#this was way more fun to write than I first thought

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[twstowo]

Ik your inbox is closed so you can delete this or whatever but the way you write I feel like would fit good with reader/mc/yuu/you having horrible eyesight so they use glasses and then someone like (as an example) Ace or Floyd being really annoying or making reader mad so they just take off their glasses and saying something like “I don’t even wanna see you right now” before focusing back on whatever they were doing but having to practically shove their face it in cause they’re nearsighted and can’t see for shit… but yeah you can throw this out I just wanted to write it out before I forget

♡︎I had some ideas for this so here it is!

♡︎Also I'm glad to know that you think about my writing that much Anon. <3

⋆⋅☆Ace

If you think Ace will be annoyed or stopped by this, you’re wrong. First of all, he’d find it hilarious. The fact that he annoyed you so much that you took your glasses off and said, “I don’t even want to see you right now”?“Ok Four eyes!” That’s going to replay in his head for days. But when he realizes you’re actually ignoring him, he doesn’t find it nearly as funny anymore.

At first, he might brush it off, thinking you’re just giving him the silent treatment. But the more you ignore him, the more his irritation grows. He starts hovering around you more, throwing out little comments, trying to bait a reaction. But you don’t budge and stand firm.

If you ever ask him in the future if he was annoyed, he’ll play it cool and make fun of the situation. But deep down, it bothers him that you ignored him.

⋆⋅☆Floyd

He grabs your glasses and tries them on, only to state the obvious: “You really are blind, Shrimpy!”

Floyd, however, doesn’t find it as funny as Ace does. In fact, he probably gets annoyed that you’re ignoring him. And if you thought Ace was annoying, I assure you Floyd is ten times worse. He won’t tolerate being ignored for long—he’ll literally grab you and spin you around if you ignore him for more than two minutes. He isn’t playing games.

If you continue ignoring him, his patience runs out quickly. He’ll get genuinely pissed, drop you, and storm off. Now, he’s the one ignoring you, and you’ll feel the shift. When Floyd’s mad, the whole atmosphere changes, like the air around him gets heavier.

Soon enough, Jade will come over, with that unsettlingly polite smile of his, and ask in the most intimidatingly polite way, “What exactly did you do to my brother? He’s been in quite a foul mood for days now.” You can feel the tension beneath his calm demeanor, as if he’s trying to piece together why Floyd’s usual chaotic energy has disappeared. And with Jade, you know that conversation isn’t just casual curiosity, it’s a warning.

Time to give Floyd attention you guess.

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

...

...

...

thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hey girlyyyyy could you maybe write for Tim Bradford from the rookie and like the reader is his rookie and while they’re on patrol they run into someone who knows the reader’s abusive ex bf and he makes threats against reader and after their shift reader is super scared so he escorts them home and stays with them idk just an idea 😅

Nightlight || Tim Bradford x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • john nolan fic  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you encounter a man while on patrol who has a threatening message from your ex, your TO, Tim, offers to spend the night with you

word count: 10.3k

warnings: abusive past relationship, reader kind of has a panic attack, mild language, blood, guns, inaccurate police stuff

a/n: ahhh i had so much fun writing this, love!! i took your idea and also added some stuff so i hope you like what i did. i also apologize for the length, i kinda went wild. i imagine this to take place in s1. fem!reader. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “7-Adam-19, armed shoplifter, Radcliffe Complex, 718 Oscar Road. Respond.”

     The dispatcher’s voice filled the silence of the car.

     “7-Adam-19 responding.” Officer  Bradford set down the radio and replaced his hand on the steering wheel.

     “What’s the most important thing to remember when dealing with an armed shoplifter, Boot?” Tim asked you after a moment. 

     “Why did I think that when I was in short-sleeves I would get a break from your Tim Tests?” you muttered.  

     You’d been Bradford’s rookie for seven months now and some days he still treated you like it was your first day on the force. You appreciated him trying to teach you so thoroughly, but did he have to be so Tim all the time?

     “Is that your answer, Boot?” 

     “No, um, I guess it would be that he’s armed. But no, that’s too obvious for you. Ok, what about what they’re stealing? Their physical state? Keeping their hands in sight at all times?”

     Tim sighed, looking bored. “Wrong. It’s—”

     “Suspect on the move, heading east on Apple Boulevard,” came the dispatcher’s update, interrupting your TO’s answer.

     “Looks like we’re headed east,” Tim said, turning sharply in the direction you’d just come from. 

     “Saved by the suspect,” you joked. 

     “Don’t think this is over,” Tim narrowed his eyes at the road. “Lessons don’t stop for crime.”

     “Ok, batman.”

     Tim glared at you.

     “I mean, Sir.”

     After you’d first been assigned to Officer Bradford, you’d been told stories of his ruthless training style. Your first thought was that you needed to impress him from day one.

     Well, technically your first thought was damn, because you’d have to be insane not to notice how objectively attractive he was. But you’d quickly quelled that thought—crushing on your TO was not how you wanted to start your career as an officer. 

     So, impressing him was your second thought. And you had been more than a little terrified of not impressing him. 

     You would be lying if you said that wasn’t how things still were between you two, to a degree—you trying to prove yourself and him making it as difficult as possible. 

     But, at least after several months, you felt like your TO trusted you more. 

     “There!” You pointed to a man running down the street, duffel bag in hand.

     Tim hit the gas, surpassing the suspect, and skidding to a stop in front of him, effectively cutting him off. 

     You both hurried out of the car, weapons drawn on the man who was currently aiming his gun back and forth, between you and Bradford. 

     “Police! Drop your weapon!” Tim shouted at the man. 

     The man hesitated, seeming to be weighing his options—how easily he could take out two cops. 

     “Set the weapon down, nice and easy,” Tim ordered, his own gun still pointed at the suspect.”

     The man, seeming to sense the inevitability of his capture, sighed and set his gun on the ground. 

     “The answer was dialogue, by the way,” Tim addressed you, his eyes still on the suspect. “Dialogue is the most important  thing when dealing with an armed suspect.”

     “Good to know,” you acknowledged, before ordering the man in front of you. “Hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

     The man’s gaze shot to you as he obeyed your commands. 

     “Hey, lady cop, you look familiar,” the criminal squinted at you. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said. You’d never seen this man in your life. 

     “I swear—”

     “Hands on the car!” You ordered 

     The man reluctantly did what he was told, placing his palms on the side of the shop. 

      “Wait a minute,” the man sized you up before smirking slowly. “Your Paul Cranston’s girl, ain’t ya?”

     You felt your blood instantly run cold at the name. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said again, robotically, grabbing one of his arms. 

     “No, no I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere,” the criminal whispered. “He told me all about you. Hey, why don’t you let me go and I’ll give you a friendly tip?”

     You responded by twisting his arm behind his back even harder.

     He winced. “So you didn’t hear then? Paul’s out.”

     No. That couldn’t be true. Paul wasn’t supposed to be out for—

     “Boot, you going to cuff him or not?” Tim called impatiently.

     “Right.” You shook off the stupor and began handcuffing the suspect. Your mind was still on that name, however, and your reflexes were slowed.

     Which is how the suspect was able to rip his arm from your grip and shove you to the ground as he tried to make a break for it. 

     Tim tackled him almost immediately, wrestling him into the cuffs that were dangling on one of his wrists where you had started to restrain him, and pushing him towards the shop.

     “Wait, Paul’s got a message for you!” the man hurried out, looking only at you as Tim waked over and shoved him into the backseat. “He said you best watch yourself, because he has connections, and he still hasn’t gotten his revenge. He’s out—and he’s coming for you.”

     “That’s enough, get in the car.” Tim slammed the door shut, and the echo of it rang in your ears as the man’s words played over and over again.

     He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     “What the hell was that?” 

     You looked up to Bradford’s questioning—and furious—face. He offered you a hand and you took it, standing up to face him. 

     “Sorry, I—”

     “‘Sorry’ doesn’t stop criminals from escaping,” Tim shouted. “Get your head in the game. You do want to be a cop, don’t you, Boot?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     So much for Tim trusting you. You couldn’t believe you’d almost just let a suspect get away. That had never happened to you before. But, that name—

     Your TO shook his head, walking to the drivers side and opening the door. “You know, I should write you up for that.”

     You noticed his wording. “But you’re not going to?”

     He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before saying, 

     “I didn’t say that. First you’re going to tell me what just happened between you two.”

     You flinched. “It—nothing. It was nothing.”

     “Uh-huh. It didn’t sound like nothing. Who’s Paul Cranston?” 

     You swallowed hard. “He’s just someone I used to know.”

      A million images flashed through your head. Paul’s face looming over you. The flashing lights and sirens. Waking up in the hospital. 

     You shook yourself out of it. You didn’t want to talk about this now. You swore you’d never talk about it again. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we get back to the station. Don’t we have to book this guy?”

     Tim sighed, started the car, and re-entered traffic. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

     “Control, this is 7-Adam-19. I need an ID on a Paul Cranston,” Tim spoke into his radio. 

     And so much for not talking about this now.

     “Can you do that without suspicion of a crime?” You asked him.

     “You can when dispatch loves you.” He winked at you. 

     You rolled your eyes at him as the radio began speaking. 

     “Paul Cranston: caucasian male, date of birth 8/4/92, recently released on parole, history of theft and domestic violence.” 

     Tim turned his gaze to you. “How do you know this man, Boot?”

     “It’s—a long story,” you told him. 

     “Well then you better start talking if you want to finish before we reach the station,” Tim commanded, making a left turn.

     “Can’t you just let it go?” You asked him. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

      He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     You couldn’t fight the shiver that racked your body. 

      Tim’s eyes flicked to you, before returning back to the road. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park before turning to you. 

     “If this is another one of your ‘I’m dying, where are we’ tests—”

     “Boot, focus,” Tim barked. 

     “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern if—”

     “Of course it’s my concern!” Tim shouted. His expression was so intense, you squirmed under his gaze and you felt your face heat. 

     He looked torn for a moment, before sighing and saying, “It’s my job as your TO to train you to the best of my abilities, and I can’t do that if you’re withholding information that may affect your performance as an officer.”

     “Fine,” you breathed. “It was a long time ago. I was 18, Paul and I met freshman year of college. We started dating and things were fine, good even, for a while.”

     “Until?” Tim prompted.

     “Until he got pissed one night because I caught him coming home really late with a ski mask and a bag full of stolen cash. Cliche, right?”

     You looked to Tim, but his expression was as stony as ever and you continued.

     “Apparently, he’d been stealing since high school and turns out he’d lied to me about working in retail and a whole bunch of other stuff. I threatened to call the police if he didn’t stop and—”

     You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

You watched the houses and trees and cars pass by as you drove towards the station. 

     “—and he hit me. It didn't stop after that—once he knew he could get away with it. He said if I ever told anyone—about the robberies, the beatings—that he’d kill me. And I let him go on like that for months. I was so scared that if I called anyone, he’d make good on his promise.”

     Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers turning white, but he didn’t speak.

     “But then, one night, it got so bad that I thought he might actually kill me anyway. So I waited until he left the room for a minute and I called 911. He was arrested and—and that’s all I remember before I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital the next morning.”

     You kept your voice even, trying not to let the emotion show through your story. You were just recounting facts. This was almost 10 years ago, and you’d moved on with your life. 

     But reliving it all was hard, even after so much time had passed. 

     “It’s actually why I joined the academy,” you finished. “I wanted to save people, the way the officers that night did for me.”

     You were both silent for a moment. 

     A muscle in Tim’s jaw ticked. “Does the department know?”

     “Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s all part of my file.”

     “And the guy back there?” 

     You shrugged, glancing back at the suspect and lowering your voice. “He must be one of Paul’s partners or goons or—I don’t know. I guess he’s been in contact with him since he was released, if he knows what I look like.”

     The thought made your skin crawl. 

     “I don’t know what came over me,” you kept going. “It’s been years, I just—I didn’t expect to hear about him out of the blue from a criminal on the street, you know? But, I promise it won’t happen again.”

     Tim ignored that. “Do you think it was an empty threat?”

     “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I sure as hell hope so.”

     Bradford was silent for a long moment, his expression tense.

     The radio crackled to life. “7-Adam-19, we have a 215 in progress near your area, 239 West Armston Street. Respond.” 

     “Negative,” Bradford answered the dispatch call. 

     You stared at him, shocked. “Why aren’t we taking that? We can drop this guy off afterwards.”

     “Yeah, I agree,” the suspect chimed in from the backseat. “I think you should take that first.”

      Tim payed him no attention. “They’ll have someone else over there in minutes. We have more important things to do.”

     “You’re not even going to ask me if I know what a 215 is?” You joked. Tim never passed up an opportunity to quiz you. 

     “What’s a 215, Boot?” 

     “Carjacking.”

     “Correct.” Tim nodded. “And we’re going to have a talk with Sergeant Grey.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

    “Paul Cranston, released on parole from a thirteen year sentence three days ago, currently believed to be residing in the Woodland Hills area.”

     You sat in the briefing room, surrounded by other officers, as Sergeant Grey read out your ex-boyfriend’s file. You stared into Paul’s face on the screen, his mugshot visible from all angles. 

     Bradford stood near the front of the room, leaning against the wall. 

      “The department is aware of Officer (Y/l/n)’s history with Mr. Cranston,” Grey continued. “And will take necessary action should the situation progress.”

      “So, what’s the course of action here?” Tim crossed his arms. 

     “I’m afraid, as of now, there isn’t one,” Grey said. “Since there is no direct proof against Paul Cranston, we’d essentially be taking the word of a petty thief and wasting resources on what most likely was a desperate attempt to escape arrest. The department doesn’t exactly consider it a threat.”

    “Doesn’t consider it a threat?” Tim’s voice was low and dangerous. “How about a charge for threatening an officer?”

    “But Paul didn’t threaten an officer,” you sighed, thinking. “The armed robbery suspect did.”

     “Exactly, Officer (Y/l/n),” Grey agreed. “Basically, our hands are tied.”

     “Then untie them,” Bradford snapped, beginning to pace. “There’s gotta be some technicality we can get him on. Violation of parole, conspiring with a felon, failure to—”

     “That’s enough, Officer Bradford,” The sergeant fixed your TO with a firm look. “I appreciate your concern for (Y/l/n)’s safety, but we’ve done all we can do. And, for now, that’s nothing.”

      Tim’s concern for your safety. That thought had been in the back of your mind since the ride to the station. You couldn’t figure out why Tim was so determined about this. You supposed you were his rookie and was his job to look out for you. It was just, up until now, he hadn’t exactly done anything to make you believe he’d care so much.

     “Failure to take action could be endangering one of our officers,” Tim said, his jaw clenched. “Who’s to say this guy won’t make good on his threat? At least increase security at (Y/l/n)’s residence.”

     “Tim, its fine,” you said, your voice firm. “Let it go.” 

     They were making a big enough deal about this already. It probably was just a case of a criminal trying anything to get free. You doubted Paul even cared about what happened to you anymore. He probably never wanted to see you again—and that was a good thing. 

     But, then, you couldn’t get those words out of your head.

     He’s out and he’s coming for you.

     Bradford turned to you, his chest rising and falling. He looked so…resolved. Like he did when chasing down a suspect or that time when you’d walked in on him in the training rooms.

     Images of Tim shirtless, the muscles in his back tight as he pushed himself harder filled your head and you quickly shook them away. Definitely not the time. 

   “We’ll send a surveillance team to Paul’s location in the morning,” Grey said, turning to address you. “But for now the best thing you can do is to go home, get some sleep, and not let this rattle you. Understood?”

     “Yes, Sergeant.”

     “Good. Because the last thing the L.A.P.D needs is a cop who lets their personal life get in the way of their ability to do their job in any way that’s less than exemplary. I trust that’s not the case?” 

     You glanced to Bradford, certain he was going to mention your mistake with the suspect earlier. 

     “No, Sir,” Tim said instead. “My rookies don’t do ‘less than exemplary’. Don’t worry about (Y/l/n)—she’s proved to me she has what it takes to be an officer.”

     “Glad to hear it. Shift over. Everybody else, back to work,” Sergeant Grey waved everyone away. 

     You walked towards the front of the room, hearing grumbled complaints about midnight shift from the unlucky officers who still had to do patrol as you did so. 

     You stopped in front of your TO. His eyes were on you, his brow drawn in something that looked like concern.

     “Thanks,” you said. You couldn’t believe he’d told Grey all that—it was the most complimentary thing he’d said about you in your whole time riding with him. 

     “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Tim stated, shrugging. “I expect you to live up to any praise I’ve given you.”

     “Yes, sir,” you nodded, almost smiling.

     “Besides, you’re being trained by me. You’d have to be royally screwed up not to become one of the best on the force.”

     “And he’s humble too,” you teased. “But I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

     “Whatever, Boot.” Tim smiled, shaking his head. 

     “Be nonchalant all you want,” you said, feeling brave. “I know you like me.”

     For a brief moment, Tim looked like you’d slapped him. But then, the flash of—whatever that was—was gone and his expression was replaced by one of cold indifference. 

     “In your TO not your friend, (Y/l/n),” he stated. “It’s not about liking you. It’s about training you.”

      You sighed inwardly. Just when you thought you were making ground with Tim, he treated you like you’d just met. “Of course, how could I forget.”

     Tim stayed silent. 

    “Well, I should head out,” you told him, “I’ve got a busy night ahead me. You know, trying not to get killed by my ex and all.”

     You’d meant it as a joke, to make light of the situation that left you feeling more uneasy than you’d care to admit. Tim, however, just shook his head and brushed past you, out of the briefing room. 

     You stood there for a moment, trying to work through what had just happened, before turning around and taking a step in the other direction. Only to find Officers Lopez and Bishop standing in front of you, staring between you and Tim’s retreating figure. 

     “So how’d you do it?” Bishop looked you up and down.

     “Do what?” You asked, confused. 

     “Get Tim wrapped around your finger,” Lopez answered for her, smirking. 

     You felt your eyes widen. “Tim’s not—” 

     “Please,” Lopez put her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched him train dozens of rookies and he’s never stood up for any of them like that. So naturally I figured you’re either blackmailing him or sleeping with him.”

     You blanched, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you let what Angela said sink in. You knew she was just teasing you, but the statement caught you off guard. You imagined you and Tim—together. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant thought. And then you realized what you were thinking and you chided yourself, hurriedly un-imagining it. 

     “No, that’s not—neither one of those things,” you answered quickly. “Trust me, Tim doesn’t give me any special treatment, if that’s what you’re implying. I actually can’t tell if he hates me half of the time.”

     “We’re not implying anything,” Bishop replied. “Only observing. And he doesn’t hate you.”

     “How can you possibly know that?” You were suddenly insecure. You still held on to a secret dread that you were going to wildly disappoint Tim—that you already had. Sure, there was all the stuff he had just said. But there was also months of him being hard on you and saying that you weren’t friends. 

     “Because I’ve seen him hate plenty of people,” Bishop spoke. “And he definitely didn’t look at them the way he looks at you.”

