Yves that Vincent might actually be nervous. At work, it’s rare to see Vincent even remotely out of his element—he always volunteers to take on their more difficult clients, and even on the rare occasion that something falls out of his expertise, he picks things up quickly. Yves has seen him give presentations at conferences without a sweat, articulate as ever.

If Vincent had been nervous, those times—over prestigious conferences, over negotiations with major clients, over other difficult points of contention—it hadn’t shown. Either he wasn’t nervous at all, or he was just good at hiding it. But he’s nervous now, Yves realizes, which means—

Vincent wants to make a good impression on his friends. It won’t be his first time meeting Joel, but it’ll be his first time talking to Cherie, Joel’s fiancé, or Giselle, one of Cherie’s friends from work. Mikhail and Nora will be there too. All in all, it’s a decently sized group, but Vincent has talked to larger groups of people before without so much as a shaky voice.

Something about it—about the seriousness with which Vincent regards this whole arrangement—is strangely endearing.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Yves says, and means it in more ways than one.

—

Joel’s new apartment, as it turns out, is already decently furnished, even though Joel had sent out the invitation with the disclaimer that everything is a mess, please bear with us.

“When you said everything would be a mess,” Yves says, leaving his shoes in a line at the door, “I thought your apartment would actually be something other than spotlessly clean and well arranged.”

“It’s easy to make things look neat if you move all of the clutter into the closets,” Joel says.

“It’s just a few boxes,” Cherie says. “But it was tricky to figure out how to place things. It’s a lot more spacious than the apartment we had in college.”

“No kidding,” Yves says. “It’s a seriously nice place.” Back in their last two years of university, Joel and Cherie had gotten an apartment just a few buildings down from the apartment which Yves picked out with Mikhail—they had similar floor plans. Yves distinctly remembers the space: creaky floorboards, space heaters lined up against the walls to last them the winter; decent natural lighting, and never enough kitchen space.

Back then, he and Mikhail had had separate rooms, so their apartment became a spot in which Erika became a frequent visitor, and then, at one point, stopped visiting at all.

But that’s not the point. The point is, the apartment Joel and Cherie have picked out is much nicer than the one they’d had in college—for one, it’s more spacious, and the entire building has nice facilities and looks newer—and Cherie’s eye for interior design has only helped their cause.

“I’m glad you were able to come!” Cherie says, turning to Vincent. “Yves is always telling me about how busy you are with work.”

“He’s the one putting out all the fires,” Yves says.

Vincent smiles, extending a hand for her to shake. “Cherie, right? It’s nice to meet you. And you’re—” He turns to Joel, with a slight sniffle. “Joel. I think we met last time.”

Cherie squeezes his hand. Joel laughs and says, “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

“He’s good with names,” Yves says. An acquired skill from all the hours of networking, probably.

“That’s a useful skill to have, especially if you’re dating Yves,” Joel says. “I swear he knows everyone.” He goes on to tell a story about how, back in university, Yves almost accidentally got elected as vice president for a business club he’d only shown up to once.

At some point into the conversation, Yves ducks into the kitchen to help with setup. He sets out the dish he’s brought—salmon sliders with mango salsa—and the beef skewers that Vincent made earlier (he’s not sure why Vincent was worried in the first place, because the skewers look very competently made). After that, he busies himself with finding a way to keep everything temporarily covered until they eat.

Something soft and fuzzy winds around his ankles.

He looks down, and the soft and fuzzy thing looks back at him with pointy triangular ears. This is news to Yves.

“You guys have a cat?!” He shouts from the kitchen, vaguely in the direction where Joel and Cherie should still be standing. “Since when?”

“Since a month ago,” Joel shouts back.

“Her name is Gingersnap,” Cherie adds. “Gin for short.”

“Oh,” Yves says, kneeling down to scratch her behind the ears. His hands are a little calloused from all the snow he’s been shoveling lately, but Gingersnap purrs anyways, evidently unbothered. “What the hell, guys, now I’m never going to be able to leave your apartment. Consider me a permanent resident.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Cherie says.

At some point, Gingersnap gets up, mewing, and heads out of the kitchen, and Yves resumes life as an active contributor to the potluck’s success. When he finishes reheating everything up, setting the table, arranging the dishes, and filling up two pitchers with iced water, he wanders back out into the living room. Vincent is there, alone, except he’s not really alone, because…

Oh.

God.

He’s kneeling down, unmoving, speaking to Gingersnap in a soft, low voice, holding out a hand for her.

She approaches him, a little tentatively, and then nuzzles her orange head into the crook of his hand. Vincent smiles—a soft, private smile. “Hi, Gin,” he says.

There’s the low, lawnmower hum of a purr as Gingersnap rolls onto the ground to let Vincent continue petting her. It’s a heartwarming sight—Vincent, from the office, crouched down to pet a cat that’s smaller than his hand. Yves thinks he might cry.

Then Vincent withdraws his hand, reaches up with an arm to swipe at his eyes. Something jolts through his shoulders, a tremor so slight that Yves wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t already been watching—

“—nGkt-!”

Gingersnap mews at him, perplexed but undeterred. “Sorry,” Vincent says to her, quietly, “I’m not trying— to—” It’s all he can get out before he’s veering away again, this time with both hands tightly steepled over his nose for—

“hhIH’—GKKtt-!”

He sniffles softly, though the sniffle is immediately followed by a small, quiet cough. He reaches up with one hand to rub his nose. Yves watches his expression draw uneven, his eyebrows furrowing.

“hhIH…”

Whatever sneeze he’s fighting seems terribly indecisive—but terribly irritating—for the way he rubs his nose again, his eyes squeezing shut in ticklish anticipation.

“HhIH… hh… HH-hhH-hHIHh—”

He cups a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, and not a moment too early—

“—hIHh’iiIKKTSHh-!”His shoulders jolt forwards with the force of it, though it gives him barely a moment’s reprieve before his breath hitches again, sharply, urgently. “IiI’DSZCHuuhh-!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent turns to blink at him. His eyes are a little red-rimmed and watering. There’s a thin flush over the bridge of his nose.

“You didn’t tell me you were allergic to cats,” Yves says, rounding the corner to close the distance between them.

“Slightly allergic,” Vincent admits, turning aside with a liquid sniffle. “It’s ndot - hhIHH-! - a big deal.”

“I didn’t know Joel and Cherie had a cat,” Yves says. “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if they did.”

“It’s fine,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I like her.”

“You might like her, but your body doesn’t seem to be a fan.”

“It’s a good thing that I have a consciousness, so I can codtinue petting her.” Vincent sniffles again, lifting one hand to rub his nose with his index finger. Yves does not know how to even begin to tell him what an inadvisable idea that is, but either way, he doesn’t have a chance to before Vincent’s eyes graze shut, and he turns to face away from Gingersnap before he jerks forward, catching a muffled - “Hh’GKK-t!” - into a clenched fist.

“Bless you,” Yves says. “You know, you’re really not going to make the situation any better if you keep on—”

“nNGKT-!!”

“—bless you!”

“hh—hHhih’iiKKsHHhUH!” The last sneeze is noticeably harsher than the others—it sounds loud enough to scrape against his throat, which seems to be further evidenced by the small cough that succeeds it.

“I’ll ask Joel if he has any antihistamines,” Yves says.

“It’s fide,” Vincent says.

“If you insist on spending time with Gingersnap, wouldn’t it be better to spend it without having to sneeze?”

“I would still have to sdeeze,” Vincent says, as if he’s already experienced in the matter—briefly, Yves wonders how many cats he inadvisably plays with on a frequent basis. “Just less.”

“That would be an improvement.”

Vincent looks away. “Antihistamines mbake me tired,” he says, after a little hesitation.

“It’s a good time to be tired,” Yves says. “It’s not like you have any pressing work to get done.”

“I want to make a good ibpression on your friends,” Vincent says, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “That’s ndot going to happen if I fall asleep halfway through dinner.”

“If you did, I’m sure no one would fault you for it.”

“I’ll take something after we finish eating,” Vincent says. “If things haved’t improved by then. ”

“Okay,” Yves relents, and—since it doesn’t seem like Vincent is leaving anytime soon—takes a seat next to him on the rug. It’s a compromise he can accept.

—

Nora gets there next, followed by Mikhail and then Giselle. It’s Yves’s first time formally meeting Giselle, who turns out to be very tall and a little intimidating—she’s come straight from work, so she’s dressed accordingly, and she talks with the sort of quiet authority that Yves knows is usually indicative of years of experience. Right before they sit down for dinner, Vincent ducks out into the bathroom—‘I need to look at least marginally presentable,’ he’d said, seeming like he was in a rush—so Yves saves him a seat at the table.

“Yves,” Giselle says, taking another salmon slider. “You made these entirely from scratch? This is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Yves says. “To be honest, it was a bit of a gamble. I wasn’t sure if the sauce was going to pair well with it.”

“Yves is really good at cooking,” Mikhail says. “That’s half the reason why I roomed with him in college.”

“So what’s the other half?” Cherie says.

“The other half is that he lets me eat his food,” Mikhail says.

Yves laughs. “For a second, I thought you’d have something nice to say about my personality.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikhail says.

“Yves is very good at cooking,” Vincent says, emerging from the hallway. Yves blinks at him. Whatever he’d done in the bathroom has done wonders—he looks remarkably put together. Not a strand of his hair is out of place. His eyes are dry, not red, not teary, not irritated, his collar crisply upright, his voice devoid of congestion. The only telltale sign about his ailment is the slight bit of redness to his nose, but it’s winter—that could easily be chalked up to the cold.

He slips easily into the seat next to Yves, his posture impeccable. Yves does everything in his power not to stare.

“I think he’s responsible for some of the best hot chocolate I’ve had,” Vincent continues. That remark is surprising, too—repurposed from a memory as it is, it seems almost like something that could be genuine.

But Yves remembers how easily Vincent had lied, back on New Year’s—how easily he’d drawn the fictitious threads between them, almost thoughtlessly, as if they had always existed.

I could make better hot chocolate, Yves thinks, before he can stop himself. I could really make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted, if I just had time. It’s an absurd thought, and one that he doesn’t have much grounds for. He had been pressed for time, back then—he hadn’t known when Vincent’s ride was going to be arriving—but even if he’d really, properly tried, even if he’d succeeded in making the best hot chocolate he’s capable of making, there’s no guarantee that Vincent would’ve liked it.

He’s surprised by the pang in his chest, now, the desire to make true something that he knows to be false, to be worthy of the compliments that Vincent’s so easily spoken about.

“That’s definitely an exaggeration,” Yves says. “Technically, Mikhail didn’t even know that I knew how to cook when we signed the lease. The real reason why we roomed together is much more interesting.”

