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vinomino · 24 days

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You start dying the day you are born.

Memories of a relationship A man traversing grief and single fatherhood at the same time

Featuring: Togame.J x F!Reader

Contents: NSFW MDNI, one smut scene, fluff to heavy angst, hurt w/o comfort, ambiguous/open ending, pregnancy&birth, set post-canon, part two set in Togame’s pov, major character death, implication of suicide(Togame), heavy grief, self-induced vomiting(Togame), girl dad!Togame, not beta read

WC: 10k

Part 1

[January 15]

It was a cold winter and the soft blue mohair scarf tucked your neck away from the snowy breeze. The sun does little to warm the earth. Cafe signs read Festive Lattes, with the promise of bringing heat into bellies. You shivered and the hand around yours slightly squeezed tight. Togame releases himself from your grip to tighten your scarf, lifting the edges to cover more of your face. When he’s done, he kisses your nose, making you giggle uncontrollably. Flecks of snow cover his black hair like a string of lights. Your fingers skim the icy air when you reach up to brush his hair, melting the white away. His emerald green eyes crinkle and wrinkles form at the corners as he looks upon you with his heart. A milky swirl escapes his mouth when he talks.

“Don’t get sick.”

“I won’t.”

[May 2]

Water drips off the umbrella that Togame is holding between the two of you. Standing on your tippy-toes you pluck the sunglasses off the tip of his nose, you place them on your own.

“How can you see with these on? It’s raining, you know?” Squinting your eyes to make out the pole of the street lamp.

“I can see just fine.”

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?”

“I would never lie to you.” He scratches his chin trying to sound nonchalant about what he said, but his tone is far from the truth.

The truth is, he lives by those words– Togame would never lie to you. I won’t look away and stay true to myself!! He won’t look away and run, he’ll stare at you even if you burn the sight out of his eyes. He never knew life could be this bright for someone like him until you came along, forced your way into his world, and made it your dwelling. If Choji was his sun– you had to be greater than that, you were one of those stars millions of miles away that make the sun pale in comparison. The orange ombre shades are tilted, it’s too big for you. The corner of his lips tugs up into a smirk, he grips the bridge of the sunglasses and pulls them off. His heart stutters when he sees you directly looking into his eyes.

[June 30]

Love Love Love Love Love

Togame can’t count how many times that word slipped out of your mouth. You lay beside him on the attic floor as you tell him about all the things– everything you love. From your favorite color to what shoes you want to buy. On the other hand, he doesn’t remember if he ever said that word before. There was a lack of love in his life, in his teens, most of his attention went to Shishitoren and becoming strong. To be strong is to be free. Togame believes he has yet to overcome the barriers that prevent him from giving and receiving affection. All the relationships that he “fell in love” in only brought him pain.

But he was at ease laying on the creaking wooden floorboards in the cobwebbed dingy attic. His past partners told him he was never enough and he considered that the bleak truth, he just wasn’t cut out for love. What he’s feeling next to you is vivid and it explodes through every vein that makes up his body. Every cell in him is trying to connect to yours like magnets.

“So, what do you love?” You turn your neck to look at him.

“I…” he pauses, “...I love…you.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Do you not want to?” His lips remain parted.

“I want to…but I’ve already been calling myself your girlfriend.”

You laugh. He laughs.

[August 14]

Even during the night, the air is still hot and humid, sticking to his bare skin. Sand nestles itself into the crevices of your feet and knees and sweeps through. You rest your head on Togame’s shoulder, the towel wrapped around the both of you soaks up the water dripping off your hair. Daybreak is quickly approaching, the sun is going to rise soon. It was a last-minute decision to go to the beach, Togame and you swam until the sun came up. You can still smell the saltwater when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. Shifting, your legs bump into his.

It was a sight to behold, the bright rays spewed over the rippling sea, creating multicolored spots along the surface of the water. “It’s pretty…” You mumble, nuzzling into him. Togame replies, “Yeah, it is.” But he wasn’t looking ahead, he was looking at you. He swears he’s in the presence of an angel, a mystery in this world that can’t be explained by human intellect. How can a being be so perfect? Togame thought.

Togame never considered himself a sentimental dreamer who fancies romance, but at this moment he’s thinking about all the future moments you’ll share with him, ones just like this. You sneeze and he pulls you into his lap, wraps his arms around you, and spills his warmth into you. The sky continues to blaze brightly.

[November 3]

“It’s alright.” You softly murmur.

Clothes were strewn across the floor, spread about in heaps. Sweat drips off Togame’s hair and splatters on the skin between your breasts. He’s had sex before, sex with people he thought he was in love with, sex with girls in bar bathrooms, but it all pales in comparison to what he’s going through right now. He strains himself still so he doesn’t come undone from only entering you like a teenage virgin boy having his first time. Togame reopens his eyes when you caress his jawline, he tightens his hand around yours, pressing it into the sheets as he steadies himself. His muscles contort when he rolls his hips, a breathy exhale and he feels his eyes roll back into his skull.

The sensation was better than he could’ve ever dreamed of, your warm walls wrapped around him snugly. You weren’t faring any better, soft mewls bounce off the walls of his bedroom as he fucks deeper into you. Neither of you rushed to have your first time together until the build-up and tension finally broke the dam. When you couldn’t stop craving Togame and he couldn’t stop craving you.

He felt your nails crawl along his spine.

“Jo…” You whimper when he nudges your cervix. Upon hearing his name, he dives down for a kiss. A hungry and passionate desire, eating up all your moans, swallowing every sound you make. Togame hears a symphony when you chant his name as you near your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his waist and he hugs you into his chest as you two groan into each other’s ears. There isn’t a single millimeter separating your bodies. Only skin, tissue, and bones separate your hearts.

[December 25]

Children sing choirs, holiday banners are strung up all around town, and the snow packs on top of the grass. On the kitchen counter, two cups of hot cacao emit steam. Holding each handle in your hands, you walk back to the couch.

“Here.” You place one in front of Togame who is wrapped up in a funny patterned blanket. A gag gift from one of his friends; cats wearing Santa hats. “Thanks, baby.” He blows on the surface, moving the chocolatey milk concoction.

You sit down on the couch next to him, pulling a throw over yourself as well. A white fuzzy material, the warm mug heats your hands. The heater broke earlier this morning and no nearby businesses are open and working during Christmas. So, you have to endure it until the next day. Thankfully, your boyfriend was as hot as a furnace. He double-wraps you with his blanket and snuggles up to you.

Despite the cold, you had fun. Ripped wrapping paper stuffed the trash bin to the brim. The gifts Togame and you got each other laid on the coffee table with the plate full of gingerbread men cookies you two decorated together. He made you and forced you to eat the cookie because he said he couldn’t bear to eat you in cookie form.

“You tired?” He noticed your wide yawn.

Blinking slowly, you reply, “Yeah.”

Togame hums and lays down on the couch, opening his arm for you to lie on his torso. You immediately crawl on top of him and plop down, basking in his body heat, you sigh. He chuckles and his chest rumbles against your head. “Rest up, darling.”

[February 16]

You currently watch Togame giddily dart around the kitchen trying to remake a dish he learned for you. He had picked up a job as a chef and was excited to show you all his new skills. Squeaky clean knives are placed on the countertop as he pulls the kelp around the fresh orange salmon. Resting your face on your hand, “What’re you going to make, Jo?” You ask.

“Ochazuke (green tea over rice).” He responds while pre-heating the oven.

Togame repeats what the seniors at work taught him– unwrapping and placing the salmon onto the baking sheet. He turns to skillfully chop the scallions, displaying his new ability. You giggle at the view. When the salmon turns crispy, he brews the tea. Rice, furikake, a pickled plum, and the salmon are placed in two bowls. “Watch.” You lean over and he pours the tea in, submerging all the ingredients in a light broth.

“Can I get a kiss for my hard work now?” He turns his cheek to you.

You laugh and press a chaste peck on his cheekbone.

[March 24]

Petals float into his eyes as he squeezes through the crowd, most are donning capes and caps. Togame eyes dart around trying to find you at the meetup location you informed him of. An hour ago, you walked across the stage and got your diploma. “Jo!” He snaps his head to where your voice came from and sees you speed over towards him. The cloak enveloped you so perfectly, like a veil. “Jo, I was looking for you.” He smiles, you look so proud and happy, the years paid off, “Me too.” He would always look for you. This love nurtured him, he’ll love you forever.

