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praisethegabs · 1 year

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AKRASIA

ID!Professor!Leon Kennedy x Student!F!Reader

euphoria masterlist

summary: you met him during a party, and it was a one night stand for both of you. (un)fortunately, it turns out he's your new college history professor, and neither of you expected that.

warnings: age gap, reader is in college and in mid 20s while Leon is in his 30s. NSFW content, delicate to rough sex, p in v, oral receiving (both), praise kink, degradation kink (eventually), use of pet names (bunny), vaginal fingering, masturbation, cum swallowing, dom!leon and sub!reader. leon is insecure af. oc named chloe as the reader's best friend.

word count: 5684k

a/n: this is a new mini series I'm writing since I had a hard time with creative blocking, and I'm taking this very slow just in case.

AKRASIA is the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will.

You sat in your cozy room in the apartment you shared with your best friend, Chloe. The pale evening light casts a warm glow over the mismatched posters adorning the walls. Your textbooks were spread out across your desk, a mountain of assignments awaiting your attention. But Chloe, your vivacious best friend, had other plans.

"Come on, my lovely pumpkin," Chloe pleaded, tossing a colorful scarf around your neck as she perched on your bed. "You can't spend another Thursday night buried in textbooks. It's the first college party of the semester, and you've been MIA for weeks!"

"Chloe, you know I have that history essay tomorrow morning. I can't afford to waste any more time." You sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"But it's not just any party, it's Jake's party! He's practically begged me to convince you to go. And you know he's got a major crush on you." Chloe's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief as she leaned closer.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of Jake, the charismatic guy from your history class. You had caught him stealing glances at you during lectures, but you were too wrapped up in your studies to think much of it. Besides, you already had your share of a "bad girl" period. Now, you need to finish your obligations.

"I don't know, Chloe," you hesitated, twirling a pencil between your fingers. "I feel so out of my element at those parties. I used to get drunk just for fun, but I don't do that anymore"

"Sis, that's what makes you unique. Besides, I promise you'll have fun. And who knows, maybe Jake will be your study partner for that history essay or whatever you need. It's a win-win!" Chloe chuckled, tousling her auburn curls.

You bit your lip, torn between your dedication to your academics and the allure of a night filled with laughter, music, and maybe even a spark of romance. You glanced at your textbooks, then back at Chloe's eager expression.

"Okay, Chloe. I'll go to the party. But only for a couple of hours, and you owe me a serious study session tomorrow." Finally, with a hesitant smile, you relented.

"Deal! Now, let's get you ready. You're going to look stunning, and I promise you won't regret this." Chloe's face lit up with triumph as she jumped off the bed.

As you both began raiding your closet for the perfect outfit, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. Little did you know, this college party would mark the beginning of an unforgettable chapter in your life.

After a shower, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, twirling in your black cocktail dress. Your reflection grinned back at you, the dimples on your cheeks deepening as you admired your outfit. The cocktail dress that Chloe picked up for you, which she said it looks beautiful on you. She was perched on the edge of your bed, her perfectly curled auburn hair cascading over her shoulders.

"You look amazing, sweetie" Chloe gushed, adjusting her own outfit. "This party is going to be epic!"

"Thanks, Chloe. I can't believe you really convinced me to go to this college party." You laughed, the excitement bubbling within you.

Just then, your phone chimed with a familiar notification tone. You picked it up, your heart sinking as you saw the message. It was from Matthew, your ex-boyfriend. The name alone sent a shiver down your spine.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, her eyebrows furrowing with both concern and curiosity since you had a strange expression on your face.

"Hey, I know it's been a while, but can we talk? It's important." You sighed, your fingers trembling slightly as you read the message out loud.

"Oh no, not him again. What does he want now?" Chloe's expression shifted from excitement to concern, her voice sounding annoyed for a moment. She really hated your ex.

You chewed your lower lip, feeling torn between responding and ignoring the message. You hadn't spoken to Matthew since your messy breakup a few months ago. Your relationship had ended in bitter arguments and hurtful words.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice wavering. "Maybe it's something urgent. I should at least find out."

"Honey, I've been looking forward to this party for weeks, and I had a lot of trouble to convice you to join me. You can't let him ruin our night. Besides, he had his chance to talk when you needed it." Chloe shook her head, her green eyes filled with worry, and her face with evident disapproval. She really cared about you.

You sighed again. It was really difficult to put your past behind, especially after everything you had with Matthew.

"Look, you go first, and I'll meet you there." You glanced at Chloe, hoping she would give up and just leave you to take care of your ex-boyfriend on your terms.

"Do you promise?" Chloe asks, with those big green and puppy eyes, which she did every time she wanted something.

"Yep, I promise." You nod your head and smile when Chloe screams like a little girl, hugging you tight.

As you watch Chloe leave your shared apartment, your entire attention returns to your screen. You felt a wave of buried feelings returning slowly, leaving you with the hard choice in hands. You hesitated, your phone still in your hand. You knew Chloe was right, but curiosity gnawed at you.

"I'll just send a quick reply. Let him know I can't talk right now." You muttered to yourself, deciding what was best for you at the moment. You typed out a short message, your fingers tapping the screen rapidly. "Can't talk now, Matthew. At a party. We'll talk later."

But as soon as you hit send, your phone chimed again, this time with a call from Matthew. You watched the screen light up with his name and number. Your heart raced, torn between answering and turning it off.

Instantly, you pictured the image of Chloe in front of you and what she would say at this very moment. She would, of course, curse him a lot, and then, as your best friend, she would say something like, "Ignore it, honey. You made your choice. Let's not let him ruin our night"

And again, she was completely right.

As you entered the place, the pulsating beat of music washed over you, drowning out the noise of your own doubts. The college party was in full swing, with colorful lights flashing in time with the rhythm, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns on the walls.

You weaved your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of anxiety. Your best friend, Chloe, had convinced you to attend, promising a night of unforgettable fun. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for Chloe's familiar face amidst the sea of strangers.

You finally spotted Chloe near the makeshift bar, holding two red plastic cups filled with a mysterious concoction. Chloe grinned when she saw you and waved you over. Chloe joined you, your tension slowly giving way to excitement.

"Oh, you made it!" Chloe shouted over the music, handing you a cup. "This is the famous 'party punch.' Drink up!"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a cautious sip. The sweet, fruity mixture danced on your taste buds, and you couldn't help but smile. Chloe always had a knack for finding the best drinks.

Feeling the alcohol mess with your mind and following the rhythm of the music, you two chatted and laughed as the night went on, your voices blending with the raucous sounds of the party. You watched as people swayed to the music, their bodies moving in sync with the beat. It was a wild and chaotic scene, but there was an undeniable energy that you couldn't resist.

"Come on, let's dance!" You grabbed Chloe's hand, leading your way to the crowd, letting your body follow the flow.

You swayed to the beat of the music, your body moving sensually with the rhythm as colorful lights flashed around you. The college party was in full swing, the pounding music reverberating through the entire place as students danced and mingled. You, feeling adventurous and carefree due to the alcohol in your organism, held a red plastic cup in one hand and scanned the crowd for someone intriguing. Your eyes settled on a tall, ruggedly handsome man who stood out from the rest of the college-aged crowd.

As you glanced around the people, your eyes met those of a striking man across the dance floor.

He was, obviously, a few years older than the typical partygoer, exuded an air of maturity that drew your attention. He leaned against the wall, his brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, and his piercing blue eyes scanning the room with a hint of amusement. He was an enigmatic figure who seemed to easely blend into the college scene while maintaining an air of mystery. For a moment, you thought he was too old to be there, but can you blame the man for wanting some fun? Despite the age, he was very handsome.

And his eyes were locked specifically on you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. You couldn't believe that this stranger was actually looking at you. A burst of self-confidence surged within you, urging you to take action.

You couldn't resist the urge to approach him, so you casually sauntered over, a playful smile curving your lips. You didn't let their age gap deter you; after all, age was just a number, right?

With the music pulsing through your ears, you decided to seize the opportunity. Hopefully, you could put the blame on alcohol and say you weren't thinking right — despite the fact that you weren't that drunk. You made your way through the crowd, not even seeing Chloe around, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him. The closer you got, the more you noticed his rugged charm and the intensity in his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there," you said, your voice carrying a hint of confidence as you leaned closer to be heard over the music. "You seem like you're in the wrong party. This crowd is usually reserved for broke college kids."

"Hey," he replied, his voice just loud enough to be heard. He then leaned in closer, his expression intrigued but slowly changing. Leon turned his attention to you, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Well, maybe I'm just here for the youthful energy. It's refreshing."

You laughed, your eyes sparkling.

"Or maybe you're just trying to relive your college days." you said, taking another generous sip on your drink. At this point, you weren't caring about anything else.

"What makes you think I'm not still in college?" Leon raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing.

"Because I've been around here long enough to recognize someone who's seen a few more semesters than the rest of us." You chuckled between another sips, leaning even closer, your faces just inches apart.

"You're perceptive, aren't you?" Leon's lips curled into a grin, and he took a sip from his own cup.

"I have my moments. So, Mr. Mysterious, what brings you to our humble party tonight?" You nodded, your flirtatious energy in full swing. At this point, you were regretting your decision to stop with alcohol because you could never talk to a man like him the way you were doing.

"Well, I heard there was someone here I couldn't resist meeting. Looks like I found her." Leon's eyes held a glint of intrigue as he leaned in slightly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his response, your flirtatious banter taking an unexpectedly genuine turn.

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" You asked him, feeling a sudden heat rush over your body like a wave.

"Only when I'm talking to someone as captivating as you." Leon leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against your ear.

After a few more drinks and flirts, you decided to ask what was eating you inside. Of course, in the next morning, you wouldn't remember anything, and you could live without regrets. Chloe was having fun with a bunch of friends, so why couldn't you just do the same? You were so horny at this moment that you were willing to have fun.

"So, it was my impression, or were you practically eating me while I was dancing?" You provoked him, drinking another sip from whatever Chloe said it was.

He almost spit his drink, completely shocked by your question. The old man looks at you with curiosity, but then, a slight smirk appears on his lips. Those beautiful blue eyes that never left yours made your body shiver, and that smile, well... that smile of him almost ripped yourself in two parts.

"How presumption of yours, huh?" He replied, still smiling, his lips meeting his glass again.

"It wasn't presumption, it was true," you said back, sounding cocky; you didn't care, and you had the balls to do so.

"Well, I might have done that. Who knows?" He says, his voice softly husky, almost low, like he did on purpose to provoke you.

"Well, lucky for you, I might have enjoyed that," you said, leaning closer to his ear, enough to whisper to him and enough to make him smile.

It was amazing what alcohol did to you. Honestly, you weren't this type of slutty horny girl, but let's face the truth; your ex-boyfriend was an asshole and the last time you had sex with someone with your age, it was a terrible experience. Maybe someone older could handle the job well? And besides, you both knew you wouldn't see each other again.

"You know, this party is fun, but I have a feeling the night could get even better." He leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, and he seemed to think the same as you.

"Oh, really? And what do you have in mind?" You turned to him, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

Leon grinned, his confidence growing as your connection deepened.

"How about we leave this noisy place and head to my apartment? It's not far from here, and we can continue our conversation without shouting over the music." He suggests, and you had the certain he was thinking the same thing you were.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. The party was completely wild at this point. Everyon, with no exceptions, seemed drunk enough, but the prospect of spending more time with this stranger and handsome man seemed far more appealing. Plus, there was an undeniable attraction that had been simmering between you two all night.

"You know what? I think that's a great idea. Lead the way." You replied with a playful smile and finally decided what you wanted.

Leon offered his hand, and you took it, allowing him to guide you through the lively crowd. You both made your way out of the crowded house and into the cool night air. The stars above shone brightly, and the distant sounds of the party slowly faded into the background.

As you two walked together, Leon couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The decision to invite you to his place had been a bold one, but it seemed like the right choice. The night was filled with possibilities, and he was eager to explore where it would lead.

When you both reach his place, it's just a matter of seconds before he grabs you by your thighs, pinning up against the wall, kissing your neck desperately. Your hands meet his hair, holding so tight that between his kisses, he groans a little.

"God, you're so beautiful" he moans softly, leaving marks on your skin, to remember you that he was there.

"Stop talking, handsome" you said, now biting his earlobe, making him moan again. You were feeling something between your legs, and you couldn't tell if it was yours or his. "And just fuck me"

"That's what I intend to do" he whispers, still holding you by your thighs, leading you to his room, not caring about the mess he did along the way.

Your body falls graciously on his mattress, and he removes your black dress, throwing it somewhere inside his room. He removes his belt so quickly, like he really wanted this. You can see his cock inside his underpants, which makes you smile.

"Do you like the view, huh?" He provoked, sucking his fingers and making them touch your already wet pussy. "Is this all for me?"

"Shit" you moan louder when you feel his fingers circling around your pussy, tasting you. You sighed with pleasure, leaning back your head, biting your lower lip.

"Don't worry, we have all night" he whispers, his wet lips meeting your skin between kisses, making your body joint and shiver.

You feel him sucking and licking your left niple, his hand holding your other breast while his other hand was still circling slowly your clit. Your moans were so loud, so pornographic that you knew his neighbor would here your scandal. But God have mercy, he was very talented with his hands.

And then, without any warnings, you finally feel him inside, slowly sliding between your legs. You groan, letting him know you needed time to adjust to his size. Your nails found their way into his skin, leaving scratches that would take time to heal — a reminder about this night.

When you feel comfortable enough with him, you nod slightly, and he starts to move between your legs, penetrating you so softly and yet so caring. His eyes observe you, sometimes his lips meeting yours in a smooth kiss, and sometimes moaning in your ear.

You follow his pace, and when you notice, he's moving faster inside you. One of his hands holding yours so tight that it's almost impossible to escape his grip — which you don't intend to do. You wouldn't mind be his bitch for a night.

"You're taking me so well" he moans again, leaving marks on your breasts and smiling as his hips hit yours harder.

"Oh, fuck..." you moan again, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes, already feeling a wave of pleasure running through your body.

"Oh, be a good girl for me" he teases, his free hand circling your clit again, making your body joint.

And he kept teasing you for a very long time. Each time you were close to orgasm, he stopped what he was doing to make you beg for him and your pleas were almost insignificant to him, despite the fact that he was enjoying seeing you beg to cum.

"Please, let me cum" you begged again after the fifth time he denied your orgasm. You were almost crying at this point, unable to hold the ache in your pussy. "I need you, please"

"Such a baby girl begging for me" he said, smiling and starting to circle you clit again, making you whine. "I'll let you cum if you take me in your mouth right now"

He stood up on the edge of his bed and you crawled into him, opening your mouth to put his cock inside, sucking him while your hands massaged his balls. You can hear him moan, grabbing your hair to force you to keep sucking him. You started to tear up, gasping while his cock was inside your mouth.

He didn't care.

You kept sucking him until he released his cum inside your mouth and he didn't had to say anything. You swallowed him, like the good girl you were. And with his smile of approval, you knew you earned your time. He made you lay back in his bed and started to suck your clit, tasting yourself in his mouth.

"So good" he said, holding your thighs against his shoulders, sucking you, licking your wet pussy.

"S-shit" you moan again, holding his sheets with violence, wanting desperately to cum on him. Your moans get higher and again, you started to feel the warm pleasure in your body.

"Cum for me, baby" he orders smoothly again, giving the attention you required, his tongue doing such a great work on you.

Finally, with his approval, you had the liberty to release yourself. You felt something hot coming out of you at the same time that your body reached the peek and you finally had the orgasm of your life. You had to control yourself, your body almost collapsing while his mouth was still between your thighs.

And after you had your orgasm, releasing your cum on him, he smiled at you, licking his lips to savor you and then crawling his way to your side on his bed.

"You're okay?" He asks, going to his bathroom to grab paper to help you clean yourself. "I hope I wasn't that hard"

"You kidding me?" You ask him, cleaning yourself from the mess he did. "You were great, I'm impressed"

The moonlight cast a soft glow through the curtains, filling the room with a gentle, silver light. Leon and you were laying side by side on the cozy, disheveled sheets, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

Leon turned toward you, his eyes filled with tenderness as he reached out to stroke your hair, his touch feather-light.

"Are you okay, really?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern.

You smiled, your eyes shining with a mixture of contentment and affection.

"I'm more than okay. That was... amazing." You said honestly to him. And it was entirely true; despite his age, he was the best sex you ever had.

Leon's smile mirrored yours as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, tracing soothing patterns along your back.

"I'm so glad to hear that," he said. "But I want to make sure you're comfortable. Is there anything you need right now?" He asks, sounding curious and kind. You felt he came from a fairytale. He was too good to be real.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

"I just need you here with me, like this."

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Leon leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, his lips warm and reassuring.

You two lay together in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their intimate moment. Leon's caring touch and reassuring presence were all the aftercare you needed, a reminder that your connection ran deeper than the physical. As you both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, you knew that this bond was something truly special, despite the fact that you both also knew it wouldn't happen again.

As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, you groaned and slowly opened your eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings of Leon's apartment briefly disoriented you until the events of the previous night came flooding back into your memory. You'd met him at the party you went with your best friend, and one thing had led to another. Now, you were here, alone in his apartment.

With a groggy sigh, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your temples to soothe the pounding headache. Your mouth felt like a desert, a testament to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed the night before. Your bleary eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Leon.

A folded piece of paper on the coffee table caught your attention. You reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly, and unfolded the note. Leon's neat handwriting greeted you:

"Hey, stranger. I hope you slept well. I had to head to work early, but I didn't want to wake you. There's coffee brewing in the kitchen to help with your hangover, and I left some pain relievers on the counter. Make yourself at home. There's my number if you need anything. Leon"

You couldn't help but smile. Despite the awkwardness of waking up in a stranger's apartment, Leon's thoughtfulness warmed your heart. You stumbled out of bed and followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen.

As you sipped the steaming cup of coffee, the pounding in your head began to subside. The pain relievers helped, too. You glanced at your phone and gasped when you saw the time. You were so late for your college classes.

With newfound energy, you left your phone number on his desk and rushed back to the bedroom, desperately searching for your scattered clothes. You managed to piece together an outfit from the items you found strewn across the floor. It was far from your usual put-together look, but it would have to do.

Once dressed, you scribbled a quick note of thanks to Leon and left it on the kitchen counter. You grabbed your bag and dashed out of his apartment, promising yourself you'd explain everything when you saw him again.

As you hurried to catch a bus to your college, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. Meeting Leon had been a whirlwind, and while your head still throbbed with the remnants of a hangover, you couldn't deny the spark of excitement and curiosity that had ignited between the two of you.

As you ran down the hall, your heart raced with anxiety. You knew you were late for your history class, but your unexpected encounter the night before had left you disoriented and sleep-deprived. With your disheveled hair and the remnants of last night's makeup still on your face, you approached the classroom door. The chattering of your fellow students stopped abruptly when you entered.

The professor, his back turned to the door, continued writing on the chalkboard. You sighed with relief, hoping you hadn't disrupted the class too much. You scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. Most of your fellow students had already found their places, and the only available desk was in the front row.

You tiptoed down the aisle, trying to make as little noise as possible, and took a seat at the front. The professor turned around, ready to begin his lecture. When your eyes met, your heart dropped into your stomach. It was Leon, the man you had met at the college party the night before, the one you had shared an unforgettable night with.

"Fuck" you muttered in surprise, your face going red like a tomato.

Leon's expression changed from one of stern concentration to one of recognition and shock. You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you realized that he was your history professor. The sounds of your obscenes moans echoed inside your head. You wanted to evaporate.

"Good morning, miss" he said, his voice tinged with surprise, but trying to sound polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I...I didn't realize this was your class," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The rest of the class watched the exchange with keen interest. You could feel their curious eyes on you. Leon cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure.