      The way Tim looked at you? You weren’t aware he looked at you in a way that was different from the way he looked at anyone else at the station.

     “What are you guys trying to say?” You asked them. 

     “I’m saying watch out,” Bishop raised an eyebrow. “Because Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.”

     Could there be any truth to what the two officers were saying? Was it wrong for a small part of you to hope there was?

     “Um, ok,” you said, blinking. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

     “Don’t believe us if you want, it’s your call,” Bishop shrugged, backing up. “But I’m telling you, you mean something to Tim that the rest of us can only guess at.”

     And with that she walked out of the room.

    “Bishop can be intense,” Angela said when the woman was out of earshot. “She’s got that whole ‘anti-cops-dating’ thing going on—but I do think she’s right about this. Tim’s tough, and I’m sure he gives you hell—but it’s not because he doesn’t like you. I actually think it’s quite the opposite. ”

     Was there really something that everyone saw between you and Tim except for you? You still couldn’t even entertain the thought that Tim had feelings for you that were more than TO and rookie. 

     “Well you’ve certainly left me with a lot to think about,” you said finally.

     “Then I’ll let you start thinking—you’re welcome for the peace of mind.” 

     You wouldn’t have used the phrase peace of mind, yourself. Sure, it was nice to know that the officers who had known your TO for years were confident that he didn’t look down on you. But, this conversation also had left your head swimming with conflicting thoughts about Tim that you didn’t feel like dealing with right now.

     “And take care,” Lopez said knowingly. “We have your back if anything happens.”

      With that, your thoughts slammed back to the current situation.

    “Right, that. You—you think something’s going to happen?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

     “I think in this job we have to be prepared for the worst,” she corrected. “But I also think that bastard would have to be pretty stupid to mess with you.”

     She smiled at you and you smiled back. After watching her leave, you followed her path, heading towards the locker rooms.

     You thought about what she had said about you and Tim, about Paul.

     You hoped she was right—you just couldn’t say which you hoped she was more right about.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Your thoughts bounced between your conversation with Talia and Angela and the message from your ex as you walked to your car minutes later. 

     When you woke up this morning, you thought the most stressful part of your day would’ve been a police chase or a shootout.  You never would’ve expected it to be my ex-boyfriend is out of jail and could be hunting me down and my training officer might have feelings for me.

     Funny how things could change so fast.

     Suddenly, you heard a bang. You spun around quickly, your heart in your throat. But it was only a car door being slammed shut from across the parking lot. 

     Get a grip, you told yourself. 

     You rounded the corner, running a hand through your hair.

     You stopped. Tim was leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked you up and down.

     “What are you doing?” You asked. 

     “Driving you home, Boot,” Tim said. “Get in the car.”

     “Tim, you don’t have to—”

     “That wasn’t a question, give me the keys.”

     There was no point in fighting him. Besides, there was a small part of you that didn’t really want to fight him. 

     You tossed him the keys to your car and got in the passenger seat with a sigh.  

     Tim started the engine. 

     “If this is about Paul, this really isn’t necessary,” you said after you’d been driving for several minutes and the silence became too much. “I can handle myself. I am an officer, in case you forgot.”

     “You’re a rookie,” Tim corrected, eyes never leaving the road. “And if the department won’t do anything, then I will.”

     “What—we’re not going to go looking for him, are we?” You asked.

     “Of course not,” Tim scoffed. “I’m not a vigilante, Boot. Where do you live?”

     “Take a left at the light,” you guided. 

     Neither of you talked for the remainder of the drive, save your occasional directions. When you pointed out your apartment building, Tim parked the car and handed you the keys. 

     “Thanks,” you mumbled to him as you got out of the car, grabbing your bag and heading towards the building.

     You heard a door shut behind you and turned to find your TO standing on the sidewalk, an eyebrow raised.

     “You didn’t think I was just going to let you spend the night alone with a target on your head, did you, Boot?” 

     “Tim—”

     “No more protests,” he said firmly. “As your TO, I—”

     “No, I was just going to say that if you were planning on staying here, why couldn’t I have just driven my own car?”

     “I don’t let my rookies drive,” Tim walked past you and to the front door. “Even off-duty.”

     You followed him quickly, getting out your key and letting you both in.

     When you reached your apartment you did a quick scan of the space—it wasn’t exactly like you’d been expecting company, much less your training officer. You cringed at the messiness.

      “How many entrances and exits are there?” Bradford asked. 

     “Um, just the front door. And there’s windows in the kitchen and the bedroom,” you said. 

     You skimmed past everything in the place, looking towards the window in your bedroom. Your eye caught on one of your bras hanging from your bedpost. You quickly ran over and shut the door, blushing and hoping Tim hadn’t noticed.

     “Please, Boot,” Tim made a face. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen before.”

     “Ok no offense, but I usually don’t let guys see my bra the first time I bring them to my place,” you joked.

     “If that’s an offer, I’m going to have to politely decline.”

     “What—no,” you hurried out, worried your voice sounded wrong. “I just meant—”

    Tim interrupted. “I’m going to do a sweep of the place, make sure everything’s as it should be.”

     “Is that really needed?”

     “I’m not taking any chances.” He left the room and you sunk down onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor. 

     Your TO returned a few minutes later. “All clear.”

     “See, everything’s fine,” you said, speaking just as much to yourself as you were to Tim. 

     “Well,” Bradford started, amusement in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say everything is fine. Your storage closet’s a fire hazard.”

     Had Tim Bradford just made a joke?

     “I’ll be sure not to exit through the closet in the events of a fire,” you said sarcastically. “And if you keep insulting my living space, I’m going to be forced to kick you out.”

     “Bold for someone whose career I could end.”

     “You can’t end my career for that,” you shot back. Paused. “Can you?”

     Tim raised his eyebrows.

     “Only one way to find out,” you said enthusiastically, teasing him now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t let the closet trap you on the way out.

     “Nice try, Boot. But you’re still stuck with me for,” Tim checked his watch. “eight hours.”

     “Nine hours,” you corrected. You had to leave for work in nine hours.

     “You’re right, I should get us drinks,” Tim joked.

     You rolled you eyes and he shot you a look. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

     Tim got up, disappearing into the kitchen.  

     “Is all you own ginger ale, Boot?” He called. 

     “There’s six year old tequila in the cupboard,” you suggested.

     “Ginger ale it is.”

      Tim joined you in the living room again, carrying two bottles. He handed one to you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. 

     You noted the careful distance he put between you. 

     “What’s this thing made of, Boot? Plywood?” Tim asked, inspecting the couch.

     You smothered a laugh.

     “Get comfortable. It’s where you’re sleeping,” you answered. 

     “Won’t be necessary. If you’re not awake you’re not aware.”

     “So, what, we’re taking shifts on guard like this is a stakeout?” You asked.

     “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t come here to sleep.”

     “Tim I can’t let you stay up all night while I’m unconscious.” you sighed.

     “You can if it’s an order. Besides, no offense, but rookies are historically less vigilant and have a slower response time…” 

     You tried not to take offense at that. “Right, Eagle Eye.”

     Tim glared at you. 

     “Angela told me.”

     “Of course she did. And at least I didn’t leave valuable evidence on the street to chase after a dog wearing a top hat.”

     “Sparky could’ve been involved in the crime,” you said, indignant. “And that was one time!”

     “One time too many,” Tim mumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes sparkling. 

     “Ok, so when you were a rookie you were, what, perfect?” You shot back.

     “Damn straight.” Tim nodded. 

     “You made no mistakes, at all?” You prompted.

     “Well,” Tim took a sip of his drink. “There was one thing.”

     “Aside from the graffiti incident?”

     “That wasn’t a mistake because it wasn’t my fault. I was following direct orders and—you know what, never mind. If you don’t want to hear it—”

     “No, no, I do!” you scooted towards the edge of your seat in anticipation. “And none of that ‘I worked too hard and too efficiently’ crap.”

     “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sarcastically. “My first week on the job I was put on paperwork duty, which was—”

     “Boring and tedious? I can imagine,” you deadpanned, having been put in charge of paperwork by Tim many times.

     “I was going to say necessary and a valuable skill to have,” Bradford corrected. “But anyways, we had just got done booking a couple suspects and I was working on the reports. A triple homicide and a prostitution case. It was a long day and I was tired and I guess I got sloppy—”

     “You? Sloppy?” You interrupted.

     “Do you want me to tell you this story or not?”

     “Right, sorry. Continue.”

     Tim did. “I’d just finished tagging the evidence for both cases and when I was filling everything out I somehow got the numbers mixed up. Long story short, according to my report, the homicide gun ended up being linked to the prostitution case and the weapon allegedly used in the triple homicide was…a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.”

      You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you now.

     “Forensics caught it before it was sent to the judge, thank god,” Bradford sighed. “But the next day when I was getting ready for my shift, I was greeted by dozens of similar handcuffs in my locker—apparently Smitty has a guy.”

     “Tell me you kept them,” you begged, pulling your knees up to your chest.

     “Of course not!”

     Tim blinked.

     “Well, not all of them—Isabel made me take a pair home. I found out later that she was the one who orchestrated the whole prank. She used to do stuff like that all the time before she, uh,—”

     “Tim—”

     You’d heard about Bradford’s ex-wife. How she’d become an addict, gotten herself mixed up with bad people. You knew how much it had affected Tim, even if he hadn’t said so. 

     She was in rehab now, getting her life back together. You were glad she was finally getting the help she needed. Still, you knew how much she meant to Tim. How much it had hurt him to move on from her and let her start a new life without him. 

     “I’m fine.” Tim said firmly, clearing his throat. “It’s good to talk about her…before. She’s on the right path now.”

     You stared at the ground in front of you, picking at your fingernails. 

     “Are you still in love with her?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t know why you asked—didn’t know why you cared what the answer was. Ten minutes ago you wouldn’t have even dared to ask that question.  

     But he was being so uncharacteristically open and you seemed to be getting along well. You reluctantly brought your eyes up to Tim.

     His eyes had gone wide. He looked like he wanted to leave or yell at you or both, and you immediately regretted it.

     But then his eyes softened and he opened his mouth. “No. I’ll always care about her and she’ll always be someone that I did love. But relationships change—people change.”

     You nodded. “I get it—I mean, I’m kind of rusty on relationships—but I get it. I actually haven’t dated anyone since Paul. I guess it was just hard to trust someone after that. I kind of sabotaged any relationship that had any chance of starting.”

     It was the first time you’d admitted that to anyone. You wouldn’t have pegged Tim as being so easy to talk to. You had almost forgotten about the whole Paul situation before you’d just brought him up. You had been enjoying hanging out with Tim, no matter the circumstances. He was actually pleasant to be around when he wasn’t on the clock. 

     You imagined this happening more often—you and Tim, not just coworkers but friends. Maybe even more. Maybe this was one relationship you didn’t have to end before it started.

     You dared to let yourself think about it. You watched Tim process your words. Saw the emotion clearly written in his face as he looked at you intensely. 

     “Hey, thanks again for not letting me be alone tonight,” you told him, you’re voice soft. 

     “Don’t take it personally, Boot,” he said. “My house is being repainted and even your place beats breathing in paint fumes all night.”

     “I’m honored,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “But you have to admit this has been fun—hanging out.”

     Your little impromptu sleepover. You smiled.

     Tim, however, looked like a switch had been flipped inside of him. You watched as he clenched his jaw, leaning almost imperceptibly away from you 

     “Listen, Boot—”

     He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and a loud thumping sound. 

     You both shot up off the couch, abandoning your drinks. Tim’s hand went to his gun. You did the same. 

     Tim turned to you. “Stay here.”

     “Like hell,” you shot back, following him as he started to do a sweep of the main room.

     If that sound was someone—Paul—breaking in, you weren’t going to sit here and let Bradford fight your battles for you. 

     He signaled to let you know he was moving to the kitchen. You nodded, following. 

     “Clear,” he muttered, and moved on towards the bathroom. You were right behind him when you heard another noise, like the muffled sound of scraping of furniture, and you spun around.

     The bedroom. It was the only room in that direction that you hadn’t checked yet. 

     You glanced to Tim, but he hadn’t heard it. He was a few feet ahead of you, just now entering the bathroom. 

     You slowly stepped away from him and made your way across the apartment, down the hall and over to the closed bedroom door.

     Holding your weapon in one hand, you opened the door with the other. But, you barely had time to see what was on the other side before you were grabbed and a cloth was shoved into your mouth. 

     Your gun was ripped from your hand, and you were pushed hard onto the ground. Your wrist burned where you landed on shards of glass from the broken window

     Something smacked into the back of your head and you were dragged and thrown onto the bed on the corner. You heard the door shut. 

     Squinting up into the light, rubbing your throbbing head, your heart dropped as you saw who was in front of you. 

     “Did you miss me?” Paul sneered, spinning your gun in his hand. 

     You froze. Everything crashed into you at once. The events of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend sped through your mind. Suddenly, you were scared and 18 again, at the mercy of this man. 

     “I guess you got my man’s message,” Paul continued. “Because you don’t exactly look shocked to see me. Scared, of course, but not shocked.”

     Coming back to yourself, you scrambled up onto your knees, ready to knock him out.

     Paul shook his head, laughing. “No, no. If you move even an inch I’ll shoot you right in the forehead.”

     You sat back down, your heart thumping in your chest as you scanned the room for a way out. Some way to get the upper hand on him. You had been trained for this.

     “Listen to me,” he continued, his hand coming to the gag in your mouth. You flinched away from him. “I know there’s someone in here with you. If you try to scream to alert them, I will also shoot you.  I’d like to play with you first before I put a bullet in your brain but, hey, I’m not picky. Is that clear?”

     You nodded, trying to measure how fast you could knock the weapon out of his hand before he could take a shot at you. Paul took the cloth out of you mouth.

     You gasped in air. “Backup’s going to be in here any second and then you’re going back to prison.”

     Tim would notice you were gone. He had to. 

     “Oh, I don’t think so,” Paul smiled. “I’ll be long gone and you’ll be long dead before that happens.”

     You glanced towards the door. What was taking him so long?

     Suddenly, Paul reached forwards and gripped your face in his hand. “Just as beautiful as I remember. It was such a shame things had to end with us as they did. How did that happen again? Oh, that’s right. You betrayed me.”

     “And that was the best decision I ever made,” you spat. 

     Paul backed up, shaking his head. “You’ve gotten feistier, baby. It’ll make this so much more fun for me.”

     He stepped back towards you, his face inches from yours, sneering. “This’ll be just like old times.”

     Bam! The door to your bedroom busted open. Bradford rushed in, taking in the situation. You breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Get down on the ground!” Tim growled.

     Paul froze for only a second, fear flashing across his face, but it was enough. You lunged, wrestling the gun out of his hands, your wrist protesting. 

     You trained it on him. Paul was surrounded.

     “You have five seconds to get on the ground before I shoot you,” Tim bit out, his expression murderous.

     “Come on, baby, you’re not going to let Officer Buzzkill treat me like that, are you?” Paul appealed to you. 

     You leveled your gaze on him, ignoring his words. “You heard him. Get on the ground.”

     Paul slowly knelt, never taking his eyes off of you. Tim charged him, pulling out handcuffs and locking them around his wrists. 

    You took a moment to be amused—of course Tim had off-duty cuffs. 

    “So this ends the way it starts, huh?” Paul shook his head. “You getting me locked up?”

     “Just like old times,” you echoed his earlier statement. You stayed stoic, putting your hands on your hips to hide the way they shook.

    Anger sparked in Paul’s eyes before he took on a smug expression. “You’re right. You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

     “Don’t listen to him, Boot,” Tim warned hauling the man up off the ground. 

     “You know I’m right,” Paul’s manic eyes bore into yours. He was enjoying every moment of this, laughter in his tone. It took all that was in you to keep your expression blank, unaffected. “You’ll always be that person I knew—the person who loved me. Because you did—love me. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You just took it all like the victim you are. You pathetic bitch—”

      He was cut off abruptly as Tim slammed him face-first against the wall. Paul cried out.

     “That’s enough!” Tim shouted. “If you ever threaten—no, if you even look at (Y/l/n) again, I will hunt you down and personally remove every external limb from your body, do you understand me? (Y/n) is a million times the person you will ever be and you don’t get to make her feel small. If I didn’t think sitting in a cell for the rest of your life was a worse fate, I’d kill you right now—screw the department.”

     Your ears were ringing, your head dizzy as you tried to ground yourself. Your voice came out tiny. “Tim, stop.”

     Bradford turned to you, almost as if he had forgotten you were in the room. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched around the man in custody. 

     “And she’s not a victim,” Tim whispered, turning back to Paul, his voice right by his ear. “She’s a survivor.”

     With that, he shoved Paul back to the ground and moved over to you, his eyes roaming over your face. Your body. He took the gun out of your hands, setting it on the desk. Then, he gripped your injured wrist and you winced as he inspected it.

     “Probably hurts like hell, but you won’t need stitches. Any other injuries?”

     “Um, he hit me in the back of the head,” you felt your scalp, a lump already forming.

     Tim’s hands moved to your hair, his touch gentle, his breath on your cheek as he leaned to get a better look.

     Your own breath caught, your heart racing at the intimacy of your position. 

     “What’s the damage?” You almost whispered.

     Tim’s eyes met yours, the heat of his stare spreading through your body. “You’ll have a nasty bruise, but there’s no external bleeding.”

     Tim stepped back, and you found yourself wishing he hadn’t.

     “Are you—are you ok, Boot?” He asked carefully. 

     How did you even answer that question? You were still in shock, unable to process what had just happened. 

     “I will be,” you settled on, breathing in slowly. Exhaling.

      Tim looked like he wanted to say more but he clenched his jaw, glancing in the direction of Paul, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he had finally accepted his defeat. 

     “I’m going to call for back up, you go clean that up,” Tim gestured to the blood covering your wrist where you had landed in the broken glass. “You need help?”

     “No, I got it,” You nodded, walking towards the bathroom as you heard Tim make the call.

     “911, what’s your emergency?”

     “This is off-duty officer Tim Bradford, badge 34831. I need a unit to my location for a 126. Suspect in custody. Code 1.”

      Tim’s voice faded as you made your way down the hall, shutting the bathroom door after you to access the medicine cabinet behind it.

     You took out the necessary supplies and began cleaning the wound. You stopped in front of the sink, letting your burning eyes close for a moment, massaging your temples. 

     Now that you were alone, you let yourself collapse, bracing your hands against the counter 

     Images flooded your senses. 

     The gag. Paul hitting you from behind. You, young and frightened, huddled on the ground. That gleam in his eyes.

     Your eyes snapped open, your breath coming out fast.

     He’s in custody. You told yourself. He can’t hurt you anymore. 

     You looked at your reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, your hands still shaking as you brushed your hair back from your face. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

      Turning your attention back to your wrist, you took a deep breath and continued to dab at the wound.

