𝐵𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | nyu! jonathan x reader
⌗﹒no warnings js sweet & cute ⊰ | ↳ i love love love nyu! jonathan my boy deserves to live his dream
The first time you met your new college newspaper photographer was a few months ago, in your boss’s office. She was, as always, standing by the window, her upper body half outside as she tried to smoke a cigarette, without making the room choke on it, He stood next to her, getting all the smoke she was desperately trying to push out of the room.
She introduced him to you by simply saying, “Hey, this is Jonathan,” giving you a small smile afterward, because she knew the type of guys you tended to like, the ones who couldn’t talk back. He gave you a short smile, and you did the same, before the room fell quiet again.
Over the next few weeks, you kept running into him. At first it was only for work. You’d go through his photos, tell him which ones fit the story, what worked and what didn’t, trying to help him understand the tone of the articles and the overall vibe your section was going for.
Eventually, you both realized your conversations weren’t really just about the newspaper anymore. It started with small things, music, classes, random thoughts you’d bring up while going through layouts, but it never stayed professional for long.
Soon you found yourselves meeting outside of work too, in between everything the fast life of New York college allowed. Not properly planned, never really official, just overlapping schedules and late afternoons that turned into longer walks or quiet sitting somewhere that wasn’t the newsroom.
Eventually, you found a rhythm that actually worked.
A place and a time where neither of you had to cancel more than once every three weeks. Tuesday mornings, squeezed in between Jonathan’s photography lecture and your sociology class, the one you always almost skipped because you were tired.
The small bell above the door rings when you push it open.
It’s a tiny café, tucked between taller buildings, the kind of place people only find by accident or because they stopped caring about the overpriced ones a few streets away. It still costs too much for what it is, but in New York that almost feels normal, just slightly less painful than the usual places.
Warm light, a bit uneven. Quiet voices. The smell of coffee that has been sitting just a little too long, but still somehow comforting.
He’s sitting by the window, camera bag resting against his leg, fingers loosely wrapped around a coffee he hasn’t really touched. He looks the same every time you see him. It’s good—to have something that calms you from the rushed life outside the café doors.
“Hey,” you say, walking over and letting your bag fall to the floor next to the table. “You’re early.”
“Yeah—um. I had… a shoot downtown,” he nods toward the camera, then at you, unsure where to look. “I didn’t know if the light would last.”
You smile, resting your chin in your hand. “Did it?”
He hesitates. “I think so.”
You talk about the newsletter, about deadlines, about how your editor keeps changing the subject line last minute.
You lean back slightly in your chair, stirring your drink without really looking at it anymore. The conversation has drifted away from work a while ago, like it always does with him. It never stays in one place for long.
“Anyway,” you say, rolling your eyes a little, “I don’t even like him. He acts like we’re still in high school or something. Like nothing changed.”
“I would not go back there for any amount of money,” you add.
He tilts his head slightly. “Really? I thought you’d have been one of the popular ones. You know… cool, everyone knew you.”
You almost choke on your drink. “Me? Are we talking about the same person right now?” you laugh, thinking back makes you shiver a little. “Jonathan, I liked reading. You can imagine how cool that made me.”
“But you know,” your eyes drift to the window and the busy city outside, “I’m not really mad. There was this girl… she hated me for some reason, even though I never spoke to her.” A small grin creeps onto your face. “She works in a drugstore now, for ten dollars an hour. And we’re… here.”
Jonathan glances down at his hands, smiling faintly. “Yeah… I know. The guy who bullied me all through high school is, well, a teacher now.”
That actually makes you laugh. “oh god, what poor kids” he also smiles, because he made you laugh, and probably out of pity too.
You talk a bit more after that, about nothing and everything, until the café starts filling up and the pace shifts again.
When the bill arrives, you glance at it and raise your eyebrows. “This is… not cheap. But what did I expect”
“I- I mean…” he started, then stopped, glancing down again before forcing himself to meet your eyes. “we could also just… next time, maybe you could come over to mine instead.” He rushes a bit, trying to fix it before it gets weird. “I can cook something you wouldn't have to pay.....” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the table. “Only if you want. I just thought—yeah.”
you smiled, slow and knowing.
“yeah,” you said. “i’d like that.”
well your boyfriends pretty cool, but he's not as cool as you
ultraviolence series
want some more cupcakes...?
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
vaporwave