"Well, since you're here, you might as well stay," he said, attempting to sound professional despite the awkwardness of the situation. "We'll discuss your tardiness later. Now, let's begin our lesson on the American Revolution."

As the class continued, you tried your best to focus on the lecture, but your mind kept wandering back to the night you had spent with him. It was going to be a long semester, filled with more than just history lessons.

At the end of his class, you were so nervous that you felt you could explode right there. Leon hesitated as he watched you from across his desk, where he had papers and books strewn haphazardly. Your presence filled the room with an electric tension, one he couldn't deny any longer. You were his student, and you both knew the boundaries you both had crossed were dangerous. And when everyone left his room, you stood up to leave as well, until you heard his voice.

"Sit down," he said, his voice trembling slightly as he gestured to the chair in front of him. You took a seat, your eyes locking onto his, searching for answers.

You never felt this nervous before. You were shaking, and your palms were sweating cold. You wanted to disappear forever.

"We need to talk about last night," Leon began, his gaze never leaving yours. "What happened between us was a mistake, and I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Your lips quivered, but you remained silent.

"I'm your professor, and you're my student. It's against the rules, and it's unethical. I can't let this continue." Leon continued, his voice softer but resolute.

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of your notebook.

"I know, Leon," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't deny that I felt something for you. It's more than just physical attraction."

Leon's heart ached at her words, his inner struggle evident. God, this was so wrong, and yet, his mind was a battle over what was right and what was wrong. He couldn't deny he felt something for you too — something he thought he would never feel again.

"You don't understand, I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also care about your future, and I can't jeopardize it."

You raised your eyes to meet his once more, tears glistening.

"What are we going to do, then?" You asked, feeling sad and, somehow, pathetic. You met him the night before, then why were you feeling like this?

Leon sighed, his resolve crumbling.

"I don't know" he confessed, his voice filled with regret. "But we need to find a way to move past this and focus on your education."

Your eyes locked in a shared moment of vulnerability, the unspoken desire still simmering beneath the surface. Leon had tried to convince you it was wrong, but his feelings for you were undeniable. The battle between his heart and his principles had only just begun.

"I think it's for the best if we keep this as it should be. I don't want to risk anything" Leon said, his voice sounding sad for a moment. "And I'm sorry, but we can't see each other like that again"

You nod and then leave his class. You made your way back to your apartment, wanting a shower, because you felt you could drown yourself in the water and forget everything that happened. He was your professor. You knew it was wrong, but for God's sake, why him? Why did he have to take you to heaven and then throw cold water on your head?

"What the hell happened?" You heard Chloe ask as soon as you enter your apartment. You completely forgot about her.

"I met someone last night" you explained, avoiding details. You were still feeling the effects of the hungover.

"Really? I bet it was good... you didn't even come back home, you naughty girl" Chloe teases you, laughing. "Have you heard about the new history professor? He's really hot"

"Yeah, I got late for his class" you sighed, laying on your bed with Chloe right behind you, excited about the new professor. If she only knew...

"No shit? Lucky you, he's cool. I've heard he was at the party last night and left with someone. I wish I was that lucky" Chloe kept saying, sitting on the small armchair in your room.

"And they saw who this person was?" You asked in panic, suddenly glancing at your best friend, which you regretted immediately.

"No fucking way... it was you!" Chloe almost screams, surprised and then, throwing a pillow on your face. "I can't believe you were banging the new professor!"

"In my defense, I didn't know!" You said, defending yourself. Deep down, Chloe didn't care. She wanted to see you happy. "I found out this morning... but it's okay. He doesn't want to see me"

"Too bad for him. You're too much for him, anyway" Chloe smirks, being the supportive friend you needed.

Chloe always had the ability to make you feel better with few words. You were really thankful for having her; so, you decided to do what he wanted. For the next few weeks, you watched his classes and noticed that, sometimes, he was glancing at you.

How could you both forget that night?

It was almost impossible. He made you feel so fucking good and you wanted so bad to be with him again. You even fantasized having him fucking you all over again, making you completely his. God, this was very hard. They've always said you will always want more intensely what you can't have, and they are so right about that.

And then, after one month since that party, Leon couldn't avoid that anymore.

He felt the urgency to talk to you, to smell your perfume or see your smile. He was going insane for not having you the way he did that day. Why was he feeling like that? He couldn't tell. But it felt good.

"May I have a word with you after class? It's about your essay" Leon says, closer to you and sounding very professional.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy" You nod your head, already feeling your heart skipping a few beats and your body shaking again.

That was it.

After class, you remained sitting, waiting for your colleagues to leave his room. He avoided your eyes until there were just the two of you. Your breath was heavy, and instantly, you were feeling the heat on your body.

"What is it you want to talk with me?" You ask him, breathing nervously.

Leon gets closer to you, enough to make your body shiver. You look at his blue eyes and the image of him fucking you plays in your head like a movie.

"I shouldn't do this..." he whispers, his breath reaching your face smoothly. "But to be honest, I don't give a shit about morality anymore"

And then, he finally kissed you like he meant that.

It was everything you needed to know. He wanted you, and you wanted him. This could end bad for both of you, but you didn't care. You were weak, and he was weak as well. And right now, he wanted you more than anything.

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minihotdog · 7 months

Text

Locked Out On Valentine's (Choose Your Ending)

(Photo Cred: @chatskaja on twitter) <3

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get locked out on Valentine's Day and have to sleep over at a certain Lt.'s flat.

C/W: Reader is dressed a little inappropriately

A/N: Never tried something like this before so I hope it buffs out. Also, super late Valentine's fic whoops

Word Count: 1k

“What do you mean he’s not available?!” You stand with your forehead against your door.

“Barrack’s manager is out on leave, he’ll be back tomorrow. Recommend you stay with a friend for now.”

“Wait! Where’s the emergency ma-” *click*

What the fuck!

You huff, banging your head against the outside of your door. Today was one of the worst days of your life. You planned a date with your boyfriend of one year only to be dumped right before you were supposed to meet up. And after bawling your eyes out decide to run out to the fountain to get back the hydration you lost.

The redness around your eyes finally went away but they were so puffy you couldn’t even see your keychain still hanging on the wall.

You’re now stuck in the middle of the hall on Valentine’s Day in a short tank top and your bedtime booty shorts hoping a soul doesn’t appear and see you with all your goods hanging out.

The barracks manager - or whoever that was - told you to find a friend. You didn’t have any here. You’d been in the unit for all of five months and they weren’t all that accepting of new people. They oozed the “prove yourself worthy of our clan” mentality. You roll your eyes just at the thought.

Ughhh. I really don’t want to.

You whine internally as you pull up Cpt. Price’s contact on your phone hoping you’re not interrupting anything.

“Sergeant y/n, what’s the purpose of your call?” He sounds annoyed. You hear a feminine voice in the background and him softly shooshing it.

“Sir! I’ve been locked out of my room and the primary barracks manager won’t be in till tomorrow. I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” His voice strains lightly. He’s quiet for a moment and you’re unsure if you’re supposed to say something or…

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll message you soon.”

You sigh in relief. Maybe he’d contact the emergency manager and they’ll come unlock your door.

You stand with your arms crossed, back against the cold wall for what feels like forever until your phone finally buzzes.

Cpt. Price: Bld 920 Room 1208. Stay there tonight.

You’re about to flood him with questions, like: Where’s the key? Is there someone already there? Who’s room is this? But before you’re done typing he sends one last message.

Cpt. Price: I’m busy tonight with work so no need to thank me. Or call me again.

Work…? Yeah right!

The room was at least in the same building as you. Beats trekking in the snow in slippers and the ungodly attire you have on at the moment.

You make your way up the stairs cursing the base for not putting an elevator in your building. You peer at each door while wandering further down the hall.

1206… 1207… 1208!

You take a deep breath before knocking quietly.

God, I hope it’s at least a woman.

A few seconds go by before the door swings open. You stand wide-eyed. If you had less control your jaw would be on the floor too.

You stare back at your Lt. in all his glory. He stares back at you in nothing but low-hanging sweatpants. His blond hair is disheveled, the color matching the patch of hair on his bare sculpted chest. You’d seen him maskless before but from afar. He’s someone many avoided, his demeanor wasn’t exactly inviting and his wrath, from the rumors, was even worse.

The light flooding through the door frame illuminates his face enough to show the fine features up close. The scars running through his lips and cheeks only add to the stirring inside you that’s leaving you speechless.

As you try to stop yourself from ogling him right here and now he notices your eyes popping out of your skull and softly blows air out of his nose.

Is he laughing at me?

He decides to finally break the staring contest.

“What d’you want, pet?”

You stutter a bit before getting the words out,

“I got locked out, the captain told me to come here. He didn’t tell me it was your place.”

It was his turn to let his eyes wander. His eyes rake over your tank top, your arm over your chest to conceal the fact you’re braless, your exposed stomach and shorts that barely did their job as clothes. You stand there waving your water bottle around as you speak, completely unaware of the look on his face.

A smirk pulls at one of his lips as he listens to you ramble about the barracks managers not doing their jobs. Your voice gradually gets higher the angrier you get.

“What the hell are you wearin’?” He interrupts.

“Why are you answering the door half-naked?” You shoot back.

He sneers, “You show up at my door wantin’ a place to stay and you have an attitude?” He pulls his phone from his pocket seeing a barely coherent message from Price.

“Fine. No point in arguin’, Price is probably with the missus, doesn’t want to be bothered.” He steps to the side allowing you to come in. You cautiously accept and step into the space.

His place was neat, and well-kept, more like an apartment rather than the prison they kept you in. You turn back to look at him and notice the tattoos covering the skin of his arm. He pretends not to notice you checking him out as he walks to the hallway closet and pulls out a pillow and blanket.

He hands them to you, “Is that enough or d’you need a bedtime story too?”

“Little Red Riding Hood’s my favorite, please.” You snark, as you drop the pillow and lean over to throw the blanket over the cushions. You swear you hear his breath catch in his throat but get quickly covered up by him clearing his throat.

“So… What are you up to on Valentine’s Day?” You prod hoping to learn something about the most feared individual of the unit.

“Just another day, means nothin’.” He leans against the wall behind him. You sit with your legs crossed on the almost comically large couch, probably custom-made for his giant ass. You lean on your hand and look up at him.

“Is that so?”

“What happened to that muppet you’re always moanin’ bout? Should be with him.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Nah, he’s no good. Decided he liked by friend better.” You laugh sadly. “Can’t seem to keep them this time of year. I’m too cool for it.” You try to joke but end up cringing on the inside. His chest rises with a soft chuckle.

“That right?”

“You know it.” You wink at him.

The two of you go quiet for a moment.

He decides to break the silence.

”You want some tea, love?

*** Decision Time ***

Why not? I'm already here and he's being nice. Sure, I'll have some tea.

Or...

I don't wanna be a bother. He's already having to let me stay over. I'm gonna pass on tea.

#Simon Riley #Simon ghost riley #ghost #simonghostrileysmut #simonrileysmut #codsmut #simonrileyxreader #simonghostrileyxreader #ghostxreader #ghost x reader

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the-froschamethyst4 · 7 months

Text

A Player Knows Game

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, angst, mention of sex, strong language, disrespectful teenager, married couple, arguing, underage smoking and underage drinking,

𖤐Summary: Soap and Y/n's teenage son Ryker is becoming a bit disrespectful to his parents and Soap wants to put a stop to his disrespectful antics

————

11:00PM

"I'm so tired," Y/n, the wife of Soap yawns.

"I know...I am too, and we can't sleep because of him and his midnight antics," Soap's eye twitched in annoyance, it's almost every night now, Ryker has brought a new girl home to fuck.

He thinks his parents are asleep but in reality they can't sleep when their son's bed frame is hitting the wall and some girls were fucking loud.

Y/n rubs her tired eyes and Soap held her to his chest, he looks down and sees that Y/n looked so tired, she had work tomorrow, and a important meeting as well.

"Okay, that's it!" Soap moves off the bed and put on some sweatpants.

"Johnny? What are you doing?" She gets off the bed and holds his arm.

"Going to put a fucking stop to this, this is almost every fucking night now, I'm tired, you're tired, I'm done, this fucking stops," he quickly and forcefully opens the master bedroom door and goes to his sons door which just a few steps away.

He knocks on his sons bedroom door, he hears rustling inside and some chuckling and giggling around in the bedroom, making Soap a little more angry.

Soon, the door opens and Ryker was face-to-face with an angry dad and a worried mother.

"What?" Ryker sounded annoyed.

"What's what, is that your mother and I are trying to sleep and we can't when you are in here making so much fucking noise," Soap says.

"We're...just having fun," Ryker raised his eyebrows and looked at Soap and Y/n.

"Too much fucking fun, Miss grab your shit and leave my house," Soap says, looking at the girl on Ryker's bed holding his blanket to her bare chest.

"Whatever," she rolls her eyes and starts grabbing her clothes as Ryker and Soap were just having a pissed off staring contest with each other. The girl walks between Soap and Ryker and left without saying another word to either of them.

"John," Y/n grabs at her husband's buff and veiny arm.

"Next time you want to have your so-called 'fun' fucking do it somewhere else, not in my house," Soap didn't care if his son was having sex as long as his son was protected but he hates hearing it almost every fucking day.

Soap and Y/n head back to their bedroom and Y/n fell on her side of the bed and passed out almost immediately as Soap leans against the headboard of the bed and soon fell asleep.

-----------

Ryker lays on his bed looking at his phone his LED lights in the color red as he was shirtless and was texting the girl he was just with.

Kenzie: *What a buzzkill*

Ryker: *Yeah, they fucking suck, they never cared before and now all of a sudden they care, it's fucking annoying* *Anyways, do you want to go to Echoes and do it there?*

Echoes was a rec-bar that people Ryker's age went to, to play games, bowl, smoke, drinking and even do it in the bathrooms. The owner of Echoes didn't care what people did in his bar, it's basically run by teenagers.

Kenzie: *I don't know, maybe*

Ryker: *I have to know before I move to the next girl*

Yeah, Ryker is a fucking player or fuckboy which ever you prefer and basically has a LIST of girls he wants to fuck, or who asked to be fucked by him.

Kenzie: *No, move on, idc*

Ryker: *Ok*

----------

9:39AM

Soap had woken up to the sound of his son blasting music, he rubs his tired eyes and looks to see no Y/n next to him, she must've left for the day.

Soap groans and get out of bed, pulling his bedroom door open and walk down the hall seeing his sons bedroom door wide open and he was moving around his bedroom as Soap walked passed his bedroom.

Ryker has gotten to the point where he's disrespecting Soap and Soap's house rules. Y/n is usually busy with work that she doesn't know much that's happening with Soap and Ryker.

Soap and Ryker use to do everything together, fishing, camping, going to sports games, but once Ryker reached High School that all went out the window and Ryker became a fuckboy.

Soap wonders how it happened. If he's hanging out with the wrong group of friends, but Soap met all his friends and they all seem pretty cool, none are disrespectful and respect both Soap and Y/n.

Soap fixed himself some coffee and walked to the front door seeing the newspaper at the front door. Soap doesn't know why they still get the newspaper, he has TV and a phone that gives him the News.

"I'm heading out!" Ryker says, basically pushing passed Soap, almost making Soap spill his coffee.

"RYKER!" Soap yells, and Soap watched Ryker walk halfway down the driveway. Soap puts his arms in the air and walks back inside the house.

----------

Ryker walks to his friends house opening the door and walking inside.

"RYKER'S HERE!!" Ryker announces himself to his friends, who all yell and Ryker plops himself on the couch as his friend Zion passed him a joint.

"How was Kenzie?"

"Dude, didn't even get to finish because of my old man."

"Really!?"

"Hell yeah, dude," Ryker talked shit about Soap, Ryker didn't care.

"But didn't she feel good though?"

"Oh fuck yeah dude. I was all over that shit, but again, I didn't even fucking finish because of my dickhead of a father."

---------

1:00PM

Soap yawns and looks at the TV it was noon and Ryker was still at Zion's as far as Soap knew at least. The front door opened revealing Ryker. He places his bag by the front door and walks in.

"You reek of weed," Soap says.

"What you going to tell mom?" Ryker snickers.

"Ryker. I don't fucking know what has gotten into you, but you are not the son I fucking raised."

"Yes, it fucking is," Ryker says.

"I didn't raise you, to drink and smoke at a young age, I didn't teach you to have sex at 16, are you even protecting yourself? I don't know because you are not talking to me...you use to tell me...everything, Ryker...what the fuck happened?"

"I grew up," Ryker says before walking upstairs to his bedroom and Soap hears the bedroom door slam shut.

----------

3:16PM

Soap places his head in his hands and he hears the front door open.

"I'm home!" Y/n says. Soap lifts his head up and Y/n made eye contact with a red eyed Soap. "Soap? What's wrong?" Y/n drops everything and walks to him, taking his head and holding him closer to her chest.

"I feel like I failed as a father...I failed my son...I failed you."

"You didn't fail me or Ryker."

"Angel, you don't understand."

"What do I not understand?" She asked him, looking down at him.

"I raised my son to be respectful to anyone and everyone...and he turned into a fuckboy...and he's disrespectful to us...what did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, John. You did your absolute best as a father...he's...he's just hitting a phase where if he's disrespectful he'll get friends, he's still your little boy."

"He's not a baby anymore, angel...he's a teenager..."

Only if Soap knew that Ryker heard everything. Ryker was around the corner before heading to the living room, he stops when hearing Soap's breaking voice and his moms soft voice trying to comfort him.

-----------

5:00PM

"Mom...do you want help with dinner?" Ryker had come downstairs seeing his mom get ready for dinner.

"If you want to peel the potatoes. Your father usually does it for me."

"Where's he?"

"Bed, he's taking a nap...he's a little stressed right now," she says. Ryker has a feeling on why he may be stressed.

"Dad's pissed at me."

"Ryker-"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No...your father told me what's going on...why are you doing this?"

"I don't know, mom...it was like a switch when I stepped in High School. Guess it was all those Disney shows that show when you're in High School you have to be a badass to get by."

"Be serious, Ryker..."

"I don't know, mom."

"Where you afraid you might not be liked?" Ryker just shrugs. "Your father has done so much for you and I, I hope you know that."

"I do, mom...I know..." Ryker placed all the peeled potatoes on a napkin and moved them to the stove and plopped them in a boiling pot.

Ryker watched his mom make dinner and he leans on the counter rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry for keeping you both up last night."

"It's okay, Ryker." She smiles at her son and kissed his temple.

"Mom, I'm too old for kisses."

"You will love my kisses rather you like them or not," she starts kissing all over his face making him laugh and her laugh as well. Soap watched from a distance as Ryker was smiling, a smile he hasn't seen in a long time.

Soap steps closer to Y/n and his son. Y/n smiles up at Soap and kissed his lips before he looks at Ryker and rubs his fluffy hair.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, you are."

"You McTavish boys are so emotional," Y/n jokes.

"Whatever," John then attacks Y/n with kisses. Ryker watched as his parents showed their love to each other.

---------

Next Day (12:00PM)

Zion: *Yo, you coming over? Lily, Avery, and Winter are coming over, you wanna round?* *Hello?* *Dude?* *Earth* *To* *Ryker?*

Ryker hears his phone blowing up by Zion. Ryker looks at the messages and turns his phone to 'Do Not Disturb' him and Soap were at the lake. Do a long do fishing trip.

"This is nice," Soap says.

"Oh yeah," Ryker says.

"This is fun...later do you want food?" Soap asked.

"Yep," Ryker says popping the 'p'.

"We'll see what you mom wants after this."

"Okay."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish

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jellyfishoreo1206 · 4 days

Text

First Light (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: Part Five of the series! The skrunkly goes out for a small trip :3 Also POV change! Felt like switching things up a bit (no Painter in this one, I'm SORRY 😢) You could tell I got REAL descriptive here folks.