“Was it really okay for you to take today off?” You fret.

“They didn’t mind at all.” Togame cups your face with his hands, “I’m so proud of you.”

Your smile is squished up.

[April 13]

“Happy birthday, happy birthday to you!” All his friends are in the room when you place the cake in front of him. An ice cream cake with chocolate, vanilla, and cookie crumbles in the middle. “Happy Birthday” is scribbled in black gel on the top. Enough sugar is packed into it to make someone sick. The numbered candles flicker and the flames wave with the slightest breath. Everyone cheers and claps.

“Blow it out!”

“Make a wish!”

“C’mon, birthday boy!”

“Jo, happy birthday.” You fix the cone hat on his head. The hat his friends– mainly Choji, forced him to wear. They whistle.

Togame chuckles and deeply inhales, extinguishing all the candles in one single blow. Smoke bellows out. You clap your hands as the room erupts in laughter, you’re looking at him with hearts in your eyes. “Happy birthday, baby.” You give him a big fat wet kiss on the chin. He catches a glimpse of the golden balloon banner: Happy Birthday!

[July 1]

Orange juice drips down the sides of your fingers, you lick it up. The sour-sweet liquid mingles on your tastebuds.

The juicer shakes– destroying, tearing, and squeezing everything the fruit is capable of offering. Its peel releases a mellow citrus scent that fogs up the room. Halves, quarters, and slices are funneled into the machine. The pulp gets caught by the mesh strainer, its counterpart flows smoothly into the jug below. You turn and wash the sticky coating off your hands in the sink.

The door jingles open.

“I’m home.” Togame places his bag down on the bench and heads over to you. “What’re you making, darling?”

“Orange juice, do you want some?” You pour it into a cup and hold it up to his lips– you know he’ll take it.

Togame does, placing his hand under to tip the content into his mouth. The watch on his wrist tells the time: 8:31 PM. He gulps– swallowing all the orange’s hard work. You drink it off his tongue when he presses his lips to yours.

[August 20]

Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium

“Jo, Jo, look!”

He traces his eyes to where you’re gesturing at. It’s a huge tank, a wide variety of fish swim about, and in the middle, a whale shark glides along the current. Many hold up their phones to snap photos. Your bag weighs the left of his shoulder down, you’re weighing him down and he’s glad that you are. The blue illuminating from the tank caresses the features of your face, exposing you to the blind eye. He harbors a profoundly tender, undoubtedly affection for the person by his side. One of the simplest, yet most complex feelings he has ever touched.

You stare in awe as the manta ray flaps its wings, radiating eminence like a dove soaring through the skies.

“Where should we go next?” Togame opens up the pamphlet the worker gave him again, he scans through the map. Next is the 3F Journey to a Coral Reef: A World Brimming with Colorful Marine Life. “Do you want to see the corals?”

“Let’s go see it together.” You clasp his hand in yours, intertwining fingers. Even now, he gets butterflies tickling his belly.

[September 4]

The alarm blares on the nightstand. You shuffle, letting out a groan, and extending your hand to get a hold of your phone, and you squint your eyes to read the time: 6:01 AM. Sitting up, you stretch your arms above your head, waking up every muscle. Togame stirs beside you, grumbling something incoherent. You stifle a laugh and bend to kiss his forehead. He wakes up later, the restaurant doesn’t open until the afternoon.

Water splashes on your face as you get ready.

Fully dressed, you pack your bag. “G’morning…” Togame leans against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes. “Good morning, are you coming back later today?” You ask. It’s a Wednesday and Togame usually heads to the gym after work on Wednesdays. “Hmm, yeah, I think so.” He rasps out. “Have a good day, baby.” Togame kisses the corner of your mouth when you walk to the front door.

“You too.” Opening the door and peeking to see him before you shut it. “I’m off,” you call out and he waves.

[September 27]

It’s late, your period is late by three weeks. You run a hand over your face as the test sits on the ceramic bathroom sink. Palms sweaty as you lean over the rendering test. The first line. Your nerves tingle as you await the verdict. The latex microbeads are the judge of how your life will continue, you wait with bated breaths.

You want Togame, you want him to hold you in his arms instead of standing in the bathroom alone. A second line.

Togame is wiping a chopping board down when a phone rings. “Hey, it’s yours Togame!” A voice informs him. He makes his way to the back alley to call you back, you never call during his work hours. His stomach clenches as the device continues to ring.

Sniffles emerge when the call is picked up. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?” Togame feels sweat form all over his body.

“Can you come home?” You choke at the end.

“Sure, I’ll come home right now– sit tight,” Togame informs his coworkers of an emergency and rushes back to the apartment where he finds you on the bathroom floor. “Are you alright? What happened?” He pushes damp strands of hair out of your face. You press your hand against him. “The test,” gesturing to the sink. Togame slowly stands up and notices the test along with the two lines.

“It’s alright, we’ll figure it out,” he presses your head into his shoulder, his shirt soaking up your tears. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re the most important person to me. I love you.” His hand rubs up and down your back, as you seek comfort, trembling in his hold.

Tears stain your cheeks as you lay on the pillow next to him, breathing hitching every few seconds. “I’m okay, we’re okay. I love you. I’m here for you, darling.” You nod as he strokes your wet face. His heart pumps out a thousand prayers: I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Togame…Togame!” Another chef pats his back to get his attention.

“Oh– yes?”

“You alright? You’ve been spacing out, did something happen?” All his coworkers confirm the man’s concern.

Togame licks his lips, “I’m, uh…gonna be a father.”

The whole kitchen stops what they’re doing and congratulates him. Hugs, handshakes, and pats and showered on the new prospective dad. The workers who were already fathers gave advice and ruffled his hair. His boss sends him home for the day.

He tells the news to his acquaintances, friends, best friends, past lovers, and the cats on the way back to you. He tells the trees, the flowers, and the pebbles. He wants to tell the whole world.

[October 12]

A pack of letters tied together with a red ribbon is left on the tabletop.

You see it when you wake up and head to the kitchen. There’s a cup of tea next to the stack. You sit down and pick up the letters, turning them around to inspect what they could contain. The ribbon pulls apart in one tug. A multitude of envelopes splatter on top of one another. You pick one up, open it, and pull out the card.

Happy 7th Birthday!

You’re no longer a toddler, you can write and tie your own shoes now! That’s a big girl achievement. How amazing, I know I wasn’t around to see it, but I’m sure everyone was so proud. 7 is a big deal. Skip another step on hopscotch, let ice cream drip all over the floor, run down the slides, and have an amazing 7th birthday.

– Togame Jo

Picking up another random envelope:

Happy Sweet 16th,

High school must be difficult, but I’m sure you can handle it. All your classmates and friends are at school waiting for you. I hope the sun shined a little brighter this year as you tackle tests and homework. 16-year-old you will be so happy to see who she has become, getting into college, and studying your favorite subject. Wishing you the happiest 16th year.

– Togame Jo

Happy 18th Birthday!

Wow, you’re now an adult! It’s your last year of high school, you’re about to graduate! You must’ve worked hard. I honestly don’t remember much about 18-year-old me, but I’m sure you do. So, just know that I think 18-year-old you was remarkable. Your kindness is so much bigger than you give it credit, I thought that when you told me about the cat you saved when you were 18. Adulthood must’ve been scary to imagine, but now you start making big choices and defining who you’ll be in life (p.s. you did that well).

– Togame Jo

Happy 19th!

We meet this year, isn’t that something? I can recall when I first saw you, you looked like a fairy. I believe I fell in love at first sight (It’s true). The way you carried yourself up until now is inspiring. We got to know each other and kissed, when we kissed for the first time I thought my heart was going to explode. Sometimes I lay in bed and wonder: what if we never met? I get filled with worry, but then don’t care because I would’ve found you either way. We were meant to be together. Happy birthday sweetheart.

– Love, Togame Jo

Happy 1st Birthday!

You probably didn’t know it back then, but you were about to embark on a wonderful journey. You’ll meet people, make friends, and be surrounded by love (1-year-old you is really cute, by the way).