It’s a story he’s told before, though Cherie and Giselle haven’t heard it before. It’s easy to fall into it again: Mikhail and Yves met in their first year, over a group project in an intro to finance class. The two other members of their team had been dead weight, and at the time, Yves had thought—incorrectly—that Mikhail was just as bad as the rest of them.

It’s practically a comedy of errors—a series of miscommunications had led them to each finish the project independently. Yves remembers the all-nighters he’d pulled for that, nervous and over-caffeinated, until the day before the presentation, where he found that Mikhail had not—unlike the other members of their group—spent the last few weeks slacking off.

Beside him, Vincent goes still.

When Yves chances a quick look at him, he sees: a slight, almost imperceptible ripple to his expression, before it smooths out again.

He nearly backtracks—his first thought is that perhaps something he’s said is the source of Vincent’s irritation—but then Vincent turns his face away. There’s the slightest disturbance to the line of his shoulders, and then—

“—gkT-!”

The sneeze is barely audible, stifled as it is into a half-closed palm, though the gesture is subtle, too—easily mistaken as Vincent simply looking away, resting his chin on his hand.

“I can’t believe you guys are still friends after all of that,” Nora says.

“Right,” Yves says. “I was so ready to never talk to him again. But obviously, we still had to give the presentation.”

He talks about how, in a half-asleep effort to salvage the project work, he and Mikhail had found some way to relate their findings to each other, to loosely bind the disparate subjects into a coherent thesis. Mikhail talks, too, about how they’d manipulated their presentation to get their combined work to seem sufficiently on topic.

Mikhail is halfway through his story when Yves sees Vincent jolt forward beside him.

He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of a sneeze—expertly stifled, just like the others—into a clenched fist. This one’s a little more forceful, even in its quietness—it leaves Vincent hunched over for just a moment, his shoulders slightly slumped, before he straightens again, covertly lowering his hand.

There’s a slightly hazy, distant look to his features, as if whatever’s been bothering him hasn’t begun to let up yet.

Yves nudges him with his arm. Vincent doesn’t exactly jump at the contact, but he does freeze, his shoulders stiffening.

“Hey,” Yves says, quietly enough that he doesn’t think anyone else should be able to hear. “You okay?”

Vincent nods.

“You sure you don’t want to take anything?”

Another nod.

“I can’t tell you how little either of us proofread that paper,” Mikhail is saying.

“I reread it three months later,” Yves admits. “And he’s right. We really didn’t proofread it.”

But it was a winning proposal, even though they’d both been too tired to realize it then. And still, Mikhail had still managed to hold a grudge against him for two long months. And then Mikhail had run into last-minute problems with his upcoming lease arrangement, and Yves had happened to find a decently priced two-bedroom apartment with no roommate, and he’d reached out half as a joke.

“You know those friends who say they can never room together?” Mikhail is saying. “Like, they hang out all the time, or they’ve been friends for years, or they trust each other with their lives, or whatever. But the second you put their living habits in close proximity, everything goes to shit? I think we were the opposite.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because you two never had a good enough relationship to ruin in the first place?” Nora says jokingly.

She has a point. Yves is starting to think that all of the formative relationships in his life have all happened by accident.

—

Vincent and Giselle get along very well, Yves notes, listening to the two of them talk. Halfway through dinner, they get into a heated discussion about the more outward-facing expectations at work, as Joel and Cherie exchange knowing glances. Giselle talks about feeling accountable for the team she manages—for knowing that if they don’t perform, she’ll take the fall for them; for being careful not to disperse the stress from higher ups unevenly, for constantly feeling her way through how much work is reasonable to expect of them. Vincent talks about the stress of apportioning work to others—the knowledge in his own competence and the knowledge gap when it comes to how others will handle things, the desire to take on more work alone to make sure everything is accounted for.

Nora, who’d had an internship at a different firm after each year in college, weighs in too on the management styles she’d been under, to what extent the expectations from leadership affected the dynamic between her coworkers.

It’s interesting, Yves thinks, that they all have their own subset of worries, even when they come across as people who are so certain of themselves.

As the others speak, Vincent stops periodically to rub his nose with the knuckle of his index finger—an action that always seems to keep the irritation at bay, but never seems to mitigate it entirely. For a moment, his expression goes hazy, his eyes watering ever so slightly, but it always lasts only a moment.

When Mikhail cracks a joke that has the entire table laughing, Vincent takes the opportunity to cough quietly into an upheld fist. When Cherie talks about her and Joel’s extremely mathematical efforts to fit everything into the car before moving, Vincent turns aside, raising a napkin to his face with a quiet, well-contained sniffle.

It’s difficult to tell, at first. But his attempts to keep quiet, to succumb to his symptoms as inconspicuously as possible, take their toll on him. Every time he jerks forward with a near-silent stifle, Yves can tell, by Vincent’s expression when he emerges, that it’s just short of relieving. Every sniffle seems to only add on to the mounting congestion, in the long run. It’s a slow, almost imperceptible unraveling.

And yet, when Yves asks about it—when he offers to ask the others for antihistamines, or when he offers to make the drive to a convenience store himself; when he suggests that they go out to get some fresh air—he’s always faced with the same nonanswer, the same dismissive, I’ll be fine. The same persistent, Don’t worry about it.

So Yves doesn’t worry about it, for now—at least, not outwardly.

—

At some point after dinner, they disperse. Yves talks to Joel and Cherie about the apartment, about the pains of moving in, about the other places they’d considered and about why this one had been at the top of the list. Then about the cat— “we had been talking about getting one,” Cherie says. “And then one day Joel was wandering around downtown, and one of the pet shops there was holding an adoption event, and then when I got home there was a cat in the living room.”

“He didn’t call you to come pick out a cat with him?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission?’” Joel says.

“He texted me before he brought her home,” Cherie says, and scrolls through her phone until she finds a text that says: Would you kill me if I brought home a cat. Just asking for a friend. And hypothetically if we extended this thought experiment it would be an orange cat that’s 2 months old.

“That sounds like a text from someone who’s absolutely decided already,” Yves says. “Ask for forgiveness, huh? So how’s the forgiveness going?”

“I let her name her,” Joel says.

“He’s on litter box duty for the next six months,” Cherie says.

On the other side of the room, Mikhail and Vincent are having a conversation—it could be because Vincent is the person in the room that Mikhail has talked to least, to date, but Yves has a feeling that it’s so that Mikhail can gain embarrassing intel on what Yves has been doing for the past few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vincent turn away, his eyebrows drawing together, raising both his hands to his face to catch a sneeze into steepled hands. Then, not a moment later, his shoulders shudder forward with another.

“Totally off topic,” Yves says, to Joel and Cherie. “Do you guys have any antihistamines?”

“I think we have some Benadryl,” Cherie says. “It should be in the bathroom cabinet, behind the mirror.”

He does find it there, eventually—next to a box of band-aids and a small cylindrical container of cotton swabs. Perhaps he’ll hand it to Vincent, discreetly, when he’s done talking to Mikhail. Vincent had said antihistamines made him tired, but now that dinner is over, it shouldn’t be an issue—Yves suspects people will start heading out soon, and he’ll be the one driving, anyways.

When he steps out into the hallway, Mikhail and Vincent are in the middle of a conversation. It’s a conversation Yves has every intention of interrupting, and no intention of eavesdropping on, until he overhears—

“So,” Mikhail says, “When you first started dating Yves, what was it that you saw in him?”

Yves winces. That’s certainly not an easy question to answer—he and Vincent don’t know each other all that well, and any planning they have done on the basis of their fake relationship has been almost entirely centered around logistics—events, important dates, flagship moments in the relationship, trivia-worthy personal details. Not… this.

But Vincent just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “Honestly, if I told you everything I liked about Yves, you’d want to date him too.”

“That’s a tall claim,” Mikhail says. Yves is positively certain that no permutation of words in the universe could make Mikhail want to date him. “You can’t just say that and not give any examples.”

“I guess Yves is a very considerate person,” Vincent says, with a sniffle. “It actually confused me, at first. When I was growing up, after I moved here from Korea, I was brought up in the sort of environment where there was always an expectation for self-sufficiency. It didn’t matter how young I was, I guess—there were certain things I was expected to know, and certain things I was expected to teach myself.”

Something about his expression looks wistful, if not a little sad. But perhaps this is a trick of the light; perhaps his eyes are just watering from earlier. “My parents trusted me with a lot of things, but it was the kind of trust where they weren’t planning on filling in the gaps for me if I fell short.”

“I know what you mean,” Mikhail says. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Vincent says. “But I’m not telling you this because it was a burden to me, or anything. Back then, it was all that I had ever known. It was normal to me, then, because it was inevitable.”

“Yves is a very different person than I am,” Vincent says. “At times, when I was growing up, it felt like kindness was always something that had to be calculated.”

He pauses, sniffling again, before he raises his arm to his face with a forceful—

“hIhh’GKT-! Hh… hh-HHih’NGKktshH!”

“Bless you,” Mikhail says reflexively.

“Thadk you,” Vincent says, sniffling. He lowers his arm. “I was always taught that if you lend a hand to someone else, you have to make sure their success is not the thing that robs you of your spot—that sort of thing. But Yves is kind even without thinking about it. He’s kind even when there’s nothing in it for him.”

“So that was what made you develop feelings for him?” Mikhail asks.

“Eventually, yes,” Vincent says. “At first, I thought that we were irreconcilably different.”

“What changed?”

“Yves is an easy person to like, romantically or otherwise,” Vincent says. “It’s a little disarming to be on the receiving end of his type of kindness. And I think that’s ultimately what made me start liking him. He’s just the sort of selfless person you can’t help but admire, if that makes sense. It’s like—when someone does so much for you out of sheer selflessness, at some point, you start wanting to be a part of their happiness too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yves sees a small orange blur—mostly fluff, on four short white legs, with two pointy ears—bound from the kitchen into the living room.

“I get it,” Mikhail says. “That’s an interesting answer. It makes me hopeful that Yves might’ve stumbled into a relationship that will be very good for him.”

That’s a statement he’ll have to revise, Yves thinks wryly, in a few months, whenever it stops being practical for Vincent to keep up this act.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What makes you say that?”

“When he and Erika broke up, he was—” Mikhail pauses, briefly, and Yves is thinking about the many embarrassing—but completely, verifiably true—ways he could finish off that sentence. “—he was pretty upset,” Mikhail says, instead, which Yves decides is suitably merciful.

“Look, what’s between them is between them—I’m not going to claim I know all the ins and outs of their relationship. But given that Yves was living with me for much of the time that he and Erika were dating, I’ve seen them interact more times than I can count.”

“I don’t think Erika is a bad person,” he continues. “She’s very ambitious, which I think was good for Yves back when they first started dating. But I don’t think she recognized those things about him—how much he cares for others, how much he gives people the benefit of the doubt, how much he… well, frankly, how much bullshit he’s willing to endure on his end. I think she took his kindness for granted, a little bit, and she certainly didn’t go out of her way to reciprocate.”