This maybe a bit shorter than the others, but I'm happy with how this turned out! Never knew my AP English classes could help me with my writing!!

Chapter inspired by the song I Don't Want To See Tomorrow by Nat King Cole

Credit goes to @/cafekitsune for the dividers

"I don't get why we had. . ." A yawn interrupts his sentence, stretching the muscles in his back to relieve the tension that built over the night, ". . .to get up so early, Starfish." Another yawn threaten to leave his mouth, his features still dusted with the lingering essence of sleep as he followed behind you as you lead him to a hill near the house by the hand. His fluorescent eyes were slightly dimmed with the drooping of his eyelids, every so often rubbing his eyes as if to keep himself awake. He didn't have time to question why when you woke him up, all you muttered out to him was that it was six in the morning and you had something to show him.

"Oh shush. You'll see when we get there." There was a playful undertone to that sentence of yours, sparkling E/C eyes staring up at him with such a glee he couldn't yet understand, yet he smiled back; he'll never admit it, he'll die before he admits it because he knows it'll just make that ego of yours bigger, but he loves that smile of yours. Makes his stomach do summersaults as a light tingly sensation spreads across his face, coloring his face a slight turquoise.

Up at the top of the hill, you finally let go of his hand, already missing the warmth that you simply radiated in waves. The hill was of decent height—the whole thing was covered in wild grass and flowers, giving it a feeling that came out of a fantasy—giving them a view of the land around them, surveying the endless stretch of trees as their looming height gently sways to a music that only they could hear.

"Alright, what was so important that you had to wake me up this early?" His voice was full of mirth and sass, crossing his arms across his pajama-clad chest with his third placed above his hip, now fully awake and alert as he looks at you with a playfully raised eyebrow. You merely pointed towards the cloud-free horizon with a smile of giddy glee, the sky soon beginning to lighten in a flourish of colors.

All Sebastian could do was watch with absolute enchantment as the tiniest sliver of light peaked at the horizon, slowly rising bit by bit as the light slowly became brighter and brighter, its rays of light touching all it could as it washes the land over with a golden tint.

How long has it really been since I seen the sun rise? He truly didn't know, but he knows that it's been long if he was this immersed in something this simple. He glances in your direction, watching how those eyes of yours seemed to have become brighter as you watched the big ball of light rise well above the horizon with a bright smile that could rival the sun, the golden tint seemingly washing over you as if you were a deity sent down from above, a striking sight indeed.

Maybe it's the simple things that make moments like these truly beautiful. . .

He reaches for your hand with his eyes still fixed upon the sun, hands that were once used to kill and survive now renewed with a new purpose as they gently cradle your hand within his larger ones. . .

To love.

Turning away for the horizon, he drinks in your image as you merely continued to watch the sky with awe, blindly reaching for his to intertwine your fingers with his, giving two gentle squeezes. God how is it that you could break down his walls so easily?

He still remembers the time when you told him what those two squeezes meant after his curiosity was too much to bear; he didn't hate the gesture, no far from it, he merely just wondered why you did such a gesture. He still remembers how you smiled so sweetly at him when he finally asked, leaning down to shower all three of his hands with sugary sweet kisses that sent pulses of electricity through his nerves with a steady flush arising to his face.

"It means I love you, silly." Those honeyed words left your lips with such practiced ease. He has no idea how you could say such words with not a hint of hesitation to them.

You swear you accidentally broke him then. His eyes widened in flustered shock as his mouth repeatedly opened and closed to find the right words to respond to such a sentence; his brain becoming mush. And when his tongue finally worked, he fumbled over every single one of words, his face becoming a bright light of turquoise as his lure flickered rapidly.

He eventually used his hands to cover his face in embarrassment, telling you to stop saying such lies.

You merely doubled your efforts.

Honestly, if you had a super power, it's making Sebastian weak in the knees (Or tail?)

Wrapping his tail around your figure, he pulls you into his awaiting arms as they encircle your waist, snuggling you without an ounce of care as he showers your face with kiss after kiss. Giggles tumble out your lips at the sudden affection, wrapping your arms around his neck as you brought yourself closer to him.

The sun now raining down on you with its blessed light, giving warmth and a feeling of love.

Sebastian didn't pull away when he stopped his barrage of kisses on your face, merely leaning his forehead against yours, his lure dangling in-between the two of you as he gazes deep into your eyes with a look of fond tenderness.

"I love you so much, Starfish."

You broke out into a smile, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks as you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, "I love you too, Sebby."

Unless he sees it with you, he doesn't want to see tomorrow without you.

Last Part, Next Part (?)

#sebastian solace pressure #pressure sebastian #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #pressure #slice of life pressure ☀︎#pressure roblox #roblox #sorry for not posting that often guys!#They weren't kidding when they said UC applications were hard #pray for me ( ; < : )

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thought--bubble · 9 months

Text

In Need Of An Heir Pt 4

Aemond (Canon Era) X (Baratheon! Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,874

In Need of an Heir Master List

Aemond (Canon Era) Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: mentions of forced marriage, Religious guilt.

Aemond watches you and Royce make a hasty exit from the dinner after being excused. As soon as the doors shut behind you, Aegon breaks out into a hearty laugh.

"I see you have charmed your betrothed brother. She seems truly smitten!"

Aemond looks straight at Aegon. Face stoic and cold. "So it seems." This just makes Aegon laugh harder.

"I'm sure that she is just nervous. A marriage is a big step. She is leaving her home and living somewhere new. With people she hardly knows, we would all do well to try and make her feel more comfortable. " Alicent looks at Aemond as she says this. Her usual way of asking him to do something without actually asking him.

His face remains still. There are a lot of things he will do if his mother so wishes. Going out of his way to make this girl comfortable is not one of them. Making people comfortable isn't something that he excels at, and he's self-aware.

He already has plans for the coming week. Ignore everyone and everything as much as possible. Train and attend councils as necessary and assist Criston, who is the current hand of the king, in keeping an ever watchful eye on Aegon, and that's it. Nowhere in that schedule is there room to spend time with this girl and make her comfortable. He will have to spend enough of his life with her. He should at least enjoy what time he has left.

So that is exactly what he does. The whole week goes by pretty quickly. His mother didn't bother him with much of the wedding plans, though she did ask him to meet with the jeweler to choose a necklace for his bride.

"Make sure to choose something special. This will be your first gift to her." She had said.

The jeweler has several necklaces laid out for Aemond to choose from. Most being beautiful rubies or emeralds. He spots a beautiful citrine necklace. He picks it up, turning the jewel between his fingers a few times. Maybe the yellow color will remind her of home. Make her more comfortable as his mother had suggested.

He holds the citrine necklace in his hand as he continues to peruse the other available choices when his eye stops on a beautiful sapphire necklace. His hand involuntarily passes over his eye patch.

"Make a connection" more words of wisdom from his mother.

He puts the citrine necklace down and picks up the sapphire. "This one," he rubs his thumb over the flat surface of the stone before handing it to the jeweler.

He leaves the room quickly after that, heading to his mother's chambers. She wanted to have a brief meeting with him before the wedding, which he has been putting off all week. Seeing as the wedding was tomorrow, he couldn't put it off any longer, so reluctantly, he makes the trip through the winding corridors to his mother's apartments.

As he rounds the corner, he spots your small frame. Hunched over arm outstretched on the wall, no doubt supporting your weight.

He can hear you groan out loud as he gets closer.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He knows the true answer to this is an unequivocal no. You are being forced to marry him tomorrow after all.

When you turn and look at him, he doesn't see the fear he had seen at dinner. He can't quite place exactly what it is he sees. Your big eyes travel up and down his body.

He hates to be seen. Truly seen. Looked at gawked at like some sort of beast. What does she see? A man? A prince? A monster? He can't be sure, and it's that thought that terrifies him.

"Oh..... yes, my prince just l....... ummm big day tomorrow"

"Hmmm," he clicks his tongue as he observes you, as if trying to find any sort of sign that will tell him what it is you were thinking. What was really going on in your head.

"Are you due to visit my mother?"

"Oh no, just left her company, actually," he tries to think of some way to keep the conversation going. Maybe have a brief conversation before being wed in front of the gods.

His mind is blank and quickly gives up on this idea. "Very well then, I will keep you no longer." he walks towards his mother's door quickly and gently knocks on the door.

Never before has he wished for his mother to answer the door quickly the way he does in this moment.

You curtsy and walk off. He sees this out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps his head straightforward.

His mind is racing as he waits for his mother to answer the door, he hates not knowing things. He prides himself on knowing more than anyone else in the room. But with this. His marriage, his bride, he knows next to nothing.

Finally a chambermaid opens the door, before she has a chance to greet or curtsy Aemond walks briskly past her and into his mothers apartments.

"Mother..." his demeanor is cold but his mother knows him better than anyone. His cool facade never works on her.

"Sit Aemond, there are a few things i wish to discuss before tomorrow" she gestures to the chair directly across from her.

He sits down curling his fingers over the end of the armrest. Scratching briefly at the wood with his fingernails.

"so, as you know tomorrow you are to be married"

he sighs and looks up at the ceiling "I'm aware"

"I want to review the process, where you will stand all of those things...... but first, I want to speak to you regarding the wedding night."

He rolls his eye and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "There is no need to discuss this mother, I know what is expected of me and will see it done"

"There is another person in this equation Aemond, I have been exactly where she is. I just mean to bring that to your attention. How you treat her on your wedding night may effect the way your entire marriage plays out. Mutual respect and care, gentleness and understanding. This isn't simply a duty to be done." She is looking at him with a solemn expression. "I just ask that you take this into consideration. That she will most likely be scared and as her husband it is part of your duty to make her feel safe"

he simply nods in understanding. Not wanting to discuss this topic any further.

"You will have some work to do in regards to showing her that you are in fact a decent man" she says this with some disdain. A tone she rarely uses when she speaks to him. A tone she uses when she talks about one particular subject. A subject he again would rather not discuss.

"Is that so? Have I already wronged her in some way?" He chuckles as he leans back in his chair. He knows exactly what his mother is referring to and it irritates him. he fancies himself a patient man though others may disagree. He does not however have any patience for being judged, right or wrong what he has done, the sins he has committed are between him and the gods and he will not explain himself to another person. That includes his mother and his soon to be wife.

"You had already made a promise to wed her and be a loyal dutiful husband when you..... took part in certain activities, so yes in a manner of speaking you have in fact wronged her in a way. But not just her. The gods of which you are about to stand in front of and be wed." She gives him that scalding look of disappointment he hates so much.

"I see" He hates that his mother is right. He prides himself on fulfilling his duties, keeping his oaths. "Well seeing as the ability to travel back in time escapes me, it seems she will have to make do."

"Just something to be mindful of" she says gently, and from there the conversation breaks out into the specifics of the wedding. Where to be and when, how the procession will take place who will do what.

Once his mother finally dismisses him he exits her apartments swiftly making his way back to his chambers. He intends to spend the rest of the day there. In his solitude, a book in hand, and that is exactly what he does. He has his supper alone in his chambers and lays down to rest much earlier than usual.

Though he is laying down sleep does not come. Tomorrow ever watchful eyes will be on him. The eyes of his mother, his brother, his bride, so many others, but most of all the gods.

The gods he knows he has no doubt disappointed. He is a kin slayer, a murderer, he has been lustful, violent, driven by revenge and hate, and now he is to stand before those same gods who's principles he has betrayed and ask them to bless the union of his marriage.

He can only hope his bride has enough goodness for the both of them.

When the morning finally comes he moves swiftly. This is what he is best at. Being given a duty to fulfill and seeing it done through to completion. He dawns some of his best attire makes his way down to the sept earlier than anticipated.

He enters the large hall of the Sept and runs his hand over the corners of the benches as he walks through. It is decorated beautifully as his mother no doubt commissioned. It seems so frivolous. To spend the money on such an affair when the common folk are suffering after the war. Especially those trying to rebuild in the Riverlands.

It needs to be done. So it will be done.

Aemond waits patiently while the others make their way to the Sept. The hall fills with people as he is directed to his post. His battle station. The voices that were filling the sept are being quieted as everyone makes their way to their assigned positions. Aemond stares ahead at the empty space where his bride will soon stand and waits.

He turns and nods his head only when his brother is carried in and placed at the front of the observers. his eyes on Aemond a lazy smile on his face.

After that he stares blankly ahead and waits for the sound of those big doors opening. The sound of his bride making her way to him.

When he hears the doors open he closes his eye and takes a deep breath, not turning his head but remaining forward facing.

it's not long before she is stationed before him. Her hair looks beautiful, her dress looks beautiful, but she looks frightened.

"she will most likely be scared and as her husband it is part of your duty to make her feel safe" his mothers words play through his head.

He gives her a small smile.

As with all of his duties he shall see this completed.

Part 5

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sofiaispunk · 1 year

Text

The Bakery Crush - PART (1/2)

Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

summary: Just two fools clearly in love, pining over each other because ... well, they are fools.

words: 3kish

warnings: angst, JEALOUSY, Joel being a fool, smut, pining, age gap, bad puns, heartbreak, 18+

You enjoyed the little things in Jackson. The little fairy lights that brighten up the street and making Jackson almost feel like a magical wonderland, the vibrant colors of the changing leaves in autumn, the sound of the flowing water from the nearby river, but what you enjoyed the most was the smell of freshly baked bread from your little bakery on the corner in Mainstreet.

Shortly after arriving in Jackson Maria assigned, you to baking duty, since you were a professional baker before the outbreak, and showed you to your new working place.

It was a charming little bakery that had been abandoned for years but as you peered through the dusty windows, you immediately saw the potential.

Tommy, Maria’s husband, helped you turn the rusty shop into your dream bakery. You spent countless hours painting the walls a warm shade of yellow, installing new cabinets and countertops, and laying down fresh tiles.

You were determined to make the bakery stand out, a place with a warm atmosphere where everybody felt welcomed. You even found old wooden crates to use as shelves, hung vintage baking utensils on the walls, and added some decorative flowers for the ambiance.

That was a year ago and since then your bakery has become the favorite place of the residents of Jackson and Jackson became your home.

You were busy kneading a batch of dough when you heard the familiar jingle of the bakery's bell.

"Hey there, Ellie!" you greeted her with a smile. "How was school today?"

"It was fine," she replied, shrugging off her backpack. "But you know what would make it better? A freshly baked blueberry scone."

You chuckled. "You never change, do you? One blueberry scone for my favorite customer coming right up."

As you handed her a warm scone on a napkin, Ellie grinned mischievously. "Thanks, (y/n). This looks berry delicious!”

You couldn't help but chuckle at her pun. "That's a good one, Ellie. You really do have a way with words."

She grinned. "Thanks, I try. I mean, it's not like I'm rolling in dough like you are." She waggled her eyebrows at you and took another bite of the scone.

You laughed lightly, continuing to work on your dough, "You're too much, Ellie. But you always make me smile, that’s why you my favorite, y‘ know."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," she said with a grin. "To brighten up your day and eat all your delicious scones."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You're lucky I like you, kid."

Ellie finished up the last of her scone and sighed contentedly. "Man, that hit the spot. I don't know how you do it, really. Your scones are always so flavorful and yummy."

"It's all about using the best ingredients and putting my secret ingredient in … love." You answered playfully, slightly cringing at your cheesy answer.

Ellie just groaned silently but nodded. "Well, it shows. You know, you really raisin the bar when it comes to baked goods."

Now it was your turn to groan. "That one was a bit of a stretch, Ellie."

"Hey, I can't help it. I'm on a roll today."

You both laughed as she grabbed her backpack and headed over to you to give you a small hug and a quick kiss on your cheek "Thanks for the scone. I’m off to Dina’s. See you, tomorrow.”

And with that Ellie rushed her way towards the exit.

"Take care, Ellie," you called after her with a smile. "And keep those puns coming, kid."

It was getting late and you were closing the store front for the day. You packed up the leftover treats from the bakery and couldn't help but think that maybe Joel would want to enjoy them. So you gathered up some pretzel pieces, bread, two scones that Ellie loves, and some croissants and made your way to Joel's house.

The evening sky painted in different hues of orange and pink. The streets were quiet as most people had retired for the night. You walked leisurely towards Joel's house, taking in the sights and sounds of the town you had grown to love.

When you reached the house, you knocked on the door and waited. Ellie opened the door with a surprised look on her face.

"Hey, Ellie. Sorry to drop by so late. I thought maybe you and Joel would want to have some of these leftover treats," you said, holding up the bag of the baked goods.

Ellie smiled, "Of course we would. You know he can never resist them, and neither can I. Come on in."

As you followed Ellie to the kitchen, you couldn't help but notice how cozy and warm their home was. The living room was dimly lit, and the only source of light came from the candles on the coffee table.

“Joel's not home yet, though.“ She said while tearing up a piece of croissant, “I don't know where he is, and it's kind of weird because he's never out this late."

Your eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Really? That's strange. Do you want me to stay with you until he gets back?"

Ellie shook her head. "No, that's okay. I'm sure he's just caught up with something. Thanks for the offer, though."

You nodded and headed over to the door, "Sure, no problem. Let me know if you need anything, okay kiddo?"

Ellie nodded and bid you goodnight and you made your way home, in desperate need of a warm shower after a long day at work.

You stood under the warm shower, the water cascading down your body, the stream slowly relaxing your muscles, allowing yourself to let your mind wander. Thoughts of Joel flooded your mind. You couldn't help but think about his chiseled physique and his strong, defined features. His nose, perfectly carved, led down to his plush lips that always seemed to be turned down in a permanent scowl.

But then, there was his smile. The one that could light up an entire room, the one that made your heart skip a beat. The way his face changed, softening, and becoming almost boyish, when he talked to Ellie. His soft brown eyes crinkling with laughter every time Ellie tells one of her many jokes. It was like seeing a completely different side of him, that almost felt like was just reserved for you and Ellie.

You let your soapy hands glide over your body pretending they were his big, calloused ones exploring your body. Steam filled the bathroom as your moans and whimpers echoed though the small room.

You drew tight circles on your most aching part while imagining the way his broad shoulders would feel under your hands, and his strong thick fingers, that always seemed to be working on something, replacing yours. His lips sucking and licking on every part of your body, consuming you.

"Joel,” you let out a final moan, your voice not much above a whisper, as you reached your peak, your walls clenching around nothing.

The water started to cool as you tried to catch your breath, bringing you back to reality. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel. You knew you needed to push these thoughts aside, but a part of you couldn't help but think about Joel and wonder where he could be at this hour. You just prayed that he was okay.

The next morning, while you were getting ready to open the bakery, you noticed Joel and Ellie walking in. To your surprise Joel was carrying a bouquet of flowers and a bag of coffee beans, which caught you off guard.

"Good morning, (y/n)!" Ellie chirped, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Morning, Ellie. Morning, Joel. What brings you guys in today?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Joel smiled warmly. "I just wanted to say thank you for the bread and scones yesterday. They were delicious. And I thought you might like these flowers and coffee beans as a small token of my appreciation."

Your felt your heartbeat race as he handed you the small bouquet of wildflowers. "Thank you, Joel. That's very thoughtful of you."

Ellie nudged you with her elbow, a sly grin on her face. "Looks like somebody's got a secret admirer… well, not so secret," she teased.

"Ellie, please. That’s enough" Joel gave Ellie a stern look. Ellie just shrugged innocently in return and skipped off to the display case, leaving you alone with Joel.

"Listen, I don't want to keep you from your work. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you do for me and especially for Ellie. And, well, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

“Thank you, that means a lot, Joel” you blushed slightly.

“Anytime, darlin’,” he placed his warm hand on yours and you felt a flutter in your stomach at the contact of his skin.

As if reading your mind, Ellie sauntered back over, a chocolate croissant in hand. "What's going on over here? Are you two making googly eyes at each other?"

Joel laughed. "No, Ellie. She and I were just having a friendly conversation."