– Togame Jo

Happy 22!

I got to spend this birthday with you. But I want to say all the things I said that day again; I love you, I’m so happy I got to meet you, you’re astonishing. I wake up and think about how much I’m blessed to be your boyfriend. You graduate soon– I could talk forever about all the things that happened this year. Let’s go back to the beach and swim all night again. Can I say it yet? I’m excited to be able to write this.

– Your future husband, Togame Jo.

There are more letters on the table, a card for each birthday up until this year. The tea has cooled down as you place the last letter of the most recent birthday down. A tear hits the paper, creating a dark spot– you didn’t even realize you were crying. You feel so tender and vulnerable, your heart is split open like a plum. For a split second, you see yourself in the reflection of the black screen before you open the phone up. Togame’s location is right outside the front door.

The doorknob shakes as you grip it with your quivering hand. You pull the door back, there stands Togame with a bouquet of peonies.

“Did you finish reading them?”

You sniffle, tears pouring down your cheeks. You’re unable to speak.

“Don’t cry–” He fumbles a bit before shoving the bouquet into your face. You break out into a smile and laugh, accepting and holding the flowers in your hands. He gets down on one knee and opens the black velvet box, revealing a shiny ring on the cushion. “Will– Will you marry me?” Togame stops breathing.

“Yes, Jo– I’ll marry you.”

His fingers feel cold when he slides the band onto your left ring finger. When he stands up, you drop the bouquet and wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Have you been standing out here all morning?” You rub his cheek.

“Anything for my wife.”

[November 9]

I do. I do.

The wedding was a small gathering of family and friends. But it was the wedding of your dreams, marrying the man you loved.

“Did you really cry when you saw me?” You roll onto your side to talk to your husband.

“I did, you were so beautiful.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“I’m always cheesy with it comes to you.”

Togame moves closer to you, shifting the bed while doing so. He places his hand over your womb, “I never thought I would have a family,” he stops to steady his vocal cords. “I was a delinquent, you know? Always up to no good and fighting was all I did.” Togame blinks and a wet film forms over his green eyes. “Now, now– I have a wife and I’m going to be a father,” his voice cracks. “I’m really happy, I love you, I love us, I love our baby.” Togame cries, tears roll off his lashes and onto the cotton pillowcase.

You pull him towards you and he buries his head into your chest. Your fingers card through his short black hair, there is still some gel left in it. “I know, I know…I feel the same way too. I love you, Jo.” You softly whisper to him, he shakes like a leaf against you. November is mid-winter, it should be cold, but it’s warm.

[April 29]

“When are you due?” Your friend sips her smoothie looking at your showing stomach.

“The doctor said sometime in late June.” You take a bite of the cheesy waffle.

“Awe, I’m so excited to meet little Rie.” She gushes.

Rie was the name Togame and you chose for your baby girl, meaning blessing. The cafe is bustling, college students and the elderly alike come and go as you chat with your high school friend. You were on maternity leave and waiting for the date. The emerald-cut diamond ring is comfortably splayed on your finger when you go to pick up the cup of water. You miss Togame even though you saw him a few hours ago.

“How are things going between you and your husband– actually I can’t believe you’re married. Back in high school, you were on a roll, really, none of our old friends believed me when I said you got married and were pregnant. It’s amazing, everyone thought you would take longer to settle down– even I thought you never were going to.” Her lips curl up. “I’m happy for you, I mean it. Togame– Jo, wow, you’re also a Togame now. He’s good for you, you’re practically shining– don’t they call it pregnancy glow? I think you’re glowing.”

You laugh at her words, “Oh, yeah. I once thought in high school that I’d never have a family. Now, I don’t regret anything. At first, I was scared. You know? I thought the world was going to end, but Jo– he really helped me back then. Back then, all I did was cry– no, seriously I cried all day and night. He took a few days off work and calmed me down. I’m grateful for him. This might sound dumb, but– I think he’s my soulmate– don’t laugh. I just can’t imagine myself with another man who isn’t Jo or even having a kid with someone who’s not Jo.”

The two of you continue to talk until Togame picks you up to go home.

[June 25]

The hospital's fluorescent lights shine all around you. Stars start forming all around the room like a nebula you see in a space photo. Each star twinkles in an array of colors. Your body is sweaty as you heave, the nurse takes a cloth and wipes your forehead, but it still feels damp. It hurts? It hurts. Everything is tingling. She peels the gown down, exposing your chest, and places a newborn– your newborn on your bare skin. A tiny yellow hat is on her head. Seven pounds and four ounces. Rie, she’s coated in a mixture of liquids as she cries at the top of her lungs into your breast.

“Oh, you’re so little…” Tears slip down your face as you tuck your chin to see her.

Togame leans his forehead against your temple, “Thank you– thank you for being born safely.” Her cheeks are so tiny in comparison to Togame’s index finger. You cry and all the emotions welled up in you pour out into the delivery room. A healthy baby girl.

[October 18]

The curtains blow with the wind.

“Why’re there so many windows?” Choji places a cardboard box in the middle of an empty room and skips around.

“She said she wanted a house with a lot of windows.” Togame thinks back. I want all the windows open– there has to be a lot of windows.

“Really?” Sako and Inugami enter with even more boxes. Arima comes back down from the second floor, “How exciting man, you got a family.” He grins and walks to his former Shishitoren members.

His Shishitoren pals move furniture and set up the house, and even some old Bofurin come around and lend a hand.

“Rie, right? Congrats.” Umemiya pats his shoulder with a grin. Togame thanks the white-haired man.

“Sakura, that goes into the nursery,” Nirei instructs the two-toned boy.

“Hah? Where’s that?”

“Over here.”

Togame watches everyone come together to help him set up the new house. It makes him feel funny inside that all these people took time out of their days to dedicate it to him. He set one foot in front of the other, it felt like a heavenly blessing bestowed upon him, a man young and in love. Rie was absolutely lovely and pure as light, she resembled you more. Waking up to you and Rie made him feel like he was basking infinitely in the sunshine. There was no other word than “love” that could describe these days. People spend their whole lives searching for it, saying that it doesn’t exist when it doesn’t grace them with its presence.

[November 8]

Rie was growing fast, a bit too fast for Togame’s liking. He still wanted her to remain small and tiny for just a little longer, for there to be more moments where you all lay on the rug together. Rie nibbled on her toy, her skin was velvety and soft as bread. You coo at her and take the toy away from her mouth, she kicks and fusses.

“Shhh…” Togame watches you calm her down, stroking her puffy cheek with the back of your finger. “Ah, could you watch her? I want to head to the store to buy more milk.” You sit up and pat your clothes down.

“I can go instead.”

“Stay here with Rie, have some daddy and daughter time.” You press your nose into him and stand up.

He relents, you’ve been with the baby ever since you got back from the hospital, and he knows you need some time alone. “Alright, be safe. Okay, honey?” He crosses his legs and places Rie in his lap. “Say bye-bye to mommy.” He grins and waves her miniature arm at you.

“Bye-bye Rie, mommy will be back soon, be good for daddy.” You blow a kiss at your husband and baby.

Part 2

Grief is love with nowhere to go.

Wailing fills the room, there’s no other noise he can hear. Togame grips the bars of the crib to the point where his knuckles turn white. He felt his soul being ripped apart, opening the gates for an agonizing pain– terrible and airless, it wraps its claws around his throat, a silent asphyxiation. There’s a desire in him, to fill his pockets with stones and head into the sea. How can he live without you? How can you leave him? Rie continues to cry and cry and cry. His hands are stinging, indents on his palms when he lets go.

She’s crying out for you– for her mother. Togame stands up, the tears on her pudgy cheeks mirror his. Your blood mixed with his runs through this child’s veins. He picks Rie up and rests her against his shoulder, patting her back to try and soothe her to no avail. It’s almost like she’s mourning her mother’s death. Falling to his knees, he cries alongside her, two trembling people clinging onto one another. The moonlight moves around the nursery, the white glow is the only source of light. Her little hand clenches his shirt. She must be hungry, he forces himself up to make a bottle of milk. Copying everything he saw you do, but Rie doesn’t take to the bottle. She doesn’t latch onto it. He’s at his wit's end. Why didn’t he pay more attention to what you did? Why didn’t he question you on how to calm the baby down? Why did he never think to ask you how to take care of Rie? Because he believed you would always be here– be beside him. You were immortal to him until you weren’t.