“What I’m saying is, I’m glad he met you,” Mikhail says. Beside him, something small and orange hops onto the couch they’re standing next to. “I can tell that what you said was sincere.”

If even Mikhail thought he was being sincere, perhaps Vincent is a little too good of an actor.

“Obviously, it’s early for me to be saying this, so you can take it with a grain of salt,” Mikhail continues. “But I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.”

The sentence feels like a punch to the stomach.

And—well.

I’m glad he met you. I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.

Yves has really dug himself into this hole, hasn’t he?

Mikhail thinks that Vincent is good for him—Mikhail, one of Yves’s closest friends, someone who is by no means quick to express his approval over whoever Yves is seeing—which means that when they inevitably stage their breakup, Yves is never going to hear the end of it.

Is it cruel to be taking Vincent to all of these events, to be introducing him to all of his friends, when—after the impending breakup—Vincent might never see any of them again? Is it cruel that Mikhail likes Vincent enough to be hopeful that this is going to last?

Yves doesn’t have time to contemplate it more when three things happen.

One—Gingersnap, who is still perched at the very top of the couch, nudges her face against Vincent’s arm and mews softly at him.

Two—Vincent stops what he’s doing to reach out slowly, cautiously, to scratch gently at the fur under her chin. Gingersnap purrs, leaning her head into his hand.

Three—Vincent withdraws his hand, suddenly, as if he’s been burned, twisting away reflexively. He lifts his hand—the same hand he’s been petting Gingersnap with (probably inadvisably) to his face, to cover a resounding—

“hh—hiHH-hHihh’iIZSChHH-uhh! snf-!”

The sneeze sounds ticklish and barely relieving, as if he’s been holding it in all afternoon.

It’s only a few moments later that Vincent’s jerking forward with another ticklish, wrenching, “hh… hhiHH… NgKT-!—hh’hiiIIIK’TSCHhuhH! snf-! hiIh… hIIIH-IITSCHh’yyue!”

“Oh,” Mikhail says, finally comprehending. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Just slightly— hIh… hH- Hiih—hhH’nNGkT-!” Vincent sniffles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Sorry to - hh-! - cut our codversatiod short - hH… I… hhiHh’IiKSHhuh! Excuse mbe… hH… Hhh-! I’mb going to rund to the bathroom… hh… hhiIh… hh-HIih’iiIK’SHhUHhh!”

Yves ducks out into the kitchen before Vincent has a chance to head his way. He busies himself with removing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, Somewhere behind him, he hears the bathroom door click shut, hears the slightly muffled sound of a sneeze, then another.

He shuts his eyes.

Vincent had said that it was fine. Should Yves have insisted? It’s Yves’s fault, again, that Vincent is in this situation, but then again, he couldn’t have known—both that Joel and Cherie would have a cat, and that Vincent would like her so much. Either way, Yves can’t help but feel partially responsible.

But would it be strange, now, to offer Vincent something to take for it, to openly acknowledge his affliction? Should he have done something earlier? Or should he wait to acknowledge it after they leave?

Against all doubt, he finds himself outside of the bathroom door.

Yves knocks.

There’s the sound of water running, inside, and then the sound of the faucet being turned to shut. Then there’s a brief pause. Yves is contemplating knocking again when the door opens just a crack.

There, Vincent stands, his eyes a little watery still, his nose just slightly redder than usual, his hair slightly out of place—he’s just washed his face, then.

“Yves,” Vincent says.

“Um,” Yves says, holding out the glass of water and, next to it, the bottle of Benadryl. “Thought you could use these.”

Vincent takes the cup, a little hesitantly, and sets it on the bathroom counter. Then he takes the bottle of allergy medicine, unscrews the cap, and removes two small pink pills.

“Thank you,” he says. Yves thinks he’s about to take a sip when he twists to the side suddenly, his eyes squeezing shut, snapping forward with a loud—

“hIIH’IIKKSHh’hUh!”

The hand he’s holding the cup with trembles a bit with the action, but the water inside doesn’t spill.

“Bless you,” Yves says, taking the cup from him, before—

“hIHH… hh-Hhih’iISCHhh’Uhh!”

“Bless you!”

The only acknowledgment Vincent gives him is to take the cup back from him, sniffling, and down the pills in one quick, decisive sip.

“They’ll take some time to take effect,” Yves says, though he’s sure that Vincent knows that already, for the way he knew to take two, even without reading the label on the bottle. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been awhile since my last edcounter with a cat,” Vincent says, sniffling.

“You forgot how bad it was?”

“It gets better with exposure,” he says. And worse without.

Yves says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know they’d have a cat.”

“Even if you’d known, I ndever told you I was allergic,” Vincent says. “It’s fine.”

“I should’ve thought to check. Seriously, a housewarming party—”

“I told you, snf, I like cats,” Vincent says, clearing his throat. “So it’s fine.”

Yves looks around—at the bathroom, which looks just as pristine as he’d left it earlier, except that the tissue box on the bathroom counter is a little askew. At the slight tiredness to Vincent’s posture, even as he looks off to the side, tilting his glasses up to his forehead to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Do you want to get out of here?“ Yves says.

“I cad stay,” Vincent says, as if he really is willing to, despite the side effects. “Do you want to stay longer?”

I want you to be comfortable, Yves wants to say.

Instead, he says, “I think I’ve just about caught up with everyone. Besides, we have work tomorrow, and I think Cherie and Joel do too, so I don’t want to stay too late, you know?”

“Okay,” Vincent says.

“I’m happy you came,” Yves says, stepping past Vincent to put the bottle of Benadryl back into its original spot, where he found it. He snags the glass from the counter on his way out.

“Your friends are a fun crowd,” Vincent says, following him out.

Yves laughs. “I think just between you and me, Mikhail has been dying to interrogate you about this relationship.”

“He did idterrogate me,” Vincent says. “How much of it did you overhear?”

“What?”

“When you were standing out in the hallway.”

Oh. Well, perhaps he hadn’t been as discreet about eavesdropping as he’d thought. Yves says, “Okay, you got me. I heard a good amount.”

“I don’t think Mikhail noticed you there, if you’re worried,” Vincent says. “In any case, it doesd’t matter if you overheard. It was just the same story.”

They step out into the hallway. Giselle has left, already, to be home in time for a cross-timezone call with a team that works somewhere halfway across the world. Yves bids everyone else a goodbye (Cherie and Joel thank him for coming, and Cherie hugs him and Vincent both on the way out; Nora asks Vincent to send her a recipe to his beef skewers, to which Vincent admits sheepishly that he stole from a cookbook, to which Nora says “making it successfully is half the work;” Mikhail says, “If you and Vincent get a place too, I want to be invited to your housewarming party.”)

On the way out, Yves grabs both of their coats off from where they’re hanging in a closet next to the front door, and hands Vincent’s coat to him. There’s never much street parking by the apartment, so the car is parked a couple blocks down, and it’s cold enough to be worth bundling up.

“You’re very good at lying,” Yves says, when he’s sure that the door is shut behind them.

Outside, it’s snowing just a little. Snow falls from the sky in thick white flakes. Vincent pulls his hood over his shoulders, sniffling a little—though whether that’s from the cold or from the allergies, Yves can’t be sure. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Definitely a compliment. I just mean, you play the part really well.”

“So instead of being a good boyfriend, I’m a good fake boyfriend,” Vincent says, lifting his sleeve to his face to muffle a cough into it. “Somehow, that seems much less impressive.”

“It’s arguably more impressive,” Yves says. “It definitely requires a different subset of skills.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment. When Yves looks over, he sees Vincent raise both hands to his face, steepling them over his nose, his eyes fluttering shut.

“hHh… hHh’iiiIKKSshh’uhh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Ndot— hh… hHh… done — hH-hhIh’nGKKTsHuuh! hHh-hH’IIZSCHHhhuh!”

“Bless you! Cats, huh?”

Vincent hums. It’s snowed all through dinner—the snow under their feet coats the sidewalk, powdery and untouched. Their shoes sink into it while they walk.

“I didn’t know you used to live in Korea,” Yves says.

“It’s not a secret, snf-!,” Vincent says. “But I ndever found an occasion to bring it up.”

Yves can think of a hundred things to say—how it’s strange only learning this information secondhand; it’s strange to play the part of someone who knows Vincent and knows him intimately, and to know so little about him, at the core of it. Isn’t it like that, with coworkers? The only window he has to Vincent’s life is made up of the things Vincent has chosen to share with him—over small talk in the break room, or conversationally over their outings, or during longer drives.

He knows an assortment of trivia, like Vincent’s favorite color (green) or Vincent’s birthday (March 15th) or the number of siblings Vincent has (one), or when he had his first kiss (during his first year in university) or his least favorite chore (vacuuming) or how he spends his weekends (generally at the library downtown, catching up on work or working on his personal projects). But even that was only for the sake of having something to say if his friends asked him—of having a basic understanding of his supposed partner that Vincent could later corroborate.

“Was it very different there?”

“I moved here when I was pretty young,” Vincent says. “But it was very different.”

When Yves looks over, there’s something complicated to Vincent’s expression that gives him pause. “Back then, I was young enough that everything was new to me. So the cultural shift wasn’t as pronounced for me as it was for the rest of the family. I think that’s why they moved back, eventually.”

“Did that happen recently?”

“They moved back just six years after we came here,” he says. “I was in high school at the time, so I stayed with my aunt to continue my education here.”

“Was it difficult living here on your own?”

“Is this useful to you?”

Yves blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Is this information useful to you?” Vincent says, looking over at him. His glasses have fogged up a little in the cold. “Do you think your friends are going to ask about it?”

“It’s—not exactly useful in that sense,” Yves says, backtracking. “I just wanted to know. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That’s right, he reminds himself—he and Vincent are only doing this for appearances’ sake.

“I got used to it,” Vincent says, finally, which isn’t exactly an answer. “It’s hard to say if—hold on, I— hh-!”

Yves sees him duck off to the side, raising his arm to his face.

“Bless you—!”

“hh-Hhiih’IIZSCHh’uhH!”

The sneeze is muffled slightly into his sleeve. Vincent sniffles, keeping his arm clamped to his face for a moment, in trepidation, before dropping it to his side.

“Apologies, snf-!,” he says, as if he has anything to apologize for. “It’s hard to say if things would’ve been better if I’d gone back with them to Korea. I just know things would’ve been different.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say to that. It feels like something that Vincent has thought about for years, something that Yves couldn’t even begin to comprehend—growing up here, alone. Away from his family, in a country foreign to him, with his family all the way on the other side of the Pacific ocean; staying with a stranger. To say that it had to have been difficult would be a vast understatement.

Had he doubted himself, then? Had it been his idea to stay here, in the States? Had his parents told him it was for the best? Had he argued with them on the subject? Had they listened?

“Do you think you’re happy enough now to justify that decision?” Yves asks.