But Ellie wasn't convinced. "Uh-huh. Sure, you were. Well, I'm going to go enjoy this delicious croissant. You two keep doing your thing."

As she walked away, Joel turned back to you with a warm smile. "Don't mind her, darlin´. She's just teasing. But, really, thank you again for everything."

As Joel and Ellie were about to leave, Ellie turned to you, "I almost forgot to ask you if you wanna come to the community hall tonight and watch a movie with us?"

"Really? You want lil’ old me to come with you?" you teased.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Duh. We wouldn't have asked if we didn't want you to come. We're watching this old western movie that Joel loves. You know, to keep up with his cowboy persona."

Joel chuckled. "Ellie, you know I'm not a real cowboy. But, yes, we would love it if you came. “

You grinned. "I would love to come. And I'll bring some blueberry scones."

Ellie's eyes lit up. "Yes! I knew you would say that. Those are my favorites."

You made your way to the community hall, the twinkle lights hanging above the entrance, casting a warm and inviting glow. The hall itself was a modest, single-story building with wooden walls and a sloping roof. Overall it was a cozy space and pretty much the center point of your little community.

As you entered the hall, you were greeted by Tommy and Maria , who were standing by the door, handing out programs for the evening's event. They both smiled and greeted you warmly.

"Hey there, (y/n)!" Tommy said. "Glad you could make it."

Maria chimed in. "Yes, we're all excited for the movie tonight. Have you seen it before?"

You shook your head. "No, I haven't. But I've heard good things. Ellie seemed excided."

You made some small talk about the movie and the bakery before you spotted Ellie and Joel sitting in the front row. You made your way over to them, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation.

"Hey, guys," you said, sitting down next to them. "Looks like we got good seats."

Ellie grinned. "Of course, we did. Dad always gets here early to get the best spot."

Joel chuckled. "That's right. Gotta be prepared."

Joel was holding a big bag of popcorn and handed it over to you, your fingers barely touching, sending shivers down your entire body. "’M glad you could make it.” he whispered into your ear. You felt his breath lightly tickling your earlobe.

"Oh, I have a small favor," Ellie exclaimed, turning back to you, causing you to abruptly snap out of your trance.

"Dina's birthday is next week. Do you think you could make her a cake?" Ellie asked shyly. “Only if you want of course and only if you have enough spare ingredients. I know it’s a lot to ask from you but Dina is not just any friend … well… she is my friend of course but she is my best friend and special and I want to do something extra special for her. I am sorry, just forget I said anything. “ Ellie was visibly distressed.

You smiled and put a reassuring hand on her arm to stop her rambling. "Of course I can. What kind of cake were you thinking about?"

Ellie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "She loves chocolate. And... wait for it... peanut butter."

You laughed. "Well, it sounds like we'll have to come up with something extra special for her then."

Ellie hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help but feel so much adoration for the girl. In the short timespan you knew each other she crawled her way into your heart and became part of your family.

Ellie nudged you. "Oh and look, there's Karen and her grandkids. She's been raving about your cinnamon rolls all week."

You looked around the hall and were surprised to see how many people had shown up for the movie night. There were families with kids, elderly couples, and even a few teenagers.

You smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Maybe I'll make some for the next movie night."

The lights dimmed and the movie began, Joel and Ellie sat on either side of you, munching on popcorn and occasionally making side comments about the movie. You were immediately drawn into the Western that was playing, with its sweeping landscapes and rugged cowboys which kind of reminded you of Joel.

About halfway through the movie, a woman sat down next to Joel and began talking to him, completely ignoring the fact that you were in the middle of a film. Ellie let out an annoyed huff and shushed her, but the woman didn't seem to get the message.

You turned to Ellie and gave her a gentle nudge. "Hey, now. Let's not be rude," you whispered.

“She’s the one being rude. “Ellie rolled her eyes but quieted down and turned her attention back to the movie.

You on the other hand found yourself growing more and more distracted by the conversation between the woman and Joel. They laughed and chatted, and Joel seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company.

Your curiosity was piqued, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Who is that woman? How do they know each other? Did he invite her to watch the movie with him? You tried to focus on the movie, but every time the woman laughed, your attention was drawn back to their conversation.

Your thoughts didn’t seem to quiet down and raced through your mind, and you found yourself feeling increasingly agitated. At the corner of your eye stole a glance at Ellie, who was engrossed in the movie.

You strained your ears to catch snippets of the conversation between Joel and the woman and immediately noticed the flirtatious undertones in their banter. The woman was playing with her hair, and Joel kept stealing glances at her. You felt a knot forming in your stomach as you watched them.

At one point, you heard the woman mention something about a rodeo, and Joel's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, you were a natural on that bull," he whispered, chuckling.

The woman grinned. "Yeah, until I fell off and almost broke my arm," she replied, playfully punching Joel in the arm.

Then, the woman leaned in close to Joel and whispered something in his ear. You couldn't hear what she said, but Joel's eyes widened, and he let out a low chuckle.

She leaned back in her seat. "What do you say, cowboy?" she asked, winking at him.

The credits rolled and the lights came on, and you quickly stood up and you couldn’t wait to get out of there. You couldn't bear to be in the same room as Joel and the woman any longer. You didn’t care how childish you were behaving or if somebody would notice your weird behavior. The jealousy and hurt were too much to bear in this moment.

You hugged Ellie tightly, not wanting to let go. "Thanks for inviting me, Ellie. I had a great time," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie looked up at you with concern in her eyes. "Hey, you ok, right?" she asked, sensing that something was off.

You forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, of course, Ellie Bellie. Just a little tired," you lied.

Joel and the woman looked over at you, and you nodded in their direction goodbye, unable to meet their gaze, and quickly made your way out of the hall.

Once outside, you steadied your breathing and tried to compose yourself. You felt foolish for letting your emotions get the best of you. Afterall, Joel was a free man, and he was entitled to date whoever he wanted. You knew this, but you still couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment and hurt.

Suddenly the sky opened up and it started to rain heavily. It felt like the world was crying with you. The raindrops were mixing with your tears, and you couldn't tell the difference between the two. The wind was picking up, and you felt cold to the bone. It was as if the weather knew the pain you were feeling and was trying to make it worse.

Your body was shaking uncontrollably, and you felt foolish for thinking that there could have been something between you and Joel. How could you be so naive? Joel was just being kind to you, and you misinterpreted his kind gestures and turned it in some twisted delusional romantic idea.

How pathetic of you for even considering the possibility that Joel might have had feelings for you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together as the rain continues to beat down on you.

At the end of the day, Joel Miller, was nothing more than your stupid little crush.

Part 2

#joel miller fic #pedro pascal #aesthetic #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #pedro is daddy #pedro almodóvar #pedrohub #pedro gonzalez #jealousy

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whimsimille · 4 months

Text

THICKER THAN BLOOD

Chapter 2: "Come home to me, darling."

(Jeong Jin-Man x fem! reader)

"Why are you leaving so suddenly?" You questioned, your voice bouncing off the tapestry that adorned the living room wall of your quaint shared apartment and the oak bookshelves filled with classics.

The comforting aroma of a simmering homemade tomato sauce filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and the rhythmic chopping of crisp, fresh vegetables on the polished granite kitchen countertop.

Dressed in a worn-out apricot apron adorned with faded sunflower prints, your hands were occupied with diligently kneading the carefully prepared pasta dough for your dinner, a recipe passed down from your Italian grandmother.

All of a sudden, the living room's normal sounds—the soft purr of Gunpowder, his gray cat curled up on the plush Persian rug, the low drone of the television playing the evening news—were replaced by an eerie silence that made your skin crawl.

On turning, you noticed Honda in the midst of rushing preparations for departure. He was hunched over the suede couch, lacing up his sturdy boots, his face etched with stern concentration. Against the dimly lit backdrop of the room, his figure blended seamlessly, rendering him no more than a transient silhouette.

"Where exactly are you off to? And what's the urgency?" You signed, your hands dancing in the air while you leaned against the wooden door frame. A knot of unease formed in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his hasty departure.

His gaze met yours, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he signed back, "I have to go. Jin-Man needs me. I can't disclose more for your safety. You know how it works."

He continued to pack his bag—a small duffel made of worn leather with patches on the corners and straps slung over one shoulder. As he did so, you caught sight of an old photograph falling out of the side pocket; it was of you both from what looked like a summer festival years ago, grinning widely under colorful umbrellas while balloons swelled around you both.

"But can't it wait until tomorrow? Is it really necessary to depart on the day that we get back together after several months?

The worn-out leather of the couch groaned under his weight as he rose, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the faded brown wallpaper.

Moving towards you, he avoided the cluttered coffee table littered with dog-eared magazines and discarded newspapers. His leather jacket, draped over the back of a nearby armchair, was quickly pulled on, the rusted zipper scraping against the silence of the room.

"No, it can't wait. But I'll be back in time for dinner. I promise." Even as he used a gentle swipe of his thumb to remove a stray splotch of tomato sauce from your cheek, his smile never left his face. “When I return, we can lounge on the couch, munching on popcorn and be engrossed in those old Hollywood classics you're so fond of. You can also show me your progress with that hacking project you've been working on. Maybe try not to fry the motherboard this time?"

"First of all, you better keep that promise. Second, I’ll hold you to it. Third, for your information, that was a one-time thing!"

"First, I will. It's a promise. And second, I remember it being a three-time thing." He chuckled, his laughter warm like a summer's day.

"Shut up. But tell me, why the secrecy? Why can't you share what's happening? Jin-Man usually keeps me in the loop when a mission comes up.”

Despite your persistent questioning, Honda remained resolute, his face as unreadable as a closed book. He gently loosened your grip on his arm. "Stop nagging me like Mama would. I can't divulge any details. It's not safe. But I need to go. Jin-Man needs me. Don’t you have any government sites to hack? Or do you plan on crashing our systems again?"

"Stop it, douchebag. You're being reckless. We need to tread with caution, especially now more than ever. You know that. And that was not my fault; their security was just… upgraded."

However, he simply shook his head as he smiled at your pout, pulling you into a warm embrace. The cold, hard metal of his brass knuckles, concealed in his pocket, pressed against your side. A chilling reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Yet you refrained from voicing your fears, choosing instead to hold him tight, the rhythm of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"Alright," you conceded, swallowing your protests, "at least take some food with you." Gesturing towards a Tupperware container on the table, filled with steaming eggs and a side of kimchi jeon—both staple dishes in your shared meals.

His eyes softened at your concern, and he took the offered container, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead before making his way towards the entrance.

As he neared the door, a rush of childhood memories invaded your mind. Sometimes you stayed up late whispering secrets under the covers; sometimes you felt his pain even when he was miles away, and sometimes you both fell off your bikes and ended up in the emergency room with scraped knees. They dubbed it the twin instinct, but to you, it was a lifeline, a warning system that alerted you when Honda was in danger.

"Honda, wait!" You called out, your voice echoing off the creaking wooden floorboards.

The desperation in your plea stirred Gunpowder from her sleep, her tail twitching softly against the worn-out rug as though caught in a dream of chasing unseen mice. Honda turned, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes questioning in the pale afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the old blinds.

A knot of guilt twisted in the pit of your stomach, threatening to crawl out through your lips and fill the room with its bitter taste.

The two of you were caught in a moment where petty bickering had canceled all the plans you had carefully added to your shared agenda. Your hands, once intertwined in unity, had become unglued from one another, your fingers now tangled in the strands of hair sprouting from your head. The hateful words you once spat at each other—words that had plunged through the gaps of your milk teeth—had turned into a somber reality. It suddenly seemed oddly appealing to consider dying in order to keep him around.

"I...I love you, brother," you admitted, the words feeling foreign yet so right. It was something you should have said a long time ago, after your parents' deaths, when it was just the two of you against the world. But you had always been afraid—afraid that admitting your fears would make them real.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. "I love you too, sis," he signed before stepping out into the afternoon, leaving you in the silence of the empty apartment.

While life in the apartment carried on around you—the stove still burning, the TV blaring the evening news, Gunpowder curling around your ankles, licking your calves—you felt tears springing up in your eyes as your thoughts raced.

Come home, Honda. Come home and tell me everything about your day, from the way the sun glinted off the skyscrapers to the way the coffee tasted at your favorite café. Come home and argue with me again, about trivial things like who left the lights on or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Slam your bedroom door like you used to when we were teenagers and stomp around the house in Dad's old boots.

Come home and laugh with me, share those terrible inside jokes that only we understand. Handle your knife in the wrong way, the way you used to when you're not on a mission, when you're just my brother and not a covert operative.

Come home and hold me again while I cry in your lap about the girls and boys that shattered my heart. Come home to fix the TV you always mess up with those greasy fingers of yours, leaving stains on the remote.

Scream at me if you need to; let out all that pent-up frustration that I know you keep bottled up inside.

Come home and tell me how you always manage to burn the pasta, making it stick to the pots. Come home and let me nag about your messiness, about the dirty socks you always leave on the floor and about the dishes in the sink.

But most importantly:

“Come home safe. Come home to me, Honda. Please."

2 months later

Late afternoon light filtered through the window, casting elongated, capering shadows across the glossy surface of your living room's hardwood floor.

Finally, after a whole day cleaning the place and trying to make it more child friendly, you were curled up in the embrace of the vintage couch and a soft, threadbare blanket, a relic from your childhood, was wrapped snugly around you, providing a comforting barrier against the creeping chill.

You idly stroked Gunpowder, who was as much a part of the family as any human member. Her fur was coarse, yet soothing under your fingertips.

Gunpowder was the only other living being that missed Honda as much as you did; her amber eyes held a profound sadness that echoed your own. You were grateful that Jin-Man let you take her from the animal shelter.

She didn't deserve to be alone, not when she had already lost so much.

With the monochrome scenes flickering against the brick wall, the contemporary television set in the room's corner was showing Casablanca.

Nonetheless, your mind was elsewhere, lost in a world of thought, meandering through a labyrinth of candid memories as your eyes were glued to the window, drinking in the expanse of the verdant family farm outside.

In your hands was your favorite cat mug, the one with the chipped ear and faded paint, a sentimental relic from your college days.

It was unusually quiet, the usual cacophony of farm life replaced by the relentless drumming of rain.

Not only was Ji-An nowhere to be seen, but Jin-Man's rusty truck had vanished from its customary location beside the red barn.

A glance at the old, ticking clock hanging on the wall—16:00, way past the time Ji-An usually got home from school—made your anxiety spike.

Just as you were about to pull on your trusty yellow raincoat to go look for her, you saw Jin-Man's truck pulling up the gravel driveway. He got out of the truck, his jacket hanging haphazardly off his broad shoulders, and his jaw clenched in a way that set off alarm bells in your head.

You quickly signed , "Hey! Old man! Good afternoon to you too! Where's Ji-An?" as he stomped past you, heading straight to his office. But he didn't answer; he didn't even spare you a glance.

Following him, you tried to make sense of what was happening, but he closed the office door right in your face. You were left standing there, frustration bubbling up inside you, a sense of foreboding making your heart pound in your chest.

As you paced around the living room, worry gnawing at you, the front door creaked open. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you turned around, expecting to see Ji-An, safe and sound.

But what you saw made your heart drop.

Ji-An walked in, soaked to the bone and covered in mud, carrying her pink backpack—the one her mother had bought for her last Christmas. Her uniform was clinging to her small frame, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she didn't make a sound. Not a sob, not a whimper.

Seeing her, you rushed over, dropping onto your knees to be at her level. "Ji-An, sweetheart, what happened? Why didn't you come home with Uncle Jin-Man?" you asked. A flutter of panic seized you as she remained silent, her eyes downcast. "Did something happen at school? You can tell me. I'm here for you."

“I need a bath, Noona. I don't want to talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

You looked at her for a long moment, the sight of her shivering form causing a lump to form in your throat. Her hair, previously neatly braided, was now a mess; the ties you had made for her earlier that morning were nowhere to be found.

"Yeah… Of course, baby," you reassured her, offering a weak smile.

With a sigh, you slowly rose to your feet and gently took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. You could feel her fingers tremble slightly in your grasp, her small hand cold and damp from the rain.

You then went to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath for her. You quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes for her—a soft purple cotton t-shirt and a pair of comfortable cartoon pants that had cute little teddy bears printed on them. You placed them neatly on the bathroom counter, within her reach.

Once the bathtub was filled with warm water and a generous amount of bubble bath, you helped her undress the wet clothes sticking to her skin.

While Ji-An enjoyed her warm bath, Gunpowder sat in front of the bathtub. Her amber eyes were focused on the bubbles, her tail twitching with curiosity. Every now and then, she would bat at a stray bubble, her paw slicing through the air with a fluid motion as if it were a game.

With Ji-An safely in the bath and the clothes inside the washing machine, you then went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. Using cookie cutters, you shaped the food into fun shapes—a star-shaped sandwich, fruit cut into the shape of animals, a bowl of soup with alphabet pasta. You even managed to make a small salad; the vegetables were bright and colorful. It was a small gesture, but you hoped it would bring a smile to Ji-An's face.

Throughout the days you've been living in this place, you've tried countless times to make Jin-Man and Ji-An eat at the same place, to share a meal like a family. But Jin-Man always avoided you and Ji-An like you were viruses, always eating small things before burying himself on the couch while watching movies all alone or in his office working with Pasin. It was frustrating to see the distance between them, but then again, it wasn't your job to force conversations and lovey dovey moments.

Once the food was ready, you set the table and then sat down in front of Ji-An, waiting for her to finish her bath. She emerged a while later, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the warm water.

Gunpowder, having finished her bubble play, twined around Ji-An’s legs as the child sat at the table. You both sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle hum of the washing machine and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

Then, to your surprise, Ji-An was the one to break the silence.

"Today, I waited for Uncle Jin-Man to come and pick me up from school. But he was late, and it started to rain. I decided to walk home instead."

You watched as she continued to sign, her hands moving with a quiet determination. " I was walking in the rain when I saw Uncle Jin-Man's truck. He slowed down, but I didn't want to get in. I was upset with him. So, I continued to walk, even though it was raining hard. Uncle Jin-Man stopped and waited for me to get in, but I didn't."

“I wanted him to come out and apologize, to tell me he was sorry for being late. But he just accelerated and went away. I was so angry, Noona. I wanted him to understand how I felt and how it felt to be forgotten."

"It's okay, baby. It's okay to feel upset. But remember, your uncle loves you very much. Sometimes, adults make mistakes too."

Shortly after dinner, you decided it was time for Ji-An to learn a new task: cleaning the dishes.

Filling the sink with warm, sudsy water, you showed her how to hold the scrub brush and guided her hand to clean the surface of the plates with gentle but firm strokes. You made sure she understood the importance of removing all leftover bits of food and how to rinse each dish thoroughly under the running water.

"Remember, Ji-An, cleaning is also a part of cooking. Once you're done eating, always make sure to clean up after yourself. It's not just about keeping your area clean, but also about respecting the people who will use the kitchen after you. See, we're not just cleaning up our mess; we're also preparing a clean space for the next person, " you signed, watching as she absorbed your words and continued washing the plates carefully under your watchful eye.

When you were done and completed with the task, you noticed that the sky had completely darkened, the bright hues of the day replaced by the deep blues and blacks of night. You gently dried Ji-An's small, pruney hands with a plush, soft towel and led her towards her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm, cozy hue from the night lamp sitting on her bedside table, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls.

You tucked her into her bed. The fluffy comforter was pulled up to her chin, and you couldn't help but laugh at the way Gunpowder jumped onto her lap, purring contently.

"Noona," she signed, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light, reflecting the soft glow of the night lamp. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? "

"Of course, sweetheart. Do you have any particular story in mind?" You asked, settling yourself comfortably at the edge of her bed, your hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"No, you choose, " she shrugged, her small body snuggling deeper into the warm covers.