Togame snaps awake, gasping, his eyes dart around the room. Rie is snoozing in his arms, he is still supporting her body against his chest. His mind fell asleep, but his body didn’t. He lets out a sigh. The full bottle is set on the table. Slowly, he gets up off the chair, walks over to the crib, and places Rie gently down on the mattress. Togame holds his breath as he lets go, she doesn’t stir. Quietly, he walks out of the room and down the hall into the living room. His pillow is on the couch, the baby monitor speaker is on the coffee table, and his clothes are thrown about on the furniture. He hadn’t slept on the bed since the day you passed, it was too much to feel that you were still here. His mind kept telling him that you were going to come to bed any minute.

His phone clicks open with a ding, notifications are displayed in a row, and he scrolls through them. Weather notifications, messages from his friends, emails from his boss, notifications from the baby monitor, and menial ads. Friday. It’s already Friday. He can’t remember the last time he went to work, they must’ve fired him by now– he couldn’t even go anyways, Rie would be left alone. Togame rubs his forehead, pulling the skin with his hand. At some point, his stomach growls, and he can’t recall when he last ate. The fridge is empty and barren, aside from condiments and beers on the door– aside from the rotting orange in the fruit compartment. A dark green fungus eats away at the flesh, skinning the peel off, and torments the orange. It passes away, unable to endure.

The tab presses into the can, breaking the seal, and a sizzle rips out. He raises the rim to his lips and drinks the liquid down. Six large gulps flow down his throat, but he tastes malt– he tastes malt. Immediately Togame runs to the sink and coughs into the stainless steel basin. What did he just do? He sticks his fingers into the back of his mouth until he regurgitates all the liquid up– or until he thinks he has. Beads stick to his lashes, falling when he blinks, snot is running out his nose, and his entire chin is coated with saliva. He gags. Togame didn’t even notice that he grabbed a can of alcohol, not even processing what he was doing. He curses, wipes his chin dry, and pours the rest of the beer down the drain. How can he drink when Rie’s depending on him, he’s the only one here for her now. If something were to happen to her– he pressed his hands to his face, tugging at his hair.

He needs help, he can’t even function as a normal individual, so how can he be a father right now?

Togame texts the first person he can think of, the one who helped him back on his feet when he was stuck under the shade; Sakura Haruka.

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to show up at his front step, Togame swings open the door before the man can even ring the bell.

“Sorry, it’s a mess right now. I mean— look at me. I’m a mess.” He dryly chuckles when he sits down on the couch, insulting himself.

“Hey, it’s alright. I haven’t seen you since–” Sakura stopped himself, he felt it was taboo to mention the funeral of Togame’s wife, especially when Togame barely looked put together. “You need help.” Sakura isn’t well-versed socially, but even he knows that the black-haired man isn’t stable. His two-colored eyes travel up and down, Togame has an overgrown beard– something he has never seen before. Excluding the miserable husband and father, the house was in disarray. Pots and dishes lay dirty in the kitchen sink, trash was spilling out of the bin, and energy drinks littered the coffee table– all the surface tops Sakura could see.

Sakura isn’t sure if he should ask Togame if he’s okay because he already knows the truth– the man isn’t.

“I just can’t find time to clean– Rie cries all hours of the day, I need to book a doctor’s appointment for her– she hasn’t been eating that much. I think she’s losing weight– she feels lighter.” Togame furrows his brows in dread as he lists everything he needs to do to Sakura. “I’m trying, but it just…isn’t enough.”

“Did you drink?” Sakura spots the beer can on the counter.

“I did– I chucked it up though. I didn’t even see what I was drinking,” he laughs, “isn’t that crazy? I think I’m going crazy. If she was here–” Togame voice cuts off. He’s so pathetic without you, he thinks.

“Can I call someone?” Sakura asks.

“Sure– yeah, go ahead.”

A few people show up: Umemiya, Kotoha (people Sakura thinks are good with kids), Suo, and Nirei (people who popped into his mind right away).

Because Sakura is in unfamiliar territory, he cannot comprehend how Togame is feeling, and he definitely doesn’t know anything about child-rearing.

Togame showers as they all help clean up the house. Kotoha is tending to Rie, accessing his concern about her lack of eating. He’s using the guest bathroom since he’s also been avoiding the bathroom you use, all your stuff is there, and even strands of your hair are still on the bath mat. The hot water slithers all over, washing away the dirt that’s been stuck to his skin. He can hardly recognize himself in the mirror when he wipes away the fog, revealing his unruliness. He can’t remember the last time he had let his beard grow out this much, he doesn’t think he ever did. So, he shaves— for the first time in weeks.

When he steps out into the living room, Kotoha is bouncing Rie in her arms. Togame never talked to her before, though he knew that she was Umemiya’s little sister. Rie squeals and giggles, flapping her arms around. For a split second, he sees you. You’re the one holding his daughter– your daughter. Bobbing her up and down, kissing her cheeks, and smiling so warmly at your bundle of joy. Toagme’s breath hitches and he digs his nails into his hand in an effort to stop himself from crying in front of everyone. He is so tender in his grief.

“You should see a psychologist.” Umemiya hands him a glass of water.

“I need to take Rie to the pediatrician first.”

“Right, you should. But don’t ignore yourself. She needs you to be healthy.” He takes a moment to think. “I can watch over Rie when you go. We all can.” Umemiya suggests.

“I’ll just take her with me.” Togame places the cup on the table.

“You need some time alone–”

“She’s all I have left– what if, what if something happens when I’m not there again.” Togame fists at his pants, “Oh god, I don’t know…” He’s spiraling.

Umemiya remains silent. He knows Togame is refusing to let Rie out of sight due to fear. “Trust us.” He spoke with sympathy to the widow.

In the shopping center, Togame waits in front of the family bathroom.

Rie fusses in her stroller uncomfortably. All he can do is rock her until he can change her diaper. Her lip wobbles, she’s on the verge of screaming, and he debates his next action. Whoever is in the bathroom is taking way too long, it's been over 15 minutes. The men’s doesn’t have a changing station and he’s not keen on taking her there anyways.

“Oh, how she’s so cute.” An old lady peers into the stroller.

“Thank you.” Togame offers her a small smile.

“Are you giving mom some time off?”

Togame opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t form any words. Her unknowing words had skinned him raw. She thinks you’re still alive. People are going about their days not knowing you’re gone, living their lives without the slightest bump. The passersby don’t know that he’s suffering. How can they go on with their lives like nothing happened? He feels angry and then an excruciating sadness. Rie whimpers and it snaps him out of his train of thought. “Sorry, I need to change her diaper.” He doesn’t spare the lady another glance as he unbuckles Rie and takes her into the women’s bathroom.

A young lady is at the sink fixing her makeup, a college student, Togame thinks. She stares at him wide-eyed. “Um, just– my baby.” He rushes to the large stall in the back, the one he knows has a changing station. When he locks the stall he hears her footsteps disappear, she quickly leaves after seeing him. Togame sighs but continues with tending to Rie. With a fresh diaper on her, he scurries out of the women’s, apologizing on the way out. Some of them give him dirty looks. Sure it annoyed him, but he ignored it, placing Rie back in the stroller and going off on their way.

The doctor suggested to him to start solid foods. At the appointment, he realized how little he knew about his own daughter. Togame struggled to answer some of the questions because you were the one who took Rie to these visits. He has to be two now.

The white-coat woman cleared her throat, “Why don’t you call your wife? Is she busy? I usually see her instead.”

“She passed away.” Togame cringed when he said those words, it was the first time he told someone you were dead.

She gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

He nibbles on the inside of his lip.