      You reached for the bandages on the counter. A sheen of sweat broke out on your forehead as you wrapped your arm. 

      You pictured Paul’s grip on you. His words rang in your ears. 

     You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.

     The room tilted. You swayed on your feet so you sunk down to the ground, leaning your head against the cabinet, the cool wood pressing against your head. 

     You tried to slow your erratic breathing but you couldn’t. You couldn’t—

     The sound of footsteps and voices carried through the door. You were vaguely aware that it was probably the backup here to take Paul away.

     You closed your eyes, your throat tight, you pulse thundering in your ears.

     I’m ok, you tried to tell yourself. I’m ok. I’m ok.

     You were unaware how long you sat like this. You had no concept of time. Your thoughts were wild, images flashing in and out, unable to form conscious ideas. Every breath sending a sharp pain through your body. 

     “Boot?”

     The muffled voice was closer than the others had been. 

     “Boot?” The voice was louder now. You registered Tim at the door. He knocked once. Twice. 

     “Boot, I’m coming in,” he shouted, his voice laced with worry. The door was shoved open. 

     “Dammit,” he cursed, seeing your state. You felt him getting closer to you, but you didn’t look up as he knelt by you, his concerned expression taking in yours.

     “Hey, look at me,” Tim coaxed. “(Y/l/n), breathe.”

     He seemed miles and miles away. There was a pause.

     “Hey, Boot, I got another test for you,” he spoke quickly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “I want you to tell me the most annoying person we work with.”

     “What?” You rasped, barely hearing him. 

    “Bishop’s an easy target,” he said. “And Lopez is a slob, so you can’t go wrong there. West’s got the whole daddy issues thing. Don’t even get me started on Nolan—”

     You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry.

     “And then there’s me. I mean, I’m annoying right?”

     You breathed a shaky laugh, opening your eyes slowly. 

     Tim smiled. “Oh so you agree? It’s ok, Boot, you can say me. Go ahead, I can take it.”

     When you didn’t say anything, Tim kept talking. “Personally I’d go for Detective Coleman. The man makes double what I do and I’m convinced he doesn’t own a decent looking tie.”

     “L-like the—the green one from last week,” you managed, trying to slow your breathing.

     “Leprechauns would call it tacky,” Tim agreed. “Now, since we’ve discussed this from all angles I’m going to need you to choose wisely. Because this is going to go on your evaluation for today.”

     You gulped. “Are—are you going to get me fired if I say you?”

     Tim let out a quiet, relieved laugh. “I knew it. Guess who’s going back to long-sleeves on Monday?”

     “In this heat wave? You—you wouldn’t dare,” you joked, sniffing.

     “I don’t know, I am the most annoying person you work with—sounds like something I might do.”

     You laughed again, this time the sound coming out less strained. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your heart rate return to normal. 

     “There you go.” Tim stood up, offering his hand to you for the second time that day. You gripped his arm as he pulled you up onto shaky legs.

     “Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed to have had your TO see you like this now that your head was clearer. 

     “For what, doing my job?”

     You smiled weakly at him, running a hand along your forehead. “Sorry for um—”  

     “Having a normal reaction to a highly emotional situation? Don’t apologize for being human,” Tim said firmly, his forehead creased.

     “So, he’s gone?” You’re voice came out small.

     Tim’s expression softened. “He’s gone.”

     You nodded again, looking at the floor. 

     “Hey, (Y/n), look at me.” Tim said. You brought your gaze up to meet his. “He’s never going to hurt you again, ok? I’ll make sure of that.”

      You let your eyes fall closed, feeling ashamed that you had been so affected. That Tim had to handle all of this for you. “I know. And I’ll understand if after…all this, you don’t see me fit to—to be a police officer anymore.”

     Tim’s eyes hardened, his voice hardening with them. “With all do respect, Boot, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. I meant every word of what I said back there—you’re a survivor. All I saw tonight is that you are a brave and intelligent woman who just so happens to have a scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. Don’t let it define you because then he wins. You’re a great cop, (Y/l/n). It’s rookies like you who make the force as strong as it is.”

     You listened to Tim speak. He sounded so…passionate. Bishop’s words came back to you.

     Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.

     You desperately wanted that to be true, now more than ever. He’d been so kind to you in this past hour—staying with you, rescuing you, reassuring you, bringing you back from whatever dark place you had just been in. 

     And then this. Talking about you like he…like he really cared about you. And maybe it was just because he felt like as your training 

Officer he had to protect you. But in the moment, it felt like maybe it could be more than that. 

    “So what I’m hearing is, I’m getting a promotion?” You teased finally, brushing your hair back from your damp face, breaking the silence. 

     Bradford put up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you still have a lot to learn from me.”

     You sighed. This was normal, this was comfortable. How you and Tim always acted with each other. You were both relieved and disappointed at the change back into familiar territory. 

     You ran a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn. Saying today had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century.

     “Now come on,” Tim flicked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

     “Let me guess, nine p.m. sharp every night?” You teased.

     “That’s not true.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Nine-thirty,” he admitted. 

     You giggled, following Tim out of the bathroom and into the hallway which led to the living room.

     You glanced at your bedroom as you passed it, trying not to think about what had happened in there. It was over now, you told yourself. 

     “Since my room is kind of a crime scene, I guess we’re both crashing out here,” you sighed, gesturing to the couch. 

      Silence filled the room and you immediately realized your mistake, cheeks flaming. 

     “Or, right, I guess you can go now. Danger’s over.”

     “Are you kidding?” Tim said. “And get to bed even later? I’m not going anywhere.”

     You stepped into the living room. You were glad Tim was staying. You felt safer with him here, even though you knew it was irrational. 

     “I’ll get the blankets and stuff,” you said, turning back the way you’d came.

     “Let me go with you,” Tim offered.

     “I would but they’re in the closet and I don’t want it to trap you or something,” you said. 

     “You think I can’t take a closet full of your crap? Bring it on,” Tim challenged and you led him down the hall. 

     A few minutes later you returned to the living room, blankets and pillows in tow. Tim helped you pull out the couch bed—you were grateful you’d opted for this couch instead of a regular one—and you stood back, admiring your work. 

     “Take the couch,” you told him. “It was your bed originally.”

     “Not gonna happen.” Tim crossed his arms. “It’s your house. And you’re injured.”

     “I’m fine. And where are you going to sleep? The floor?” You asked him. 

     Tim scanned the room and then sat down on the chair across from the couch-turned-bed. 

     “Are you sure you’re ok on that?” You asked. It didn’t exactly look comfortable for spending hours on.

     “Trust me, Boot, you got the short end of the stick. Have fun sleeping on plywood.” 

      You smiled. “So, what, you’re just going to sit over there and watch me sleep?”

     “I can leave, if you’re—”

     “No,” you’re voice came out faster and more sharp than you’d intended. “I mean, you came all this way, I don’t want you to have to get an Uber home at this hour.”

     You climbed into bed, aware that you were still in your clothes, but not caring enough to change. 

     “We should get some sleep, it’s been a long night,” Tim sighed. He got up and turned the lights off, darkness filling the room. 

     “Damn, boot,” you heard Tim’s voice even though you couldn’t see him anymore. “It’s pitch black in here. You don’t sleep with a light or anything?”

     “Well I don’t usually sleep in my living room,” you pointed out. Then you stifled a laugh. “Wait a minute. Is Officer Tim Bradford afraid of the dark?”

     Tim scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

     “Your secret’s safe with me,” you teased.

     “There is no secret,” Tim shot back.

     You winked. “Exactly.”

     “You’re impossible.”

     “Thank you.” You smiled.

     The room fell silent. You heard him sit back down. 

     You laid back, staring up at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by. 

    “Do you—do you think he really would’ve shot me?” You asked, finally.

     “I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He clearly thought you guys had unfinished business. But guys like that get high on fear—on desperation. He couldn’t have that if you were dead. In his mind, he’d be losing his power over you.”

     He paused. 

     “Besides, I don’t think he would’ve gotten the chance,” Tim said. “He clearly underestimated the badass-ness of his opponent.”

     You snorted. “Did you just say ‘badass-ness’?”

     “It’s a word!” Tim defended. 

     You laughed, turning over on your side. 

     “But seriously, if you ever need anything, you can always talk to me,” Tim said, sounding earnest. “I mean it.”

     “I may just take you up on that,” you responded. “Do you tell that to all your rookies?”

     You could barely make out Tim’s frame in the dark. “No, not all of them.”

     “I’m going to take that as I’m special,” you said. 

     Your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.   

    “You know, Lopez and Bishop had this crazy idea that you had feelings for me,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “But I told them it was just that—crazy.”

     Tim didn’t speak.

     “It is crazy right?” You asked. You had to know. He still was silent. “Right?”

     “Boot, look—” Bradford started. His voice came out rough, as if he hadn’t talked in days. Your heartbeat was a deafening roar in your ears. 

     “Tim?”

     You could hear more than see Tim’s movements. He stood, pacing the length of the room. Sat back down. Stood up again. Sat. 

     “Dammit, Boot, I can’t do this,” he finished. “I can’t do this right now, (Y/n).”

     Your pulse quickened. He hadn’t denied it. 

     You stood up. 

     And maybe it was having to deny your attraction to your TO for seven months. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack earlier. Maybe it was because the darkness felt safe and secret—made you feel like you could do anything. Maybe you were just too eager after his small encouragement—or, lack of discouragement.

     But, whatever the reason, you walked over to where Tim sat, kneeled down, looked into his confused, strained eyes, and kissed him. 

     Tim froze, his lips still against yours. And then, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish or startle, he placed his hand gingerly on your waist, and leaned into the kiss.

     And he was kissing you back. Tim Bradford was kissing you back. 

     His free hand went to your hair, deepening the kiss as he gripped you closer. He kissed you like he had been waiting a lifetime.

     It was desperate and raw and passionate—it was perfect.

     You broke apart, both gasping for breath.       

     “Listen, Boot,” Tim started. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “You’ve had a long and confusing day—”

     You interrupted him. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. But I’m not confused about this.”

     You brought your lips to his again. This time he didn’t hold back. He pulled you closer to him and you felt the warmth of him through his shirt. 

     When you came apart again, he was smiling. 

     “Well, I guess I can check thinking that you hate me off my daily checklist,” you whispered. 

     “I don’t hate you, Boot,” Tim said. “I actually hate how much I don’t hate you.”

     You studied the planes of his face, the light from the hallway illuminating his eyes. His lips. His jawline.

     “Boot—”

     “If you’re going to say that this is a bad idea, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight,” you said. 

     “I thought that was obvious.” Tim stated matter-of-factly. “I was going to say actually I’d appreciate it if you did turn on a lamp or something, because—”

     You laughed, kissing him again. 

     “But seriously,” Tim continued. “You know we can’t do this.”

     “Why not?” You pouted. “If it’s what we both want.”

     “It’s not about what we want—we could be putting both of our careers in jeopardy.”

     You knew he was right. Of course he was right. 

     “But is it—what you want?” 

     “God yes,” Tim blurted, standing up, his voice strained. “It’s what I’ve wanted from the moment I started training you. Do you know how hard it’s been trying to put distance between us and deny every damn thing when all I wanted to do was—”

     He broke off, running a hand along his hair. 

     “Then do it.” Your heart pounded in your chest. “You’ll only be my TO for a few more months, we’ll just keep it a secret until then. No one has to know.”

     Tim looked at you. 

     “Ok you’re right, Bishop and Lopez will totally know something’s up,” you admitted.

     “I guess I’ll just have to transfer,” Tim joked.

     “What happened to ‘Tim Bradford finished what he starts’?” You asked.

     “Oh I intend to do just that,” Tim whispered. “Are we really thinking about doing this?”

     You thought about the consequences you could face—Tim could face—if it got out that you and your training officer were romantically involved. You knew it would be a huge risk—one that could get you cut from the program.

     You looked at Tim. He was watching you like he never wanted to let you go again. You thought about how long you’d wanted this, even if you didn’t fully know it until tonight.

     And the decision seemed clear.

     “Yeah,” you beamed. “Yeah I think we are.”

     He cupped your face in his hand, his fingers warm against the back of your neck. Your eyes closed against his touch. You felt comfort for the first time in hours.

     “You need rest,” Tim whispered and your eyes fluttered open. “As much as I’d love to do this all night.”

     You nodded, backing up towards your bed. Tim ran a hand through his hair again and then sat back down in the armchair.

    “What’re you doing?” You asked him.

    “Going to bed,” Tim answered, as if it was obvious. 

    “Get over here,” you gestured, rolling your eyes at him.

    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Tim smiled. 

     You climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of you.

     You lay your head on Bradfords chest. You could feel his heartbeat in your ear as you closed your eyes.     

    “You know, this will kind of be like doing undercover work—minus the threat of getting killed,” you said. 

     “I don’t know about that—I wouldn’t put anything past an angry Sergeant Grey.”

     “We’ll just have to be so in-character that we never find out,” you said. 

     “I’ll make sure to be extra tough on you next shift,” Tim agreed. 

     “And that’s different from any other day how?” You shot back, sitting up. 

     “Hey, training rookies is a sacred duty and I take that very seriously. If you think I’m going to throw your education out the window simply because—”

     You shut him up by pressing your lips to his. You echoed his earlier words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

     Tim shook is head slightly, eyes roaming over your face. 

     “What?” You asked.

     “You’re so beautiful, (Y/n),” Tim breathed. “I’m so glad I can finally tell you that.”

     “Me too,” you said. “Even if it took…this for it to happen.”

     “Speaking of which, maybe I’ll take a sick day tomorrow,” Tim said. “Since there’s no way Grey—or myself—is letting you go to work. What’d you say?”

     You wanted to fight him, say you were fine and you could make it to your shift the next day. But the promise of taking a sick day with Tim was to tempting to pass up. 

     “I say I’m glad your house is being repainted,” you teased. “Because then you’ll have to stay with me.”

     Tim smiled knowingly. “My house isn’t being repainted, Boot. And I’m all yours.”

     You grinned, laying back down and resting your head back against Tim. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

     You felt safe, protected in his arms. 

     The rest would come. Dealing with what had happened tonight. Starting your secret relationship with Tim. Eventually facing everyone at work who had heard the news and would want to ask if you were ok. And you would be ok.

     But for now, this was enough. He was enough. 

     “Tim?” You whispered.

     “Hmm?”

     You struggled for words to fit the gravity of what you were feeling for him. “Thanks for…everything.”

     “What are TOs for,” Tim shrugged. 

     “Apparently keeping the night light business afloat.” You giggled at the look on Bradford’s face. 

     “Shut it, Boot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed loves!! i’m so down bad for tim it’s not even funny 😵‍💫

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[loudclan-clangen]

in light of fiercestripe potentially dying in the next update, I just wanted to say how much I adore how you write her. After running away from a group who seems to only value women as mothers, I really appreciate that you still kept motherhood as a key part of her character. Like, she learns how to be independent and becomes an AMAZING warrior (she has fierce in her name for a reason!) but she's still a great mom. Not only that, she still loves BEING a mom! Her love for fighting and her love for her kits are never seen as contradictory and I really enjoy that about her character. Motherhood itself is never framed as a bad thing and the cats who want to be moms are never framed as lesser for wanting that, and I just find that really cool :)

Thank you! I tried very hard to make sure that Fiercestripe's storyline came across this way. I think it's very poetic that she had daughters who she gets to watch grow into competent warriors of their own accord.

They searched for Fiercestripe for a couple of days, but not to the extent that they're pursuing these current she-cats. They might have caught up to them the first night or two but two healthy adult cats would have easily been able to out maneuver and outpace them. The culture of the farm-cats has gotten much more extreme following Fiercestripe's and later Thorn and Frost's departures. Loudclan territory is more than two weeks travel from the farm, chasing someone that far means that they're either pretty desperate or incredibly angry.

You're certainly right about that! Here's a sneak peak sketch:

Yep!

It was the rogue attack patrol event, as many of you have figured out, but it could have killed anywhere from 1 to all 5 of them, so you'll just have to wait and see!

If you made it this far, hi, thank you! I've got a question:

Warrior's stated policy says that they allow selling of fanart that doesn't include official art or symbols, and clangen has stated that they don't mind so long as you do not use game assets so

No pressure, I know Loudclan's just a tumblr blog and I have no ideas of grandure, I just thought it might be fun!

[wannabehockeygf]

Melting - Clayton Keller

"So you'll smile at everything I say, You got some soft lips and some pearly whites, I wanna touch them in the dead of night, Your smile ignites just like a candlelight, Then somehow, I know everything's alright."

*** request: i smushed the two requests I got today together, so it's #2 "Five more minutes?" plus #11 "You fell asleep on me, I didn't want to wake you up." another prompt requested was smutty, which I am happy to do, but you should probably re-request. summary: a mediocre first date turns into something more intimate word count: 4.1k pairing: clayton keller x fem!reader warnings: none just teeth rotting fluff! notes: - I love my man clayton more than anyone else. i will always be happy to do any requests for him. - saw one of my grades grade drop from 92 to 76 today so I needed a full reset and I guess that reset was writing fluff! - based in Arizona because I'm still in denial

italics represent flashback

gif creds: keller-clayton i gave up putting gifs in my fics a while ago but LOOK AT HIM I JUST WANNA KISS HIS FACE ALL OVER. *** The last thing you remember was standing on that tenth hole of the mini-golf course, wondering if it was socially acceptable to call an Uber in the middle of a first date. Mini-golfing had felt more like a middle-school field trip than an actual adult date. And if your performance had been any indication, you weren’t exactly “fun at parties” material. By hole six, you were already praying for the windmill to sweep you off your feet and put you out of your misery.

You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but let’s be honest—you sucked. Badly. You didn’t just miss the hole; you missed the general direction. The ball took off like it had a personal vendetta against you, disappearing into the bushes half the time. By the tenth hole, you were seriously considering feigning a headache, or better yet, an existential crisis, to bail early. Maybe there was a black hole you could throw yourself into.

That’s when Clayton saved you.

Well, saved might’ve been a strong word. He asked, “Do you wanna ditch this whole thing and go back to my place?”

Cue all your alarms going off at once. Yeah, you knew exactly what that meant. First date, cozy house, late-night drinks—he wasn’t subtle. You were supposed to say no, laugh it off, maybe suggest a different venue.

Instead, you heard yourself agree.

You thought you’d stay for a bit, make a polite exit before things got weird. But then, you ended up at his house—a stupidly nice one, complete with a pool, basketball court, and palm trees that looked straight out of a vacation ad. Like, was this guy a finance bro? Or did he have one of those mysterious jobs where he’s always "working on something big?" Either way, it felt excessive.

Then came the wine. Hesitation turned into a sip, which turned into three glasses, and somewhere between one of his stories about traveling to Europe and your sarcastic commentary, you ended up on his lap, his hands–

“Am I the asshole for-”

Immediately, the noise cuts out, and you hear a soft curse coming from… under you? “Shit!” Clayton hisses, taking a deep breath which you feel completely. 