You mulled over her request for a moment, your mind flipping through the pages of the countless stories you knew. Finally, one came to your mind. "There's a sad yet beautiful story from my hometown about two squirrels. They were mates—lovers for life and the town's favorite pair of animals. They were seen everywhere together, always chattering away in their own language, their tails intertwined. "

With each word, you painted a vivid picture of their life together. You told her about the female squirrel's illness and the male's devotion and his refusal to leave her side even in search of food.

As you narrated, you noticed Ji-An's eyes welling up with a faraway look. She interrupted you multiple times. "Why didn't the male squirrel eat?" "Why didn't he find another mate? " "Do all squirrels do this? "

You answered each question patiently, explaining the depth of the squirrel's love and the depth of his grief. You told her about how the male squirrel mourned for his mate, returning to their empty nest alone each year.

As you reached the end of the story, you noticed Ji-An's eyes growing heavy. Her questions became fewer and farther between, her chest moving slower until she slept. Still, she was twitching ever so slightly, hands closed and then jerking open in a rhythmic pattern that spoke volumes.

In an attempt to provide some comfort, you laid down next to her, being careful not to jostle her too much. You wrapped your arm around her small form, pulling her closer to your warmth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of yellow and red. The hyena. It was lurking in the corner of the room, its eyes gleaming malevolently in the dim light, eager to haunt you too. You didn't even turn to look at it. It was there, but it wasn't real. You knew it.

"Goodnight, Ji-An," you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, placing her bunny toy in the place where you'd been seconds before. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," you added, stroking her hair soothingly. "Noona's here. You're safe."

You switched off the night lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

As you left her room, you closed the door gently behind you, leaving the hyena and the remnants of your past locked away.

Easing back into the worn porch chair, the fabric of Jin-Man's purloined shirt fluttered against your skin in the cool night breeze. A stolen moment of solitude, with nothing but a half-burnt cigarette for company.

The embers at the tip flickered, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. Drawing the cigarette to your lips, you inhaled, letting the sharp tang of nicotine coil around your senses and momentarily dull your worries.

Eyes shut, you allowed your thoughts to drift to the intricate web of coding and changes you had to make in Murthehelp.

The only sounds were the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves under the night sky's vast expanse. Yet, this tranquility was abruptly shattered by the encroaching sound of hushed footsteps gradually growing louder. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jin-Man standing before you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the cigarette nestled between your fingers with a look of distaste as if you had the devil's hands between your lips.

A chuckle escaped you; the sight of Jin-Man, usually so composed, visibly irked by the cigarette, was enough to momentarily diffuse the tension. "Insomnia again?" you asked, flicking the ash off the cigarette with your thumb.

His hardened gaze didn't waver as he retorted, "I was waiting for you to come to bed."

You shrugged nonchalantly. Since your suicide attempt, Jin-Man has taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you. The concept of solitary sleep had become foreign to both of you.

“What's eating at you?" he asked, his gaze softening slightly.

"Why did you abandon Ji-An at school?"

"I got tied up and lost track of time," he replied, but his excuse fell on deaf ears. You scoffed at his words, well aware of the truth. He hadn't forgotten; he probably thought leaving Ji-An to trek home on her own would toughen her up.

"That's a load of crap, and you know it," you retorted, stomping out the cigarette under your feet. "Do you think making her walk home alone in the rain is going to make her stronger? Is that your grand plan?"

His silence was a response in itself, resonating in the quiet night air louder than any words.

"You are unbelievable, Jin-Man," you muttered. The scent of fresh paint and pine filled the air. It was a far cry from the gunpowder and blood that once filled your memory. But you couldn't help but crave it sometimes, even if it meant pain. Pain meant life; it meant survival. "You keep pushing her away relentlessly, like a stubborn child refusing his vegetables. You're so preoccupied with making her tough and resilient that you forget she's just a child. She needs your love and your understanding. You forget that she can't even communicate normally and that her aphasia is only getting worse! You don't even let me talk with her teacher, and don't pretend I don't know about the bullying she's enduring at school! We're not in Babylon , Jin-Man! We're in a small town where everyone knows everyone else. For heaven's sake, grow up!”

He retorted, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through the heavy silence. “You should be more concerned with managing your own aphasia and PTSD. Ji-An’s not your responsibility. She's not related to you by blood. Drop this saintly act of playing mom. We're not her parents. This isn't a dollhouse and we're not Ken and Barbie.”

"Act? I kept Ji-An alive after her parents died! I trained her to communicate again! And even though it's hard, I've made her eat properly and taught her how to brush her teeth and do her homework again! I've been here for her every step of the way! You just... sit in your office or hide in your room!"

His jaw clenched tightly before he spoke again. "You think that's all it takes? Just feeding her and teaching her sign language?" He spat out angrily. The tip of his tongue traced his bottom lip as he continued speaking harshly, "It's not enough! She needs discipline! She needs structure!"

You shook your head violently. "She has enough structure! She needs us, Jin-Man! She needs our support, our guidance. She doesn't need a soldier; she needs a parent!"

His face tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"Are you that afraid to care for someone, that afraid to love again? Are you hiding behind your uniform, your duties because you're too scared to face your own feelings?"

"Don't play with fire. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think I do! And do you think Jin-Suk would like to see his daughter being trained as a warrior rather than growing up as a normal girl?" you challenged, your voice echoing with the strength of your belief.

The mention of his brother struck a nerve. A flash of anger crossed his stony features, and before you knew it, he was charging at you like a wild animal.

Suddenly, Jin-Man's hands shot out, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your back slammed into the gnarled wooden planks, the splintered texture scratching against your skin. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through your spine, causing you to gasp as the wind was knocked out of your lungs.

"Why are you doing this, Jin-Man?"

In response, his large, calloused hands wrapped around your throat in a vice-like grip, cutting off your airway. His fingers pressed against the delicate skin of your neck, the strength in his hands threatening to crush your windpipe. It felt like you were sinking into an abyss, the darkness of his rage engulfing you, making it impossible to breathe.

You clawed at his hands, desperate to pry them off. But his grip was unyielding; his hands felt like iron bands around your neck, tightening with every second that passed. As you gasped for breath, your vision started to spin, the edges blurring as black spots danced in front of your eyes. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, screaming for air.

Panic surged within you, a tidal wave that threatened to consume you. Time seemed to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity as you struggled to draw breath.

Finally, his grip loosened just slightly, allowing a sliver of oxygen to rush into your lungs. You gasped; the taste of air was like ambrosia—sweet and life-giving. Coughs racked your body as you struggled to regain control over your breathing, your throat raw and your chest heaving. The salty tang of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision.

But you refused to back down, to give in to the fear. You locked eyes with him, defiance burning in your gaze. "Go ahead, Jin-Man, continue," you spat out, your voice raspy from the assault. "Kill me. But know this: my death won't change the truth.”

“Jesus, you're so weak, girl.”

A chuckle found its way through your bruised vocal chords. “Yeah? Wanna see who's weak then?”

Summoning every iota of your willpower, you retaliated against his suffocating hold. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you strained against his formidable strength.

After a fierce and desperate struggle, your adrenaline-fueled power seemed to catch him off guard. With a sudden explosive kick, you managed to wrench yourself free, pushing him violently away from you.

Caught off balance, Jin-Man stumbled backwards. His feet skidded across the wooden floorboards, and his body crashed into the pot of vibrant lilies you had carefully chosen from the local market to adorn the porch. The pot shattered on impact, fragments of terracotta scattering across the floor, intermingling with the uprooted flowers and loose soil.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the brutalized lilies and the quiet patter of dirt falling onto the floor. But inside? Inside of you, the hyenas laughter echoed through your mind, mocking you for getting what you deserved—too used to chaos and violence.

The sight of the destruction seemed to snap Jin-Man out of his rage-induced stupor, his furious gaze softening as he took in the aftermath of your altercation.

"I'm done," you said, breaking the silence. "I'm done with this, Jin-Man. I'm done with your anger, your stubbornness, and your refusal to let anyone in. I'm done with the constant battles, the endless wars. I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving."

“Y/N…” He trailed off as he grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you around to face him. Your bodies were just inches apart now, his breath hot on your cheek as he pleaded silently.

“Don’t. Just shut your mouth and let me go. I'm not your Barbie, right?” Each word was punctuated by the bitter taste of blood as you absentmindedly touched your raw throat.

“You can't sleep alone.”

“I'll manage.”

“You can't remember when you last ate.”

"I'll set a reminder.”

"You can't drive without crying."

"I'll get a taxi."

"Ji-An needs you."

I need you.

"She needs you more."

"And you, Jin-Man," you added, the sting of your words sobering the air. "You need to realize that before it's too late."

----------------

April 3:

"Are you serious? Did I actually have to buy another chip to send you messages? You know, the store owner looked at me like I was crazy."

1 missed call from Ahjusshi

April 5:

"Ji-An keeps asking for you. She asked me to tell her the story about the couple of squirrels. You know, the one about their endless love and devotion."

2 missed calls from Jeong

April 7:

"Pasin showed me the link to the site. It's pretty quick and easy to access. Even an old man like me can make requests for guns, right? Technology these days, eh?"

April 11:

"She asked me to put on Casablanca. It's one of your favorites, right? I remember Honda telling me that you're addicted to Hollywood classics.”

“Gunpowder keeps sleeping on your side of the bed. I hate it.”

3 missed calls from Jeong Jin-Man, son of a bitch

April 22:

"I have a mission for you. It's critical and requires your skills."

"Can you come home so that we can discuss the details? There's something about it I can't trust in a message."

8 missed calls from the son of a bitch

“I guess I will ask So Min-Hye to replace you then. I know you wouldn't want that."

May 7:

“Ji-An's teacher told me that you visited her today. Did you really make two boys eat dirt by grabbing her money?”

“I could've helped.”

May 9:

“Went to the market today and heard Kyung Soo say that you're a good kisser. I had to stop myself from laughing."

“I heard from the locals that he went to the hospital after being knocked out. Strange, right? Or should I say, expected?"

May 16:

"Gunpowder brought a dead bird into the house. I think she's trying to replace you as the hunter of the family."

May 21:

"I saw a girl at the market wearing a dress you would like. It had sunflowers all over it. Made me think of you."

"She was about your age, too. For a moment, I thought it was you ."

-------

As Jin-Man speeds in the direction of Ji-An's school, his heart pounds against his ribs like a war drum. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his forehead slick with beads of sweat. He curses himself silently, berating his own negligence.

How could he have not noticed that Ji-An hadn't come home?

The typical view of the small city blurs past him, the houses and trees merging into a hasty collage of colors under the evening gloom. The town's bakery, the park where the children play, and the old library all blur into indistinguishable shadows. But he barely registers any of it. His mind is filled with vivid images of you screaming at him for this oversight.

He imagines your small fists beating at his chest, your eyes—those captivating eyes that he secretly admired—flaring with anger and worry.

“How could you forget her again , Jin-Man? She's just a child!"

The guilt, like a ravenous beast, gnaws at him, driving him to press the pedal harder. The old engine protests, its roar echoing through the tranquil evening.

Suddenly, he remembers his phone.

Snatching it from the passenger seat, he dials your number hastily. The line rings once, twice, thrice, but there's no answer. He fumbles to leave a voicemail, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks into the device. "Hey, I… messed up. Ji-An... I… Just call me back.”

The voicemail ends with a beep, leaving Jin-Man alone with his thoughts and the eerie silence of the empty road. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving the road.

Nearing the school, his eyes flicked to the digital clock on the dashboard—it read 19:00, the hour when the last echoes of childhood laughter usually fade away. But now, the school grounds were eerily silent and deserted, a stark contrast to the daytime symphony of playful shouts and laughter. The playground, usually a vibrant hub of activity, was painted with somber shades, the swings swaying lightly in the breeze, their squeaky chains the only sound piercing the silence.

As he swung into the school's parking lot, a small figure suddenly sprang from the shadows, frantically waving his arms.

A boy was shouting, his voice hoarse and strained, as he pointed towards the grimy basement door at the rear of the school building. "She's locked there!"

Without a second thought, Jin-Man abandons his car, leaving the engine running as he sprints towards the basement door. The door is locked, but within, he can hear Ji-An's voice, her pleas echoing through the desolate night.

"Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man!" she is calling, her voice scratchy and strained, likely from the first use of her vocal cords in months.

Frantically, he scans his surroundings. His eyes land on a fire safety box nearby. Inside, he spots a hammer.

With no time to spare, he smashes the box, glass shards raining onto the worn-out asphalt. He grabs the hammer, using it to break the rusted chains and unlock the door.

In a final heave, he throws the door open, revealing Ji-An inside. Her cheeks were flushed red from crying and her eyes were brimming with a mix of relief and fear.

She doesn't waste any time rushing at him, her small fists pounding against his chest. He doesn't move; he doesn't try to stop her. She's screaming at him, her words punctuated by her furious hits: "Why did you take so long? You promised you were coming back soon! Why did you arrive so late? Why did you let her go? Why did you let Noona go? Why? Why?"

He could only look at her, absorbing her words and feeling each syllable like a physical blow. Her pain, her anger, and her confusion were all directed at him.

Then he did the only thing he could think of—the only thing he thought you would have done in this situation.

He pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

For minutes, he doesn't say a word until he grabs her, holding her close.

Turning to the boy, he nods, "I'll give you a ride home."

The journey to the kid’s home was silent, save for the muted hum of the car's engine and the occasional rustle of cloth against leather.

Ji-An was huddled against the passenger seat, her body trembling slightly. Noticing this, he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her small frame in the same way he did for you.

After dropping the boy off and Ji-An finally falling asleep, he drives aimlessly. The city lights flicker past in a hazy blur, their glow casting fleeting shadows on his face. He thinks of you—your laughter, your anger, and your determination. It's strange, he thinks, how the absence of someone can fill a room, a house, or a life.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone.

Glancing at the screen, he sees your name flashing. He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the decline button.

But then he remembers how things used to be and how it felt to hear your voice without the weight of regret and guilt. He misses when your name didn't make his chest ache, when it was just a name he heard now and then but held no significance to him.

He yearns for the days when he didn't know you, when his eyes didn't instinctively scan every room he entered in hopes of finding you there. He misses the sight of you standing among strangers, wearing that ridiculous skirt he used to tease you about but now finds himself missing.

He finds himself longing for the mundane details. How you'd take off your shoes at the front door, placing your keys with care in the small glass bowl on the corner of the kitchen counter. How you'd drape your coat over the back of a dining room chair, your socks left at the foot of the bed next to the sleeping cat.

He misses holding back your hair as you succumb to the side effects of your PTSD pills, your body rejecting the chemicals meant to help you cope. He yearns for the times when you would climb under the white blankets with him, forcefully opening his arms to encase you between them.

He misses how you would place your legs on top of his and let your hands wander to his waist and chest. He misses hearing you say, "I missed you," telling him about your day as you would slowly drift off to sleep. And he longs for the times he would secretly kiss your cheek softly before he inevitably had to leave you for work.

He misses when you were simply strangers—not two people who act like strangers in public but once knew each other better than they ever knew themselves. He misses the simplicity of those days and the innocence of not knowing what it felt like to lose you.

Because, in the end, when the lights are off and his eyes flutter shut, the back of his mind always whispers your name, calling out to you like you are the only place he was ever meant to call home .

When he finally decided to answer the call, he placed the phone on the dashboard, the worn leather creaking under the weight. He switched to speaker mode, the familiar chime filling the small space of the car.

"Hello?"

Tinny and distant over the phone speaker, you responded almost immediately. "You left a voicemail. What happened?" In the background, he could hear the faint, unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking open and the soft hiss of a cigarette being lit.

"Your voice sounds rough," he commented, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. "How many days have you been communicating only with sign language?"

"Shut up, motherfucker. What about Ji-An?”

"I…" he started, faltering. The words he needed to say were stuck in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.

“Look, Ji-Man. I have nothing to do with you anymore. I’m calling you back because you sounded like a wounded little bitch and you said her name. Drop the show and spit it out.”

“I failed again, okay?" The confession spilled out of him, the words tasting like defeat. But he couldn't stop there; he had to finish what he started. "But, look, Ji-An spoke.”

He could almost hear your sharp intake of breath and the sound of the cigarette being hastily put out in the background. There was a long, drawn-out silence, the kind of silence that spoke volumes. He could imagine your surprise—the way your eyes would widen slightly, the lit cigarette forgotten in your hand. But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, filled with a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

"She spoke?"

"Yes. She called out to me. She used her voice, and she spoke."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that everything is okay between us," he continued, his voice gruff, "But I'm also not going to pretend that we don't have a shared past. One that involves a little girl who misses you."

"You're such a bastard. You know how to manipulate me using her," you snapped, the sound of a chair creaking in the background signaling your agitation.

"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that Ji-An misses you. And you miss her too, don't you?"

A silence followed his words—not an uncomfortable one, but a silence filled with unspoken words and a shared history. And then you sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that echoed with the weight of your unspoken thoughts.

"I do miss her. But you, Jeong Jin-Man, are a pain in my ass.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at your words. "I've been told that before."

"I'm sure you have."

Another silence filled the line, comfortable yet heavy with years of shared experiences.

"By the way," he added, his voice softer now, "the key is still under the cat statue you put by the front door. You can drop by anytime."

"I'll think about it. But don't expect me to come running back, Jin-Man. We're not the same people we used to be."

"I know. But we're still us, aren't we?"

"We're something ," you admitted, a sigh slipping past your lips. "But I don't know what that is anymore."

"Neither do I. But maybe we can figure it out together, old lady."

"Old lady?" you scoffed, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Coming from a man who's 10 years older than me."

"Years are still years," he teased, a smile playing on his lips. "But whatever we are, Y/N, whatever we become, you're still… something to me. And so is Ji-An. Remember that."

"I will. I will, Ahjusshi."

#lee dong wook #imagine #a shop for killers #jeong jin man #lee dong wook x reader #lee dongwook x fem! reader #poetry #jeong jin man x reader #jeong jian #seo moonjo x reader #lee dongwook x reader

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dancingtotuyo · 7 months

Text

Before | 1. the mountains are screaming

A Woman Story

Rating: Mature

Series Summary: Five peeks into your past before Joel Miller reentered you life

Summary: you’re alone and in need of supplies but a trip down the mountain brings you much more.

Tags: The Last of Us, set in the Woman universe, love, loss, loneliness, backstory, slight enemies to lovers vibes.

Warnings: talk of loss and grief (spouse,brother& kids), violence, blood, fight, guns

Notes: those drabbles I referenced, yeah they turned into a mini series within the Woman series! 3 chapters to be posted before we delve back into the main story with 2 more to follow on alternating weeks!

Shoutout to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for taking a look at this! I adore you my dear 💚

Words: 3632

Series Masterlist | Woman Masterlist | Author Masterlist

You’ve put it off long enough, but you’re low on supplies, and the homes within comfortable walking distance are long-picked over. You know going into Jackson is your best bet, but it’s a full day’s walk just to get there, and you haven’t been there in years. You don’t know if it will be abandoned still, crawling with infected, or crawling with people. It’s risky leaving the house unattended for so long, but you haven’t seen another human being in almost 2 years. In theory, no one should be here when you get back.

You have to go, and you have to go tomorrow. Winter will be upon you before too long. You figure you’ll need to make a couple of trips to get you through the winter.

You set out as soon as it’s light out. The trip there is easiest, going downhill with your pack light. You can’t even consider the trek back.

Alone, the town feels more unnerving. A few windows are broken here and there, doors rotted out in places, but relatively untouched. Dust collects in inches. You’re shocked by how much is left intact, like the town has been preserved by fate. You stuff your bag with canned foods, carefully inspecting each one before moving to the first aid supplies.

Your pack is full when you hear it, a collection of voices. A strong command echoes to spread out and clear the buildings. Your heart drops to your stomach. You should’ve come a day earlier. Procrastination has come to collect its dues just like it did in college, except this isn’t your GPA. It’s your fucking life.