Vincent is quiet for a bit. Around them, the snow continues to fall, silent and slow, listing upwards on every updrift. “Sometimes,” he says.

—

When they get back to the car, Vincent is quiet. The car is frigid, the window panes cold enough to fog up when Yves puts his hand on them—he puts the heaters on to the highest setting. If anything, being out of the cold seems to make Vincent’s nose run even more—a fact which he carefully obscures, resting his face on the palm of his hand with a few muffled sniffles.

“Thanks again for coming,” Yves says. “I know I—and everyone else—already said that to you like a hundred times. But I mean it.”

“It’s ndo problem, snf,” Vincent says. “I’ll be sure to avoid putting you into contact with cats in the future,” Yves says.

“There’s ndo need for that.”

“While we’re at it, is there anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Not much,” Vincent says. “Unless you pland on getting rid of the entire season of spring.”

“That’s secretly why you chose an office job,” Yves says. “So you could avoid all the pollen by staying inside all day.”

“Busy season was - snf-! - idvented solely for that purpose,” Vincent says.

It’s barely a couple minutes into the drive when Vincent stifles a yawn into his fist.

“Are you tired?” Yves asks. “I mean, you did say that thing about antihistamines making you tired.”

“Wide awake,” Vincent says, before—moments later—hiding another yawn behind a cupped hand.

“Evidently,” Yves says, which earns him a quiet laugh.

“Tell me if you ndeed me,” Vincent says, leaning his head lightly on the passenger seat window. As if this is work, or something. As if Yves could have any conceivable reason to need him during the drive home.

“Not at all,” Yves says. “As a matter of fact, it’d probably be a good thing if you close your eyes. You wouldn’t have to look at all this traffic.” It’s a little past rush hour, but traffic is only just starting to clear up, and driving in the city at any hour has never been a particularly pleasant experience.

Vincent opens his eyes. “Do you wadt me to help navigate?”

“I want you to sleep,” Yves says. “I’m an expert at handling traffic.”

It’s as if all this time, Vincent was merely waiting for permission. Yves isn’t certain if he’s asleep, but he certainly looks to be—when Yves sneaks a glance at him, his eyes are shut, his shoulders slack, and his breathing has evened out. It’s an image Yves wants to thoroughly take in—the slow rise of his chest, his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks.

Instead, he drives. Instead, he stares hard at the rows and rows of cars before him, at every traffic light, and tries not to think about—

Vincent, at the housewarming party, kneeling down to pet a cat smaller than his hand, despite being well aware of the consequences.

Vincent, calling Yves kind even without thinking about it, talking about him—about his best qualities—with near-artful dishonesty.

Vincent, walking beside him in the snow, talking candidly about growing up here; the unspoken understanding between them about how much he must’ve given up.

That Vincent, the same Vincent from work, asleep in Yves’s passenger seat, while Yves drives him home.

Yves can’t help but think that if he caught feelings for someone like Vincent, Erika would be the least of his problems.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #probably one of the longest oneshots i've posted here #i'm sorry if this is not like #as... snz-driven as usual? it's a little more mellow and i really hope that doesn't make it a boring read #i promise i am in the middle of writing something spicier 😭#my fic #also thank you to everyone who has left comments/come talk to me about fool me twice 🥹 it makes me really happy to know that there are #people out there who like reading these two #yvverse #(<- new tag for them)

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staygoldwriting · 9 months

Text

💌 To the Steve I Loved Before: Part 4

A Steve Harrington TATBILB!AU fic

Links to Parts 1-3 on my masterlist!

Summary: Y/N has written love letters to get over her deepest crushes. What happens when Steve Harrington gets his hands on her letter to him?

Disclaimer: This is inspired by the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series by Jenny Han! I have used none of her characters, but have only used the premise of a love letter in the wrong hands.

Word count: ~1200

Warnings: None, just fluff! And someone gets kissed smack on the lips 🙈

A/N: AHH I’m ashamed it’s taken me this long to write and post this next chapter 😥 but I’m back and it’s GETTING GOOD FOLKS! Haha I hope you enjoy this next chapter, please let me know what you think, and, as always, please show love and support! ❤️✨

“Wow, Steve Harrington, huh?” Eddie said, laughing softly. It sounded slightly sad, but you brushed it aside in the midst of your panic about the massive lie you just blurted out.

“Yeah?” you said, half-sure. “Why?”

“It’s nothing, I just… I guess I didn’t expect it,” he said slowly, looking down. “But then again, what do I know?” he shrugged, laughing.

“No worries, I mean, it took me by surprise too,” you said, being honest for the first time in a while. “But I guess you never know, right?” You glanced down at your watch, desperate to get out of the conversation. “Oh, look! My shift’s over. Well, Eddie it was nice to see you--”

“Can I walk with you? I’d like to give Steve my well wishes,” he said, smiling brightly. How could you say no to such a sweet face?

“Um, sure,” you said slowly, trying not to look suspicious. “But, um, if Steve acts weird or something, don’t hold it against him, okay? He’s… shy.”

“Steve? Shy?” Eddie laughed out loud, making you groan to yourself about the weak lie. “I’ve never known the Steve Harrington to ever be shy, especially about having a beautiful girlfriend.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Eddie called you beautiful. You blushed deeply, smiling softly at him as you walked away from the desk.

“Well, thank you, Eddie,” you said sweetly as you two started walking. “But yeah, I guess he’s not really into public displays of affection?”

“Well, he seems rather comfortable with those girls over there,” Eddie said, looking at you with concern. You looked over to see Steve leaning over the counter, flirting with a couple girls. You scoffed and grimaced at Steve’s smug face.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Eddie looked at you in surprise, but stuck by your side as you approached Scoops Ahoy. Robin looked up, panicking when she saw Eddie was with you. She looked at you intently and made a what’s going on?! face, but you were lasered in on Steve. You pushed forward and past the girls, adrenaline racing again, pulled Steve in by the shoulders, and kissed him square on the lips. You felt his hands go up in shock, and as you pulled away, his eyes were wide, looking extremely confused.

“I’m sorry,” you said in as sweet a voice as you could muster, “I know I don’t usually kiss you at work, but I just couldn’t help myself! I missed you too much.”

Steve looked at you like he was witnessing an alien encounter. His mouth formed in various ways, trying to find words, and his brow furrowed as nothing came out.

“Ugh! No wonder he wasn’t interested,” a snarky girl spat behind you. “Let’s go, girls--he’s clearly got bad taste if he’s dating her.”

With a flourish of ponytails and curls, the girls turned around and left. Robin was looking on in shock, mouth hung open as she chuckled intermittently. She knew exactly what you were doing, but couldn’t actually believe it was happening.

“Y/N,” Steve said, speaking slowly and hoarsely, “what-what are you doing?”

You leaned in close to feign affection and whispered to Steve.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll explain later. In the meantime, can I kiss you one more time?”

“Yes-I mean, wait, why?”

“I’ll explain later, promise!” you whisper-yelled. “I’ll be waiting in front of the pretzel shop.”

With that, you kissed him again, no shock from Steve this time, and smiled at him sweetly.

“See you later, honey,” you said as you turned back to Eddie, who was grinning widely.

“Way to go, L/N!” he cheered. “You sure made sure those girls know he’s taken,” he smiled, giving you a high five.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you smiled softly. Eddie went on talking about more topics, but you found yourself distracted by the discovery that Steve Harrington isn’t a bad kisser.

-💌-

You were sitting in front of the pretzel shop with your feet resting on another chair when Steve walked up to you timidly. You moved your feet quickly as he sat down in front of you. His eyes darted each way, then he leaned on his knees to look at you.

“Hey Steve,” you said simply.

“Hey Steve? Y/N, what just happened?”

“Okay, let me explain!” you started, and Steve scoffed, giving you a you better look. “So, a while ago, I started writing… love letters… to guys I’d fallen for.”

“O-kay…” Steve said slowly.

“And I wrote a bunch of them with the intention to use them to get over each guy, they were never ever meant to get out! But then they did, and most of them had the wrong address, but… Eddie’s didn’t. And I couldn’t let him think that I feel the same way I felt in the letter.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you still feel that way about Eddie?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess you obviously don’t, I mean, why else would you go and kiss me in front of him?” he said, sitting back. Then, he looked at you skeptically and leaned back in.

“So, why did you kiss me?” he asked.

“I’m getting to that,” you said impatiently, and he nodded. “So, regardless of my feelings, the letter was really embarrassing, and then he told me he doesn’t feel the same, so all the humiliation was for nothing, and-”

“That’s brutal,” Steve chuckled, and you glared at him. He looked at you apologetically and held his hands out for you to continue.

“... And I panicked, and I told him it didn’t matter because I was dating someone else,” you said quickly. Steve smirked and clicked his tongue, nodding.

“Alright, I get it now,” he said, smirking at you and raising his eyebrows. “So, clearly, I was on your mind,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“So, can you pretend to be my boyfriend for a little bit, just until all this Eddie stuff dies down?”

“Listen, Y/N, as much as I would love to do this for you,” he started sarcastically, “has it ever occurred to you that you could just tell Eddie the truth?”

“And embarrass myself more? No way!” you yelled.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I get it. Somehow, I understand your twisted little mind.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Steve looked away and squinted. He pursed his lips, then looked back at you.

“Yeah, sure, I’m game,” he said decidedly, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Steve, really!” you smiled, and he nodded back at you. “We’ll have to meet again sometime soon to discuss the terms, but we need a more private place for that,” you said, starting to think out loud.

“Sure, sure,” Steve said passively, clearly thinking about something else. “Let’s meet at my place at eight tonight. My parents won’t be home, and I’ll order a pizza.”

“That sounds great, thanks again, Steve!” you said, standing to go.

“Wait a sec, Y/N,” he said, looking at you.

“What?” you asked nervously.

“I’m just thinking… I was the first person that came to your mind, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you said quietly, your heart pounding.

“And Robin had a love letter with her today…”

Your heart pounded even more, and you prayed he wouldn’t put it all together, but it was too late.

“Does that mean you wrote me a love letter?”