You stir, blinking against the sunlight spilling in through unfamiliar curtains. For a second, you can’t quite place where you are. Your brain is doing that sluggish, half-awake thing where it refuses to connect dots. All you know is that you’re warm, too warm, and there’s something solid beneath you.

Wait, why is your pillow breathing?

Your eyes snap open fully, and sure enough, there’s Clayton—underneath you. You’re sprawled across his chest like some kind of human blanket, legs tangled with his, your face smushed into the crook of his neck. Casual. Totally normal. Just your typical Saturday morning human pretzel situation.

Oh god.

Panic prickles up your spine, and you stay perfectly still, trying to figure out how you got here. You remember the mini-golf—barely—and the way you’d been one sad swing away from asking if he had a time machine to rewind you out of the entire evening. Then there was his house, the wine, his stupidly perfect jawline. And… oh right, that situation.

Your mind goes from zero to a hundred in seconds, racing to catch up with reality. You’re on top of him. Like, full-body contact, face-in-his-neck, can-feel-his-breath-on-your-skin kind of on top of him. Oh god, what the hell happened last night? Did you…? No. No, you remember now. Mostly. You didn’t sleep with him. Right?

You chance a glance at his phone screen out of the corner of your eye, and yup—he’s casually scrolling through TikTok like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like you're not literally draped across him like some kind of half-conscious sloth. The soft, muffled sound of a Reddit story video plays from his phone, but it's drowned out by the thunderous beat of your pulse in your ears. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath you, steady, calm, like you didn’t just wake up using him as a human mattress.

How long have you been like this? How long has he been awake? He’s obviously been up long enough to decide that reaching for his phone was preferable to trying to extricate himself from your limpet-like hold. You mentally groan. So, what now? Do you play it off? Pretend to still be asleep until he leaves? Just roll off him dramatically and flee the house?

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to vanish into thin air, but no such luck. You're still here, still on top of him, still melting into the soft heat of his skin.

How the hell did this happen?

And then, like a bad movie montage, it all comes flooding back. He’d pulled you onto his lap, his hands steady on your hips as if they’d always been there. The warmth of his touch had sent shivers down your spine, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or something else entirely making your head spin. You could still feel the smooth drag of his palm as it slipped under your shirt, fingers teasing along the curve of your back. Your heart had been racing so fast you were pretty sure he could hear it.

“You’re—uh—comfortable?” you’d asked, your voice coming out breathier than you’d intended.

Clayton had chuckled, that low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip in ways you weren’t proud of. “Very.” And then, without another word, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent, like he was waiting for you to tell him no.

But you hadn’t. At least, not at first.

Instead, you'd leaned into him, your hands slipping into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss deepened. He tasted like wine and something sweeter, something that made your brain go a little fuzzy around the edges. You could feel the heat building between you, the way his fingers dug into your hips just a little harder, pulling you against him until you were practically straddling him.

For a moment, it had felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be—right here, in his lap, his mouth on yours, and your body pressing into his like it was the only thing keeping you anchored to the earth. But then—then something in your brain had clicked back on, the fog lifting just enough for you to realize what was happening.

Your heart had stuttered. You’re definitely not in the right headspace for this

You’d pulled back, breathing hard, your forehead resting against his. “I—um—maybe we should…” You hadn’t known how to finish the sentence, and your words had tumbled out in a mess of half-started thoughts and awkward pauses. Clayton had stilled, his hands dropping from your waist instantly, his eyes searching yours with something like understanding.

“Yeah, of course,” he’d said, his voice soft, and you could tell he wasn’t mad, wasn’t pushing. He just…stopped.

And that’s where the details get a little blurry. You must have fallen asleep after that, the wine and the tension finally catching up to you.

And now, here you are, waking up on top of him like some kind of oversized cat, his phone buzzing softly beneath your ear as he doom scrolls some more.

You shift, just slightly, testing the waters. His hand, the one not holding his phone, brushes absently against your back in response. A lazy, absent-minded gesture, like he’s forgotten you’re there but also somehow hasn’t.

Is this... normal for him? Just scrolling through TikTok with a girl sprawled across him like he’s some sort of makeshift mattress? Maybe this is his thing. Maybe you’ve entered some weird new level of dating etiquette where waking up on top of your date is a normal, acceptable thing that people do.

You finally muster up the courage to move, rolling onto your side—slowly, carefully, like you’re disarming a bomb. Clayton’s arm, previously draped across your back, falls away, and you find yourself sitting next to him instead of on top of him. Progress.

He glances over, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’ve woken up. There’s no awkwardness, no tension, just a soft smile that somehow makes you want to crawl back into the crook of his neck and stay there forever.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep, and you can feel it in your bones.

Oh god, you think. You are so screwed.

“Hey,” you mumble back, trying to sound casual but knowing full well your voice betrays you. Your throat is dry, and you really, really wish you could just dissolve into the couch.

Clayton lifts his phone. “You fell asleep pretty quick after the wine,” he says, like he’s giving you a status report. “Didn’t want to move.”

Oh no, that's fine, I love waking up like a koala in a tree, clung to a guy I barely know. It’s totally my thing, you think, but what comes out is a garbled, “Thanks. Uh, yeah. Long day.”

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and spreading to your cheeks. The mini-golf disaster, the wine, the whole making-out-on-his-lap thing—it all feels like some weird fever dream. But here you are, awake, on his couch, and somehow still alive.

“Well,” he says, stretching slightly and glancing at the time on his phone, “if you want coffee or breakfast or anything… no rush.” There’s something about the way he says it, all nonchalant, that makes you think he’s done this before. You wish you could bottle up that confidence and chug it like an espresso shot. But then he continues, “Or… you could come back here?”

You stare at him for a beat, trying to process what just came out of his mouth. Come back here? Like, back to the human pretzel situation you’d just barely escaped from? There’s no way he’s serious. But when you look at him, his face is soft, his eyes sleepy in a way that makes your heart do an embarrassing little flip.

You blink, your brain scrambling for a response. You could say no. You could grab your things and make a polite-but-hasty exit, chalking this whole thing up to “well, that happened.” But then he shifts slightly, his hand still resting casually on the couch, so close to yours that the warmth of his skin is almost tangible. His voice is soft when he speaks again, barely above a murmur.

“Five more minutes?”

Oh. Oh, that’s unfair. He’s not playing fair. You can practically feel your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand. Five minutes? What kind of heartless person says no to that?

You glance down at his hand, at the way his fingers twitch just slightly like he's waiting for you to move. It’s such a simple invitation, but for some reason, it feels like the world’s biggest decision. Your internal monologue is in full gear, screaming at you to think this through, but your body betrays you almost immediately. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning back into him, your head finding its way to the curve of his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can feel his breath catch just a little as you settle against him, and for a second, the room feels heavier, like the air itself is thicker. His arm instinctively comes around you, gentle but steady, pulling you just a fraction closer. His warmth seeps into your skin, and you’re not sure if it’s the leftover wine fuzzing your thoughts or the fact that you’ve somehow wound up here, in this moment, but for once, your brain doesn’t race to catch up. It just… stops.

His heartbeat is slow, steady, beneath your ear, and you feel like you’re floating in this weird bubble of peace, suspended between the moment you just left and the one you’re trying to make sense of now. His hand rests lightly on your back, his thumb absentmindedly tracing a soft pattern that sends tiny sparks up your spine. The room is quiet, save for the occasional hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of the sheets as he shifts to get more comfortable.

You can feel the weight of his chin resting against the top of your head, and it’s such a small thing, such a casual, barely-there gesture, but it feels like everything. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the softness of the moment. This isn’t what you expected—hell, none of this is what you expected—but here you are, breathing him in, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. You can feel the vibrations of it in your bones, deep and gentle, as if he’s scared of breaking the stillness.

You nod, but it’s not enough, not when your face is pressed into his shirt. “Yeah,” you manage to mumble, your voice muffled by the fabric. “I’m okay.”

More than okay, actually.

He hums softly in response, the sound a low rumble that makes you feel like you could stay like this forever. And maybe that’s what scares you. How easy this is. How comfortable it feels to be wrapped up in him like this, even after the absolute chaos of the night before. You can’t remember the last time you felt this… safe.

There’s a part of you that wants to analyze every little detail—wants to pick apart why you’re so comfortable in his arms, why you’re not sprinting for the door, why your heart is doing this stupid fluttery thing every time he shifts even the slightest bit. But instead, you let yourself just be.

For once, your brain doesn’t go into overdrive. For once, it doesn’t matter what happens next, or what the mini-golf fiasco meant, or whether you’ll see him again after this. All that matters is the quiet, the warmth of his chest under your cheek, and the way his fingers trail lazy circles on your back.

You’ve only known him for, what, a handful of hours? Yet somehow, this moment feels like the calmest you’ve been in a long time.

His phone buzzes again, and you feel him shift slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t check it. Instead, he tightens his hold on you just a bit, his arm pulling you closer until you’re tucked into him so securely that it’s almost hard to tell where you end and he begins. But suddenly, it starts to feel slightly suffocating, and you can’t help but try to ease the tension, even if it’s in a weird way. “I’m guessing you don’t go on dates often?” you try to joke, but it sounds largely breathy.

Clayton stiffens for a moment, like he’s been caught off guard by your question. You can feel it in the way his chest stops its steady rhythm under your cheek. The hand that had been tracing lazy circles on your back pauses mid-motion. For a split second, the comfortable cocoon of warmth and quiet you’d both been wrapped in feels like it’s stretched a little too thin, like the moment might crack under the weight of the question.

Then, he lets out this weird, choked laugh. It’s not exactly a hearty chuckle, more like the sound someone makes when they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar and aren’t sure how to explain themselves. You shift, lifting your head slightly to look at him, and when you do, you’re met with a sight that almost makes you snort. Clayton—mister “I-have-a-stupidly-nice-house-and-know-exactly-what-to-do-with-my-hands-like-it’s-no-big-deal”—is blushing.

Blushing.

His cheeks are a shade of pink that would’ve been adorable under any other circumstance. But seeing him like this? The guy who confidently pulled you onto his lap last night and didn’t even blink? Yeah, it’s throwing you off, and the tiny, embarrassed laugh that bubbles out of you isn’t helping.

“I—uh—what?” He stammers, shifting awkwardly beneath you. His arm, the one that had been holding you so comfortably, suddenly feels unsure of itself, hovering like he’s debating whether to pull you closer or shove a pillow between you to create some much-needed distance.

You blink up at him, trying to hide your amusement. “The date. I mean… you don’t seem like the ‘mini-golf-and-wine’ type.”

His blush deepens, and he clears his throat, his gaze darting away from yours like he’s desperately searching for an escape route. “Yeah, well, uh… I don’t really do this often.”

You peek up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not often, or not at all?"

He chuckles nervously, and it's not that smooth, rumbly laugh from last night. It's more like an awkward, I’m-really-not-used-to-this kind of sound. “Not at all?” he says, but it comes out like a question. His face flushes just a little, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that, despite owning a house straight out of a Malibu dream, he's clearly not as suave as he seemed.

“Wait, seriously?” You shift slightly, trying to get a better look at him, but this only makes him more flustered. His hand, which had been resting casually on your back, retreats to his side like it’s suddenly self-conscious. “But you have this”—you gesture vaguely at his ridiculous house, the pool you vaguely remember seeing through his sliding glass doors—"and you don’t date?"

Clayton looks like he wants to sink into the couch and disappear. He rubs his face with his free hand, groaning softly. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t make sense.” He hesitates, glancing at you before continuing, “I’m just… busy, I guess. Work and stuff.”

“Oh, work and stuff, how mysterious,” you tease, unable to resist poking fun at the vague excuse. “You make it sound like you’re Batman or something. Got a secret crime-fighting career on the side?”

His laugh this time is real, shaking off some of the tension. “If only. I mean, I could rock a cape…”

You grin, glad to see him relax, even just a little. “So, what’s the deal then? You have this nice house, you’ve clearly got some kind of job that lets you travel to Europe, and yet… no time to date?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you some kind of super-busy finance bro who’s married to the grind?”

Clayton cringes, but there’s a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. “No, no finance bro stuff. Just… um… sports?”

You stare at him, blinking slowly as the realization hits. "Wait… sports?" Your voice comes out more confused than you intended, and it lingers in the air between the two of you. Clayton shifts, his expression growing a little more sheepish, like he’s just admitted to something far more embarrassing. You raise an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

"Yeah," he finally mutters, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work out the tension. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, but, uh… hockey. NHL, actually.”

You blink again, processing the words as they hang there. Hockey. NHL. Him.

“Wait, like… you’re a professional hockey player?" you ask, almost breathless. Your heart stumbles for a moment, and you try not to make a big deal out of it, but the surprise is clear in your voice. He nods, awkwardly.

"Yeah, but it’s not like I go around telling people that." He glances at you, gauging your reaction. His cheeks turn back to a faint pink, and suddenly, his earlier confidence from last night seems to vanish.

You squint at him, tilting your head. "Wait, so... you just let me ramble about mini-golf without dropping that bomb? Was this like a test or something?"

His eyes widen, and he waves his hands defensively, nearly knocking over the throw pillow. “No, no! It wasn’t a test!” His voice is frantic, trying to backpedal from your accusation. “I swear! I didn’t think it was relevant… I just—” He stops, rubbing his temples like he’s regretting this entire conversation. “It’s been a while, okay? I’m just… I’m just glad to have someone warm here for once that isn’t my dog.”

That soft confession hits you harder than you expected. The vulnerability in his words sinks into the quiet between you, and you find yourself melting into the moment. You smile softly, shifting in his arms to look up at him fully. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, and it has nothing to do with the cozy blanket wrapped around you.

A professional hockey player? You’d barely noticed his muscles last night, all lean and casual under his t-shirt, too distracted by the chaos of mini-golf and his awkwardly charming attempts at flirting–better than your other Hinge dates. Now, though, the pieces are falling into place—his house, the sleek car, the fact that he was clearly trying so hard to make a good impression despite his obvious nerves. He wasn’t trying to hide his life from you… he was just so genuinely out of practice that he didn’t know how to navigate it.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, your forehead still resting lightly against his shoulder as you tilt your head up. His face is flushed, and he’s staring down at you like he’s expecting you to bolt at any second.

You let out a breath, your fingers absently tracing the hem of his shirt where it’s bunched around your waist. “You really should’ve led with that, you know,” you tease, your voice light as you try to keep things from getting too serious. “Might’ve saved us both a lot of confusion.”

Clayton groans, burying his face in his hands for a second before dropping them back to his sides in defeat. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to, like, make it weird,” he mutters, his blush creeping back up his neck. “I just—god, I’m really bad at this, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Nah, you’re not that bad,” you reply, your voice gentle. “Just… out of practice.”

The silence that follows is easy, the weight of his chin resting on top of your head once more as you both settle into the moment. His arm eventually returns to its place around you, his fingers grazing your back in slow, lazy circles, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him again. It’s so soft, so quiet. It’s almost too perfect, really, like you’ve stumbled into some kind of dream you didn’t even know you wanted.

He clears his throat after a beat, his voice hesitant. “So… if I’m this bad at dating,” he says slowly, “Does that mean I’m not getting a second one?”

You blink, surprised, and tilt your head up to look at him again. His eyes are soft, full of that quiet vulnerability from before, and you feel your heart stutter in your chest. You weren’t expecting that, weren’t expecting him to be so earnest about wanting to see you again.

You open your mouth to respond, but your brain falters for a second. A second date? After everything last night? After finding out he’s an NHL player, of all things? But then his gaze catches yours, and there’s something in his eyes that makes it hard to say anything but yes.

“Well,” you say slowly, your lips curving into a teasing smile, “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” He tilts his head, genuinely curious.

“On whether or not our next date involves fewer golf clubs and more dogs.”

His face lights up, a real, boyish grin spreading across his features, and he lets out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “Yeah, I can definitely do that,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your back to rest just between your shoulder blades. He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll have to meet him first, though. He’s got final approval.”

You chuckle softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Well, let’s hope I make a good impression, then.”

There’s another pause, and you feel his breath catch just a little as he presses his chin against the crown of your head again. “You’ve already made one,” he says quietly, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

Your heart skips, your chest tightening in a way that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. There’s a softness here, a tenderness that you didn’t expect, and it’s seeping into the space between you like warm sunlight through a window. You’re not sure what this is yet, not sure where it’s going or what it means, but for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like you have to know. You’re just… here, in the moment, wrapped up in him and the warmth of his arms, and that’s enough.

Maybe it’s more than enough.

[cokoweee]

✨🧚✨

Writing action is so hard :(

~

Obligation sat heavy in his chest, chaining him to the roof. He hated city sweeps with a passion. Sure it was fun to kick around bad guys, but he’d so much rather be in his bed. Sometimes you run just to feel your lungs burn he supposed.

So here he was. On top of a building. Staring at an empty alleyway.

He pressed his face against the wall, his goggles leaving painful imprints in his skull. He grounded himself in the way they cut into his skin. They were doing their job, reminding him of his cruel existence here on this roof.

Wind whipped through his hair as he watched from his perch on the building. He could move of course, find somewhere else where he could be useful. But his limbs refused to listen. He felt like he was made of stone. Just like a gargoyle he thought, amused. Perched atop a building. In theory protecting, in practice, just a decoration.

That’s all he was. A decorative piece of stone, crafted to defend, but nothing more than a hunk of muscle.

A hooded figure ripped him from his thoughts as they wandered into the empty alleyway. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a bust after all. He shifted his weight to pounce as he watched the figure move. They headed deep into the alley, shrouded by the darkness, poorly hiding a package under their shirt. He rolled his eyes and waited patiently for another figure to arrive.

His joints creaked slightly as he leapt, stiff from standing still for so long. Landing silently, he melded to the shadows creeping close enough to hear their conversation.

“-one followed.” The voice said, hushed. “Yes. I made sure no one saw.”

The other voice grunted something unintelligible as they held out their hand. He took notice of the small knife secured in the figure's belt pocket and placed a hand around his bō. He didn’t think the girl would be able to do much damage with it, but it was better to err on the edge of caution.

“I saw.” He sing-songed, stepping into their line of view.

He was already here. Why not have a little fun?

The hooded figures spun around, one brandishing their knife, the other a blunt stick. He stared, unimpressed as they swung their weapons wildly. Until finally- finally, the male figure squared his shoulders and threw himself at Donatello.

He grinned.That’s what he was waiting for.

He held up his bō to deflect the blow and quickly stuck it under the baton and pulled. The figure immediately fell forward, thrown off balance. He repressed a small smile as the figure looked up from the concrete bewildered. Poor guy had probably never fought a day in his life.

Blood rushed through his veins as he brought his bō down swiftly to his head. He pushed away the twinge of guilt as he saw the terror in the man’s eyes. He didn’t like it when they looked like that. He took a deep breath as he set his gaze to the second figure.

Flinching as the staff came flying at her face, she stumbled to the ground, barely dodging and cursing wildly. “What the- Dude!”