You glance out the window. Several people with rifles flank the street, five in your sights, but you hear more. So many more. A couple of horses whinny. You slink behind a shelf, pressing your back against it. You have minutes, seconds maybe before they find you. There are too many to shoot your way out. You have to find a way to slip out undetected.

You scan the store, spotting the back entrance. Maybe they won’t be out back. There’s a thicket of trees around the north edge of the city. If you can make it there without them spotting you, maybe you can hide out until it’s dark enough to travel to the mountain tree line. It’s a long shot, but you’re a sitting duck here.

You move quickly, careful to stay out of sight. Your boots are heavy on the floor. The voices grow in number and volume. Your hand touches the cool door knob. You take a moment to steady yourself. There’s no time for nerves or doubts. You crack the door open. The alley is clear.

It’s open on both ends, doing nothing to ease your nerves, but the bright fall colors from the thicket call your name. Sticking close to the wall, you make sure to keep any noise to a minimum. Your heart races with each new voice.

You’re almost to the end of the alleyway. The trees are 50 yards away, a couple of houses to keep you covered as you move toward them. You can do this. Then the crunch of gravel bounces off the walls of the alley. You glance behind you. Your eyes connect with brown ones. Time stands still like a deer in a hunter’s crosshairs just before he pulls the trigger. You might look just as wild. Before he can alert anyone, the adrenaline hits. You take off toward the trees, all sense of stealth gone.

He yells and then starts after you, but you can’t spare the time to look behind you. You can’t outrun him, but if you can make it to the trees first, maybe you can find a place to hide before they catch up.

There are more shouts, more footsteps. A shotgun fires just as you cross into the cover of the trees. There aren’t a lot of options, but you’re in better shape than you were 30 seconds ago. Fall leaves crunch underfoot. You can’t run forever. You’ll reach the end of the thicket soon enough.

A dog barks. Your brain barely comprehends it. Horses, dogs, what's next? House cats? Out in the open, they’re sure to catch you. There are more houses if you turn west. Maybe you can hide until dark. The footsteps are getting closer no matter how fast you run. Maybe you should just accept the odds are not in your favor. You’re hopelessly outnumbered and outpowered, but you won’t do that. You haven’t come this far to give up now.

A body collides with your back, knocking the wind from you before you tumble to the ground. You use the momentum to roll, hoping to shake the body, but his grip is too strong. You refuse to hold still, finding his thumb and pulling it back. He cries out in pain. Your nails dig into his cheek, leaving a nasty trail of scratches down his face. It’s enough to push out of his hold.

You slip on the leaves as you attempt to get up. He grabs your ankle with his unharmed hand, pulling you back down. You manage just enough coordination to land a kick to his groin and a solid punch to his right eye. Your knuckles ache immediately, but it works until two sets of hands clamp down on your arms. You try to pull away, but they push you to your knees.

Another person helps your attacker to his feet. You catch a flash of red on his cheek, presumably from the scratches you left down his cheek. It’s little comfort when the barrel of a rifle lands at your back.

This is it. This is where you die.

“You okay, Gabe?” A woman’s calls.

“Been better.” He’s panting. Good. “Think the thumb’s broken, but I’ll be fine.”

Boots crunch on the leaves, drawing closer until the toes of them stand at the edge of your vision. Silence falls, your own quiet panting the only thing you can hear. You wonder if you look as wild as you feel. Maybe they’ll just shoot you now, give you no chance to plead or bargain. That would be more humane.

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks.

You still haven’t looked up, haven’t looked at her face. Survival says you should. Maybe they’ll be less cruel if you look into their eyes. You don’t respond.

“We got her backpack.” A random voice calls. You don’t remember dropping it, but the last couple of minutes are a blur. He comes up beside the woman. She digs through your newly acquired possessions.

“Not much here,” She says. “Your group must be nearby. How many are there?”

Dry laughter forces its way out of you. You suppose you could lie. Maybe they’d spare you, but they’d find out soon enough. There’s no need to draw this out.

“You think this is funny?”

“There is no one else.” You roll your head up, looking her in the eye for the first time.

She straightens, leaning back just a little as she contemplates your words. She’s not what you’re expecting. She wears a stern expression, but her eyes seem almost kind, like an old friend with a cup of warm tea. “I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“Why would I lie about that? I’m dead anyway.”

“Are you?”

“I’m the one with a rifle at my back right now.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Precautions.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth.”

“It is the truth. I’m the last one left.” The woman seems to believe you this time, an air of surprise passing through her eyes.

She looks at the men keeping you contained. “Let her go.”

“Maria,” One raises a sound of protest, but she cuts him off with a single glare.

The rifle lowers. The grip on both your arms disappears as you scurry to your feet. The woman looks between you and your bag before handing it back. “There a lot of traffic through these parts?”

“I think the stores speak for themselves,” You say. She tilts her head to the side. You won’t lie, it is effective. “I haven’t seen another human being in 2 years, but I don’t stay here.”

“Infected?”

“Had a small pod come through a couple years ago. Haven’t seen anything but strays of late.”

She seems content with your answer.

“Am I free to go?” You sling your pack over your shoulder.

“You’re gonna need more than just that to survive.”

“What makes you think I don’t have what I need.”

Once again, she cuts through your bullshit. Is this woman a mind reader or something? Or maybe it’s been the lack of human contact. No, this woman has the stare mothers develop to pry the truth from their children. It’s just as effective on adults.

“We’re gonna stay here, at least for a while. You’re welcome to join us.”

The offer catches you off guard. You’re not sure what to think. If they wanted to kill you, they would have already, unless they’re really that sick and twisted. You look around at the other faces around you. Four men including the one you hit. There’s already swelling around his eye, the scratches are bright red with drying blood. Two women, but you know there’s more. You can hear them now, clearing the buildings through Jackson.

“And if I say no, Maria?” You square up with their leader, a faint smirk graces your face. There’s a certain power in knowing her name when she doesn’t know yours.

“Then I’ll have Gabe escort you back with plenty of provisions to get you through the winter.” She points to the man who caught you.

“You’re gonna send the man with a broken thumb and bad eye? Must not like him very much.”

“Kinda been getting on my nerves lately,” Maria cracks a grin, but you don’t return it.

Gabe scoffs. “I’m the comedic relief. Can’t kill me off.”

Your face stays flat, unimpressed. “I don’t need an escort, and he clearly isn’t in any shape to be going anywhere.”

“I said you could go. I never said I trusted you.”

“I can fix him up before I go.” You nod to the man. “I used to be a trauma nurse.”

Maria tilts her head to the side. “Good. He’ll be in better condition when he takes you home tomorrow.”

You don’t know why, but the word home makes you cringe. You don’t have one of those anymore.

You set up outside of the old clinic after scouring for supplies to clean the scratches and a splint. It seems like FEDRA cleaned out a lot of the medical supplies when they evacuated, but you manage.

Gabe watches you carefully, still wearing a smile. “I don’t see how you can sit there grinning with that black eye.”

“Badge of honor.” He says, eyes glued to you. “Do you ever smile?”

“No.” You say, taking a hold of his hand. Gabe starts to ramble on about something you tune out as you focus on the anatomy of his hand. There’s something about using your old trade that sets a thrill through you, only briefly. Without warning, you snap it back into place. He screams out in pain. You look up at him, a brief smirk playing on your face. “Lucky for you, it’s not actually broken.”

“You’re better than I thought, Doc.”

“Nurse,” You say, splinting his thumb. “You should wear this for the next 4 weeks. Longer if there’s still pain.”

“Or you could stay and oversee his recovery,” Maria says, walking up. “We could use someone with your skills.”

You finish wrapping the splint before turning to face her. “I’m good. He’ll be fine.”

“It would be nice to have you around-”

“I said no.”

She sighs, crossing her arms. “Okay, but it’s an open offer if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Maria shifts, sliding her hands into her pockets. “House around the corner at the end of the street. We cleared it. It’s dusty, probably rat-infested, but in decent shape. You can stay there tonight.”

You nod. “Thanks.”

You sit on the porch steps of an abandoned house. A faded red X paints the door behind you and an orange campfire flickers in your eyes. There are about 30 of them in total. A majority of them circle around the fire about 50 feet away. You catch the hums of multiple conversations, but no substance. A few children run around, catching fireflies, but it's the laughter that strikes that deep sense of want within you. Your chest aches with the grief of what you’ve lost since the outbreak, forced into survival mode. When was the last time you laughed? Or smiled? There’s been no occasion to. There’s been no desire to.

Tears blur the edges of your vision. Memories flash before your eyes of the good times, your brothers, your parents, grandparents, friends, that last summer with Sarah. Your heart clenches. You have no idea what happened to them. You can only assume they’re gone. Hoping doesn’t do you any good, and the odds have never been in your favor.

“You could come join us, you know,” Gabe says, walking up to you. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, a smile plastered on his swollen face.

You quickly wipe the excess moisture from your eyes. “I’m fine.” It’s emotionless, passive.

“You gonna sulk all night? I’m the one with a busted face.”

“I’m sorry some of us don’t feel like celebrating.” You roll your eyes, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you look back at the door to the house you’ll be spending the night in. Can’t you just be left alone? You have to spend the whole day with him tomorrow.

“You’re like one of the Eight Dwarfs,” he says.

“Pretty sure there were seven.” You bristle, standing up.

“Doleful, the eighth dwarf that never was. That’s you.”

“Doleful, really?” You say, rolling your eyes. Your annoyance with him is growing exponentially. What is his deal?

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you so much as crack a smile. Always so serious.” He furrows his brow in an almost mocking manner as he steps into your space, wearing the same goofy grin. You want to slap it off his face.

“Do you always talk to women this way?” There must be smoke pouring from your ears at this point.

“Only ones who give me black eyes.”

“You were the one chasing me!”

“You were running. Maybe I just wanted to say hi.” He’s goading you, and the annoying part is he’s succeeding.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Then walk away, Doleful.”

That’s when it hits you. How close he’s standing. His eyes flutter over your face. You can feel the warmth of him seeping into you. How long has it been since you touched another human being? Today's events notwithstanding. It’s been even longer since you had someone look at you like that.

You swallow, letting yourself dwell in the feeling for just a second before setting your jaw and turning away. You catch the sound of him letting out a breath, the same one you were holding. Your hand hovers over the door knob. “Make sure you keep your hand elevated tonight.”

“Yeah… will do.”

You step inside before he can say anything more.

You’re flush against him on a horse the next day. He insists he’s fine to take the reins despite his broken thumb. Maria also insists, muttering something about not trusting you. Experience tells you you shouldn’t let them know where you live, but your gut trusts them not to harm you.

Gabe tries to joke and make conversation. You give him nothing but grunts and one-word responses. You stop about 30 minutes from your destination to eat lunch and let the horse rest. Your legs feel numb, not used to riding.

“You gonna ignore me the whole time, Doleful?”

“Talk to the horse.”

“He’d be better conversation.”

“What is your deal?” you ask, finally fed up.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

“What mood? There’s no mood to lighten!” You finally lose it. You haven’t had to deal with the yapping of another person for years and your tolerance is at an all-time low. Carter would be disappointed at how fast this man has gotten under your skin.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you like he’s actually thinking. That would be a first. “People still need to experience joy and laughter.”

The laugh that leaves you is free of humor. It comes out under your breath, meaner than you intend, and he hears it. “You obviously didn’t have to lose anyone.”

He straightens immediately, face darkening. “No, I just chose to not let it consume me.”

He moves over to the horse, securing the saddlebags with more force than necessary. The tension and anger ripple off of him in droves. You bite your lip, guilt instantly falling over you.

“Gabe, I-“

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. “I think it’s best if we don’t talk the rest of the way.”

You supply a nod, but the guilt eats at you the closer you get. From what you can catch of Gabe’s profile, it’s set firmly in stone. You haven’t seen him without a smile yet. It hasn’t been long, but it doesn’t feel right. It feels like you swallowed someone’s joy, put out their light with your darkness.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. His head twitches back just slightly, letting you know he heard. “That was cruel. Of course, you’ve lost people. You don’t make it this long without it.”

You feel him tense underneath your palms, but then he inhales deeply and relaxes. “My wife and two girls on outbreak day.”

You suck in deeply. “I’m an asshole.”

“I mean… yes.” A faint smile returns to his face and light to his eyes, and maybe, just maybe, your lips tug upward a little bit. “I know it’s a little much for some people. They don’t get it.”

You relax a little. “Try a lot.”

“If I came off as too strong, I’m sorry.”

You bite your lip. “It’s okay. I guess I’m a little rusty dealing with people.”

He waits for a second, letting the silence invade. You hear a woodpecker in the distance and the crunch of leaves underfoot. A squirrel scurries across your path, presumably preparing for the harsh winter ahead.

“How long have you been alone?”

“My brother died almost two years ago. We were the only ones left.”

Gabe nods in acknowledgment. He keeps the silence for the rest of your ride.

By the time the gate fades into view, you can tell Gabe is mostly back to his usual self, not quite as smiley or annoying, but close. Either that or you’re actually growing to like it- him.

He helps you bring the food inside. You catch the ways his eyes roam your space without being too invasive. “It’s a big place for one person.”

“It’s got a gate.”

“So does Jackson.”

You look at him. He raises an eyebrow. “Part of Jackson.”

“Has more people too.”

“And what makes you think I want to be around people?”

“This isn’t living, Doleful.”

For the first time, you don’t mind the nickname. It hints at a familiarity you don’t have, but you’re starting to wonder if you want it.

You cross your arms, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “And smiling means you are?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Attempting to.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to go back to Jackson with you? Join the group and wander?”

“I think our wandering days are over.”

“Oh?”

“Maria thinks we can settle in Jackson. You said it yourself, just a few stragglers..”

“I only know from up here, not down there.”

“Stores are hardly touched.”

You know he’s right. “Why do you want me to join so badly?”

“Well for starters, you fixed me up pretty good.” He holds up his braced hand. “Could be pretty useful to have around.”

“So I’m just useful.”

“I don’t think you want to be alone,” he says. You inhale softly. “And I would really like the chance to make you smile.”

You look away, emotions you long pushed down threatening to spring back up.

“I figure I have two hours before I need to head back. I’ll wait outside.”

Gabe leaves you in the kitchen. You walk through the house, contemplating his words. The offer he and Maria both made you. Do you leave this place? A safe haven of sorts. You stop in the great room, Carter’s blood stain brown and dried on the light carpet. You’ve tried so hard to pull it out, but everything seemed to make it worse.

Sun streams through the big, picture window. You walk over, soaking it in. A small moment of peace in a tumultuous world. Something in your heart tugs, something else releases.

Gabe sits out on the deck, staring at a creased, faded picture when you settle next to him. The breeze picks up, playing with the color of his shirt. “Is that them?”

Gabe nods.

“My brother bled out in there.” You point behind you. “I’m thinking a fresh start might not be so bad.”

Gabe smiles at you. “Is that so?”

You nod. “I don’t need long to put a bag together.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind. My face isn’t so sure though.”

You’re not sure what it is, but laughter breaks out of you, a smile cresting your lips. Gabe chuckles alongside you as your crow's feet crinkle.

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“That you would have the prettiest smile in the world.”

#the last of us #tlou #woman (joel's version)#woman (joel’s version)#backstory #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal

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urlocaldesertdweller · 1 month

Text

Florist! Venture x Reader

Credited and inspired for yours truly! @valneeds, they were the ones who came up with the idea of Florist! Venture and I only wanted to write a little something to cope after hearing the news of Venture not getting a skin until SEASON 14 (WTF BLIZZARD?)

im obsessed with the listener x yapper btw, can u tell.? also this IS A TWO IN ONE FIC WITH STORY AND HEADCANONS, the headcanons AFTER the story!

To be honest, flowers were never your kind of thing... Whether used to celebrate or to mourn with they'd never last. You'd of course not wanting to be rude would always expect a bundle of flowers from your family during family gatherings. Still, you'd always feel bad for the short lifetime of the flowers because you know they would always work even with water. Their main life source was already pruned off for mere eye candy and momentary celebration.

Or maybe you were looking too deep into some damn flowers.

But what you do know is that a cute little shop was seeming about to open real soon around near your neighborhood a small block away. To be frank, you liked flower shops more than the actual flowers themselves. And this one was like no other.

You peered into the glass like a child looking into a candy store, you knew how weird you'd look if you were staring into an open shop but this was closed of course. Your eyes pass the empty fridges to look at the cute warm color scheme of pastel yellows and oranges. Small and simple flower designs around the top of the walls. It all looks so comforting and reminds the feeling of a distant grandmother's cozy home.

Finally, you peel away from the glass to which you glance at the wooden door. The small pane of glass also fits the theme with small hints of stained glass. Reading the hung sign which was written in fancy but readable cursive tells all of the opening and closing times.

"Sloan's Seasons, Flora Arrangement and Personal Bouquets"

You mutter glazing the times then quickly realizing that the cute shop opens early tomorrow. With a brow raised staring at the times for tomorrow once more before finally stepping back and returning to your walk. You thought it was ironic of yourself that you weren't much of a flower person yet you mentally remember the time of which one opens the next morning.

...

You were willing enough to wake up early to check out the shop. It was a wee bit chilly for the average mourning but the walk back towards the shop quickly warmed you up. Waking up this early was worth it for the sunrise shining in between the cracks of your small town returning a lost feeling you'd never felt you could feel again.

Your legs barely ache as you meet up at the same small shop once more only to find it much different compared to yesterday. The once empty and bare shop was nearly stuffed full of all kinds of flora and filler greens. You are tempted to stay out and stare once more until you not only remember that the shop is open but a person is sitting at the counter which seems to look busy enough to not notice you gape your mouth like a fish.

A bell rings and echos through the room catching what seems to be the owner of this shop, assuming Sloan if that makes sense.

"Hiya! Welcome to my shop, first customer!"

The owner perks up chipper for this early day, you swear they waved you nearly jumping from their chair which is cast aside now. You only nod with a smile as they watch you eagerly as if they are waiting for you to ask for something. Ah, the fresh jitters of starting a small business.

Their stare almost encourages you to move around pretending to know what you are looking at. As you move towards some greenery to check out, they stand seeming to lean over the counter.

"Are you big on flora friend.?"

They snort, chuckling as they correct themselves.

"Well duh, Sloan! Why else would they be in this shop.?"

Well, that solves the small mystery, they are Sloan. You can't help but chuckle at their small antics. Sure you didn't like arranged flowers but surely you could let this owner open you up. The tension you felt with yourself towards this shopkeeper melts away with their friendly and positive banter.

"Ah, so you are Sloan? This is a really beautiful shop by the way!"

You step forward ignoring the kinds of flora and get closer to the counter, they look brighter than the sun to be running this shop on their first day.

"Oh yeah, that's me! Sloan minus the "Seasons" of course!"

They chuckle as they brush their shoulder off clearly proud of their joke. Maybe it's the contagious smile they give but you snicker along with them. For once your eyes actually stay on them instead of keeping them glued towards the cozy decor of the shop.

"Well going back on the flora talk. I'm actually not too big on flowers n stuff..."

You confess to them, somehow feeling bad that you are telling a florist that you don't like flowers.

You watch their face turn from one of still chuckling to one of slight surprise, and clearly in thought then they are quick to smile snapping their fingers.

"...Well are you confirming that's a challenge.? Because I love a good one.!"

It's your turn to be surprised as you are confused but also inspired by their undying optimism.

"...Wait excuse me-?"

"I promise you I can make you overturn your minor dislike for flowers into a small passion! Hell, since you came just after I opened, it's on me for the challenge!"

Their eyes gleam, and also seem to be hopping behind the counter unable to contain the excitement.

"Free flowers? That seems more of a loss on your part though."

It feels like your brain slows down unable to see the non-existent profit they wouldn't even make. You don't understand feeling like this is a sudden pop-up ad online that only leads to scams.