-💌-

Taglist: @tillkummer @mlle-ayka @sonicthehedgedoggo @klaine-92 @aurumbelis @onlyangel-444 @beep-beep-sherlock @morishitoshi @onceuponathreetwoone @toomanybandstocare @underthebatcape @zeldaknight @fieldofsecretss @prettyinpunk85 @igotbasicdrag @gothicfaires @thatonecurlygirl @luvthatlovestolove @loliakeoghan23 @dearelliewrites @mslunawinchester @aphex2winn @simonsbluee @inkedaztec @dumplinshee @pastel-abyss-x @frozenhuntress67 @hawkins-hs @witheringawayagain @theshinyrock @hollandcomics @pinkgothiccprincess @persephone13 @katsukis1wife @murnsondock @fictionlandslanddreams @srapalestina @babyghouly @madformunsonsstuff @harrys-tittie @middle--fingering @urmomgov @maybankstarkey @jbetches @stardustmunson @maltinonka @chaerfull @middle-of-the-earth @lilsunshine1092 @thehairington86 @the-weeping-author @bisexual-and-intellectual

#staygoldwriting #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine

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rindouheart · 1 year

Note

Thank you for the rules link!! So I was wondering about headcanons (or whatever you want tbh) about Reo falling for a reader that doesn't even give him the time of the day lol like reader thinks he's a standard rich boy, you know? So they avoid him at first until Reo manages to win them over. Take all the time you need of course, and thank you if you accept my request!! 💕

REO MIKAGE with a s/o that avoids him 🌿

content. fluffy hc about our fav rich boy + g/n reader!

author’s note. hi love! tysm for requesting, i hope you like this mix between hcs and a drabble, i’ve enjoyed writing them + reo is so cute i can’t.

reo mikage is a rich boy. everyone knows it.

also if he’s not that “rich kid” who just flexes around how much money he has, you’ve always been quite suspicious about his behaviour.

obviously, reo is handsome, smart and also good ad football, basic characteristics of any wealthy boy.

your friends always told you that his future is already planned: reo will be the ceo of his family’s business, he will marry someone rich and he will live the life that everyone dreams.

a lot of people in your school crush on him, for real: reo is friendly, slefless and “fun to be around”, as many students say.

honestly, you’ve never spent so much time with him, just the plain small talk when you were forced to. you aren’t really interested in getting on well with him, but still, being polite is always a good thing.

until he started to try to talk to you more frequently.

“omg, i think he might like you!” these are your best friend’s words every time reo gets near you. “you should give him a chance, for real” and then you just shrug it off.

“hey, y/n, i was wondering if we could work together for the chemistry project that was assigned today” reo is always smiling. always.

“i’m sorry, yuri asked me to do it with her just about ten minutes ago” you answer, lying. you aren’t interested in going to his enormous house or in inviting him to your modest apartament.

“oh, sorry for bothering you, i’ll ask someone else then, have a nice day!” he didn’t seem too in the beginning.

“nagi, why are they avoiding me?”

he is determined to get to you, also if you reject him.

reo doesn’t know why he got so interested in you: it was probably because you’re the only one who tries to “escape” from him, and he isn’t able to find an answer.

he is quite stubborn, so if he wants something, he will do everything he can to get it.

he wants to know you. he wants to understand why you’re behaving like that when he’s around. he wants to know stupid stuff about you, like your favourite film or food. he likes you, a lot, but it seems that you don’t like him.

you’ve noticed that, recently, reo has been around you more often than usual.

paired with that, your friends have already created a ship name for you and reo.

why does he want to talk to me so much? shouldn’t he be interested in talking with other high-class students?

it has been three weeks since reo started to be around you more than required, but now you want to know why he’s doing that.

so, when he’s walking behind you, you suddenly turn and ask “reo, why do you keep following me everywhere? it’s quite annoying”

reo’s face says all: he’s astonished. he wasn’t expecting this.

“i’m really sorry, i just wanted to get to know you more”

you blink. why does he want to?

“listen, i know that i might look like the standard rich boy who is nice to everyone just because i want to be appreciated, but i really want to get to know you”

you just stand there, crossing your arms.

“please, give me just one chance. i’d like to try to change your opinion on me” he asks.

“okay, show me”

and then something *clicks*

also if it felt weird at first, reo always offers to carry your gym bag because “it’s heavy, i don’t want you to get tired”

small acts of service that make your heart melt.

he’s not treating you like a deity, he’s just doing what he’s good at besides football, being caring.

“i took an extra water bottle for you at the vending machines, it’s quite hot today, so don’t get dehydrated during lessons”

reo remembers everything about you. you’ve had a test this morning? he’ll ask you how it went and, if you said you might have failed it, he will reassure you.

he cares a lot about your mental and physical health. being an athlete has taught him a lot of things about that.

congrats! you now are the main gossip topic at school.

actually, you begin to appreciate reo more. he’s definitely not the type of person you were expecting.

he’s caring and sweet by nature, not because he’s rich and wants to be loved by everyone.

you now tend to open up with him more, and he’s very happy about that. reo is aware that you trust him much more than your first meetings.

“you know, i’m glad that you accepted to give me a chance”

you smile, “actually, i quite like you to be honest. i thought you were just a mere rich teenager who only thought of himself” you confess “that’s why i used to stay far away from you”

“you just ‘quite like’ me? i don’t believe you” he smiles back and laughs at your words. “however, i’m happy that you’ve changed opinion about me. i was curious to get to know you, but you always escaped in some way”.

“i like you, reo”

“oh, i see… so, would you like to get a coffee in a fancy place after school?” he asks, hoping for your positive answer.

“i’d love that” 🫶🏻

@rindouheart ‘s headcanons — 01122023

#mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #blue lock reo #bllk reo #reo mikage #bllk x y/n #bllk headcanons #bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk scenarios

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wandabear · 10 months

Text

WISH YOU WERE HERE - WANDA MAXIMOFF X FEMALE READER

ㅤㅤ Summary: 17 years ago, a New Jersey high school girls’ soccer team travels to Seattle for a national tournament. While flying over Canada, their plane crashes deep in the wilderness, and the surviving team members are left stranded for nineteen months.

This is a fic based on the tv show ’Yellowjackets’. You don't need to watch the show to read it. I make it clear that it WILL NOT BE the same, to make it more interesting. Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane. Here.

ㅤㅤ

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN FINALE Ao3

ㅤㅤ

WARNINGS: some fluff, angst, mentions about alcoholism/drugs. Death. Blood. These girls are 18 years old.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCHAPTER FOUR

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N.” Wanda gasped.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Completely paralyzed, that's how she felt. She wondered if she was still alive, but of course she was, cause that her heart was beating so hard it would break her chest soon.

ㅤㅤㅤ She was there. Y/N was there, in front of her.

Wanda didn't say anything, just turned on her heels and walked into the kitchen angrily, glaring at Natasha like a ferocious animal. Nat just followed after her, with an apologetic look at Y/N.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is she doing here?” Wanda hissed, leaning on the kitchen counter. Was she seeing right? That was Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“She’s with us.” Nat sighed, knowing so well that Wanda would react that way, and couldn't blame her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, wow. Nice. Suddenly she’s with you both, out of nowhere. After everything she did?” Wanda crossed her arms, pissed off.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda, she changed.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda let out a sardonic laugh. “People don't change, Natasha.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Those words weighed heavily on them, all of them. Nat came over to grab two beers from the fridge and hand one over to her friend. “Well, we did, didn't we?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette was quiet, knowing that Natasha was right. She just took the beer and rolled her eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“She recently got out of rehab, but has been trying. I was suspicious too but... Jules is happy, and Y/N has been good this time.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Just give her this chance.” The redhead whispered, asking from the bottom of her heart. Wanda had always been the voice of reason for her, and she was for Wanda. “She’s doing good lately.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing in defeat, Wanda just decided to nod and swallow all her pride for a while. They both returned to the living room, where they found Y/N and Jules possibly talking about the same thing. ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N got up from the couch quickly, a somewhat wistful and guilty look.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m sorry.” It was the first thing she said, what else? More than apologizing for everything she did. “I know what I-”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Save your apologies for the next time you stick your nose in a bag of cocaine. I’ll accept you to be here just because of them, just that. Not you.” Wanda said annoyed and then turned to see Natasha, not noticing the deep pain that those words caused in Y/N. But, she deserved it. “Wanna tell me why I'm here?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

But Nat narrowed her eyes, Wanda didn't know that?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wait, you don’t know?” Jules asked a bit curious. They all looked at each other, they all believed that each had been threatened.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“About what?” Wanda seemed like a locked up animal, not understanding what was happening right now.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda… Did anyone call you lately?” Natasha crossed her arms and perched against the wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The sokovian began to get desperate. “No, what are you talking about?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda, have you received any postcards lately?” Y/N moved forward to take her bag and took something out of it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do they let you send postcards at rehab?” she scoffed. Of course the ironic way she said it was quite painful. Y/N just narrowed her eyes, she wasn't going to let Wanda walk all over her either, right?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda, answer the damn question.” Nat said nuzzling the bridge of her nose. So tired.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette just sighed. “No, why?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Someone is blackmailing us all.” Y/N handed the postcard she was carrying this whole time. “Sent us these postcards, now he calls us blackmailing us.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“How do we know it's a ‘he’ and not a ‘she’? Or… or a they.” Wanda raised an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤㅤ The brunette looked at the postcard carefully. A photograph of the Canadian Rockies, when she turned it over it didn't say anything, just that strange drawing.

The macabre symbol. This horrible feeling ran through her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Trying to shut out the memories, Wanda swallowed hard and put the postcard down on the coffee table, avoiding looking at it again. “What do they want?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Fifty grand in cash to keep their mouth shut.” Nat watched her wife who got up to make some coffee and clear her mind, Jules was quieter than usual.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We're not sure exactly what they know, but...” Y/N scoffs. “I sure as hell don't want to find out.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda frowned and pointed at them. “You both got one?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Jennifer did to, but not Yelena.” Y/N put her hands on her waist. “Do you have suspicions of who it could be? Anything strange that happened to you this time?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That reporter.” Wanda sat on one of the sofas, quite worried right now. “I thought I told you to take care of her.” She looked seriously at Natasha.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The Russian rolled her eyes, fed up. “I told her to back off. What else do you want me to do? Threaten her? I don't want to lose my job.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N took her phone and searched for a name among her contacts. She wrote a quick message but hasn't sent it yet.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked between curious and annoyed.

ㅤㅤ

“I'm gonna bring Christine Everhart... And I'll just say, ‘Oh, I'm ready to tell my story’. Piece of cake.”

ㅤㅤ

“Don’t do that, Y/N! What the hell?” Wanda yelled. ㅤㅤ Nat shook her head quickly. “No, because if it’s not her, then we are just handing her the exact kind of story she's looking for.”

ㅤㅤ

“You know, I don't like when you yell at me.” Y/N grimaced and put her phone back in her pocket.

ㅤㅤ

Nat sighed, completely exhausted. “Can you get the money?”

ㅤㅤ

“I'm working on it.” Y/N nodded.

ㅤㅤ

“It's a good thing you had some money from the lawsuit and you didn't inhale it all.” Wanda smiled wryly.

ㅤㅤ

Tired of Wanda’s attitude, Y/N gave her the middle finger. “Your husband spent it in a damn electronics store, babe. Microwaves and toasters. You're not the smartest ovenbird of all, are you? Soccer mom.”

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck you, Y/N!”

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck you too!”

ㅤㅤ

“STOP! Can you both just-” Nat tried but then inhaled deeply, trying to stay calm. “A blackmailer is enough, isn't it? Enough of you two.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N and Wanda glared at each other once more and then fell silent, nodding.