He didn’t say a word letting the girl get back up. May as well give her a chance.The hooded girl rushed toward him, a knife held tightly in her hand.

He let it happen.

Her fist collided with his face. His lip split, blood bubbling from his mouth as he looked down stupefied.

He hadn’t expected that. The hit, yes, but for it to break skin?

She raced forward again, twisting as she stopped in front of him, using the top of her foot to land a blow squarely to the middle of his chest. He didn’t move.

He hasn’t been in a fight since the invasion. Little squabbles here and there, sure. But nothing where he was required to use any sort of his past training. She was clearly amateur, but it was the first time in a long time he’d had to consider going back to the dojo.

He watched her move. She had lacked any true power in her kick. Probably better for her to stick to punches he thought dimly as she launched herself at him again.

She punched him again, knife in hand. He balked as she sliced just above his eye. Blinking away the red flowing freely into his eye, he shook his head to clear the funk, and readied himself for another blow.

He was getting tired of this.

She ran at him again, her knife tucked away in her jacket. He waited for her to get within fingertips touch before reaching out and grabbing her arm. Twisting her arm until the heel of her hand pointed toward the ceiling, he pushed her to the ground, placing his right shoulder in between her shoulder blades to force her against the ground.

She struggled against his grip, sticking her arm out in a vain attempt to free herself. She thrashed wildly, throwing pebbles and whatever else she could grab into his face as he pressed her down further. Her knife clattered against the pavement as she whipped around.

He knew, rationally, that he should stop. Leave an anonymous tip to the police that two idiots were selling drugs in the alleyway. But he didn’t. His blood seemed to hum as he moved. This is what he was made for. Destruction. Pain.

The girl had apparently noticed his hesitation and used her freed hand to grab her knife and punch his side.

Hard.

He hissed, tightening his grip around her as she screeched. Something warm trickled down his side as he stood slowly. He brought his bō over her head, knocking her out effectively and grabbing her companion.

He placed them at the entrance of the alleyway, making sure to keep himself in the shadows. He tapped his wrist tech to send an alert to the police force before slinking back into the darkest corner he could find.

Something was wrong.

Asphalt crunched beneath his back as he sank to the ground. He took shallow breaths, clamping his hand against his side. Blood seeped out faster than he could staunch it. He gritted his teeth as he watched it trickle down his torso.

When had that happened?

His hand shook as he tore it from his stomach to inspect the damage. He was hot. So, so hot. It was the middle of September. Why was he so hot?

He stared at his torso reluctantly. There was a small wound right in the middle of his ribs. The actual stabbing had missed any vital organs thankfully, but it looked like it had been twisted at some point. Probably when she had yanked it out he assumed.

With all his mutations he was relatively protected from particularly life threatening symptoms. He could probably make it home if he tried. Probably.

He clasped a hand over the exposed scales of his side and stood up shakily. His legs screamed in protest as he moved, somehow still stiff from hours of perching on the rooftop. His free hand flew to the wall, supporting his weight as he stood.

His fingers filled with warmth as more thick blood oozed from his side. He ignored the way it slipped from his hand and into the ground, filling his ears with a steady drip. He tapped a message to Sheldon, his vision swirling in and out of focus.

He just needed to get ho-

~

Ooga booga 👹

-writing anon

I’ll send the last part ( the fun stuff) tmmr

I KNEW I READ SOMETHING FROM YOU

ACTION ID HARD MAN I FUCKIN FEEL U MAN AAUUGHHH ARARARASRARARARAR

Part 2

[tiyoin]

Tiyoin, I'm starting to yapping again. So I've been thinking about expanding more on the contest in the twst singer au. Like the outfits, posable songs, duets(?), posable challenge in the contest(?), the magic ✨,etc. Side note posable doesn't seem like a real word

For the outfits Vil would have mostly have control over them. Like he'll ask reader about fabrics she likes or give them a few designs to pick from but that's about it. 🌀 would probably wear simple just elegant outfits. Looking good enough to belong there w/o sticking out.

The fits definitely have a purple/blue base/ she has wears accessories that shows others that 🌀 kinds belongs to Vil/ Rook cuz rook is always here and never ever leaves(I think I have a problem). I like to picture the purple getting darker as reader progresses though out the contest as a way to show development in reader/overall.

Next, part of the outfits are the magic masks. With the masks you would only see the contestants' mouth, chin/jaw area. And the magic just makes it hard for people to figure out who is singing. Obviously with different themes/vibes the outfits and masks change with them.

Now onto the duets. In the voice they have the contestants do duets with each other right? So I was thinking there would be smth similar. Maybe with the judges, someone they picked w/o the mask(Rook) or, with a different judge(Neige?) so there's not like any cheating/favoritism ya know?

Like Rook &🌀 singing everything has changed. There's a line that says green eyes and freckles. Idk if rook canonically has freckles but it's a cute though and maybe they're hard to see 🙈 so he's like "🌀 has been staring at me*kicking feet while giggling*"

I'm going to start yapping about what I've been most excited for. The ✨magic✨. I was thinking that they could be fairies like Tinkerbell orrrr they're just little balls of light that fit in your hand. Like they all have little personalities, emotions, families everything.

Overall just mini friends for 🌀. They have different teams for all the contestants but, none of them ever treat them well or acted like they're just tools and, bcuz of that they never do more than the minimum for the contestants.

I think reader is the type to be nice/polite to everyone till there's a reason not to. A treat people how you want to be treated way and, bcuz of that they really help 🌀 in and out if the contest.

I personally like they being little balls more. It seems sweeter/more comforting/ genuine for them and reader that way. Picture them playing in the woods with reader just having fun 💞💞

But If you like them more Tinkerbell like it can be like a seasonal job for them. Imagine how cute it would be if 🌀 sings a love song and 2 of them start dancing together💘(too young by Sabrina Carpenter?)

For the challenges I was thing maybe a writing on. Like theyre given a word/place/object and have to make a song around it and Vil can only help reader a little bit. Maybe that have a acoustic round were the fairies can't help at all. Or they sing a different language.

Honestly I think the hardest part of this is finding the songs. I can so see 🌀 writing most of their songs based off their dreams/stories they read. Tbh I've been listening to So long London the whole time typing this and, can see 🌀 winning a challenge with it. Cuz the other would write/do really poppy songs and reader comes out with the opposite vibe.

Vil & Rook would be there when reader writes it/perform it for the first time and, they're blown away. Like yea they knew wrote her own songs but they never thought it would be that good.

I'm sorry I know I said songs and it turned out only being one. I just don't know what happy songs to give to reader. 😕 Reader just give "I hate feeling this way but i find comfort in the way I feeling" ya know?

ANYWAYS I hope you get a good night's sleep and I love today's chapter. I honestly thought u were writing about me for a moment that's how badly I was relating to 🌀. Sorry if there any mistake it's another 3-4am ask.

MELLLLLL MELLLLLLLLLLLL

VIL AND ROOK WOULD ABSOLUTELY SUBTLY STAKE A CLAIM ON READER VIA CLOTHES. the clothes they wear are 100% pomefiore inspired threads that they designed and crafted themselves. maybe crewel catches wind of this and it becomes a WHOLE fashion operation that mc does NOT want to be apart of (maybe she does, but doesn't feel like she's worthy enough for any of these nice things/ to be pampered over like this)

if the octotrio somehow finds out about this, I can imagine azul or one of the twins making a comment (if mc wears a lilac color that day) that mc looks 'beautiful in octanvinelle's colors and that it suits her more than those saturated colors she's normally wrapped in..' only for vil to take lilac completely out of her wardrobe OR keep it to a minimal 😭

imagining that the masks that get sent to the participants are normally blank, white mascarade masks, but because they're magic they alter with the theme. and so when new one comes out the mask changes to that theme and the participants can make their outfits around the masks.

WITH THE DUETS I CAN IMAGINE NEIGE SIGNING UP FOR THE CONTEST AND THEM GETTING PAIRED UP, ONLY FOR VIL TO RECOGNIZE HIM AND GET PISSED TF OFF😭

"I heard that aggitating, grading voice-"

'maybe I shouldn't of signed up to be a judge....' well thinks with anger as he watches the two of you practice via mirror. im imaging the duets are something like the duets in 'the voice' where you both sing against each other but also with each other.

but also, for some fun, and for a harder round, maybe you have to pick someone in your life (maybe that fits a theme or category?) to sing with you?

and im so glad savannaclaw rook's card came out because our weird king has freckles!! wohoo!!

rook picking a song that kind of describes mc through the lyrics and every time he gets to a line like that he makes -prolonged eye contact- with mc and it kinda messes them up because WHY ARE YOU STARING AT HER LIKE THAT- SIR- SIR???

MEL YOURE A FUCKING GENIUS

I NEBVER EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT FAIRIES

THEY COULD BE THE WORKERS WHO ARE TASKED BY THE COMPETITION TO HELP THE CONTESTANTS STAY WITHIN THE RULES AND TO MAKE SURE EVERYTHING GOES SMOOTHLY

I was thinking the exact same thing tbh, the fairies are treated horribly by the fame hungry contestants who only see them as 'measly employees' or even 'personal servants' to them via the show. but mc would be a little frightened by their gruff attitude but over time, as mc starts treating the fairies with upmost respect and kindness... they start telling their friends and the other fairies. and yeah, they start to favor mc and subtly and I mean SUBTLY sabotage the other contestants

ofc if beige was a contestant he'd treat hem nice too, but the fairies are kinda annoyed by him being TOO kind. because fairies are sassy, VERY sassy .

maybe to everyone else they're balls of light but to the contestants they're fairies? or maybe they only let you see their true form if they like you or trust you enough!

mc singing a love song and a bunch of 'fire flies' start dancing and twirling around them, only for it to be later released that it was the fairies. MAYBE A FAIRY WAS SCOUTING FOR NEW PARTICIPANTS AND THEY COME ACROSS MC AHHHH (at the end of the song when one is on mc's hand it bites her 😭 later that's her assigned fairy)

maybe after losing horribly one round mc is sad and singing a sad song, but the fairies come around and start playing and singing along until it becomes a happy song and they're all dancing. maybe... the fairy that at fist didn't like mc accidentally leaves the camera rolling and the whole of twisted wonderland actually SEES the fairies dancing and singing and playing with mc.

and there's a secret vote that no one in the history of the show has ever gotten. its called 'the fairies favor,' and its only bestowed to those who got eliminated but the fairies disagree with it and veto the vote. but the viewers have to agree with it?

the challenged are gonna be so weird ngl. like one is a theater challenge and another is writing your own song too. the show likes to make it hard- I mean entertaining so the viewers dont get bored. so you TRULY have to be a jack of all trades for this.

I haven't listened to that but I'll def give it a whirl 😼 I like to think that reader is really expressive through song and can come out with bangers. like I think that she def wins a challenge with 'wildflower, by billie eillish' after something bad happens. or maybe 'Andromeda, by weyes blood'

but the songs that mc uses to express her experiences and emotions make rook and vil develop a soft spot for her, and because they're really the only ones who know about all this, she slowly becomes a member (unofficially) of pomefiore (yes! evil scheming DOES work >:) )

[siriuslychessi]

Spotlight

For the August @jilychallenge

AO3 | FF

“I only have feelings for you because we’ve been acting as a couple on this show that we’ve grown up together on since we were eleven…I think…”

The words on the script made James’ palms sweat, he was not sure if in a good or bad way, he just felt the profuse sweating making the page stick to his skin and he did not like the sensation, the reaction to the words on the page felt foreign to him as he kept reading. 

“And are we sure this is where Gilderoy wants the show to go to?” James asked, hoping his voice was steady. He had had a few awkward moments while his voice was changing as he grew up in the show, but he was over it by now. He didn’t want the uneasiness to show in his voice. 

“Yes, he did a previous revision, but that remains the same, he checked with Albus as well.” Kingsley informed James, as the younger man took a pen from his pocket, clicking it a couple of times out of nerves and habit, before writing his own notes on the margins of the script. 

“Any directions from Dumbledore? Or is he just trying to play it by ear?” James asked, pausing in his notes to look at Shacklebolt. 

Kingsley shrugged, “At the moment he wants to see how it plays out, you two have been playing with these characters for a while now. You know them better than anyone.” he admitted, and James nodded. 

“Thank you,” James said absentmindedly, as Kingsley left to prepare for filming. He was still thinking about the words on the page, and the scene he would have to participate in sooner rather than later.

Being in a show since before your voice changed did a lot to impact a young boy’s life. Instead of school and classmates, you had private lessons and castmates that felt more like family than random people in a place of work. And that also meant that small grudges grew over time, or changed into something else entirely.

At the moment he was uncertain of how the grudges and feelings had evolved as he read the script in his hands.

James had to admit that acting was just about him getting his energy out, a way to express himself, and for his parents to keep him occupied. Or it was like that at the beginning. He never thought that he would make a career out of it, no one at 11 thinks of a job or the responsibility it carries, at least not like adults do. But the more he acted, the more he enjoyed it, and the better he wanted to be. 

He started taking his career more seriously, took acting lessons, asked a lot of questions on direction, and requested feedback from older actors and more experienced people in the industry. It was quite the change from his previous stance of ‘I’ll do it because it’s fun, besides no one would fire the cute main lead’. A change that many have seen as a positive improvement and actually welcome and encourage it. 

Sirius, his best friend in set and life, had found it annoying at first, James and him used to do a lot of shenanigans around set, and he always teased him for his new found work ethic. He had to admit that Sirius put little effort on the craft but was an amazing actor all the same, always brought emotion to the characters he played, however, was more passionate about their band than acting, and was always teasing James about his new purchased books and courses.

James had tried to share his interest with his best mate, and Sirius reluctantly had taken a few of the books with him. The teasing persisted but James could see Sirius’ curiosity spiking at new theories and techniques, even if the other man preferred to write lyrics than study lines.

Sirius was also privy, as was his other close friend Remus, about the difficulty to work with one Lily Evans. She was the co-star of the show, and had it out for James since day one when he tried to do a trick on a skateboard and managed to ruin her big-scene dress. James had never managed to outlive that. 

Their relationship had been odd from the start, Lily had decided that James was the worse person to step in the set, and the fact that they had so many scenes together didn’t help improve her perception, neither did the numerous pranks that James had played on her and her former friend Snape, who used to be part of the cast.

James had learned not to prank people over the years, or at least to be more conscious of the types of pranks that were done. But he believed the damage was done and his and Lily’s relationship was one that would only blossom on screen. 

However, that might be the nerves talking. Lily in reality had grown fond of the boys, especially after Snape left and he was not whispering how annoying the rest of the cast was. She managed to see how witty James was, Sirius' intelligence and knowledge of music and business, and Remus' interesting facts and inherited sweetness. She had grown fond of all of them, and she hoped that they could see that they had outgrown the annoying little children they all used to be. 

Not only because of the work, that was easier to do when everyone got along, but because she wanted to be friends with people she spent the majority of the time with. To have meaningful relationships that would last them more than just a set life. 

If James had bothered to go find Lily, instead of getting anxious about asking Sirius’ some questions regarding the upcoming scene, he would have seen that Lily was almost in the same predicament as him. Pondering on the words written on the pages, and how she felt about it. 

Lily read the whole episode again. According to the notes from the director, her character was nervous, which she wouldn’t even have to act at that point. She had been pacing in her trailer with the pages in hand since receiving them. Her and James’ character had always had a more friendly relationship, sometimes annoying each other, sometimes too close to believe that they were just part of the same friend group, and now, their relationship was going to define what they were. 

Lily was not sure how she felt about how definitive it all felt.

In all the time Lily had been in the show all she thought was making her family proud, her friends outside of the business proud, and to do a good job, because she understood how many little girls would feel related to her character and that felt like a huge responsibility but it made her excited to come to work every day. 

It was hard to go through puberty in a show that had mostly male actors, and where the one she thought was a close friend turned out to be creepy and not at all friendly. She had to deal with a lot, and she was thankful that she had Mary for most of it. But she knew that she had annoyed her best mate when talking about James. 

James had always been a topic for Lily, after all they had a lot of scenes together, but it had fluctuated from annoyance to friendship so much that her feelings were muddled and her thoughts waver from one side of her feelings to the other. She knew that going to Mary in these circumstances was not advisable, as her friend would probably tease again that she had always had a crush on Potter, just as much as the crush she had on Black on and off screen. 

Lily was not ready to deal with all of it. 

The lights on set made the chilly day of March feel toasty. Lily believed that the studio didn’t need the central heating with the hard lights on them. It was a miracle that the makeup stayed put under that heat, and it was the second time under the same lights that she felt like trembling from nerves. 

The first time she was eleven and it was her first big show, she had been wanting to prove herself with the network’s executives. She thought she would butch all her lines, and to be honest she could have given herself more space to mess up and enjoy. She was eleven, a few lines missed or misspoken would not be the end of the world. 

Yet, it felt like the world was ending. 

But then, there was this boy, with messy hair and thick glasses, that made everyone in the set laugh, and was apologetic about missing his queues, or even fidgeting with his hair, when he was not supposed to, it would be a mess for editing the show. 

And she was jealous, and furious that this boy could enjoy as much as he wanted, that he could be so casual when she was a mess. 

With time she learned that the tale that James’ messing with his hair meant he was nervous, and the jokes were half a tale too. He did enjoy making people having a good time, but they could be a distraction from how on edge he was. 

It took Lily a long time to learn these things about James, and the more she knew about him, the more she liked him. 

Which was why she was a mess right before the big scene. 

James grew from the thin little prat, to be a handsome young man. He still made silly jokes, and his hands stopped just as he was about to mess his hair, but his dedication to the job had changed. He was serious about the scenes, he made sure he got notes from the writer and the director; didn’t mind doing retakes when necessary, and was mindful that Lily would be in some of the shoots so he tried his best to stick to script. 

He also remembered the snacks she liked and always brought some to rehearsal, and was sure to warn her of any possible paparazzi on set. He always managed to remember her birthday, and her families’, and was always kind when her sister and her friends gushed to him on set. Something Lily really hated, but seeing him be attentive like that made her stomach twist in weird ways. 

Lily was not alone in her nerves. James was right there with her. 

Lily had been a constant in James’ life, either by scolding him or making him better. He didn’t know exactly when the little annoying girl had transformed into the gorgeous young woman that he had a crush on, but that was where they were at, and now they had a crucial scene together. A scene that was more personal than anything, and he was not sure that he liked that it happened in front of the cameras. 

As James stepped in position he remembered if he properly brushed his teeth, which he had; and he had eaten a mint as well. He tried to not think of how potent, or not, was his deodorant under the heavy set lights, and all in all he tried to be presentable not only for the job but for the scene.

“I guess we are doing this.” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone. 

“We certainly are, Potter.” Lily replied with a smile, that made James’ nerves shake even harder. 

“Everyone ready, we’ll be rolling, so silence in the set!” James heard the voice of Kingsley in the background, but was focused on Lily’s green eyes, and the rose tinted lips that were glossed for the scene and the cameras. 