"Yes! I Sloan am determined to make you like flowers after I complete my first personal Boquete with you! Now."

They hide from the counter popping back out with a clipboard in hand and hand pen in the other, they click and smile.

"What's your name? My lovely customer!"

"...It's (Y/n)."

"Lovely name for an even lovelier face!"

...You honestly dont know what to do feeling your face flush a little at the sudden compliment. Sloan giggles writing down your name clearly enjoying your reaction. You ask yourself if the flower shop is just a plot to flirt with other people, and you avoid their gaze by looking at the decor that got you in here in the first place.

They ask a bunch of simple but slight personal questions and they swear on their heart that it's to figure out what kind of flora and greenery will fill out the blanks.

"...And we are finished!"

They finally lay down the clipboard on the counter to which they start to walk around the counter.

"Really.? And you are supposed to somehow know what kind of flowers fit my personality.?"

You can't help but ask it jokingly skeptical that someone would be able to match a handful of flowers to a certain meaning or personality to which Sloan side-eyes you with a small grin before putting on a small apron and gloves.

"That's for me to think about, besides. It's just some flowers! Which actually begs the question, why don't you like flowers.?"

You turn around to watch them stuff several bunches of flowers into their surprisingly beefy arms, they keep their eyes on you curious.

"Oh. That's the thing, I love flowers! It's nothing too serious but I prefer them when I know they aren't going to die after being prepared for an arrangement or Boquete, yknow.?"

They turn around the aisle to pick up a few bunches of greens.

"That makes sense."

They quiet down clearly in thought, not from your response but from something else. You figure to ask them the same question back.

"Well, what about you then.? Why do you like flowers, Sloan?"

This takes them out of their odd silence to which they quickly perk up with a toothy smile, they walk behind the counter with everything in their arms before settling them down on the working block. The smell of everything almost makes you sniffle and sneeze.

"I love flowers for a ton of reasons! Not only are they beautiful and smell amazing...well most of them do. Every single one holds a crap ton of secret meanings!"

They start to ramble clearly happy to talk about one of their biggest passions. You shift on your legs getting tired of standing but you keep up and lean on the counter enjoying the mountain of reasons why Sloan likes flowers so so much.

"It's like a poem for any kind of situation! All it takes is a little knowledge for even a handful of flora with specific meanings!"

With skillful hands they pick out the best flowers in only the perfect condition and snip away to size, you look away and keep your eyes on Sloan. They keep on talking which you don't mind at the slightest, feeling yourself lean your chin on a propped elbow.

"Yeah, I always kind of forget that flora can have all of those cool and small details most people never know about!"

"Yeah, you get it! And people think that all flowers only have good meanings which isn't always the case. I have seen my fair share of revenge bouquets, which are full of flowers with awful meanings!"

You both share a chuckle, you feel time pass talking to Sloan. Before you know it they are already finishing up the final touches of your arrangement which you have to amidst look beautiful. Maybe it looked more beautiful watching Sloan make it in front of you while having a pleasant yapping conversation. The topic eventually changes to off-topic matters, getting more personal.

"And besides flowers, I actually really like Archeology and the history of the ancient human generations!"

"Heh, that's quite a jump from ancient history to flowers. But I can totally see you dig that! Why didn't you do it.?"

They begin to tightly wrap up your flowers as they perk up from the question. This conversation has already been going down beyond the professional business banter so they answer with ease.

"Ah, it was mainly money problems. Along with me mainly just want to start out slow...for now with this flower business! But most likely in a few quick years, I'll find myself with the Way-Finders soon enough!"

You can't help but feel inspired by their determination to eventually get into their dream job as a professional archeologist. You eventually notice that Sloan was ringing you up for free of course. A moment of silence is shared between the two of you. It's clear that neither of you want to end this conversation but you both are aware that they have a small business to get running and you have, whatever you do.

"Well know, these look absolutely beautiful, Sloan!"

They hand you the flowers taking in a whiff of all of the pollen and aromas being mixed together. Sloan scratches the back of their head clearly bashful and hands you a business card, you are slightly confused but you shake hands.

"And hey! If I'm not busy and you wanna talk, I'll be here..."

They mouth but their voice barely whisper goes "Call me!". This makes you giggle then you realize that they point at the card. You flip it ignoring the business number to see that they have written their personal number in pen with a smiley face.

You wave them away as you also mouth, "I will, good-looking!". Then you exit feeling all giddy inside knowing that you most likely made them all flustered with your own comment. The sun was already in the middle of the sky, and you thought that it was funny of you to spend more than just your morning in a flower shop, but what the hell you got a number from a cute person. And you were almost sure that they threw in some kind of flower with some sort of romantic meaning under your nose...

(you thought I was done? HEADCANNONS to add more romance<33)

-When you finally get into a relationship with them they still get all flustered whenever you do anything remotely romantic towards them during work.

-They'll get all hot and tug on the collar of their shirt fasten their apron if they are wearing one and try their hardest to keep their business face for the customers.

-Every time you enter the store you KNOW that you are already going to get either a a huge discount or just get them for free. Of course, they only do this when other customers are not around to feel unequal.

-If you ever help them out with their work, whether for that posting up posters around the block, helping them deal with difficult costumes, or hell you just help them run the business. Heart eyes swooning over you all the more!

-They also have a small garden from above the shop to which they love to spend free time with you resting in the shade of the planted trees, star gazing in the night cuddling to sleep in each other's arms<3

-You are their stress toy after a rough day of work dealing with rough people. They tend to get a lil handsy after getting the green go with you of course, and golly they could feel themselves reaching heaven with you.

-They often gift you the most exotic flowers ever known to man. Or they send you the more simpler but beautiful flowers with their own messages being sent to you. It's like their version of writing love letters to you in the prettiest way!

-They DEFINITELY call you names of course! Ranging from both English to Spanish, it all stirs your stomach with butterflies. My rose, the light of my life, honeysuckle, sweet bee, honey, my orchid. Mi rosa, mi orquidea, la luz de mi vida, miel de abeja. Btw they shamelessly call you these names during work in front of customers, they live to see your face brighten up like a red rose!

-They would do ANYTHING to see you happy and well. They love you so much it's beyond the human mind how much they will and do love you!

Again thank you @valneeds !!!!

#venture x reader #sloan cameron x reader #venture overwatch #overwatch x reader #sloan cameron #venture ow2 #i need venture now

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snitchcrimsonwrites · 4 months

Text

Maybe pt. 12

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Election Day is here and brings new complications for you and Norm.

Part 1 Here Part 6 Here Part 11 Here

Part 2 Here Part 7 Here

Part 3 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

You and Norm sat in the Vault 33 common area, surrounded by the buzz of activity that always accompanied election day. Red, white, and blue American flags adorned the walls, colorful posters adorned the walls, and the air was filled with a sense of civic duty and anticipation. It seemed like every corner of the vault was plastered with posters, each bearing the face and promises of two of the three candidates, Woody and Reg; Betty’s face notably missing among the sea of posters. Their slogans screamed for attention from every surface, vying for votes with promises of better food rations, more recreational time, enhanced security measures, and a better tomorrow. The room around you was loud with conversation, laughter, and the occasional debate as friends and neighbors discussed their choices as you and Norm settled in to people-watch.

"Happy Election Day!" Chet proclaimed as he approached, his voice ringing with cheery and patriotic fervor. "Best day in the Vault, right?"

Norm piped up first, “I can think of a few better days.”

“Well, obviously, it doesn’t compare to Christmas, but it’s a close second. Nothing more important than exercising our civic duties.”

You smiled at Chet's enthusiasm but couldn’t help but share a different perspective. “It would be a little more interesting if we didn’t already know the outcome.” Convinced Betty Pearson would be elected Overseer once again. “You know, Chet, dissenting is actually the highest form of patriotism.” Wouldn’t that be a surreal sight?

Chet’s face twisted in confusion. “Dissenting? What do you mean?”

Norm decided to chime in. “She means not voting.” He turned to you with a knowing look. “You know that would never happen.” He imagined if anyone in the Vault decided not to vote, they’d just round them up and encourage them to cast a ballot.

Chet’s eyes widened, and he looked genuinely appalled. “Not voting? How can you say that? It’s our duty to vote, to make our voices heard!”

“See?” Norm remarked, a slight smirk on his face. “Absolutely no one would go for that.”

You shrugged, “A girl can dream.” Rising from the picnic table, you realized the time. “Alright, I better be off. Enjoy your day off, boys,” you said, kissing Norm goodbye and waving to Chet before walking off.

After you left, Chet turned to Norm with a curious expression. “So, things have evolved pretty quickly between you two, huh? Fill me in.”

Norm smiled, “Yeah, we’re officially an ‘item,’” confirming Chet’s suspicions.

Chet grinned, clearly happy for his friend. “I’m not surprised. I had a feeling you had a thing for her long before you admitted it.”

Norm chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious, except to us.”

The conversation paused slightly, and Chet had something on his mind. He hesitated momentarily before finally asking, “So, have you two, you know?”

Norm raised an eyebrow, catching the implication. “Yeah, we have.” He decided against his better judgment to just entertain his cousin’s inquires.

Chet nodded, his curiosity piqued. “How was it?”

“Definitely not sharing that,” Norm replied, shaking his head.

“That bad, huh?” Chet frowned, placing a consolatory hand on Norm’s shoulder. “Don’t worry; it gets better with practice.”

Norm laughed. “It wasn’t bad, far from it actually, but I’m not telling you the details of how I spent the night with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s what us guys do,” Chet said, playfully punching Norm’s shoulder. He then proceeded to fill Norm in on what happened with Stephanie before the two of them showed up at his doorstep for their expedition to Vault 32.

“See, too much information,” Norm gagged, referring to Chet's detailed account of the situation with Stephanie.

Chet laughed, suddenly remembering, “Oh, I’m supposed to meet Steph!”

Norm nodded. “That’s fine. I need to check in on something anyway.”

The two friends parted ways, and Norm used the bustle of election day as a cover to sneak back into his office terminal. Your earlier comment about the predictability of elections gave him something he wanted to check. The Vault 32 logs might have been off-limits, but he still had access to the ones in 33. Sitting down, Norm accessed the vault terminal and began searching the personnel records for those who had been transferred between vaults. He clicked on the names and started to notice a pattern.

Transferred from Vault 31, elected Overseer in Vault 33.

He saw it repeatedly. Each name he clicked.

Transferred from Vault 31, elected Overseer in Vault 33.

Over and over, the same pattern emerged until he reached the present day. Hank MacLean. Transferred from Vault 31 and elected Overseer 2271-2297.

Norm leaned back, his heart racing as the realization sank in. If Betty Pearson won again, every elected Overseer would come from Vault 31; it would continue the unbroken chain of Vault 31 transfers, becoming Overseers in Vault 33. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. It was a running joke in Vault, voting for the member from 31, but for it to happen every election over 200 years of Vault 33 history seemed an impossibility.

Norm’s mind raced with questions. Why was Vault 31 so influential in Vault 33’s leadership? What was the connection? And most importantly, what did this mean for the future of their vault? Determined to find answers, Norm knew he had to dig deeper. As he logged out of the terminal and prepared to leave, he knew one thing for certain: this election day was just the beginning.

_____________________________

Norm couldn’t wait until you got off work to share what he uncovered, so he headed straight to Steph’s place to share his unsettling discovery with his additional accomplice. When he arrived, he found Chet busy entertaining Steph’s newborn with a rattle, trying to keep the baby occupied while the single mom finished her shower.

“You don’t think it’s weird we always elect an overseer from Vault 31?” Chet looked up, slightly distracted by the baby. “What do you mean?” “They did the same exact thing in Vault 32,” Norm explained.

Steph’s singing drifted through the background, a gentle reminder of her presence amidst their conversation. Chet pondered Norm’s question. “Honestly, no. By all accounts, Vault 31 has more resources and a better education system, and you know they’ve got that phrase.” Norm knew it well and finished the sentence in a mocking tone. “When things look glum, vote 31.”

“Shh,” Chet whispered, looking around like someone might overhear them. “It’s a powerful slogan.”

Norm looked at him in disbelief. “You think 200 years of coincidence comes down to a slogan?” Chet shrugged. “I don’t know, Norm. It’s like asking why everyone prefers jello-cake to apple pie. I don’t know why; they just do.”

“So if it’s not at all worrisome, why are we whispering?” Norm challenged. Chet sighed, “Because we just snuck into a vault filled with dead bodies. Not to mention Steph’s from 31.”

As if on cue, Steph appeared, freshly showered and wrapped in her Vault bathrobe. She looked surprised to see Norm. “Oh, hello, Norman.”

“Steph,” Norm nodded, “I was actually just heading out. We’ll pick this up later,” he said to Chet. “Sure,” Chet responded, giving Norm a nod.

Norm stopped as he was about to press the door release and turned back to Steph. “Steph?”

“Yes?”

“How’s Vault 31 different from here?” She paused, thinking. “What did your dad tell you?”

“Not much, actually. That’s why I’m asking.”

She considered it again. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe the mashed potatoes were a little better?”

Norm sighed. “That is what my dad used to say.”

“Must be true then,” she said with a haunting smile.

“It must be true,” Norm echoed, feeling the weight of her words as he left.

As Norm walked back to his quarters, an announcement blared over the Vault system intercom. The microphone crackled, and Betty’s voice echoed through the loudspeakers. “Hello, Vault 33. In my first edict as Overseer, I will be hosting a Vault-wide meeting about the future of Vault 32 tomorrow at 10 am. See you there.”

_______________

Norm’s thoughts raced as he continued his walk. He didn't get a chance to speak with you about his discovery; you had been stationed for an additional shift to perform maintenance on the Pip-Boy servers last night. Extra shifts were unusual for you, and Norm had a nagging suspicion that someone was keeping you there on purpose.

He managed to catch up with you as you walked to the meeting Betty had called. You mouthed, “What do you think this is about?” as Norm approached. He shrugged, just as uncertain. “No idea.”

Once everyone had gathered, Betty led the group toward Vault 32. They stopped in front of the newly cleared-out entryway. Betty began, “Thank you for coming, everyone. It is important for us all to see this place together—as a community, as a family—so that we can heal together and rebuild together.”

Chet, standing close to Norm and you, leaned in nervously. “What is happening here?” he whispered to Norm. He wasn’t particularly keen on returning to the Vault filled with so much death and decay. Betty didn’t hear him and continued. “I spoke with the Overseer of Vault 31, and we agreed that these vaults of ours are too sacred to leave empty. Which is why I’m announcing a resettling campaign. Some of us will stay home to rebuild 33. Others will move into Vault 32 in the coming weeks to start anew.”

With her remarks finished, she guided the group into Vault 32. The sight that greeted them was a complete 180 from what you, Norm, and Chet had seen a couple of days earlier. There were no decaying bodies, no blood on the walls, and all signs of neglect had been meticulously cleaned up. The atrium, which had been filled with the stench of death, now looked pristine, almost welcoming. Fresh coats of paint now adorned the walls, and if you didn’t know any better, you might be standing back in Vault 33. You couldn't believe the sight before you. It made you question what you had seen the other day. Was it real? Had your mind played tricks on you?

You glanced at Norm, whose face mirrored your disbelief. Norm leaned in, whispering to you, “This doesn’t make sense. It’s like they scrubbed away everything overnight.” Chet looked around, still unnerved. “I don’t know, Norm.” The three of you tried your best to remain inconspicuous, but the more you walked around, the more difficult it became.

As the members of 33 poured out to the hallways to examine the Vault, Betty continued her speech, oblivious to the trio’s whispered concerns. “Together, we will turn Vault 32 into a new beacon of hope, just as Vault 33 has been for us. This is our chance to build something better.” The crowd murmured in agreement, excited to begin the work, but you and Norm exchanged uneasy glances. Something was definitely not right. The eerie cleanliness of Vault 32 felt like a cover-up, a facade hiding the grim reality you had witnessed.

Norm separated from you and Chet, heading up to the Overseer’s office; as he arrived in the hallway, he noticed the stark difference from the scene they had encountered previously. There were no bodies hanging from the ceiling, and the office itself looked identical to his dad's, save for a Vault 32 flag hanging in place of the Vault 33 one. But there was one other major change that caught his eye: the overseer’s terminal, where he had found the information about his mom’s Pip-Boy, was now broken into pieces on the desk. This was a sign someone knew they had been there the other night; he was sure of it.

Norm leaned over, his hands propped up on the desk, eyes scanning the office, taking in the changes. He was startled when he felt hands on his shoulders and turned to see Betty standing behind him.

“Find anything interesting?” she asked, her voice calm but with an edge that made Norm's stomach knot.

Norm swallowed hard, trying to hide his unease. “Great job cleaning up,” he said, attempting to keep his tone casual.

Betty looked saddened, shaking her head. “The raiders destroyed so much. But not our spirits,” she finished triumphantly.

As she turned to leave, Norm called out, “Betty?”

She paused, turning back to face him. “Yes?”

“When my mother died, what happened to her Pip-Boy?”

Betty's expression softened. “It was buried with her.”

“How are you so sure?” Norm pressed, his voice barely steady.

She stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Because I buried her myself. Me and your father.” She gave him a gentle squeeze before turning to leave the room.

Just as Betty left, you caught up with Norm, noticing his distant expression. “Are you okay?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

Norm turned to you, forcing a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But the doubt in his eyes betrayed his words.

_____________________________

You and Norm returned to his place, the tension between you palpable. Norm was eager to disclose the information he had found out, but as he watched you pace the floor of his living room, he began to second-guess his decision. You were visibly distressed about the possibility of being relocated to Vault 32, and Norm, for once, was trying to be the optimistic one. Maybe you didn’t need the added weight of Vault 31's secrets and Betty's seemingly thinly veiled threats right now.

You ran a hand through your hair, frustration evident on your face. “I can’t believe they expect us to just move to Vault 32 like it’s no big deal. After everything we saw in there…” You stopped pacing and looked at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty and fear. “What if they separate us?”

Norm bit his lip, struggling with his decision. He wanted to share everything with you, but he feared adding to your worries. “They can’t separate us. I won’t let that happen.”

You sighed and sank onto the couch, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "I can’t stand the thought of us being apart.”

Norm sat down beside you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Norm hesitated for a moment before deciding to hold off on the full truth for now. “It will be fine, I promise.”

#fallout tv series #norm maclean #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean x reader #fallout series #fallout #fallout amazon #vault tec

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readychilledwine · 19 days

Text

Blooms and Blossoms

Summary - The building was perfect, bones ready for a new owner and beginning. Now Elain just had to convince Rhysand to let her have it.

Warnings - None, unless you want to count female independency

A/N - Happy @elainarcheronweek day 6! I think Elain is all of us flower girls who secretly wish we could be running a floral shop *dreamy sigh*. I just know her shop would be gorgeous.

🌸Elain Week Masterlist🌸Master Masterlist🌸

Velaris was never a sleepy town. Elain had realized that very quickly into her newest adventure as she had begun to call being made fae. The streets were always full of light and life. Footsteps and music following every twist and turn on the streets.

She noticed flowers everywhere. Every shop window, planters paid for by Feyre and Rhysand, large gardens, but there were no floral shops. No places for males and females to treat themselves to the beauty only petals could bring. She had been hunting for days to change that, and as she dragged a very confused Rhysand with her, she had a solution.

Elain stopped in front of an empty shop. No sign to detail what had once been, dust gathering on the windows, “Here.” The shop was located in the Rainbow. Near Feyre, yet far enough away the sisters would not be close enough to annoy each other.

“Here what?”

She rolled her eyes at her brother in law before dragging him inside the building. “Look at how perfect the bones of this place are.” Walls that needed fresh paint, floors in need of a good clean and stain. Counters he'd want to replace as soon as he saw her vision. “I want the till here,” she motioned to the empty counter space where she envisioned something ornate and gold to hold coins. “Coolings here?”