ㅤㅤ

“Let's do this together, okay? So shut up, because our lives are in danger.” Nat pointed at them both. “Y/N, once you do have the money, we put a GPS tracker in with the cash, and that way we can follow it and see who, what we're dealing with... together.”

ㅤㅤ

The redhead looked at them for a moment, hoping that they would both agree for the first time in a long time.

Y/N and Wanda looked at each other and then nodded, knowing that they should sign the peace whether they wanted to or not.

ㅤㅤ

“By the way… is Jules okay?” Wanda asked curiously, looking at the door to the kitchen. “She's more… quiet than usual.”

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah, I don't know. I'll go talk to her… I think all this is getting to her a bit.” Natasha sighed and walked towards the kitchen, but not before turning to see them. “You two stay here and don't kill each other.”

ㅤㅤ

They both stayed silent for a while.

Y/N turned to look at her, trying to have a chat but Wanda just rolled her eyes away from her and got up to walk towards the backyard and get some air.

Taking a deep breath and gathering the necessary courage, Y/N went through the door to go out into the backyard.

She found Wanda sitting on one of the benches, maybe thinking about everything that happened.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N licked her lips and walked towards her, sitting next to her. “Hey.”

ㅤㅤ

“I think I made it clear that I wanted to be alone, or rather, not talk to you.” The sokovian sighed exhausted.

ㅤㅤ

“There’s no choice but to listen to me.” Y/N smirked with a certain tenderness, one that Wanda hadn't seen for many years. “Wanda… I’m still-”

ㅤㅤ

“Don’t.” She cut her off with a hiss through her teeth. Wanda shook her head.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N tried to go further and stood next to her. “I’m still in love with you, Wands.”

ㅤㅤ

“Don’t call me that.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed. She perfectly understood that Wanda would act like this, after everything they had been through. But it also hurt a lot.

ㅤㅤ

“But I know the damage I did to you, and I'm very sorry. If I could go back in time, I would.” The dark-haired woman tilted her head to see her, noticing how the sokovian refused to look at her. “I know that my suffering wasn’t an excuse for what I did, but still, I’m sorry. I did a lot, so many wrong stuff... a lot, but breaking your heart was one of the worst.”

ㅤㅤ

She never noticed that the tears had already started to fall down her cheeks, Y/N just wiped them away with her hands. “I loved you, Wanda, I always loved you.” She finally opened up.

ㅤㅤ

But Wanda just kept silent, looking at the bright full moon in the sky.

ㅤㅤ

“I have a family now.” The brunette said and then pursed her lips, taking the courage to say what she had to say. “I love my kids, that's the only love that matters to me now.”

ㅤㅤ

“I know.” Y/N kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, watching the quiet night. “I'm glad to know you’re happy.”

ㅤㅤ

The sound of the crickets brought back so many memories, some good, some really bad.

ㅤㅤ

“I didn't say that.” Wanda's voice was so low that Y/N thought she misheard something.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N whispered, looking at her again. “What?”

ㅤㅤ

“I didn't say that.” Wanda turned to see Y/N, finally. The tension was increasing, as well as love and disappointment. “I didn't say I was happy.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't know what to say to that. All she ever wanted was for Wanda to be happy, even if she wasn't.

ㅤㅤ

“I mean, I am. With my little ones, my children.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, playing with her rings. But one was missing, one of the most important ones and Wanda was okay with it.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N looked at her, thinking that maybe if everything had been different, now they could be something nice together. Maybe a family too. “Then I hope you can find your happiness soon, because you have always deserved it. You have always been so special, Wanda.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N swallowed, feeling the angsty lump in her throat. “I'm sorry that those of us who are close didn’t see that sooner.”

ㅤㅤ

“Can we…” Y/N tried. “Can we try to be friends?”

ㅤㅤ

Somewhat thoughtful and confused, Wanda just shrugged. I think it was too much for one night. “I don't know.”

ㅤㅤ

“That's not a 'no'. That's enough for me already.” She smiled slightly, giving the Sokovian a little nudge.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda turned to see her, this time without all that anger and resentment in her green eyes. “I'm glad you're sober. They missed you too much.”

ㅤㅤ

“Me too.” Y/N sighed deeply and they both stayed together, sharing the silence for a long time.

The breeze moved her hair slowly. Y/N kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, staring at that grave in front of her.

A bucket of violets were resting on one side of the tombstone, trying to give some color to that pretty name that didn't deserve to be there.

ㅤㅤ

CLAIRE ANN Y/L/N. 1966 – 2004 Kind hearted mom, aunt and teacher. ㅤㅤ

Those eyes filled with tears but then she brushed them away with the sleeve of her shirt.

ㅤㅤ

“I owed her this a long time ago.” Y/N looked at her aunt's tombstone with melancholy. “I didn't know how to do it, now being here is so…”

ㅤㅤ

“Empty?” Jules's voice made her smile a bit. They both stand in front of the grave in that cemetery, they were surrounded by trees and a beautiful and vast green.

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah.” Y/N sniffled. “I was afraid that I would be here, try to find her presence but end up realizing that she's not here, she's not anywhere. She just left.”

ㅤㅤ

“I know.” Jules took her arm and rested her head on Y/N's shoulder, looking at that name over and over again. “But you're wrong. She is in us, and in everything we do, what we can do better... she would never have done the things we did, but still, we just have to try.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N was silent, thinking about everything that happened. Not only in the woods but also when they came back. All the things did in the name of grief.

ㅤㅤ

“We did fucked up stuff in that place, Y/N. We let whatever was there consume us completely.” Jules whispered, turning to see her.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N tilted her head, noting the melancholy in her sister's eyes. “Was there something really there haunting us or was it just us? Did she exist or was it just our mind?”

ㅤㅤ

Jules just swallowed and smiled sadly. The answer could be much sadder or darker than what she was going to say. “Is there a difference in that?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't say anything, just nodded. Jules was absolutely right. They left the forest long ago, but the forest never let them go.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I apologized to Wanda.” Y/N met Jules's gaze, looking for any sign of approval. Jules just nodded slowly, it was something you should have done a long time ago. “I still love her, you know?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Tell me something I don't know.” Jules teased and nudged her gently.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ They both giggled and stayed like that for a moment, simply feeling the sun's rays against their faces.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I do… I do have to tell you something you don't know.” Jules swallowed, trying to gather her courage. “In fact, something no one knows and no one can know.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N looked at her curiously, it seemed to be a big deal.

ㅤㅤ

“I’m pregnant.”ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ

Jules let go quickly and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. Oh, she felt like she was dropping the biggest weight in the world. Ever since she saw the test in the bathroom, she tried to shut all those thoughts and feelings out of her and now she was finally letting go.

Felt so good.

ㅤㅤ

"Really?" Y/N's cheerful voice made Jules widen her eyes and see how she smiled widely. "You're going to have a baby? Oh my gosh, Jules! You're pregnant!” ㅤㅤ

“I’m having a baby!”

ㅤㅤ

She hugged Jules and began to spin, making her laugh. Perhaps a bit awkward to watch in a graveyard, but they didn't care. They both hugged each other for a while until the taller one moved away from her.

ㅤㅤ

“Wait, what did Nat say?”

ㅤㅤ

Jules smile faded when she heard that question. She didn’t know what to say, she only felt how the joy was gone and the fear came back to haunt her.

ㅤㅤ

“She doesn't know yet.” Jules looked down nervously. “And I ask you not to tell her anything.”

ㅤㅤ

“Oh, yup. You want to surprise her, don't you?” Y/N smiled broadly but seeing how her sister didn't say anything and looked like a deer about to be run over, she began to worry. “Jules?”

ㅤㅤ

“I-I don't know how to do it.” Jules began to tear up, those eyes filled with tears as she began to walk away. “The other day she told me that with all this, the best thing that could happen to us was that the IUI failed.”

ㅤㅤ

“Then what are you going to do?” Y/N followed her with concern. “Hide it and run away? You can't hide a pregnant belly for long.”

ㅤㅤ

Jules said nothing, just swallowed her anguish and kept walking to the car.

ㅤㅤ

“Jules, you can’t do that.”

ㅤㅤ

“Don't know.” She turned to face Y/N, her hands trembled from the nerves and anxiety she felt. “Just don’t say anything for now, okay?”

ㅤㅤ

“I can't lie to her.” Y/N stammered, feeling a deep sadness. She was doing everything so well, Y/N was recovering the relationship she had with Nat slowly. Was working hard to mess it up now. “I'm trying to do things right, beginning again.”

ㅤㅤ

“You have to.” Jules took her hand and squeezed it. The look and despair in her made Y/N feel enormous guilt. Sometimes just looking into Jules's eyes, she could see her Aunt Claire's. “Please, until I can tell her myself. Okay? Please.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N was quiet for a moment and then just nodded. The dark-haired woman smiled gratefully and hugged her tightly.

ㅤㅤ

“Is here? My little bumblebee?” Y/N asked placing her hand on Jules's belly carefully. She had never thought about having children but, sometimes she wondered what it would feel like to be part of a family.

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah, I think so.” Jules smiled tenderly and nodded, wiping away a small tear that escaped. It was the first time that someone referred to her baby in that way. “I have to go to my doc tomorrow to be sure.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N frowned. “Are you going alone?”

ㅤㅤ

Jules nodded sadly.

ㅤㅤ

“I don't want you to do it alone. If Natasha is not coming, then I'll go with you.”

ㅤㅤ

“Thank you, Y/N/N.” Jules bit her lower lip, feeling enormous gratitude for her but also a terrible guilt and sadness at having to hide something so important from her wife. “I don’t know how to do it.”

ㅤㅤ

“She's going to hate me, you know? She told me that she wasn't ready, and-and-with the whole blackmailer thing… oh god, what am I going to do?” Jules whimpered. "she never listens to me."

ㅤㅤ

“Hey, everything will be fine, come here.” Y/N wrapped her arms around Jules and kissed her forehead, trying to comfort the girl. “It's all good, sis, you got me. We'll see what to do. You'll never be alone.”