Lily looked back at him, her lips moving as if to say something. But James mind did not register any of what was being set, his mind focused on her lips and expression. 

“Matt?” he finally heard what Lily had said, it was the name of his character, the one that he had been playing for so long that he almost replied when he heard it. 

“I’m sorry, but what did you mean by that?” He knew what the line was, and Lily and himself had improvised in the past, knowing that stopping the take might delay the production more than just a tiny messed up line. 

“Well, how do you know it is me you fancy? I thought you were dating Nancy.” Lily’s voice carried, and James remembered the plot where their love triangle with Sirius’ character became even more complex. 

“I am not. I’m not dating anyone.” he sounded sincere because in reality he wasn’t, there was no one he wanted to date but his co-star, but he knew she didn’t like him that way. However, just for a moment he could pretend that these were not the characters talking. “There’s no one else, it’s you, Audrey, it’s always been you.” 

For a brief moment James wished that it was Matt, the character, the person saying those words, but himself, to Lily, wonderful and gorgeous Lily. 

That moment passed quickly as her eyes pressured him to move forward, not to stop and continue with the scene. And he did. 

James’ hands moved on their own accord wrapping themselves on Lily’s waist and pulling her closer. He felt her breath on his cheek and her green eyes on him, as if the universe was telling him that his wish of this being a kiss between them was coming true. 

He let his body continue, his nervous thoughts forgotten as his lips touched Lily’s. 

Lily’s arms wrapped around his neck, and her hands moved to his hair, grabbing hold of his nape, keeping him close as her lips reciprocated whatever he was giving.

She tasted like cherry lip gloss and something sweet like vanilla and apple tart. 

He tasted like mint and those dark chocolates he was always snacking during takes.

Lily’s apple shampoo and her flowery perfume mixed with James’ senses, as James’  musky scent made her want to pull him closer and taste more of his lips and feel more of his body. 

They were in their own little world, a perfect kiss, for the perfect culmination of a career, but more so, for better expressing exactly what one felt for the other.

Neither of them wanted it to end. 

Yet they were not alone, and a repetitive “Cut!” could be heard from somewhere near them, pulling them back to earth. 

“Way to go Prongs!” James heard Sirius say. 

The whole set bursted laughing, including the couple. 

One thing was sure, they no longer were only castmates.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

seems like deja vu to me p2

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by anonymous

Please write a sequel for seems like deja vu to me I need to read about them ending up together

masterlist | navigation | p1

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

The next few days at Grimmauld Place were no different—Fred was relentless, always finding new ways to show off or tease Y/N. But now, she found herself noticing more than she had before. His laugh wasn’t just loud and annoying; it was contagious. His constant jokes weren’t a bother—they made her smile when no one was looking. And the way his eyes gleamed whenever he tried to impress her? Well, maybe she liked that more than she let on.

One afternoon, Y/N was in the kitchen, reading quietly, when Fred strolled in, humming to himself. He didn’t notice her at first, but when he did, his face lit up like he’d found exactly what he was looking for.

“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her growing smile. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

Fred leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, a playful smirk on his face. “I’ve been working on a new invention. Thought you might want to be the first to test it out.”

Y/N set her book down, feigning disinterest. “And why would I want to do that?”

Fred’s smirk didn’t falter. “Because, darling, I have a feeling you’ll be impressed. And I know you’ve been dying to admit that you’re impressed by me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the way her lips twitched upwards. “Fred, you’re delusional.”

He took a step closer, lowering his voice in that cheeky, conspiratorial way of his. “Come on, just admit it. I’m starting to think you like me.”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”

Fred’s grin only grew wider, and he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, “You have no idea.”

For the first time, Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “And what if I do?”

Fred blinked, surprised for a moment, before his grin turned into a full-on smile, the mischievous glint in his eyes softening just a bit. “Well then,” he said, voice still teasing, “I guess we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she refused to let him see her falter. “Oh? And what exactly do you suggest?”

Before Fred could respond, someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Both of them whipped around to see Sirius standing there, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face. “Am I interrupting something?”

Y/N’s face flushed instantly, but Fred, of course, just shot Sirius a wink. “Not at all. Just talking about how Y/N here might have a soft spot for me.”

Sirius laughed, shaking his head. “Well, I guess James and Lily really have been reincarnated.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands as Fred chuckled beside her.

The teasing didn’t stop, but over the next few days, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with Fred. He toned down the jokes—just a little—and they started talking more. Really talking. She’d always known Fred was fun and lighthearted, but she hadn’t realized just how much depth he had. Beneath the constant teasing and jokes, there was someone who cared deeply for his family, for his friends—and, it seemed, for her.

One evening, they were alone again in the drawing room, the fire casting a soft glow over the room. Fred was sprawled out on the couch, and Y/N was sitting on the armchair, pretending to read.

“Hey,” Fred said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Y/N looked up from her book. “Hmm?”

Fred sat up, his usual grin replaced with something a little more serious. “I wasn’t joking, you know.”

She frowned, confused. “About what?”

“About liking you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and for once, she didn’t have a witty comeback ready. She just stared at him, trying to process the fact that Fred Weasley—Fred, the biggest goofball she knew—was being completely serious.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little nervous for the first time since she’d met him. “I just… I know I’m a bit much sometimes. But I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I just thought… well, maybe you feel the same.”

Y/N closed her book, standing up and walking over to the couch. She sat down beside him, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re not too much, Fred.”

Fred’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Really?”

She nodded, feeling a little shy herself now. “Yeah. And… I might like you too.”

Fred’s grin returned in full force, and before she could say another word, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “You know,” he said, his voice teasing again, “I always knew I’d win you over.”

Y/N laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

Fred chuckled, pressing a light kiss to her temple. “But you love it.”

She sighed, but she was smiling as she snuggled closer to him. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

And for the first time, Fred didn’t need to say anything. They just sat there, wrapped up in each other, with the fire crackling softly beside them.

Maybe Remus and Sirius had been right all along.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Finished watching “Alien Romulus”. I’ll work on a full length review later but my immediate thoughts are:

1) Fede Alvarez should make a Resident Evil movie, the same way Ari Aster needs to make a Silent Hill movie.

2) It’s the 3rd best Alien movie I’ve seen. Aliens 1986 is still king, followed by Alien 1979.

3) While I respect the effort…it felt like a reskinned, updated version of the first movie. The two complainers, the captain, the synthetic, the person who cries all the time, the Ripley. It’s like how Evil Dead 2013 felt like a reskinned, updated version of the 1st Evil Dead (also another Fede Alvarez effort).

4) I feel like they tried so hard to make Cailee Spaeny’s character the new Ripley, but forgot the part that Ellen Ripley was a 3-dimensional character who could be both fun and serious. Cailee did fine, but her character’s writing felt pretty flat and dull. She was the least interesting character in the cast, especially since everyone else got more distinct personalities.

5) Andy was the true protagonist. He actually had an arc and he had the most interesting character development. And honestly, I think Fede Alvarez recognized that Andy would be more liked than Rain. He gave Andy the big hero moment, as well as Ellen Ripley’s, “Get away from her you bitch!” line. Andy, the MVP of the movie.

Overall…solid 7/10. It’s nice to actually enjoy an Alien movie, especially considering the state of the franchise.

[cynthiav06]

With Percy, we know that he hates going to school and his goals don’t really line up with Annabeth’s, but Annabeth is kind of forcing him to do it with her because he can’t say no to her. Say Rick didn’t make Annabeth Percy’s entire personality, what do you think he would’ve done in the mortal world rather than go to university?

I was checking my drafts cause I am trying to catch up on all the asks in my inbox ( as I said in one of my earlier posts I was in middle of a medical situation so I have at least a month of backlog) and found this draft.

The funny thing is I had already written most of the post in the draft version, and this ask wasn't even being displayed in my inbox, so I was very confused as to when it was from.

But it's such a good prompt and a sort of controversial question in the fandom, so I wanted to post it asap.

Percy doesn't like studies, but he knows the importance of it, so I am sure he will finish his initial college, probably either in the science or arts section. We know at one point he got better grades than Annabeth at one point so he certainly isn't quitting studies and doing way better than what people expect. He also wouldn't like just staying at home and doing nothing (I am looking at certain Percabeth stans here), so he definitely would be doing one job or another.

1.

I don't think he would study marine biology like most believe. After a conversation I had with someone who had taken the course, I am convinced Percy wouldn't like it. It's heavily based on chemistry, and we know how much Percy is affected by sea creatures being mistreated or caged, so having to study marine biology wouldn't really be something he would choose.

2.

An interesting twist would be if he chose to be a writer like his mother.

We all know that Percy writes or at least dictates and narrates the first five books, which are written and narrated entirely from his perspective. Moreover, there are books on Percy just narrating his own sarcastic takes on Greek gods and Greek heroes. What if he did actually catalogue his own adventures in those books as a sort of manual for other demigods on how to deal with certain monsters and gods and such.

Through Percy's thoughts, even as 12 years old, we can certainly say he has advanced vocabulary despite being dyslexic and given how much he admires Sally, why wouldn't he be interested in following her footsteps. Sure, he has trouble reading, but that's not to say he wouldn't love expressing his thoughts through humorous retelling of his own adventures which he can pass as fiction to normal readers but actual experiences in demigod world. Who doesn't want to know the exploits of Percy Jackson?

Plus, it's a good money hack. And don't for a second tell me he wouldn't. Sally petrified Gabe, and then they sold his statute to a museum as a sculpture and earned money off of that. So Sally would definitely encourage it, and Percy would even follow through on it just for shits and giggles and the added benefit of helping demigods and earning money.

[I literally want this to happen just for the Godly reactions. I am all for god slander, especially Zeus slander. Poseidon would be half laughing at the book and half worried cause of the sheer catastrophes his son seems to fall into almost on a daily basis.

Apollo would be having a grand time, and Hermes will be half depressed and half impressed throughout. Overall, it would be hilarious all around, and it might finally make the gods feel a bit more accountable . It's literally the Reading Percy Jackson Series trope, and that's always fun.]

3.

One other option is that Percy will get into environmental preservation, specifically the protection of Rivers and Seas from pollution by actively involving himself and others in its cleanliness and purification. He would also run Beach cleanliness programs.

I think he and Grover would become environmental activists and would definitely get into preserving forest areas and other places where nature spirits dwell frequently. I can see them doing it a lot, long-term wise, too.

4.

I think he would kind of like marine explorations, but that might cause his powers to be somewhat exposed, so he might not do that, but it's a possibility.

That's all I can think of. I would like to hear everyone else's opinions on this.

[traffic-was-a-b1tch]

wrapped around your finger

(jake kiszka x reader) 18+

author’s note: I RECOMMEND NOT READING THE SUMMARY BEFORE READING THIS FIC! if you want to have the full effect of the story, don’t spoil it for yourself! now for those of you who don’t know, along with gvf, I am a huge 5 seconds of summer fan. I wrote this fic based on one of their unreleased songs (my favorite of all time), wrapped around your finger. I recommend reading the fic first and then listening to the song on youtube after. I loveddd the experience of writing this fic because I got to live out the events of the song through my own character and I think that’s always fun! anyway, enjoy the story!

summary: jake takes you out for a night you’ll never forget. but when the morning comes, will he still be the man you thought he was?

warnings: SMUT!, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT UP!), oral (f rec), loss of v card (unknowingly), cursing, theft, angst, arguing, misogyny, underage drinking (I do not condone)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the clock read 6:37 pm and you were just coming back up to your room after mom’s chicken and rice dinner.

you had to kick a few boxes of pictures to the side on your way up the stairs. the new house was pretty but still unfamiliar. it had only been 4 months since your parents uprooted you from everything you knew and moved the family to california for your dad’s new job. the transition was tough at the beginning, but now was just boring. you had nothing to do. ever.

you plopped down on the edge of your bed that wasn’t covered in papers. you had decided to leave all your homework piled there, too lazy and overwhelmed to continue anymore. if mrs. turner thought that you were gonna finish her set of 50 algebraic expressions by monday, she was on crack. it was friday, damn it. why was everyone being so freaking difficult lately? couldn’t you catch a break? you eyed the pictures displayed on your wall, the contrast and vibrancy made you break into a small smile. you wished you were out taking pictures. you hadn’t got a chance yet, to capture your new city on film. it was calling to you…but so was your notebook and pen. you glared at them, frustrated. you needed something other to do than homework right now, but still you reluctantly grabbed them, starting on the next problem.

you don’t even know how much time had passed while you were scribbling math before you heard the tiny click. perking your ears up, you looked around to see what made the noise. you scanned around you. nothing in your room was out of the ordinary. the closet door was open as well, letting you see clearly that nothing was hiding in it. you suspiciously looked around one more time before going back to your equation.

so, if x equals the equivalent of 172 radical 4…

another click.

you recognized the direction the sound was coming from then, head focusing in on the window near your bed. you waited, wanting to see what was going on. after a few seconds, a pebble came flying up and smacked into the glass.

you got up and walked over to the window, peeking out to see if you could catch a glimpse of the person, at least you hoped it was a person, down below. a shadowed body was barely visible, the face too dark to tell any features.

damn it. you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do this. you were barely dressed in pjs, definitely not for unknown guests, and you had no makeup on.

slowly, you unlocked the window and pulled up, sticking your head out. just then, a rock came hurling up at you fast. you gasped and ducked, the solid circle traveling through the air and into your room. luckily for you, it landed on the carpeted floor so it didn’t make much noise. the last thing you needed was your parents to know someone was outside trying to get your attention this late in the evening.

you hesitantly peeked your head back out, seeing a pair of empty hands waving.

“hey! sorry!” a man’s voice called up, too loud when considering your parents’ keen ears.

“shhh”, you whisper-yelled back, “who’s down there?”

“it’s jake, from english”, he lowered his voice a little, “sorry for being so loud, I just wanted to see what you were doing tonight.”

you were a bit shocked and wondered if you had heard correctly. he wanted to see what you were doing tonight? what did that mean? I mean, you and jake weren’t particularly friends. sure, you saw him in class or the halls and he joked about teachers with you, but you wouldn’t say you two were friends. you definitely weren’t on the “show up at my door after dinner and throw rocks at my window, why don’t you” level. so, you had no clue why he would be here. you knew you didn’t have friends yet, but a childish thought popped in your brain. what if he liked you? no, that’s stupid. you hadn’t ever had much action back home anyway, so to think he liked you already when you had just gotten here was a delusion. but still, the question stood. why was he here?

“well, I was working on mrs. turner’s packet. I’m probably going to try to finish it tonight”, you hesitated, “why? what are you doing here?”

he finally came into view, stepping underneath the light shining from your bedroom. you took him in and became almost speechless. he was clad in dark denim jeans and a cream long-sleeve shirt halfway tucked in, buttoned only up to his nipples, where they would be anyway (you weren’t thinking about his nipples, definitely not), and completed with a ball cap. you had never really saw him like this before, relaxed and rugged. maybe it was just the soft yellow lights from your room that made him look this handsome. definitely the lights.

“well I, uh, was in the area”, he began, “you know, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”

what? the hell? you couldn’t help but think that jake being outside your window asking you to hang out was just a cruel joke. or maybe, just maybe, it was fate? what if him being here was for a reason? what if this random hang out with a new classmate would be the best thing for you? the thought ate at your logic-loving brain. you had to tell yourself to shut up.

“um”, you thought for a second, “I’m not exactly dressed to go anywhere.” you laughed a bit awkwardly, looking at your pink rainbow pajama set.

“come on”, he urged, opening his arms out wide, “live a little.”

his words hit you. you hadn’t really had a social life lately, having no real time to get friends or join extracurriculars. you almost gasped when you realized.

you were lame.

sure, you never were the life of the party, even back home. but you wanted to be. you wanted to be the girl that people envied. with this move, you could make cooler decisions and nobody would know better.

“you know what, fine. where are we going?”

he broke out into a grin, “it’s a surprise.”

a twinge of doubt and fear hit your brain but you shook it away. maybe he was right. you needed to live a little.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you changed quickly into a pair of jean shorts and a white t-shirt. grabbing your phone, you sneaked down the stairs, past your parents’ room, and out the door.

you met him in the backyard, his back leaned up against the side of your white house. he seemed a bit taller than you remembered, towering over you.

he smirked, “you ready?”

smiling slyly back, you replied with a nod.

he cocked his head to the side, pointing to the direction you two were going to walk. you followed him, still a bit nervous but powering through. you hated the idea of not being cool enough to do fun, spontaneous things like this. he led you to the road and you started making the trek to wherever you were going.

“soooo”, he put his hands in his pockets, “where did you move from?”

“georgia.”

“ahhh, southern girl huh?”

you laughed, “yeah I guess. not too obvious?”

“nah. I would’ve guessed east coast, but now that I look at you”, he took in your appearance up and down, “you have that southern belle kinda look.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile, “oh really? what about me says southern belle?”

he shrugged, “you look sweet.”

you shut up at that. you weren’t sure why a small compliment from him would shake you up so much, but you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to him.

he chuckled, “what? I can’t say that? ok.” he shook his head with amusement, “you have any plans coming up?”

you shook your head almost immediately and laughed, “I don’t do much.”

he smiled and laughed with you, “well, there’s a party tomorrow night at jenny stewart’s house. I heard it was gonna be fun so i’ll probably go. you should come, it’s at 9.”

you fought the urge to raise your eyebrows in surprise at him. was he really flirting? instead you just nodded and said “maybe.”

he smirked and changed the subject, “so how are you liking santa cruz?”

you reflected on the time you’ve spent here and became underwhelmed. “well, the people are nice”, you slightly tilted your head towards jake, making him smile. “and…I don’t know. I haven’t made many friends yet and kinda get caught up in school, I guess. I haven’t had a chance to really experience everything here.”

“mmm. well, then I guess it was a good thing that you have me tonight.”

he stopped at a crosswalk and grabbed your shoulders. it caught you by surprise, and you tried not to shiver at his touch. “I have a question for you.”

“yes?” you answered a bit too quickly.

jake looked down before making eye contact, “can I have you tonight?” you immediately raised your eyebrows in confusion, and he continued, shaking his head. “can I have your time? show you what is great about this place?”

a small smile tugged at your mouth from his thoughtfulness and you nodded.

“yeah?” his eyes looked hopeful and sweet as he became excited, nearly jumping for joy. he settled a bit before saying, “ok, first things first:”, his eyebrows jumped, “race ya.”

he took off down the crosswalk, the sign still illuminated with a red hand. he was fearless, dodging two cars to make it to the other side. before you could talk yourself out of it, you chased him, nearly screaming when a car honked his horn at you loudly. when you caught up, you pushed him playfully and he laughed heartily. the rest of the walk was about 10 minutes, silence non-existent. he’d managed to get you to open up. you talked about your life in georgia, your old friends, your school. he filled you in on what happened in santa cruz before you. the conversation was easy and fun, flowing freely.

he led you to a mcdonald’s, the golden arches shining above you. this was a bit surprising, as you didn’t exactly picture a mcdonald’s being a particularly important part of santa cruz.