“I can– I’ll print out the papers with things you need, stuff to know for future appointments. Wait a moment here.” She returns with a few papers stapled together. “Rie is quite healthy. You mentioned her eating habits, I believe you’re feeding her too frequently. When babies cry, it doesn’t always mean they’re hungry– here’s a time schedule on when to feed her. I also included some parenting tips in this folder.” The doctor clasps her hands on her lap. “We also offer counseling for single parents here, would you like to make an appointment? There’s also a fully staffed nursery, if you’re struggling with finding someone to look after her– Rie. There are one-on-one talks with a certified therapist and weekly group meetings in the program.” She hands him a pamphlet.

“I’ll do it.” Togame doesn’t open the pamphlet. He then gets handed an appointment card.

In front of the baby section, he stares at the text Umemiya’s wife had sent in the group chat. What to get, what to avoid, what to make sure of, and a few links. He follows everything to his best judgment and heads home with a few bags.

At home, he sits in front of Rie and feeds her the puree out of the jar– or tries to. She sticks her tongue out refusing to take another spoon, slapping her veggie-coated hands against the tray. “Another bite?” Togame holds the spoon out. Rie giggles. “For daddy?” She blows raspberries at him, splattering carrots onto his face. He smiles. He can’t remember when he last laughed. Rie laughs with him, almost jumping out of her seat. “Ah, ah, ah.” Togame smoothes her hair back. With a last attempt, he wiggles his arm around, doing something he’s seen in movies. “Here comes the airplane~” he coos and it works, she opens her mouth up and licks the puree up. Togame bellows out a laugh, slapping his thigh at how comical the scene was. He looks around to see if you’re laughing too.

But you’re not here.

Rie sleeps in her crib, all cleaned up and dozing the night away. Togame stands over her, watching her chest rise and fall. He doesn’t know how to prepare her for life, how to teach her things her mother would be there for, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s anxious and backed into a corner, it’s daunting. Can he do it without you? If he kept you longer, pulled you down to tickle you, and if that driver didn’t drink– you were his anchor and how he’s drifting around in the waters, being dragged out by the riptide. He cried that night, alone on the couch.

The bank website shows how low his balance is, he doesn’t have any current source of income. His legs shake as he checks the accounts, there’s still a hefty sum in the savings, and there’s Rie’s college fund. He can use the joint savings for the bills, but when it’s used up, what will he do? The house was mid-sized with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was manageable with a stable income from him and your remote job, but now there’s none of that. All of his time is spent on Rie, she’s not yet one. He can’t give up the house– it was your dream. You’re still all around– he hasn’t entered the bedroom in months, and your things are right where you left them.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” Sakura peeps at the laptop, “What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Bills.” Togame scratches his head. Sakura and Kotoha had come by this evening.

“Is it bad?” Sakura asks and gulps.

“It’s not bad yet, but it will be.”

“If money’s a problem, I can chip in,” Kotoha speaks up. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Me too.” Sakura chimes in.

“You guys are already helping enough…”

“Listen, do you see your situation? You’re not in any position to deny help.” Kotoha squints her eyes at him while stroking Rie’s back. He can’t say anything else back, “Thank you.”

Sakura coughs, “So, why’d you ask for boxes?”

“I just wanna organize her stuff. I– I haven’t been in our bedroom in a while, because I’m scared. I’m scared of moving her things– packing her away. It feels like I’m removing her presence…but at the meeting, they said I would need to do it eventually. I know I’m putting it off– but, but…it just sucks.” Togame takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to face it– face that she’s gone, even her office– I can’t bring myself to open the door. Because it feels like she’s on the other side, sitting in her chair. I don’t want to open it and not find her there.” He spills himself out. “This is her home too.”

They fall silent, lips shut tight. “We’ll help you,” Sakura spoke, his voice was wobbly. “I’ll stay the night. I don’t have anything tomorrow.” Togame nods appreciating the younger man’s support. Kotoha holds Rie tighter.

The first thing they tackle is the bedroom. The sheets are stripped, leaving the mattress bare, and the socks you left on the carpet are thrown into the laundry bin. There’s a large box on the dresser, the one he received from the funeral service provider as the next of kin. Inside contains all the things you had on you at the time of death. Kotoha is sorting things out in the bathroom next door, sorting your cosmetics and trinkets. With shaky hands, he opens it for the first time. Your bag, jewelry, and shoes are all in this one box. The clothes are gone, they were too soaked in blood to be returned. He holds the shoes in his hands and places them on the floor. There are little brown spots on it. The next item is a plastic bag, containing your earrings, bracelets, and your ring. The one he gave you. He sniffles. In your bag, he finds your phone, lip balm, hairbrush, compact mirror, wallet, and a Polaroid. A photo of your family; you, him, and Rie. His lungs shake. Your phone is now in his hands, there’s still some battery left in it since it lights up. He unlocks it, and the first thing he sees is a direct message log. It’s to him, there’s something in the text bar: I’ll be home soon, love you.

Togame breaks down, he transforms into a puddle on the floor. Sakura and Kotoha find him pressing the phone to his forehead as he sobs. He passes away, unable to endure.

They stop there for the day. The next morning, they work the kitchen out. The mixer you hadn’t yet touched gets placed into the to-sell box. The juicer is kept, he can’t part with it and he plans on using it. Togame’s body moves without thought, his brain is too tired to keep up, but if he rests, he’s uneasy and something gnaws at him from the inside. Next, the office.

The door handle sticks dust to his hand when he pushes it down. The curtains are still open, the chair is pushed in, and you’re not anywhere to be found. Spiderwebs are nestled in every nook and cranny, a layer of dust settled over the desk, and your mug has coffee stains in it. He holds the ceramic in his hands, “I want to keep this room as is– I think I’m going to use it as my office.” Kotoha and Sakura nod, so instead, they tidy the room up.

Sakura surveys the shelves, photo frames are lined up, and your degree is placed in the middle. He feels like he is intruding into your personal space. It’s now an empty room, but it was once bursting with life. A red box catches his eye, it’s placed on the very top, and he stands on his tippy-toes to reach it. It’s in his hands, he pulls the top off, and inside contains letters. Sakura doesn’t read them, but he senses they are important. He places the top back on, “Where should I put this?”

Togame turns around, “Hmm? What’s that?” He takes the container from Sakura and peeks inside. He knows what it is. The paper sides of the box dents under his tight grip.

That night, he dreams about you. He returns to that cramped attic, he returns next to you. Your eyes shine– so full of energy, it’s a lovely portrait. Togame can’t hear what you are saying, he doesn’t remember what you were talking about. Ah, that’s right, this is when he asked you out. He so desperately wants to reach out and touch you again, feel your skin against his, kiss your soft lips, hold your warm hands, but he can't because his body doesn’t move. So, he tries to talk to you.

“I love you, please– please. You must’ve been in pain. I’m sorry I couldn't be there, I’m sorry I didn’t save you, I’m sorry I didn’t text you back, I’m sorry I didn’t hold you back that day. It was scary, wasn’t it? I let you die alone. I’m so, so sorry.” You remain stoic, smiling at him. “Rie’s gotten bigger, she’s eating actual baby food now. I think she’s going to walk soon. It’s almost her first birthday. She resembles you more and more by the day. I miss you. I miss you so much I want to die. Aren’t you going to yell at me for saying that?” Maybe because it’s a dream that his words come out smoothly. Your mouth moves, but he can’t hear anything. You laugh. If you’re happy in this silly dream, does that count?

A week later he witnesses Rie’s first steps, her first words, and he grieves you at the same time.

“Come here, Rie. Come to papa.” Togame holds his arms out, she wobbles like a fawn. Puffing her cheeks out, she pushes herself back up to her feet and puts one foot down. She takes four steps and collapses into her father’s arms. Togame picks her up and spins around, Rie shrieks with laughter, throwing her head back. He kisses her forehead, “You did so well sweetheart.” Her eyes squeeze shut before popping open, “Mnnn, mph…” She tries so hard to talk, to use her voice, to communicate. “Po–Pa, Papa!”

Backpacks are lined out on the displays. Small and box-shaped. Togame had no idea sending a child to school would be so much work. Indoor shoes, uniforms, hand towels, stationary, and the list goes on. Rie is six and is set to enter elementary school in April. She’s her own person and walks with an openness and willingness for joy. It’s a major turning point in her life as she sets out on her academic pursuit. With the community chipping in, the house stayed, and with Rie going to school, Togame decided to do job searching again. He can’t keep depending on everyone else, he gets a visceral urge to continue standing on his own two feet without support. Umemiya and his wife offered to watch over Rie for the afternoons since their kids are also going to the same school. It’s a good idea because Togame no longer feels the fear that she’ll disappear when she’s out of his sight— because he trusts Umemiya.