Rhysand was slowly catching on, a soft smile playing on his lips. “More windows,” he turned her to the main wall facing the street, for your floral displays and season decor. You will be required to change it for Starfall and Solstice.”

Elain nodded excitedly, “Maybe a new door? With a bell? You know that is one of my favorite sounds.”

“I'm picturing light blush walls,” he began. “To bring out the color in the petals. Neutral countertops, perhaps a white marble?” He began to walk around the large building. “Darker Stained floors.”

“Darker. Definitely a deep rich color,” she agreed before moving with him. It was working. Her goal was slowly coming into fruition. “Blooms and Blossoms,” she said the cheesy name, biting her inner lip and waiting for him to reject it.

Rhysand only glanced back at her, “Very catchy. Nothing around here or in the shopping quarters has a similar name, My dear.” He watched her lip trembled, watching as the happiest of tears began to pool. “An interesting fact. Feyre and I own this building. The former owner could not find a buyer before her marriage to a Day Court noble came. Feyre bought it from her out of kindness.” He motioned for her to follow, knowing she probably had not seen the back.

Her hand found his as they walked through the dark, trusting her brother to get her to whatever he was showing her safely. He opened the door to the back of the shop.

A greenhouse. The shop already had a beautiful greenhouse, archway massive and ready in place. “The artist who owned this building specialized in making paints and art supplies from flowers, berries, and foliage. She grew it all to capitalize on profit.”

Elain walked around the huge greenhouse, now bare bones, but ready and aching to grow life again. “Rhys, please.”

He nodded before motioning for her to come back to him. “It is yours. Work will begin tomorrow.”

Board by board, day in and day out, Elain watched as her dreams were built. Seeds and bulbs planted, suppliers contacted. Each moment was reality growing near. Dusty aged wood was made new again, a deep mahogany stain freshly laid with a satin finish. Walls primed and changed to a soft blush pink. The old worn countertops were removed and replaced with a white and gray marble. A gold register with flowers and fauna carved into it is placed. Every change had Elain in Rhysand's office, the most alive he had ever seen her.

She was electric like this. Her joy became contagious as the Inner Circle learned of her shop, and as opening day approached rumors were spreading through Velaris.

Elain had started spending more and more time at the shop, preparing bouquets of roses, wild flowers mixes, daisies, whatever she could in pretty glass and clay vases. She hummed to herself as she worked on her current project, 24 long stem red roses mixed with fresh baby's breath and soft feather-like foliage. She had not noticed Rhysand enter from the back shop door. She had not noticed his smile as he watched her. She only noticed when he came to the register, placing gold in the till before kissing her cheek.

“I'd like that one,” he hugged her. “It exactly what I was wanting.”

“Take your money back, you aren’t-”

He shook his head, picking a clear glass vase with an iridescent glazing, “I am your first customer, little sister.”

Those words made her heart ache, from joy, from gratitude, from the love pouring from her very chest. “Rhysand-”

“I am so proud of you,” he stopped her sentence, knowing she was going to argue. “So very proud. You've come to life, Elain.” He pulled her to him, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Have you gotten to see the sign we had done?”

She shook her head, letting him pull her to the beautiful new stained glass door and wall of curtained off windows before pulling her outside.

“Blooms and Blossoms” was painted in a soft scroll on the largest window. It would be surrounded by her hanging pots and the flowers she had potted that could withstand the brightness of the window. Feyre had planned and centered it perfectly. Each season, it would shine, obvious to all who passed that this was the floral shop she hoped people would come to be regulars at.

“I saw all the beautiful exotics and staple plants you enchanted and are growing,” Rhysand wrapped an arm around Elain's shoulder. “Your suppliers are also doing wonderfully so far. The trade it's created has helped with a few other niche things we have here.” Rhysand's voice was soft as the two of them stared at the shop window.

“Thank you,” she finally gave him her gratitude after moments of just taking this in. “For funding this, for believing in me and my dreams.”

“That's what Velaris is for,” he whispered into her hair, “Dreamers.”

The next day was loud. It was crazy. Elain had not sat since the opening day party began. She had been blind to Rhysand and Feyre's influence before, but the fae of Velaris rushed to the shop she owned, purchasing single stems, mixed bundles, and house plants. Her smile stayed wide and ready all day, constantly holding in tears of joy as she did.

She was a business owner.

Her passion now a livelihood.

Cassian locked the door as the shopping day came to a close, and the last customer left. Elain slowly closed the curtains as her sisters and the Inner Circle stood in the flower shop. “That was insane,” Mor huffed as she fell to one of the client chairs Elain would use for custom orders. “How much did she make, Rhysie?”

The High Lord was deep into counting for Elain, shaking his head with a smirk, “More than enough to buy us all a round or two at Rita's.”

Elain squealed before bouncing slightly, “I have money to pay?!”

Everyone stared towards her before Feyre spoke, “You won't be paying, but yes?”

Elain screamed with joy, the fulfillment of having her own income almost too much for her. “I have my own money!”

They all glanced at each other as the middle sister began to skip and clean, singing softly to herself about being independent and having money.

“It seems this was about more than flowers,” Azriel muttered to Nesta.

The eldest sister just smiled at him, “It was about passion,” she said slowly. “And about gaining independence through doing something by her own choice.”

Azriel hummed, “Then it would seem she should be allowed to make whatever choices make her happy if this is the result.”

Nesta nodded in agreement as Elain skipped to Lucien, showing him the till, “It would seem she should.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar #elain archeron week #elain acotar #elain acosf #elain archeron acotar #elain archeron #pro elain #elain archeron week day 6

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onlyseokmins · 2 years

Text

idiot • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader

Genres: mentions of smut (minors dni!), fwb!au, swearing but fluff and comfort basically

Warnings: menstrual cramps, food, swearing, and beloved idiots haha

WC: tumblr mobile idrk haha just a blurb

A/N: Sorry randomly thought of this while leaving work - in the middle of a Hoshi fic lmaooo okay I wanted to do smth angsty but I need love rn and haven't finished smth this fast in months and not really smut but anyways, imagine a fwb!relationship with Joshua but not quite...

↪ 7/14/23 update: loosely based prequel

It's like you're not really friends but you do have the benefits of fucking the hot man that drifts to and from different social circles among the large friend groups you mingle about and share.

You know his favorite color of lingerie that he'll rip off immediately, shoving your panties in his pocket ("for later," he winks and promises to buy you a new pair every time - he doesn't). But you are sure he doesn't even know your favorite color (it's baby blue, the same color of the shirt he wore when you first met - coincidentally the same one he wore when he seduced and ended up fingering you against the wall of the club's bathroom and then propositioned this arrangement - and like a fool, who are you to say no?).

He's always been nice - too nice. So nice, he's aloof at most times. Never letting anyone too close. And you really try not to yearn to be the first one he opens his heart to.

Definitely not.

It's why you're crying in bed one late afternoon, chalking it up to the hormones and cramps that come with mother nature's wrath. There's a gentle knock on your door before the key code is punched in. You think it's Seungkwan, the kind soul who always stops by to bring goodies and solid words of wisdom you never dare act on but no - it's fucking Joshua Hong.

"What are you doing here, I'm on my period."

You're grouchy and while it's not his fault that it's that time of the month, it is his fault that you're even more irritable than normal. Oh, and maybe those stupid feelings or whatever.

"I know."

All he does is simply nod and set down the bags he's carrying, taking stuff out that you realize are pain meds, compresses, ice packs - your cheeks heat up - even a stash of various pads and tampons.

"Seungkwan, that lil bitch."

Joshua turns with a raised eyebrow, holding what you recognize is a takeout container from your favorite restaurant. One that's all the way across town so you rarely go.

"What does this have to do with Seungkwan?"

You sigh. "Look, if he forced you to bring this stuff or somehow blackmailed you, don't worry. I'll chew him out on your behalf later."

He laughs, opening up the food and unwrapping the utensils, waving them in your face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not!"

"You're saying you drove all the way to Seokmin's place to buy that - mind you it's even further of a drive there for you than it is for me - and bought hygienic products?"

"Yeah. I didn't know exactly what to get so I just grabbed everything on the shelf."

"What the fuck, Joshua. Why? I'm not fucking you, I feel like shit. I also look like shit."

He flinches but gives you a glance-over that has you frowning even harder. "I'll admit you do look very pretty with my cock inside of you or when you get all dolled up..."

You roll your eyes and flop back on your bed, rolling over so your back faces him out of spite.

"But you do look hella sweet right now. Even if you're pissed off."

"Don't placate me, I'm not fucking you. I won't suck you off either."

Joshua's soft laugh makes your heart flip-flop. "I'm not here for that. How hard is it for you to believe that I came to really take care of you?"

"If the sun rises in the west tomorrow, I wouldn't be surprised. Clearly you're just a hallucination."

"Did you know hallucinations are our true desires?"

"Where'd you hear such bull crap? Jeonghan?"

"No," he snorts, "but I know you like me."

"I'm not fucking you the next time you want to either. Actually, I might not fuck you ever again."

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth honestly, especially when he touches your shoulder with a gentleness that shouldn't exist. You glare at him. He smiles.

"That's fine. I mean, I'd like to fuck again sometime in the future but just hanging out is cool too. Maybe even for dates?"

"Maybe you're right. You're nothing but a figment of my imagination."

"Then I'm also right that you like me."

"Do not!" You throw the covers over your head. "Remember, we fuck without feelings, Joshua. And remember who set that rule, Mr. Hong?"

"An idiot did. So what if that idiot changed his mind?"

"He'd still be an idiot."

"... Correct, but may I clarify - an idiot with feelings."

When you emerge and peek out from the blankets, he's fiddling with his fingers nervously.

"Would still be an idiot."

"An idiot that likes you."

"Whatever," you huff but he sees the smile on your lips before you're diving away from sight again.

Relief floods him, knowing he's not wrong - you like him too. Laying gently over your prone body, he hums in content.

"When you feel better let's go on a date." All you do is wiggle beneath him and he smirks. "I'll wear that shirt you like. You know, the blue one."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, not like you jump me every time I wear it."

"I do not!"

"It's okay, I know a lot more than you can guess but I still think you're cute anyways."

And maybe you realize it's you that doesn't know Joshua all that well. But he seems to think he knows an awfully lot about you. And maybe he does. But you want to prove him wrong.

"Alright, let's go on a date," you peek back out, the blankets a shield between you and him as they're pulled high under your nose. But he's still looking at where your mouth (he's never kissed - yet) would be. Bastard. "Wear that stupid shirt and I'll prove I won't jump you."

His warm brown eyes crinkle playfully. "Sure, let's, I'll buy you a couple of pretty sets like I promised since I ripped so many."

"About time."

He shrugs. "Don't worry, I'll make up for it. I was worried about what you would think it meant but now I don't have to care. I want it to be official."

You take the food from him when he brings it back over. "I guess I do too if you're going to drive so far just to get Seok's delicious food."

"So I'm just an errand boy to you? That's all it took to get to your heart? Seokmin's food?"

Looking at him under your lashes, you bite your lip. "You know it's much more than that..."

Joshua laughs, big and bright - just like the moment he first caught your attention. "And just so you know, I like you much more than you think."

And he'll spend all of his time proving it.

#Actually tagging this bc I'm proud WTF #ez.creates #svthub #joshua smut #joshua hong smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut #svt.smut

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catboyfelixer · 7 months

Text

I Hope You’ll Always Be My Guardian Angel | Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x GN!Reader Summary: Felix is a guardian angel-in-training, and you’re his last assignment before he can graduate. Genre: Fluff, Humor Notes: Jeongin also makes an appearance in this <3

All Felix could hear was pencils on paper scribbling away, students flipping to the back of the test that he had finished half an hour ago. This was not his first rodeo. This wasn’t even his second rodeo. But every time he failed his in-person assessment, he had to come back and do the written test all over again.

All he wanted to do escape the white walls, floors, uniforms, furniture, everything, and get back to Earth. The only other color in the room were the black numbers on the white clock, ticking agonizingly slow. Normally he would drift off into daydreams about his next assignment on Earth to pass the time. But lately those daydreams would turn into embarrassing memories of failing his exams on Earth and dread about failing them all over again.

At least he wasn’t alone. Most of his classmates had passed on their first try, but Jeongin being here too made him feel a bit better. He was asleep on the desk next to Felix’s, drooling a bit on the test. He always looks peaceful, even smiling in his sleep. Felix wishes he could be this laid-back about failing as many times as they have. Whenever Felix has doubts about ever graduating, Jeongin throws an arm around him and tells him they’ll make it eventually, even if it takes a hundred years. Hopefully they’ll both pass this time, and join their friends as full-fledged guardian angels.

The instructor rings the chimes, playing a melodic tune to signal the end of the exam. Felix shakes Jeongin awake, and they get ready to find out who they’ll be assigned to for the next two weeks.

You slammed the door to your apartment as you walked in, and dropped your bag on the ground. The loud thud didn't startle you, and you didn't care about all your textbooks splaying out. Who cares about the tripping hazard.

Yeah, it was one of those days.

First, you spilled coffee on your new shirt. You were too far from home to change and you were running late for class anyway.

Second, none of your group had anything prepared for their parts in the group project. Nothing! They had two weeks to do literally anything. You'll have to bring this up to the professor before the presentation tomorrow.

Third, your laptop just completely died during your last class of the day. All the notes you took- gone.

Fourth, you banged your elbow on the door frame on the way out of class. Maybe you would've been calm if it was only three things. But come on.

You're lucky nothing happened on the way home, who knows if you would've lost your mind.

You hear a knock at the door. After a brief pause, there are two more louder knocks.

Fifth, someone's at your door. On your bad day.

You mentally compose yourself, taking a deep breath before walking to the door.

When you open it, you're blinded by bright lights enveloping a figure in the hallway. You cover your eyes and hear a voice.

"Oh, sorry. Let me turn that down." The figure reaches up and turns down the light coming from the halo on his head.

...

...Halo?

You look back, and see a man dressed in all white from head to toe. He has shoulder length blonde hair, what seems to be a halo floating on top of his head, and a pair of translucent wings behind him.

"Um... Be not afraid?" he says, tilting his head as if he's the one confused here.

You just stare at him blankly. Why is there a man dressed like an angel at your door.

He sticks out his hand, hoping for a handshake. When you just continue staring at him in bewilderment, he clears his throat and tries again.

"Hello, my name is Felix and I'll be your guardian angel for the next two weeks." The way he says it is stilted, as if he's practiced saying this beforehand.

"What?" is all you manage to say at first. This is so completely bizarre.

"I've never been good at this part. Can I come in? It'll be easier to explain if I can sit down and read my cue cards," he explains, already walking past you and into the living room behind you. He trips on the bag you left on the floor and stumbles into a side table, knocking over a potted plant.

Sixth.

He stands up, wipes the dirt off his pants, and continues walking like nothing happened. He sits down on the old black leather couch your parents gave you and some cue cards appear in his hands out of thin air.

He flips through them, nodding at each card before they magically disappear when he's finished reading them. Looking up at you, he smiles and pats the couch next to him, which you ignore.

"Like I said, my name is Felix and I'm in training to be a guardian angel. You're my assignment for my exam. Nice to meet you!" He puts out his hand for you to shake again, and this time you hesitantly take up the offer.

"Ok, let me get this straight. Guardian angels exist. Ok. I guess this might as well happen," you start, finally taking a seat across from him, "But why only two weeks? Do I just... not get a guardian angel after that?"

"Don't worry, you didn't have one before this and you were just fine, right?"

Considering the day you just had, that's debatable.

"Why does an angel need to take an exam? Aren't you, like, just born knowing how to angel?"

"No, that's silly. And also, I wasn't born," he says, not elaborating on why that's silly or how angels are made.

"I wasn't born either," you lie. You shouldn't be the only one caught off guard today.

"Oh, that's interesting," he responds. He pulls out a notepad and a pencil and writes that down. Did he... believe you?

Somehow you find that endearing. Just a little bit.

"Oh yeah, I have more cue cards to get through."

He follows behind you on your walk to the grocery store like a puppy. Every so often he yells out "BE CAREFUL!" just before you step on a rock.

"WATCH OUT!"

He pulls you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his chin in the crook of your neck. He's unexpectedly warm, warmer than any person you've been in an embrace with. Are angels known to be warm? You'll have to look that up later. You subconsciously lean into him, and against your own will, you notice your heart beating harder in your chest.

You look around, expecting a bike to be barreling towards you or something, but he points to the ground where a squirrel runs by your feet. When it's gone, he lets you go, and the warmth retreats too. You turn around to question him, but he starts talking first.

"Phew, that could've been dangerous, good thing I was here," he says. He wipes some non-existent sweat off his forehead and gives you a thumbs up.

"There's no way that would've been dangerous," you start, but he's too busy mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done. He doesn't hear you at all.

You sigh, and you guess this is what your life will be like for the next two weeks.

When you get to the store, no one seems to notice the wings or the halo. But what they do notice is the kindhearted guy helping the little old lady get some organic cereal off the top shelf, and the pretty boy making funny faces at a crying baby to calm her down. You definitely notice the cute way he furrows his brow while reading the shopping list, making sure you didn't forget anything. And how he offers to carry the heavy bags for you when you finish paying. He's lifting an entire bag of flour under one arm, and two more reusable shopping bags with his other hand. He's kind of... nice to have around, you think.

You don't think about his pretty face or his toned arms carrying your groceries, not at all.

The two of you walk home, side-by-side. Your thoughts wander to what happens after. Will he go inside the apartment again? Where is he living while on Earth. He's not expecting to stay the night, is he? You just met him. Then again, he is your guardian angel. If anything, it's probably better to have him close by. Just in case. You turn to ask him where he's staying, but he suddenly stops in his tracks and stares past you, further down the street. He squints to see something, and then a big goofy smile spreads across his face.

You look, and there's two men in the distance. One is just a regular dude eating a hotdog. The other guy... is another angel. He's wearing the same all white outfit as Felix, and there's a halo floating above him emitting a soft light.

"Jeongin!" he calls out, and when the angel turns, his translucent wings catch the light of his halo and become barely visible.

'Jeongin' smiles brightly and waves in your direction. Felix drops your groceries and jogs to catch up with his friend. They do a complicated handshake and start talking, which would be cool if you weren't left with all the heavy bags on the ground.

Above you, you hear a man shout 'Mamma mia!' and when you look up, a giant black blur falls out of a balcony.

A crash roars through the street, followed by a perfect C major chord, and when Felix turns around there's a broken grand piano where you once stood.

"Ah.... shoot."

The last thing Felix sees before being teleported away is the man next to Jeongin falling over after choking on his hot dog.

A moment later, and Felix is back in a very familiar room. White walls, white carpet, a white couch and a white coffee table greet him once again. He takes a seat, and Jeongin appears in the room too.

"I lasted longer this time!" Jeongin exclaims, punching his fist in the air as a show of victory.

"By literally half a second."

"Still counts," Jeongin responds, and Felix rolls his eyes.

"So what happened to your guy?"

"I think the hotdog was bad, I don't know," Jeongin says, scratching his chin. "He got it from back of some guys car. Maybe food poisoning."

The sound of the door swinging open grabs their attention, and they watch as their principal walks in.

"How can there already be two people back, the exam just start- oh"

Principal Park sighs as he looks at the two students in his office. Of course it's these two again. He adjusts his glasses and addresses them.

"You both know the drill, be back for the written test in two weeks," he says, and leaves them alone in the lobby again.

Felix stands up to leave, and a familiar phrase escapes his lips.

"You know, I'm starting to think we might not be good at this."

Jeongin wraps his arm around Felix's shoulder, and says the same thing he always does when doubt creeps in.

"This was just a test round! Next time is the real deal. We'll get it for sure!"

And with that, they leave to prepare for their next exam, memories of their latest failure already being buried away.

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