“follow my lead”, he smirked as he pulled the door and went inside.

there were a few employees inside mopping and a couple in the kitchen. jake swaggered up to the register and dinged the bell on the counter in front of him. one of the employees in the kitchen walked over and mindlessly asked what he would like to order.

“two big macs please”, jake said a little too confident, “and two drinks.”

the worker handed you two the cups and left to get the burgers.

“hey”, he whispered in your ear, “get me a coke, will ya? i’m gonna initiate phase 2.”

you looked at him questioning, but he waved you off and you listened. you went to the fountain, filled your cups with soda, and when you turned back around you saw what jake was up to. he was slinking to the part of the store that an employee had just mopped and, because there was no wet floor sign, turned back to you and winked. with one move he flung his head back and pulled his feet up, falling on his back, hard. you put your arm over your mouth to cover your shocked mouth. you started to giggle a bit at what just happened and jake, groaning, jerked his head at you to come over. you got the hint and gasped before setting the drinks down and rushing over to him.

“oh my gosh! are you ok?” you rubbed his arm as he twisted and turned in mock pain.

“oh no! no, no, no! I am not ok! who would have known that they were mopping there? there was no sign! oh, my back! having no sign for a slippery floor is so dangerous for your customers!”

you nodded and then shook your head, “so dangerous!”

by this time, all the employees had stopped to see this and the manager had come out to see what was going on.

the manager rubbed his bald head as he took in the scene and asked, “are you ok, sir?”

“no”, jake answered, “i’m not ok! I got hurt because of your negligence! i’m gonna sue!” jake crossed his arms and you followed, trying to seem genuinely mad.

“well, don’t do that!”, the manager bent to help jake up as he chuckled uncomfortably. “we can offer you coupons or free food or-“

jake, standing with a stuck up look on his face, cut him off, “I would imagine that my meal today is free!” he thought for a second. “in fact, I would like additional food to help with”, he fought back giggles, “my healing.”

“of course, of course”, the manager snapped his fingers at the employees. “whatever you need, sir!”

you two proceeded to order just about everything on the menu.

“…and two mcflurry’s”, you added at the end. out of the corner of your eye you saw jake smile at you, full of an emotion but you weren’t sure which it was.

only a few minutes later, all your food was in bags and you were walking out the door with too much to carry and zero money lost. as soon as you two were out the door and around the corner, you started laughing hysterically.

“when you- I didn’t know that you would- that was-“, you laughed.

he did too, smiling at you and then doing something unexpected: he put his arm around you. you tried not to let it phase you, clutching the food a bit tighter, but you loved the weight of his arm around your shoulder.

“you know, i’m surprised that you got into it as much as you did. you don’t seem like a troublemaker.”

you rolled your eyes, “well, i’ve never done that before, that’s for sure. but, I don’t mind a bit of trouble.”

he smirked at you, impressed, “good. we’re gonna get in way more trouble tonight, just wait.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you eventually turned a few corners and reached a big chain link fence. you couldn’t see what was beyond it very well, as there were quite a few buildings blocking your view.

he grabbed the bottom corner of the chain, which had been cut, and pulled it back. he looked back at you with a grin, “you ready?”

you couldn’t really believe you were about to follow a cute boy you didn’t know, who you talked to about your past and robbed a mcdonald’s with, through a cut fence to a unknown place.

you laughed a bit through your words at the absurdity of the situation, “yeah, I am.”

he offered his hand, his eyes hopeful. it occurred to you then that you were definitely going to take his hand. you couldn’t stop the night, too far in to quit now. even if you could, there was no part of you that would decline. you were his for the night.

you accepted his hand and he smiled. he bent down, squeezing himself through before helping you, the sharp edges around you catching on your clothes. you ease out and grab the food that you left on the other side. once you were all together, he stopped you before you could move.

“ok, do you know where we are?”

you looked around yourself breifly before answering, “nope.”

“good. i’m gonna go do something really quick and I need you to stay here.”

you nodded, a little sad he was leaving you.

“promise?” his eyes searched your face for sincerity.

“I promise.” you smiled and fought the urge to tell him that you wanted to promise your life to him. you kept all your thoughts inside as he grabbed the food and raced away through the alley of the building.

you shook at your thoughts, “ugh! stop it! you don’t know this guy! you need to stop before you embarrass yourself.” you took a deep breath, closing your eyes to center yourself. opening them back up, you saw jake coming back through the alley. his sleeves were rolled up and his ball cap had turned around, now facing backwards as he jogged up to meet you. you nearly passed out. what was it you said about not embarrassing yourself…

“you ready?” he pulled you out of your trance and you had to remember to answer.

nodding, you watched his body get behind you and place his strong hands over your eyes.

“ok, we’re gonna walk forward, but go slow.” his voice was right on your ear, low and raspy. you could barely concentrate, but you put one foot in front of the other and walked.

he led you through the alley, and from there you had no idea where you were. you relied on him to guide you, leaning back on him a bit. you almost tripped over a rock of some kind, letting out a funny scream-like noise. he chuckled in your ear behind you, making you almost shiver at his voice. god, this was getting hard.

“and… stop.”

finally, he pulled you back and stopped walking. he kept his hands over you eyes as he talked.

“before I show you, what do you hear?”

you listened closely.

“wind.”

“good”, he praised and you tried not to smile. “what do you smell?”

you sniffed the air, slowly.

“um”, you giggled at your answer, “fishy air?”

he laughed deeply in your ear, “good. now, what can you taste?”

you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out a little.

“hmmm, salt?”

“very good. now, are you ready to see?”

“for goodness sake, jake, we’ve been walking forever and I played your games, I think i’m ready-“ you tugged his hands off your eyes and lost all your words as you took in where you were.

the beach was beautiful under the moonlight, lighting up the waves as they crashed and sprayed. the water met the sand in a beautiful blue-tinted dark spot, and a few feet in front of it lied a blanket and our mcdonald’s bags. it was a picnic on the beach under the moon. you wanted someone to pinch you.

“jake- I-“, you couldn’t find the words if you tried.

“do you like it?”, his voice hopeful while his fingers grazed your arms lightly, his presence ever comforting behind you.

you looked back at him, “I love it.”

he grinned and grabbed your hand, leading you to the picnic.

“where did you find a blanket here?”

he smiled fondly, as if at memories you had brought up with your question. “my family used to come here all the time, so I always loved it. now that, you know, i’m grown and we don’t go out much, I come by myself. I keep a blanket in one of those lockers over there, just in case.” he pointed to a wall of lockers for people to stow their belongings while at the beach.

“and what about…“, you answered your own question by turning around and seeing what the buildings blocking your view of the beach were. “suites and private beach houses? wow, people have money.”

he laughed and helped you sit down on the blanket, fingers accidentally brushing your lower back. you locked eyes at the touch, dangerously fast, and you looked away before anyone could say anything. if you would’ve stared into his eyes for just a second longer, who knows would’ve happened.

finally, you both sat and got comfortable on the blanket over the squishy sand. he frowned, sighed, and shook his head.

your eyebrows furrowed at his actions, “what?”

he sighed again and made eye contact, “i’m just-“. he contemplated his words, looking up into the sky and then dropping his head to the sand before looking back at you. “i’m just really…”, his eyes danced around your face as he leant in, almost unaware he was doing so. it seemed like he was being pulled towards you, and you back to him. you followed his lead and leant in a little. he licked his lips, smiled sheepishly, and pulled away. “i’m just really hungry.”

you both nodded fast and you tried to shake the memory from your head. giving him a sweet smile, you grabbed a big mac out of the bag.

you two ate and talked for a good hour. half of the humongous bags were empty and there was nothing but happiness radiating from your spot on the beach. he had found himself on his elbows laying back, and you on one elbow looking down at him. he was so fucking charming. and it was going to be the death of you. you laughed at his horrible jokes and he smiled up at you, putting a fry between his teeth. you tried your best not to stutter or lose your train of thought, but it was so hard with him. he was just- perfect. and that was a dangerous thought.

“so”, you began after catching your breath from the joke, “what do you want to do? in life, I mean.”

he thought for a second, his head moving side to side. “realistically? or my dream?”

you smiled, “your dream.”

he grinned back, “musician.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing, “is that why I always see you playing that sg?”

his brows furrowed as a questioning look donned his face. “you see me play? when?”

your face blushed a bit, realizing how creepy the next sentence was going to sound. “after lunch. my next class is- well- when I leave- I pass the music hall on the way to my health class.”

he smiled at your embarrassment. “and you spy on me?”

“no! no, of course not! I just- see you through the window,” you backtracked, “like because it’s really big and I just catch a glimpse. I don’t watch you or anything-“

he threw his head back and laughed. you grunt in frustration, nothing you say making the situation sound less weird.

“it’s ok, it’s ok”, he fought to stop laughing, “I know you weren’t being creepy.” then, he raised an eyebrow at you. “wait, how did you know it was an sg?”

you shook your head, “my dad is a collector. it’s dumb but he always made me go with him to look in the vintage shops.”

jake smirked, “impressive.”

you shrugged, “I don’t know about that.”

he eyed you, “what about you? what’s your dream?”

you felt yourself get bubbly just thinking about it, a smile creeping on your lips. “a photographer.”

his eyes got bright, “pictures, huh? take one of me right now!” he stood, kicking up a bit of sand as he did, and struck a pirate-like pose.

you laughed and grabbed your phone, lining up the lighting and snapping a few shots.

he sat back down and urged you to show him, laughing at the situation. when you did, the joking left his face and was replaced by an expression of amazement and confusion.

“fuck, these are actually really good.” he looked up at you, “how did you get the shadows and highlights with just a phone camera?”

you shrugged, “i’m always just taking the picture by feeling. I get inspired and then it always just leads me to the perfect shot.”

he shook his head, still surprised at the quality, “this is perfect, don’t you realize? you could take pictures at my concerts!”

you laughed and nodded, “sure, jake.”

“i’m serious! you said you need inspiration and my music, especially the guitar solos, will definitely inspire you.” he tilted his head back and added, “plus I look super sexy when I play.”

you wanted to laugh, to play it off, but you didn’t want to admit how much that image was affecting you. you just decided to roll your eyes and shake your head, pushing the thought away.

“promise! say that you’ll be my personal photographer!” his enthusiasm was hard to turn down.

giggling, you agreed, “fine. but no nudes.”

he busted out laughing and shoved you.

after the laughs subsided, there was silence for the first time in the night, both of you too caught up in the eyes of the other. the tension was dangerous, waiting to erupt. still, there was a question still eating at you.

“jake?”

“yeah?”

“why this tonight? why me and the beach? why are you doing this?”

jake studied you, eyes drifting up and down your body. he motioned for you to come closer, his breath tickling your ear, “why not?”

you slowly turned your face to his, not backing up. you were eye to eye, foreheads almost touching and lips just inches from each other.

you broke the trance by placing a finger on his lips and pushing him backward. “race ya”, you challenged and took off towards the beach.

you heard him laugh from behind you, getting closer. you were about ankle deep in the water when he grabbed you around your stomach from behind, lifting you up and spinning you. water splashed up on both of you, drenching your clothes. giggles plagued both of you as he spun and then set you down.

you turned and saw his face…and you don’t think you’ve ever been the same since.

he was smiling, big. his hat had flown off in the run, the wind blowing his shirt open. his hair was flowing messily and his skin almost glowing in the moonlight. he was perfect. so amazing that you couldn’t find words to describe it. you hoped right then and there that this would last forever. you weren’t sure you’d ever get him out of your brain.

it was then you realized that your shirt had been soaked by the ocean, the white cloth sticking to the curves of your torso and becoming see-through. you looked down to see your light gray bra showing through, and looked back up to see jake’s smile gone. it was replaced with a look of deep desire. his mouth slightly parted, his eyes locked on your wet body. you stared at each other for a minute, your salty hair whipping at your face.

he came close, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, his hand resting on the side of your face. he leaned closer and nudged your noses, almost asking permission.

“jake…”, you trailed, begging him to keep going.

he came in so close that your lips were grazing each other, pausing just a second before closing the painful gap. he kissed you softly, and you sighed into it.

you knew then.

it didn’t matter anymore.

it doesn’t matter what else happens or doesn’t happen tonight.

you were his.

the connection was complete.

after a few seconds of sweetness, you kiss him harder. his hands find your waist, pulling you into his body. your hands hold his face on yours, slightly in his hair. he continues to kiss you deeply, hands roaming to your ass and then your legs, picking them up so he could carry you back to the blanket.

he made haste, nearly tripping from the sand on the way, making you squeal. he laid you down on the blanket gently, you legs wrapping around his waist naturally. you both giggled at the position you had found yourselves in, feeling the excitement and adrenaline. you could feel his hands shaking as they trailed up and down your sides. the kisses grew hungrier, both of you getting impatient. he disconnected your lips and sat back, panting. you watched from your laid position as he unbuttoned whatever was left of his shirt and shouldered it off. then he bent back down and lifted the edge of the shirt sticking to your stomach, pulling it up and over your head. your bra was removed shortly after, being tossed to the side. your chest laid bare in front of him, his breathing shook as he whispered under his breath, “you’re fucking gorgeous.” with that, he kissed you hard again, hands slowly cupping your breasts. you moaned softly in his mouth and it was obviously too much for him to handle, as he immediately fumbled for your jean shorts’ button. he undid them and tugged them off fast, throwing them to the side. he groaned as he took you in, only clad in your underwear. it was a white thong decorated with cherries and jake laughed when he saw it.

“cherries?” he smirked as he began to kiss his way down your chest, licking your nipple. you gasped and moaned as he continued down your stomach and reached the top of the thong.

he smirked and looked up at you. god, what a sight that was. his hair messed, his eyes dark and mischievous. he looked up at you like you were something to eat. and god, you hoped he had an appetite. “I wonder if you taste like cherries, too?”

you were speechless as his fingers hooked into them, inching them down and tossing them over his shoulder. automatically, your legs came together at the brisk air on your private parts.

“ah, come on baby”, he shook his head, “let me see her.”

he made eye contact with you and bit his lip as he placed each of his hands on your knees, prying them apart slowly. his eyes flicked down to your center and he took a throaty breath before he dipped his head down between your legs. hooking his arms around your thighs, he looked at you before lowering his face down and licking a long stripe up your core.

you moaned and threw your head back as he licked and sucked, already feeling like it was too good.

“fuck, you do taste like cherries”, he smirked, licking his lips, before diving back in. he teased you, going fast and then slow.

“jake, please”, you begged.

“what baby? use your words, honey.”

he stopped teasing and made out with you, only taking breaths to kiss your inner thigh. you squirmed and whimpered, his grip just getting tighter. your hands tangled in his hair and pulled, causing him to grunt and flick his tongue over you faster.

“jake- too much. I can’t-“, you pleaded.

“you can. you will.” he said it as a promise, like he had already made up his mind about it.

jake went faster, harder. he was making true on that promise. you felt your muscles tighten and your mouth fell open. you screamed as the orgasm hit you. he continued for just a minute more, working you through the rest of it, until you started to run from the overstimulation. he pulled back and admired the mess you made.

“fuck, cherry”, he panted, smiled, and came up to kiss you. “I almost couldn’t stop.”

you moaned as he kissed you, beginning to feel something hard and hot on your thigh. you gasped breathlessly, his bulge evidently turning you on. you reached down and touched him through his jeans. you didn’t even use much pressure and he was already groaning. too worked up for his own good, he tugged down his pants, and you couldn’t help but run your hands across his toned chest. as he removed his underwear, you sucked a small hickey into his neck as a little memento to remember your first time together. you were certain that this wouldn’t be the last.

jake finally got fully naked, lining himself up with you. your eyes met and he slowly started to push into you. he sighed in relief, like he was returning to his home inside your body. the stretch was painful at first, as he wasn’t small by any means, but when he started to move the pain went away. it felt so good. too good.

“fuck, baby. you’re gonna be the death of me.” he moved slowly, all the way in and almost all the way out.

the sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the pleasure taking over your brain and making you a mindless zombie.

“jake, oh my-“, you couldn’t even finish, cut off by a powerful thrust that hit a spot in you that you didn’t know existed.

“I know, baby. give it to me.”

the rhythm got faster, fueled by the pleasure radiating from both of you. soon, he was fucking you hard. the sound of slapping skin and moans mixed with the background noise of waves crashing against the sand was intoxicating.

“oh fuck, baby. are you close?” he was falling apart, evident by the squeak in his voice.

“yes! fuck, jake!” you could barely get the words out, too caught up in the feeling. the warm buildup started in your belly and you knew it wouldn’t be long. his grunts became faster and louder as he pummeled into you as hard as he could. he looked you in the eyes and moaned your name loudly, like he didn’t care who heard him.

“jake…”, you groaned, feeling the buildup get to the edge.

“oh, fuck. me too. show me, baby. show me how good you feel. cum for me.” he groaned at the thought of you falling apart on him.

you did as he said. moments later, you felt like you were engulfed by a wave of pleasure so intense you shook. you never broke eye contact as you moaned his name and squeezed his dick like a vice.

“fuck-“, he came with a groan. he shuddered and panted as he painted your walls. his eyes drifted away and he hung his head in the crook of your neck.

still inside you, he whispered in your ear, “you’re so amazing.”

you felt a smile creep on your face as you scoffed lovingly. he brought himself back up to look at you, brushing a piece of your hair away from your face. the smiles on both your faces were sweet and sappy, taking in the warmth.

you wished that this moment would never end. this right here? this was heaven. in jake’s arms, on the beach, orgasm haze washing over you both. it was all you’d ever want, you were sure of it. all you’d ever want is him.

he pulled out, hissing at the feeling, and tearing you away from your thoughts. “so, let’s get you cleaned up then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

he used a napkin from the food bag to clean you off and then you both got dressed. pulling on your shirt, you saw jake glance at his phone.

“oh shit. it’s 12:06 in the morning. I gotta get home.”

“oh”, you tried to hide your disappointment, “that’s ok. I probably should too.” you smiled, walking over and pulling him into a hug, and he smiled back.

the walk back to your house took almost 30 minutes but you welcomed the time, dreading the moment he’d have to leave. you talked the whole way back, laughing about the night and things that happened at school lately. you held hands, swinging them like elementary schoolers with their first boyfriend.

you reached your house and turned to face him, sad. “I don’t want you to go.”

a small, empathetic smile tugged at his lips as he pushed you back towards your home. “go. you don’t want your parents to wake up and find you gone, now do you?”

you looked him in his dark brown eyes and wished you could tell him that all you wanted was a hug from him. all you want is a life with him. he became all you wanted within a few hours, sweeping you off your feet instantly. you needed him.

but all you could manage to say was, “ok.”

you kissed him one more time, softly. he smiled and kissed your back, his hand coming around to grab your ass. you squealed and pushed him away.