With no high school diploma, traditional job hunting wouldn’t work out for him. So, he called up his old coworkers and luckily, one of them said they could introduce him to someone who was hiring. Togame could sense that he wanted to say something, but held back. A few days later, Togame went and met the restaurant owner, with his decent experience and knowledge of the kitchen, he was hired to work late mornings to late afternoons. He could pick up Rie on the way home after she played with the Umemiyas for a few hours.

It’s midnight and he misses you. He still keeps to his side of the bed, staring at the empty place. Togame stares up at the ceiling, he wants to say he’s come to terms with your passing, but sometimes he’s not okay. Somedays he wants to curl up under the blanket and disappear from the world. The bedroom door creaks open, “Dad…?”

He sits up, “Rie? What is it?”

“Can…Can I sleep with you?”

“Sure– yeah, come here.” Togame pats your side of the bed. She slowly closes the door behind her and creeps over to the mattress. Rie slides under the sheets and lays her head against the pillow. “Are you alright?” Togame pulls the blanket over her and she nods. Her lip gets caught between her teeth as she fiddles with her fingers.

“Um, dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Do you hate mom?”

Togame’s eyes widen, out of everything he was not expecting his daughter to ask him that. He swallows saliva down, wetting his throat, “What makes you say that?”

“At school, Kosaka– I heard him say that his dad hates his mom because she left him. Do you hate Mom because she left us?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“I would never hate Mom…I love her just as much as I love you.”

He loved you and you left him.

“What was Mom like? Fukasawa was telling everyone about her mom’s new book– I don’t anything about my mom. Did she write books too?”

“Mom didn’t write books, but she read to you a lot…she read to you day and night. She was wondrous, you take after her in that. Mom’s still reading to you.” He lightly taps her chest, right above her heart, “She’s reading to you in here.” Rie smiles.

“I want to meet Mom. Dad, do you miss Mom?”

“I do, I miss her a lot. But since you’re here, she’s also here with me.”

“If Mom was here…do you think we’d be happy like the Umemiyas?”

It’s not strange for children to compare themselves to others. Pit their situation against their peers. He’s attended countless meetings, read through hundreds of blogs, and spent years trying to find the right way to tell his daughter that her mother was no longer here.

“Are you unhappy?”

Rie shakes her head, “I’m happy– I have you, I have Dad don’t I?”

“And I have you.” Togame pats the blanket on top of her.

It’s Rie’s eighth birthday, she’s practically bouncing while waiting in line. Togame purchased train tickets to the aquarium. He took the weekend off to celebrate with her, it's currently the day before her birth. The worker scans his barcodes and they head inside. Rie pulls the map wide open, reading all the exhibits. “Where do you want to go first?”

“I wanna see the rays! Dad! Can we?” She beams a wide smile, one front tooth is missing.

“Sure, let’s go, but stay by my side, okay?”

“Okay!”

Rie loves manta rays, the face she makes is exactly like the one you made all those years ago. She presses her palms against the large pane of glass, staring up at all the fish with her mouth agape. “What’s that one?” Togame’s eyes follow where she’s pointing, a flat fish. “Let me check,” he pulls his phone out to search for what animal it was. An angelfish. Rie doesn’t listen when he tells her though, too excited about moving to the next tank. He carries a tote bag and the lunch inside weighs his shoulder down.

“Kame! One more!” Choji raises his hand at the counter.

“Are you alright?” Sakura pokes at the green onion in his ramen while talking.

“About?”

His friends frequent the restaurant he works at and the owner doesn’t mind since it's more business and money. Choji and Sakura frequent the most after their jobs since they have nothing better to do. Sometimes Umemiya and the four old Bofurin kings swing by. Sometimes Kotoha pops in with Rie. Sometimes that eyepatch and freckles come with Sakura. Sometimes Sako, Arima, Kanuma, and Inugami have a meet-up.

“The anniversary is coming up.”

“Ah, right… Kame, will you be okay?” Choji frowns.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” Togame places another gyoza plate in front of his old leader.

Even now they worry about him. Reflecting back, he was a mess for the first couple of years. He was angry, consumed in a fit of rage at the loss of his best friend, lover, and wife. That anger is now long gone and what he feels is much softer. Sakura moves on and talks about what his current worries are and Choji pokes fun at him even though he’s also in the same situation. It felt exactly like when they all ate together during after-school hours. They all took different paths, but are all together again. The three men were steadily living life, day after day. Going where the wind takes them.

Togame and Rie stand in front of the gravesite, where the last remaining pieces of you rest. Your body is long gone. The truth is, you still plague his mind. Because he loved you with his everything, you wholly possess his body every moment. The sun would burn out and collapse before he forgets about you, he’ll remember you longer than the time he knew you. He’ll keep finding you everywhere he goes. The sea salt he uses reminds him of the beach and the bookstores smell like you. Rie looks up at him, “Should we go home now?” She nods and a solemn expression is on her face. Rie doesn’t remember you, but she feels an intense longing for her mother. Togame wraps his arms around her, she’s exactly like you, Rie cries in his arms, soaking his shirt. Among the rows of graves, two souls glow together.

The world is no longer scary.

He buys a card at a convenience store.

He writes another letter to no recipient:

To my darling,

Happy 46th Birthday. Rie’s in high school now– our baby is now a high schooler. I miss you a lot today. Do you miss me too? I found the candle you love at a store, it’s burning right now. The room smells like you. I want to sit with you again. I want to fold your clothes for you again. You know that cardigan you wore a lot? Rie likes it, so she wears it. It fits her perfectly just like how you wore it. Rie likes peach juice, she uses that juicer you use, and sometimes she makes me some. When we meet again will you praise me? Can you tell me I did a good job with your sweet voice again? I want to hear you speak again. I can’t hear you in my dreams anymore. Do you still love me? I love you. It was an honor to love you and be your husband.

– Your husband, Togame Jo

a/n: I cut it short because I didn’t want to keep writing :P

#Read the contents!#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker smut #wind breaker angst #togame jo x reader #jo togame x reader #togame x reader #togame smut #togame angst #mino.writes

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askinkiskarma · 1 year

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more stepbro neteyam please im begging you on my knees pls

my panties are soaked, i'm writing this in a cafe and i am struggling to keep my composure. enjoy, anonnie. (also thank you to @cinetrix for making sure that my obsession for this man will literally never die down.)

warnings: smut (stepcest, p in v, semi-public sex - people are sleeping in same tent, pet names, slight praise kink, slight softdom!neteyam), strong language, cursing

wc: 1.7k words

You awake from your slumber with a low groan at the way the chills have overtaken your body, the dead of night furthering the discomfort you feel and the way you come to yearn for muted alleviation. You look around your adoptive family’s marui, desperate to find someone you could cuddle up to, anyone who could provide your body the warmth it craved.

Despite how much they bickered, Lo’ak and Kiri were twin souls, and they always made peace at night, sharing a woven blanket and a warm embrace. You smiled at them, shaking your head lightly at how easily forgotten all their fights seemed to be as soon as eclipse took over the land, as soon as the cover of bioluminescent darkness enveloped their consciousness. Tuk was nestled tightly in between Jake and Neytiri, and you were almost worried she would be suffocated in their grasp, one of each their arms meeting on her tiny frame, holding her close.

That left Neteyam, who seemed fast asleep on one side, one of his arms beneath his head and the other rested carelessly over his waist and abdomen, and you couldn’t help stare at this man you loved like a brother, but ached for in ways that made you ashamed and embarrassed, that you could never admit to out loud, that you were scared to even think about most days, afraid that the intensity of those thoughts was so loud, they could be heard, and Eywa, that would lead to a whole slew of issues you were too scared to even conceptualise.

But despite the way you hindered your own brain from deliberating on the way you wanted him in ways you could never have him, it didn’t stop said brain from manifesting your wildest desires in dreams and reveries, in the way you woke up each night sweating and with slick running down your ass or thighs and soaking into your mat, the way it was taunting you with images of his body, strong and powerful, muscular and lean, contracting and flexing as his cock sank deeper and deeper in you, filling the void you felt every day of your life, that you only want him to fill.