ㅤㅤBEFORE

ㅤㅤ

“We have to do something and now.” Y/N said while all the girls were sitting around her. It was time to have to do something to save themselves, rather than wait in that wrecked plane surrounded by graves and trees. “We can't stay here to die.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you have a better idea?” Hope arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Yeah, I think we should walk around and try to find the river that Kate said she saw when she went up the hill.” Y/N sighed, now all eyes were on Kate Bishop.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“How far is it?” Natasha frowned.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Maybe 6 or 8 miles away?” Kate shrugged, feeling a little exposed. Clearly there were some girls who didn't want to leave the plane for fear of not being found, and others who wanted to survive.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“That river could be even further away!” Sharon got up and stood next to Hope. “I say we should stay on the plane, where we'll be sure they'll come looking for us.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We've got two days of water, tops.” Natasha said closing her eyes hoping that the headache she felt would pass soon, but not with so many screams. The girls kept arguing, getting louder.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What if the rescue team comes?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you think they're taking their time on purpose? If they knew where we were, they would be here already.” Y/N was sick of her being so stubborn. For two days, Sharon continued to contradict her in everything she could.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m with Y/N. Being here we have achieved nothing but wasting time.” Wanda sighed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You don't know that.” The blonde one hissed. “And what if you take the wrong path and walk away? We don't even have a fucking compass!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We have the one from the plane.” Carol stood up and pointed to the compass in the roof of the plane, with a good kick that would come out easy. “It's something I'm willing to run for.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Why are you defending her? You guys argued at the party the other day! Now you’re on her side?” Sharon screamed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Shut up, Sharon, for God's sake. It's not about sides, it's about survive.” Natasha intervened fed up with everyone. “If we go, we'll all go.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The decision was submitted to a vote among all and clearly, Y/N won by the majority of votes.

They made a new stretcher to transport Ward, who just kept silent. Ever since he had woken up, the man had been quiet and more annoyed than ever.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Losing a leg hadn't been easy, but it seemed like he'd even lost the will to live. Although perhaps it was that her job was no longer to put up with those complaining stupid girls, so he didn't care in the slightest what happened to them.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The path was rocky, but worst of all was finding the dead body of a bear that had apparently been attacked by something, wolves they guessed.

Slowly, they all headed towards the lake doing a bit of hiking through the rocky area.

ㅤㅤㅤ

It took some hours, and despite Sharon's annoying snarky comments, the first to spot the lake was Jules who whooped happily. Without taking another minute, she ran towards the lake while taking off her clothes and jumped into the river.

The others did the same, finally finding the first sign that they could survive.

ㅤㅤㅤ

They all jumped into the water, except for Hope who stayed behind to make sure Ward was okay and Sharon who didn't seem too happy that she was 'wrong'.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N let out a happy laugh when she got to taking off her shirt keeping the panties. She finally felt the cold water but didn’t hesitate to keep going, until she reached her friends who floated and swam happily.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You were right.” Wanda smiled as she swam around her. Moving away from the other girls who kept saying how handsome Pietro looked without a shirt. ㅤㅤㅤ

“You know I am.” Y/N she smiled completely proud.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“The one who isn't happy is Sharon.” Nat said as she floated and kept her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun against her face.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on, let's do some shoulder wars!” Jules threw water at them, inviting them to play.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha offered Jules to climb on her shoulders, while Wanda climbed onto Y/N's shoulders. The Sokovian looked quite embarrassed and flushed, but Y/N helped her up.

They began to fight among themselves, laughing and pushing. Wanda and Y/N were winning until the warmth of Wanda’s skin sent a shiver down Y/N's back. That made the taller one lose her balance and both fell into the water.

Nat and Jules cheered and continued to play against Yelena and Kate. ㅤㅤㅤ

Both came to the surface, not realizing that the proximity between them was shorter than they thought. The tension between the two increased when their eyes met.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, it was my fault.” Y/N said with a dumbfounded, watching how one of the drops fell down Wanda's face. Oh, the sokovian looked so beautiful that she could barely put two words together. Those huge green eyes were so beautiful, her glasses sometimes didn't allow her to appreciate them as she should.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It was my fault, I made you lose your balance.” Wanda whispered, gawking too. And both of them would have been lost at that moment if it weren't for the fact that Wanda opened her eyes wide, realizing. “My glasses! I can't see well without them!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, wait. Let me help you.” Y/N rushed to jump into the water quickly. She tried to look around and smiled when finally she found them not far from them.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Once she surfaced, Y/N approached Wanda with a huge smile. “I got them!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, thank you!” Wanda was completely grateful, waiting for Y/N to give them to her, but Y/N decided to approach and carefully put them on.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Here you go.” Y/N whispered.

ㅤㅤㅤ The closeness once again made both of them a few centimeters from each other, feeling the tension between them.

They were grateful to be away from each other or anyone would have noticed how crazy they were for each other. Even if Wanda didn't even notice.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Perfect, now you look even more beautiful.” Y/N said without caring about anything other than her heart beating wildly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda’s wet hair, those green eyes, those soft pink lips, the pale skin. Now she realized that she was only wearing a bra. I don't think she's ever seen anything more attractive in her life.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, guys… Look!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jennifer's voice made everyone turn to see what she was talking about, breaking the moment. Y/N she looked up the hill, between the trees, there was some kind of reflection.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is that?” Wanda murmured confused, maybe a little hopeful. It looked like a reflection, like when the sun was hitting a mirror or something. That meant there was something that could be of help.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It looks like a reflection.” Y/N replied as she slowly got out of the water, without taking her eyes off the spot. “Guys, there's something on the hill!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Let's check it out.” Nat nodded as they walked out of the lake so they could get dressed.

ㅤㅤㅤ

They walked for a while in a certain hurry until they finally found that place.

Y/N hurried when she saw a cabin in the woods, and suddenly hope hit her like a punch.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Guys, it's here. It's here!” She yelled as she ran for the door, knocking many times. “Hello! Anybody home?!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha joined in quickly, banging on one of the windows and also on the door. All the girls began to shout desperate for help, until they managed to open the door.

Y/N and Nat went in first, making sure everything was okay but all they found was a completely abandoned cabin. Well, at least it seemed that way since dust and cobwebs dominated the place.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Maybe they just went on a hike?” Kate said with a certain innocence as she looked at some cobwebs on the old sofa.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, like a decade ago.” Yelena growled arching an eyebrow, venturing to explore the place.

ㅤㅤㅤ

There was only a dusty fireplace, a sofa, some tables and a cupboard. The stairs showed that there was an attic, which surely was much dustier than that place.

Jules was going to enter but stopped at the entrance for a moment, feeling a strange sensation run through her body.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It reeks in here.” Sharon complained, wrinkling her nose.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You guys, check the pantry, see if there's any food.” Natasha nodded. “Everyone else, look around for stuff we can use. First aid, flashlights, tools.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

They all took it upon themselves to look for everything that would be useful. Of course, a telephone would have been very helpful, but there was no communication with the outside world.

Whoever lived there had nothing but hunting supplies and canned food for maybe weeks.

The huge deer skull on the fireplace made Jules shift uncomfortably.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Don't worry, guys. We might be stuck in the middle of nowhere, but, hey, at least there's porn.” Y/N teased taking some pornographic magazines from a drawer. Some of the girls came up to gossip about what it was about, even Pietro who raised an eyebrow seeing the pictures.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Holy shit.” Jennifer giggled, turning a few pages. “I'm not kidding. Look.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She showed Natasha who just smiled and shook her head. “Sassy.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, this guy kind of looks like you, Piet.” Sharon arched a flirtatious brow as Pietro leaned in to see.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“If only any of you actually looked like her.” The boy said somewhat annoyed.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Okay. Yeah. Very funny.” Jules rolled her eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Night came and the girls were grateful for having found a refuge in that forest. Pieces of a plane weren't going to save them if a pack of wolves decided to come over when they saw the bonfire.

ㅤㅤㅤ Y/N was in charge of distributing some snacks thanks to the cans they found. It wasn't much, but enough to keep them going that night without an empty stomach.

Crickets chirped in the dark night, the lights from the cabin the only thing to be seen in the place. Besides the moonlight. There was no electricity so they had to make do with some old gas lamps and the fireplace.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The dark-haired girl sighed, feeling cold but she felt much better outside than inside that weird cabin. Jules swallowed hard and tried to stay strong, standing on the porch of the cabin.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The door opened and Natasha stepped out, closing the door behind her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Fuck's your deal?” Nat frowned, hugging herself against the cold. “Come inside, we are about to go to sleep.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules sighed and shook her head, looking atthe dark night around her. “I just have a bad feeling about this place.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, yeah, because it stinks and there are spiders that could eat your face.” The redhead sighed and moved closer to her, placing a hand on her back. “But, hey, after that dead bear we saw today, I'm not gonna let you sleep out here, okay? Come on. Let's go.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules shrugged, somewhat annoyed. “Why do you care, anyway?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Because I’m your friend.” Nat arched an eyebrow, not understanding what was Jules problem now. "What's going on with you?"

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm not going to sleep there.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Nat was ready to walk in and let her do whatever the hell she wanted, but when she took two steps, turned to face Jules one more time. “Are you kidding me right now? ‘a bad feeling’, Julia? I don't believe in that shit, and you're not going to either. Okay?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules clenched her jaw, not moving from her spot. Both looks expressed an inner fire that went beyond passion, but Natasha was never going to accept it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“So get your ass inside.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You never listen to me!” Saying nothing more, Jules just shook her head and stormed into the cabin, completely furious.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N noticed how her friend entered and lay down next to her without saying anything. Jules just snuggled against her, trying not to cry. Y/N knew exactly why, but she promised not to pry.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda, who was making herself comfortable and covering herself with some old blankets, noticed that and looked at Y/N, whispering to her: “Is she okay?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed and nodded, responding in the same way. “Natasha.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh.” Wanda nodded slowly. “Are they a thing?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Kinda.” Y/N wrinkled her nose.

ㅤㅤㅤ

They both chatted for a moment until they fell asleep, the crackling of the fireplace and the exhaustion of swimming invited them to lose themselves in dreams.