“stop it! my parents are like a foot away.”

he laughed, “fine. i’ll see you around.”

and with that, he turned and walked away. you figured you should do the same too, backing up slowly. you got to your front door and turned back to look at him. you hoped to see him looking back at you, but he was gone. frowning, you slipped inside. quietly, you made it to your bedroom and sat on your bed.

holy fuck. what just happened? this was the greatest night of your life.

you tore off your still-wet clothes and grabbed a towel before running to the bathroom to shower. the warm water ran down your body, washing away the sand and salt. you could still feel his hands on you, and you smiled at the reminder. when you were done washing your face, you went back to your bedroom.

you gasped when you stepped on something unexpected, but then smiled when you realized what it was. it was the rock from earlier tonight; the one jake threw. you smiled and picked it up, putting it on your dresser next to your favorite pictures. it was now going to be displayed with your favorite things. when you laid down, the comfortable bed swallowed you up as you thought about the night. about him. about jake.

you smiled and yawned, the happy memories and warm sheets lulling you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you woke up the next day sore. you sat up and stretched, but your mind started to wander and soon you remembered the fun of last night. it filled your heart with happiness and all you wanted to do was see him again. but, in the haze of the night, you never exchanged numbers.

that’s when it occurred to you. jenny stewart’s party. he said it would be tonight at 9 and he’d probably be there. you almost patted yourself on the back for remembering. you looked over to your clock and almost screamed when you saw that it was noon. you slept late. too late. it was time to start preparing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you had jumped in the shower again, and this time it was an everything shower.

you washed and conditioned your hair thoroughly, did full skincare, exfoliated, and shaved everything. like everything, everything. when you got out, you wiped your hand on the foggy mirror and brushed your teeth to finish the routine.

you ran to your room and started picking out something to wear. you started by grabbing a lacy, black matching set. last night you weren’t prepared, but tonight you would be. you put them on, the black bra pushing your tits up perfectly. the lacy panties left nothing to the imagination, but that was the point. next, you turned to your closet to find a dress. this would probably take a while.

it took a good minute of searching before you found what you were looking for. it was a black dress covered with cherries. how perfect. you thought about how he’d love the subtle callback to last night’s events and giggled. you put everything on and smiled at how you looked. he was gonna love it.

next was makeup. you did a subtle look, swiping a bit of sparkle on your eye and blush on your cheek. the mascara you used made your eyelashes 10x longer and you batted them at yourself in the mirror. you added a bit of sparkly gloss as a finishing touch. you felt like a little girl, giddy to see your crush.

by the time you were finished with everything and put on comfortable shoes, it was time to go. you said bye to your parents, saying you were going to a study group with friends. you tried not to feel upset when they raised their eyebrows at you having friends, and just ran out the door.

the walk there would only be a few minutes because jenny lived in the neighborhood next to yours. you checked your phone and saw that you were gonna be a few minutes late, but that was ok.

as you walked up to her house, you saw that the party was in full swing. there were people in the yard and on her wrap-around porch, already tipsy and talking. you excused yourself by them and made your way up the steps and to the door. the music bumped inside the house, rap being played out of a speaker. you walked into her house and saw you were in the kitchen. jenny’s house was big and very nice, but it was a mess from the party. there was beer bottles everywhere, liquor spilt here and there, and tortilla chips spilling out of bowls. the granite island in the middle of the kitchen had all the booze on top of it, and you realized then that you had never really been to a high school party. not a real one anyway. the only party you were used to going to had punch and a piñata. this was a real party.

you decided to keep your focus on finding jake, looking around the room. you tried to make your way to the living room, accidentally bumping into a very drunk jenny stewart.

“heyyyyyyy girl!” she slurred her words and waved at you.

“hey, jenny”, you tried not to laugh at her state, “have you seen jake?”

“jake kiszka? yeah he’s here.” she almost turned away before she whipped back around and grabbed your arm, “wait. whyyyy?”, she said in a flirty tone. “are you guys togetherrrr?”, she smirked.

you blushed and looked down, “I mean, kinda.”

“shut upppp! go get him, girl!” with that, she pushed you towards the living room.

you laughed and continued on, smiling as you came into the living room. but as soon as you saw him, your smile disappeared.

there he was, dressed in a hot black t-shirt and jeans, leaning against the stairs with a drink in his hand. and next to him was a girl. her dark black hair fell down her back and contrasted with her fair skin. she had on a red bra-like top and the shortest shorts known to man.

they were laughing. talking. why was she making him laugh so much? her hand was on his bicep and his hand on her waist.

you walked over slowly, mouth still slightly open in shock. when he caught a glimpse of you, his eyes went wide and he excused himself from the girl, coming over to you.

“what are you doing here?” his tone was annoyed, impatient.

“um, what? what am I doing here? first of all, you invited me!”

he rolled his eyes, “I didn’t think you’d actually come. it took a army to get you out of your house the first time.”

you scoffed at his rudeness but kept going, “well second of all, what the fuck are you doing?”

“what do you mean, ‘what am I doing’? i’m at a party, having fun.”

you’re eyes got wide and your voice got louder, almost able to be heard by others over the music, “you’re with someone else! what the fuck?”

he put his hand over your mouth and backed you into a corner where nobody would see you, “shut the fuck up. damn, do you ever stop talking? what? you act like we got married last night.”

your eyes glossed over with hurt as you ripped his hand from your mouth and spoke, “what? so nothing that happened last night means anything to you?”

he laughed and rolled his eyes again, “oh my god! it wasn’t that big of a deal. it was one night. yeah, we had fun. but I thought you knew it was just that: fun. you act like we said ‘I love you’ or some shit.” he took a swig of his beer.

you felt stupid. he was making you feel like last night was all in your head. the tears started to fall on their own and you couldn’t stop staring at him in disbelief.

he sighed, “oh, now you’re fucking crying? grow up, (y/n). we’re in high school. what did you think? we were gonna go run away together, get married, have kids, and live in the florida keys?” he scoffed, “you’re pathetic.”

you wiped your tears quickly and made eye contact again, “no, I didn’t think we were gonna get married”, that was a lie that hurt your heart to say, “but fuck, jake! we had sex on a beach and now you’re here flirting with some other girl like I don’t mean anything to you?”

“it’s just sex! fuck, you are so sappy!”

“you took my virginity, jake! what am I supposed to do? pretend like it never happened because you want to fuck some other girl?” the tears started again, and it was getting harder to hold them back.

he threw his hands up like he was innocent, “hey, don’t blame that shit on me! I didn’t know you were a virgin! you didn’t tell me shit.”

“so it was all about sex?! so if you knew I was a virgin, you would’ve never taken me out?” your shook your head, hoping you were wrong.

“no, I wouldn’t have”, he scoffed and said it like it was obvious, then he turned and ran his hand through his hair muttering, “this is such bullshit.”

you couldn’t help the disgust and shock plastered on your face as you took him in. this was a new person. this wasn’t the man you knew last night. maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe you were just a fool all along, believing his lies. you dropped your head and took a shuddering breath.

“so, you don’t want me?”

he turned back to you and you looked back up. he sighed at your face, covered in tears, like it was annoying to see you like this, like you were a rock at the bottom of his shoe.

“no, I don’t want you. I wanted you last night, and so I had you. don’t make this a thing, ok? normal girls know that when a guy shows up at their house at night asking to ‘hang out’, it means he wants to hook up.” he took a breath, “I guess you just thought I was asking you out so we could lay in a flower field naming the stars and counting the constellations”, he laughed at you, “don’t get me wrong, the sex was good but that’s all it was. now, we’re done.”

that was it. the truth. the truth you never wanted to know. you didn’t know what else to say to him, but you knew you had to say something.

“ok.”

he raised his eyebrows, “ok? you’re done crying?” he sighed, “alright, i’ll see you around.” he walked away, drinking more of his beer, and returned to the box-dye-black-haired girl.

you moved on autopilot, leading yourself out of the room and back into the kitchen with the loud rap playing. passing by the liquor island, you grabbed a big bottle of malibu and continued outside. the party was still going, people making out and talking everywhere. you found the porch stairs and sat down, opening the rum and chugging a good amount. you sat there, drinking and staring out into the moonlight for a long time. you could still feel his hands on you, and you shivered. it was now such an unhappy memory. when the malibu was about half gone, you pulled out your phone. you went to your camera app and looked at the pictures from last night. they started with the one of jake striking a pose right after he learned you wanted to be a photographer. you laughed at the memory and took another drink of the malibu. you swiped and found a bunch of pictures that you had took while you two were laying on the beach, right after you were done having sex. they started with you two smiling, then another of him kissing your cheek, then another of you kissing passionately.

“you can’t tell me that wasn’t real”, you muttered to yourself, looking at the picture and taking a swig of rum.

“boy problems?”

a girl’s voice startled you as she walked up to you from behind.

“yeah.” it was all you could say, the tears already welling up again. you turned off your phone, not being able to look at the happy faces anymore.

she sighed and sat down next to you, “I know that feeling. happened to me a year ago.”

“really?” you looked over. she was so pretty. her brown skin and hair fit well with her marbled glasses frames. she was dressed in a polka dot t-shirt and jeans with a headband taming her curls.

“yeah, some guy I met from a different school. you don’t even want to know what happened.”

you looked at her empathetically and handed her the bottle.

“thanks”, she took a drink and turned to you, smiling. “i’m kate.”

“(y/n). it’s nice to meet another girl who can relate.”

“oh yeah”, she sighed, “I definitely can. so, who’s the guy?”

you hesitated at first, but then thought: what did you have to lose by telling her?

“a guy named jake.”

she gasped, “wait. kiszka?”

you nodded and took another drink.

“that’s the guy who broke my heart a year ago.”

you nearly spit out your gulp of rum. “what? he dated you?”

she rolled her eyes, “yeah, well I wouldn’t call it dating. it was one night. a glorious night on the beach.”

you went still but stayed silent. of course. of course, it was all a prepared night. it was a routine he did to make girls put out and then leave them high and dry.

“I know that’s what happened to you, too. i’ve heard it’s what he does.” she shrugged and took the drink from you, downing some more. she looked over at you and smiled softly, “i’ll help you get over him; I don’t have many friends anyway. we can go get slurpies and sour candy and go watch step brothers at my house.”

you laughed and nodded, laying your head on her shoulder, “that sounds great.”

a silence fell over you, only the faint sound of music and breathing audible.

“it feels like i’m never gonna be alright.” you were such a fool for him. you let him build you up just to tear you down. you hated how much you still wanted him, after everything.

“yes, you will. believe me, it takes time but you get there eventually. until then you just have to deal with it: being wrapped around his finger.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END.

this one took forever to write (purely because i’m lazy and took so many long breaks lmao) but it’s so rewarding to see it finished! please let me know if you liked this one and what you would like to see next! love you guys so so so much! 💓

(comment under this post to be added to my overall tag list because I just realized I don’t have an overall tag list lol :))

[httpseungmxn]

Big Boy

Quackity X Streamer!Female Reader

🍡 - flirty/extra flirty

Authors Note: Hello hello my Angels, I know I promised the Jin fic soon buuuuuut Q posted this photo and everyone, including myself, went wild over it! So I just had to make a fic about it! I have decided to make a new fic category just for this one, flirty/extra flirty! This fic will also play off of the other fics I made about him! I hope you guys can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!<3

Warnings: Lanai attempts to get reader canceled:( , Reader is called “hermosa” and “amor”, wee bit of cussing fr this time

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!

You had really come to know Alex over the past few months. Him becoming one of your best friends, especially after it came out that your best friend Lenai had been spreading lies about you. She had gone to Alex first, expecting him to believe her, but that was a big mistake. As soon as he noticed the negative way she was speaking, he hopped on call with you while also helping notify your fans of the girl's lies.

Nightly calls were almost a daily thing between you two, as well as constant facetimes during yours and his visits to the gym. His hat was always left on, despite feeling just a little extra hot, he wasn’t quite ready to show you yet. You fully understood considering you used to hide your face from everyone. 

The closer you got, the more you wanted to visit him. You were bringing much more in than you expected from streaming, so a plane ticket wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted it to be a surprise to Alex though, knowing that would make it more fun. Alex had often talked about you guys meeting in real life, and how exciting it would be. It was decided, you would be booking a flight to see him. You already knew where he lived, having reached out to karl to help you with the surprise. Making him swear he wouldn’t tell alex you were going to see him. The plane ticket was much easier to get than you expected, and packing was done in a matter of hours.

The nerves set in that night after you had finished packing. It was clear to you and the fans that you had a bit of a thing for Alex, and getting to meet him was making you nervous. You always wondered if you should tell him how you felt but was always too scared to let it slip out to him. You had come so close to saying it a few days ago but it just got stuck in your throat.

You hardly slept the night, and as much as you hoped you would sleep on the plane, you didn’t. You were too nervous and excited at the same time. Feeling bad when you had to decline a facetime from alex while you were on the plane, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Though you answered him as soon as you were off the plane and in a taxi. “ hermosa, why didn’t you answer any of my calls before? I thought you were mad at me! “, “ im sorrrryyyy, I was taking a long nap, I’m in a taxi now though “,  “ a taxi? Where are you going, hermosa? “,  smiling to yourself, knowing in just a short while he will know where you are.

That came sooner than you expected though. Getting out of the taxi and making sure the camera is angled directly at your face so he can’t see where you are. “ im just visiting a friend nearby. Hold on just one sec, alex. “. knocking very gently on his door and looking to the camera, nerves setting back in when you see him leave his room. “ someones here, but I didn’t order any pizza. if I die, it was the hut, hermosa. “, unable to hold back a giggle. Looking to the door when it opens and smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “ guess now you know which friend I’m visiting, huh? “. He didn’t respond at first, probably still trying to process it. Just as you didn’t process what he was doing until you were lifted up into a tight hug.

Smiling brightly as you hugged back. Not even letting go when you were set down. His arms were wrapped to tight around your waist, if you were a balloon you probably would’ve popped by now. You didn’t mind it though, you felt safe in his arms. Your nerves being shooed away with one little hug. “ how the fuck did you manage to surprise me so well, hermosa “ ,  “ you know I like to keep you on your toes, ‘lex “. Smiling again when he lets out a light laugh at your response. 

“ come in, come in, sorry it might be kind of a mess “, Alex spoke as he gathered your bags and carried them inside for you. Only then did you realize just how big he had gotten in the muscle category. Eyes staring at his muscles as they flexed with each movement. “ alex, when the hell did you manage to grow those? “, unable to hold your filter. 

Listening to him laugh again before he flexed his arms to show off for you. “ are you checking me out, amor? “. That was new, he had never called you that before, and it was obvious to him you knew what it meant considering the blush coming to your cheeks. “ now don’t get too ahead of yourself, cowboy, you were the one purposely checking me out on call just five minutes ago “.

“ Did you expect me not too? You look really beautiful in that dress “. That was also new. Alex was constantly teasing you, but the tone in his voice was different now. It sounded so serious and dripped with confidence in how he felt. You found it hard to hold eye contact wit him now. Not even five minutes into the meet up, and alex already had you red.

“ Lets be honest, Amor, surely you didn’t expect me to hold back just because you’d turn all red and yell at me. You being here just means I can let it all out, times ten. “. His smile had you wobbly in the legs, there was something so different about seeing it in person compared to facetime.

Only now did you realize this visit was going to be a lot more different than you expected. 

Alex was going to be the death of you.

Authors ending note; So who else got butterflies reading that? I got jittery and I’m the one writing it! I feel like I’m slowly beginning to get better at portraying him, and thats probably because I study the way a lot of people write him while also paying extra attention to how he is in streams/videos. Perhaps soon we will get a confession, and possibly a hair reveal? Who knowssss, guess you guys will have to just stick around for the next one! Also who else lost their mind over that photo he dropped last night? I’m in the whatsapp and as soon as he sent it, twitter was going absolutely chaotic[myself included]! If you guys wanna follow me on social media, my X is @/f_fuyuma! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 18: Balls (Bullet Train)

Sometimes (oftentimes) it's true that all you need are Balls. I personally absolutely love Balls. I'm a big fan! Ekhem. Today I'm using the help of (I mean, copying most of the passages from it) my earlier Balls rant that I have written down after my first listen of it back in January. I really love this album and I don't want to completely skip over saying a couple words on it at least but I really don't think I have the headspace to write anything very good for it today. I'll still try though!

So yeah, Balls. It's a great album, fun and chill (in my sense of what I call and consider chill anyway), consistent, as Sparks albums tend to be, and as I suspected / hoped it does fit this specific vibe of driving around at night somewhere city-like and illuminated. Or being on a train deep at night and looking at the world zooming by (if you'd even see much of it on a train at night anyway.....). And I do think that it's not so dissimilar to Gratsax (I'd say now that it's definitely darker and moodier than its predecessor...). So it's interesting to think about how it's considered to be one of the "weak" ones (by music reviewers at least) while Gratsax is so beloved in comparision.

I will admit, I don't really know what the big problem with this album could be. As I said, it's fun, it has the melodies, it has the energy, it has the theatricality (I like seeing how more and more orchestral instruments such as strings are being incorporated into the music, in a way the jump into Lil' Beethoven two years later doesn't come of as THAT much of a shock because of this. The evolution of sound here is fascinating!) I really like the intense beats, just as much as the more laid-back and moodier pieces. And there's lots of gold to be found in the lyrics department as always.

One more thing I wanna say is that at some point I wondered if this music sounds older than it is. Maybe it does? But then I remembered that this was 2000 and honestly when I think about it, there just IS something about this album that fits so well with the Y2K image and vibe and all. Sparks 2000 and all that.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Balls: I mean. It's Balls.

Scheherazade: absolutely LOVE this one and I had the strangest impression of it sounding very familiar when I first heard it. Months later I found out that it was just briefly featured in TSB so I think that explains it (I will talk more about my TSB viewings on TSB day. EVERYTHING has to be explained in excruciating detail, lmao)

The Calm Before The Storm: bugsonas 4ever. Song itself is amazing too

How To Get Your Ass Kicked: how can a song about getting your ass kicked be so pleasant and relaxing, it always keeps cracking me up, how perfect that is actually

Bullet Train: I love it how introducing the topic of the song with a "It's the [topic of the song]" is a reoccurring theme on this album. Thank you Sparks for this ode to technology and art (these lyrics always have me giggling). And also it just goes hard as heck

It's Educational: a perfect fusion of / sequel to I Thought I Told You To Wait In The Car and Progress (it's mostly the vocal delivery that reminds me of the latter)

The Angels: such an odd one here but I still like it a lot, I apparently said that it sounds "surprisingly mainstream for Sparks but somehow in a positive way". It's very sweet and I absolutely love how Russell sings here, it's so different from what we're used to but that only makes it hit you even more in the feels, lol. And I actually prefer the alternative version of this song that's featured as a bonus track, and I do think that's in big part because you can hear Russell better on it (or that was my first impression of it at least and it kind of stuck)