You get up quietly and make your way to him, dragging your thin covers with you to where he lay, getting on your side so your back was to him, nuzzling until you felt his chest taut against you, until his heartbeat rang loudly in you, until it overtook your own, until it was all you heard, and all you felt. The closeness hurt you, the ache reaching new heights, and it was overwhelming as his hand instinctively reached for your body, in his sleep, his touch lighting your skin on fire, his fingers lingering on your ribs. His unyielding grip pulled you so close, your ass was rested against his groin, and you let out a sharp exhale when you noticed he was hard, when you noticed his loincloth was damp. His voice startled you as he spoke, quiet as the night that still blanketed your world and your progressively untethered self, doing a good job of hiding your disheveled form or the blush in your cheeks, but not a good job at protecting you from the increase luminosity of your freckles or the moans that escaped you when his thick cock brushed against your folds.

“What are you doing here, pretty girl?” His mouth was near your lips, his breath fanning over the side of your face and neck, sending chills down your body and all of a sudden you didn’t know whether you were cold or hot anymore, your body struggling to comprehend all the sensations being elicited in it, in you.

You swallowed loudly, trying to find your voice in your throat and breath in your lungs enough to be able to pull together a string of sounds that would sound normal and relaxed, and not breathy and wanting, like you knew they would be.

“I’m cold, ’Teyam, and you were the only lonely one.” He let out a quiet chuckle and his hand started tracing your body softly, a touch so light it was barely there, and the chills deepened, goosebumps appearing in his touch’s wake.

“Well, not anymore, and thank fuck for cold nights, huh?” his hands didn’t stop when they reached your navel, slowly inching their way south, and you whimpered a little knowing where they were going, unwilling and unable to understand what was happening to you, whether this was a dream or a nightmare, whether you were actually living this and it wasn’t just a vivid vision here to taunt you, before morning came and took it away from you forever.

“Neteyam, what are you doing?” Your voice was breathy and weak, but alert nonetheless, aware of the situation and your adoptive family sleeping peacefully next to you, and how easy it would be for anyone to wake up and any point and witness this. The shame and fear was almost as overwhelming to you as the desire to give in to him, no questions asked, no care in the world for consequences and risks as long as it ended with your eyes rolled in the back of your head and his cum dripping down you thighs.

“I’m not doing anything, little sis. Just here to make sure you’re… warm. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t help my step-sister when she clearly needs me?” The amused tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the way his fingers slipped past your loincloth and found your clit, that was swollen and needy, or the way they ghosted over it and your folds in scant, fluttery touches.

“Your smell has been driving me crazy for weeks, sevin. For weeks, I’ve had to pretend to be ignorant of the way your scent has been calling out to me, your pheromones washing over me and making my cock so hard, I can’t concentrate anymore. For weeks, I have dreamt of fucking you, of slipping my cock past your sopping folds, dreamt of seeing you come apart around me. It’s so fucking wrong, but so are you. And so am I.” You shuddered at his words and how his sharp canines dragged along your pulse point, at how his fingers stilled on your clit, not giving you the release you desperately craved, at how his lips pressed on your jaw and sucked, or how they licked the spot that was now slightly hurting, immediately alleviating any discomfort you felt.

“But I need to hear you say it, baby girl. I can’t do anything until you say it. Do you want your step brother to fuck you?”

A moan and a small nod is all you managed in response, but it was enough for Neteyam, who started a slow caress of your bud, putting just enough pressure to make you pant, to adjust your position so he would get better access, arching your back so that your ass was pressed even tighter against him and he groaned lowly, the sound making you clench around thin air.

“Please, Neteyam…”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

“You… your cock, please.” His groan evolved into a quiet growl, reverberating in the marui and you both stilled as Kiri shifted a little in her sleep. Her deep breaths put you both at ease, if only a little.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you have any idea what you do to me? What I’ll do to you?”

You felt his cock brush against your folds as he released it from the constraints of his nightwear, and the velvety feel of his thick length made your head fall back into the crook of his neck, needing every spare ounce of self-restraint not to moan so loudly it wouldn’t just be heard in your family’s tent, but in the whole clan. His tip prodded at your soaking wet entrance, and when he slipped past your folds and into you, each inch felt like every one of your dreams come true, and you no longer had enough brain power to stop the mewling sounds escaping you.

“You need to be quiet, sevin. You don’t want anybody to hear, now do you? What do you think our parents would say if they saw how deep in your pretty little cunt I am, huh?”

When he bottomed out, his tip was pushed against your cervix and the way he filled you up was beyond any fantasy, better than even the most intense ones, the wildest ones, the best ones.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Who knew my little step sister would take my cock so well, like this tight pussy was made for me?”

He started an unrushed, languid pace of his hips, that got quicker and more aggressive, more desperate and sloppy as his own orgasm approach and you felt yours taking over you slowly, raising in intensity as his fingers continued their ministrations of your clit at the same time, until it was so intense it was overpowering and oppressive, until you needed to let it out so you wouldn’t collapse under its weight.

“I can feel you squeezing me, baby. You want to milk me, want to take my cum like the good girl you are?”

You nodded furiously, and his whispered, breathy “Then come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you, all of you.” pushed you over the edge, your orgasm violent and unending, streams of liquid mixing with his own release as you squirted all over his cock, making a mess of both your loincloths and the sleeping mat underneath. You couldn’t care less about explaining yourself, not when your head was empty and your cunt full, the only way you wanted to be every day going forward, for the rest of your life.

You both came off your high panting, struggling to catch your breath and any thoughts swirling aimlessly in your brain, and you couldn’t find it in you to move, and he couldn’t find it in him to pull out, so you just lay like that, him spooning you closely, licking stripes over your neck and jaw, and you felt desire build in you again, instant and frenzied.

“Next time, how about we put that pretty mouth of yours to good use, huh?”

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia

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mt-oe · 5 months

Text

𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙃𝙤𝙩—bandmate mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I'm so so sorry for not being able to keep up with requests that well. My program is taking a lot of my time and beating the shit out of me (esp. u immunology and serology >:c).

Anyways, here's a sort of prequel for my headcanons because band au Mizu is so yummy.

Enjoy! Mwa mwa:*

warning: not proofread, she/her for mizu, will refer to her as a boy (bc she canonically appears like a man), implied afab reader

"But you're so good at playing the guitar, and you have the charisma too. You should definitely join our band. Even our manager is amazing. She—"

"For the last time, Ringo. I don't want to join your stupid band."

Mizu and Ringo were already getting ready to go home after finishing their term-end project for their elective, which just so happened to be music. She didn't really think it through when she enlisted and just picked whichever she thought was the easiest. Ringo, however, just picked the same elective as Mizu.

She carefully placed her electric guitar in its case, zipping it up and securing the locks before slinging it over her shoulder. "I have better things to do and joining a band is a waste of time," she added as she walked up to the door.

Ringo followed after her, a smile still on his face despite the rejection. "You never know. This might even be your calling," he chimed as they exited the room, making her groan out of annoyance. They headed into the parking lot where Mizu's bike was parked. "We have an audition in a week if you want," he said, waiting for his friend to put on her helmet.

Once Mizu was finished putting on her helmet, she hopped on and leaned forward, pushing her weight to retract the center stand. "Not interested," she groaned out, slightly muffled behind her helmet. Her foot kickstarted the bike on before she revved the engine up a bit.

"Well if you decide to change your mind, just send me a message." Ringo stepped back a bit to give Mizu some space to move. She grunted in response and drove forward, leaving her friend waving and shout goodbyes at her.

What's so great about joining a stupid band anyway?

It's probably just filled with pretentious kids pretending to be as good as their idols but can't even memorize which strings their hammer ons should be.

Another groan escaped her lips the more she thought about the offer. It was annoying. Yet, a somehow, a small part of her wanted to play even more. The desire ringing at the back of her head like an itch she couldn't scratch off.

What if she did join?

What if it was as much fun as Ringo always said it was?