But maybe half an hour later, a loud bang was heard in the attic, making everyone to wake up in fright.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What the fuck was that?!” Y/N exclaimed, getting up and looking at the stairs to the attic. She got up and covered herself with a blanket.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N walked taking the lead, though Natasha came closer with concern as well.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Stay behind.” They ordered the others.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you doing?” Wanda said worried, trying to go after them but Pietro stopped her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

They both went up the stairs slowly, Y/N turned to see Nat, trying to gather courage. "You open and I go, okay?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Nat nodded, placing a hand on the attic door. At the count of three, she opened and Y/N jumped to face whatever was there.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, fuck.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But the only thing that was found was dust, some objects and an old corpse in a chair. Seemed to be several years old already dead; it was a man and next to him lay a rifle with which he apparently taken his own life.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N coughed and covered her mouth, finding out why the cabin stank. Nat was as surprised as she was, but the one who didn't seem surprised at all was Jules who looked at the corpse with a certain melancholy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

On one side of the body, that weird symbol had been carved into the wood. She just looked at Natasha and said: “You never listen to me.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤNOW

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What part of "hurry up" did you not understand?” Y/N complained when Wanda got into her car. They were parked outside the motel out of town. Everything was ready to carry out the plan.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda took off her cap and laughed wryly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“It takes you getting blackmailed for you to finally care about being late?” Wanda snorted. “I'm sorry, but we all have families and lives, okay? Oh yeah, you don’t.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N narrowed her eyes, clearly noticing a rather aggressive attitude towards her. Maybe Wanda was having a bad night, but she wasn't her personal punching bag.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Fuck that.” Y/N growled. “I'd rather come home and have a pet than have a slimy husband at home. Bet sex is boring as hell.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She smiled victoriously, opening the car's glove compartment to pull out a paper bag.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Where's the money?” Wanda snooped.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Right here.” She handed the paper bag to the brunette as she started the car's engine. “Natasha and Jules will meet us at the location, when the blackmailer tells us where to see him.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“That's 50 grand?” Wanda wrinkled her nose, that seemed pretty small for so much money.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah. In hundred-dollar bills.” Y/N opened the bag so that she could see the bills.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“A little bit disappointing by heist movie standards.” The sokovian sighed, looking around.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You got the tracker?” Y/N drives down the road slowly, glancing at her phone every now and then to check for new messages.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yup. It's one of Amazon's top sellers.” Wanda searched for that small box in her purse and handed it to the gloomy eyes woman. “Apparently, secretly tracking people is really huge right now.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You bought it to follow Vision?” Y/N teased, letting out a wry chuckle.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Shut up.” Wanda took the device from her hand and dropped it into the bag with the money. “All right, we should put the tracker in the middle of the bills.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No.” Y/N pointed to the bag. “Then when they count the money, they'll just see it.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We can put bags in it.” The sokovian took one out of her purse, it was a totebag with some interesting drawings. “I found this in the car.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Where did you get that Etsy reject of a bag, anyway, Wanda?” Y/N laughed, speeding up when the traffic light turned green.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“My boys made it for Father's Day. I took it from Vision’s, like, ‘special keeps.’ Or something” She shrugged and dropped the money into the totebag, trying to fit the tracket between the bills.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Ow… You're not as sentimental as your hubby?”

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“Fuck you, Y/N. I'm trying to help you all.”

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“Thank you Wanda. You are doing a lot already.” Natasha's voice was heard from the phone, scaring them both.

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“Hey, were you listening to everything?” Y/N took the phone, somewhat surprised and embarrassed.

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“You never ended the call.”

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“Fuck! It’s stuck or something… Anyway, did the guy send you the address yet?”

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“Not yet.”

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Y/N sighed and held out her hand to Wanda. “Give me the totebag.”

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“What? Why?”

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“I got the money. I’m gonna make the drop.” Y/N frowned.

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They were arguing again when a message came through, alarming them both.

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“All right, meet me one block, east of Carlyle and DeWalt, and don’t fuck around. Leave it in the Clothing Donation box.” - UNKNOWN.

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“Okay, we already have the address. Carlyle and Dewalt, I'm headed that way.” She said through the phone and then put it aside. Y/N looked at Wanda, as if she wanted to know and make sure if she was ready for this.

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Wanda nodded, completely sure.

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“This is unacceptable.” Wanda complained, settling back in her seat. Natasha and Jules arrived and were at the backseats of the car. “Blackmail us? Fine, but it's 3:34 AM. Like, why have us show up at 2:00 then just keep us waiting?”

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“Maybe they're scouring the area, making sure we're not waiting.” Natasha whispered looking around her, feeling like prey going into a trap. But she at least she carried her gun.

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“Okay. Then find us already, sir.” Wanda complained again, leaning on the seat.

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“Okay, I'll go for a walk, pretend to smoke or something. Stay here.” Y/N sighed and opened the door. Natasha said she was going with her but Y/N stopped her. “No, if he sees you he'll know you have a gun and he'll flee.”

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Y/N took the totebag and closed the door, walking through those dark streets, completely lonely. She took a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one, feeling the warmth of the smoke work its way down her throat.

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At another time she would have found it comforting, but now it just felt disgusting. Even so, she continued with that lie.

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“I'm not impressed.” Wanda shook her head, watching as Y/N smoked and dropped the totebag in the donation box. "Keep doing the same. Maybe she’ll stop to score drugs.”

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“Don’t say that.” Jules hissed, arching an eyebrow. “She's just pretending, Wanda.”

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Annoyed by her friend's words, Jules decided to get out of the car and walk with Y/N. Natasha sighed as she watched as Jules took Y/N's arm and they both walked slowly away.

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“Do you think that too, Nat?” Wanda cocked her head to look at the russian, who just shrugged.

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“Part of me wants to think so, I want to believe in her… but also part of me knows we couldn't afford another stint in rehab.” The redhead swallowed, remaining somewhat thoughtful.

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“Did you pay for that?” Wanda turned around in disbelief. “You're just enabling her to repeat the same pattern. She has to learn to handle her own shit.”

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“What if she's doing it? Or... what if she never does?” Natasha frowned, feeling slightly annoyed by her lack of patience. “Wanda…don't you think about it?”

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The Sokovian's confused look was answer enough.

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“Wanda… I got Jules and Yelena. You've got the wins, even Vision if you want it." Natasha sighed, looking at her friend in the distance.

“Did we do something to deserve that?” Nat looked down guiltily. She remembered everything that had happened years ago, everything they had done. “It's just fate that gave us that, right?”

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Wanda just kept silent, knowing that Natasha was right. She always does.

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“Who does Y/N have?” Nat remembered all the pain Y/N had been through when they came back from the woods. A year and a half later, she discovers that the person she loved the most died of sadness, a heart attack. It had been such a hard and deep punch. They weren't even present at her wake.

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And her 'real' mother, a fucking abusive alcoholic, passed away after having an overdose.

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“Other than Jules... who does she really have?” The redhead swallowed, fixing her gaze on Y/N who smiled when Jules tried to push her but couldn't because she was shorter. “No one.”

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Wanda just nodded her head slowly, feeling guilty. Feeling how her eyes filled with tears but the brunette didn't allow herself to shed any more for her. She promised herself a long time ago.

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“We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her, and Jules saved your life.” Nat added before opening the door to get out of the car, glancing at Wanda one last time. “So I do what I can. Not just for her, for me and for Jules.”

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They got out of the car and walked over to the other two women, who were looking around curiously. In front of them was a huge building and trees, while on the other side was this huge warehouse.

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“Did you see anyone at the drop?” Nat asked as she zipped up her jacket.

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Y/N shook her head, noting that there was movement in that warehouse. At that moment, a truck tried to park and leave the place, preventing them from seeing who was taking the money from the donation box. It was too fishy.

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“What the fuck?” Y/N murmured, deciding to enter the warehouse once and for all.

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“Okay, I guess we're going.” Wanda sighed, following the steps just like the others.

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Worried, Y/N walked as if possessed by the devil himself. She quickly approached the trucker who had just gotten off.

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“Who the fuck are you?” Y/N took the gun from her waist and pointed it at that subject, who raised his hands in terror. “You've been blackmailing us, or you know who has been.”

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“Fuck, she took my gun.” Natasha ran after her.

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“Please, don't shoot me.” The bearded guy whimpered, handing the truck keys but Y/N just rolled her eyes. She clearly had nothing to do with this. “Take the truck. Just take it.”

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“Y/N, please put the gun down. It's not him.” Nat told her but at that moment, a loud noise made them all turn around. A man in a ski mask was running away through the store, carrying the totebag with the money.

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“There he is, there he is!” Nat exclaimed and they all ran to the store, except Wanda who Nat told her to turn around and take the car to chase him.

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Y/N and Nat nimbly ran around the place, as if their bodies remembered the old days, they jumped many objects to catch the man.

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“Take the wing.” Natasha pointed out to her friend, who nodded and headed out of the warehouse to mark it last. “I'll mark him.”

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The guy knocked over some shelves with objects to prevent them from keep going, but Y/N managed to jump over them and finally tackle him. She struggled with the man for a moment, holding him under her body but with a well-aimed jab, the guy hit her nose, making her bleed.

Y/N raised her head and saw how the blackmailer collided with a huge bucket of glitter, bathing in it. That guy wasn't the smartest man on the planet.

She got up again and ran after him again.

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But when the man finally left the warehouse, Jules tried to stop him but he punched her stomach with such force that made her fall to the ground. Lack of air leaves her gasping like a fish out of water.

Y/N pulled the gun ready to shoot him as he got into a car, but Natasha stopped her, pushing her away.

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The blackmailer sped up and left the place, but not before taking the money and dropping the totebag with the tracker.

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“What the hell are you doing? You were going to shoot him!” Natasha yelled taking the gun from her and putting the safety on it, completely furious.

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“I wasn't gonna kill him.” Y/N grunted and hurried over to Jules, who was having trouble breathing. Y/N felt a fear that she had never felt, remembering that Jules was pregnant. “Are you okay, J? Look at me, you okay?”

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Nat frowned, not understanding why Y/N looked so worried, even so, she approached to help her wife. They all took their stuff and hurried to leave that place, getting into Y/N's car.

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“Well, he dumped out all our shit.” Nat shook her head, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she drove. “Now we look for an asshole covered in glitter.”

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“So what was your plan?” Wanda turned to see Y/N, Jules was helping her to stop the bleeding in her nose. “Just shoot him in the leg through the back windshield? 'Cause it sure felt for a moment there like we were all going away for murder!”

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Y/N closed her eyes and pressed the small ice pack against her nose. “Like we haven't done a lot worse before.”

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“You know what? Speak for yourself, Y/N. I...” Wanda exclaimed, shaking her head. “Don't drag us into your endless fucking pit of guilt.”

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“Enough. Do you want to shut up a bit?” Jules snapped finally, completely exhausted from hearing them bickering and fighting all damn day. “She's trying, and that's all that matters. So shut the fuck up, and let's find this asshole at once.”

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They all remained silent, Wanda just sighed and fixed her gaze straight ahead. She knew that she was taking out all her helplessness and anger against Y/N, it was the easiest, but it wasn't the fairest.

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Jules placed a hand on her forehead, feeling a throbbing headache. Lately she was feeling worse and worse.

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“Hey… Do you want to go to the hospital?” Y/N whispered, reaching out to take her sister's hand. Feeling so worried, the punch was hard and her doctor recommended that she should take care of herself a lot. “You were punched very hard.”

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“No, I’m okay.” Jules smiled with a certain tenderness, trying to leave the talk there or Natasha would notice. “Thank you.”

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But none of them realized that Natasha's gaze was watching them from the rearview mirror, not really understanding what was happening, but she knew very well that they were hiding something from her and she was going to discover it.

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Hello there, my buzzing friends. 🐝 Hope you liked this one. I know its hard, they're like cat-mouse frenemies rn but soon, it will be good. Thank you for reading me!

the cutest and lovely people tags ✨ @kaiidth-wandika @yourfavunsub @pawiie @fanboy7794 @sunsol-22 @scarlettbitchx @arcturusseer @imnotasuperhero @chtte @lesbians-in-outer-space @starry-night17 @cristin-rjd @kenlymar @chtte @marvelogic @druggedduck @aliherreraaa @widowwaddles

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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