A sigh escaped her lips at how bothered she was by her thoughts. Why was she even thinking about this? She can always play her instruments at home. A crowd wouldn't make a difference, she thought as the wind whizzed past.

Her thoughts continued to race as she drove home. This band thing was stupid. Maybe she shouldn't attend the audition after a—

"Hey goofy boy!" a voice called out.

'What? Me?' she thought, lifting her visor to look around for the source of the voice. Across the stoplight, she saw another woman waving at her enthusiastically. It was almost ridiculous to look at. She raised an eyebrow, looking at her sides and behind her to see if you were talking to someone else before pointing to herself inquisitively.

"Yes you! Across the stoplight! C'mere!" you yelled, signaling her to stop in front of the cafe you were standing in front of, not really caring if other people were looking at you with how silly you were being.

Her blue eyes narrowed at you, clearly suspicious of your intentions. And yet, the way you were smiling and calling her over made her feel...something. Once the light turned green, she drove over to you, pulling up at the lot in front of the cafe.

You walked over to her, letting out a sigh of relief as she kicked the side stands on. "What do you want?" she asked in a low voice that clearly indicated that she didn't trust you even one bit.

"That.." You pointed to the guitar case on her back, making her raise an eyebrow cautiously. What did you want with her baby huh? She was so ready to throw hands.

"What model? And how long have you been playing?" you asked, still pointing to her guitar. Mizu looked over her shoulder being sighing. This was a waste of time. "I'm not inclined to tell you that," she replied, getting ready to kick her side stands off.

You snorted at her cold reply before leaning closer until she was face-to-face with you no matter how much she pulled away. The proximity allowing her to take in your features better and you were quite...pretty?

No. Wait.

Let's focus on how much of nuisance you were being.

Before she could even kick off her side stands, you already blocked her foot with yours. "Join our band," you said in a serious tone, showing her a business card before placing it in her jacket, smile still on your face.

Mizu groaned and rolled her eyes. "No. Now get your foot off before I kick it off," she replied. Yet, you kept your foot in the way of her stands, making her eyebrows knit together. "You look really goofy riding that bike of yours with a huge ass guitar case on your back," you said, eyes glancing at her guitar case before staring into her eyes intently. "You have talent, don't you?"

The smile on your face despite how serious and forward you were being was unnerving. "So what? I'm not going to join your band," she said in a low voice. Indeed, she was quite stubborn, but nowhere near your level. This motorist was the diamond in the rough you were looking for. "Goofy boy, join me in the café. It's my treat."

There was no way she's going into that café just for you to give her your sales talk and convince her to join your stupid unknown band. Not in a million years

—was what she thought.

Yet here she was, helmet off and sitting in front of you with a cup of matcha latte, watching you take a bite out of the cake you bought for yourself. After taking a slow sip, she sighed and narrowed her eyes at you. "I thought we were here talk about your band," she scoffed.

You smiled at her yet again, fork still in between your lips. "You're not going to talk right away, right? So let's take our time." A small 'tch' escaped her lips as she leaned back against the chair.

"Fine. I'll talk," she replied, staring at you up and down. Now that she was able to sit down and relax the tiniest bit, she was finally taking her time to look at you. And you weren't an eyesore at all. In fact, you were really fucking cute.

She's still not joining your band though.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you placed the fork down, resting your elbows on the table and intertwining your fingers together. "What model?" you asked, eyes darting to the guitar case beside your table.

Mizu glanced at it as her hands wrapped around the handle of her cup. "A les paul," she replied before taking a sip. Your smile widened before you took a sip from your cup as well, setting it down when she set hers down. "How long have you been playing?"

"Long enough," she replied, glancing at you, rolling her eyes at how you stared at her with curiosity, as if coercing her to tell more. "Fine, fine...before I started high school. I think. Maybe even longer."

You hummed in satisfaction and took another bite out of your cake. "Any other instruments?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow back at you. "A bass. A mustang."

Silence washed over both of you as you continued to eat your cake, making her feel a bit nervous. A small clink was heard as you put your fork down after taking your final bite. "What's your name, goofy boy?"

"Mizu," she replied before taking her drink into her hands. She downed it in one go, placing the cup down and picking her guitar case up. "This is pointless. I'm leaving," she said in a low husky voice, getting ready to stand up.

It was clear to her that she shouldn't have given so much time to you. She wasn't even interested in joining. Maybe if you weren't so cute, she wouldn't have tried to hear you out.

Before she can even stand up, you beat her to it, pushing her back down on the chair gently. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as you leaned forward again.

"I'll make you a star."

Huh?

Her clear surprise and confusion made you giggle. What the hell were you talking about? You pulled away and placed your hands on your hips, giving her a confident smile.

"Talent recognizes talent, Mizu. It may not be now, but I'll make you a star," you beamed.

Mizu blinked before scoffing. "That's ridiculous," she sneered before standing up and putting her helmet on. "For the last time, I'm not fucking joining your stupid audition."

Was what she said.

But here she was, a week later, sitting down inside the studio hallway. Her eyes watched as the auditionees chatted amongst themselves. Those who were done with the audition complaining about how strict the judge was, who she learned was just one person.

Her nerves were sending jitters to the tips of fingers, her throat tightening up slightly in anticipation. She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale before exhaling slowly. Just as she opened her eyes, she jumped slightly at the sight of a familiar pair of feet in front of her.

"I knew you were going to change your mind," her friend's voice chimed.

Looking up, she made eye contact with Ringo who was beaming at her, drumsticks tied to his stubby hands. "But how did you know where our studio is?"

This was the band Ringo was talking about? Oh boy.

She grunted and handed him the business card you snuck into her jacket. "The address is written there," she said with a sigh. He let out a small "oh" before his eyes widened even more. "So you've met her before," he replied cheerfully, handing the business card back.

"Who?" she asked, a serious yet curious look on her face. He looked confused for a moment before he replied, "Our manager. The one who handed you that card?" She wanted to ask more questions, but then a voice suddenly called for the drummer. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I gotta go. Bye!"

Upon Ringo leaving, Mizu sat back down and closed her eyes again, resting her elbows on her knees.

Some time later, all the auditionees had finished and yet, it seems that all of them had been rejected. "This is a waste of time. I should have left earlier," she muttered to herself.

Just as she was about to leave the studio, her name was called, leaving her with no choice. Slowly, she entered the room only to be greeted with—

"You came!" your voice beamed.

Her eyes scanned around the room to see you sitting down on a chair, holding some papers, as well as the other band members presumably. "And you're the manager apparently," she said plainly. A chuckle escaping your lips as you nodded. "You can get ready whenever you want to."

Once her guitar was plugged in and ready to go, she looked up at you again, waiting for any further instructions. Despite her mind telling her that there was nothing to be nervous about, her gut was squeezing and churning from anticipation.

Should she do her best? Or should she fuck this up?

Your eyes watched her carefully, observing how she handled her guitar. "Play any song you'd like," you said, leaning forward in your seat as you set the papers down on a chair beside you.

No. She didn't want to be in this stupid band. She's not going to do her best.

Why the fuck would she do that?

This wasn't even worth it.

Nononononononono—

She looked down on her guitar before beginning to strum the familiar intro of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Despite her bobbing her head slightly, it was clear through her body language that she wasn't even trying at all.

The smile on your face slowly disappeared until all that was left was an unreadably neutral expression. Once she was done, she looked at you with a bored expression. "Well?"

You sighed at her, giving her the same bored expression back, making her smirk a bit. "Guess I'm not in, am I?" She unplugged her guitar, getting ready to put it back in the case before your hands stopped her.

"Sit back down. We're not done," you said in a serious tone, facial expression neutral yet your eyes told her that you were daaaaaaaamn annoyed with how little of an effort she put in. The look in your eyes, they way you were gripping the neck of her guitar, did something to her. "I don't owe you a performance," she replied.

You glared at her lightly before snatching her guitar from her hands, causing her to glare at you. She tried to grab her guitar back but you kept evading her as you plugged it back in. Once it was plugged back on, you pushed towards her, making her stumble back a bit from how harsh you did it.

"Now sit down and play. Talent recognizes talent, Mizu," you growled at her. The scene causing everyone in the room to go quiet. It was clear to them that you were pissed. "If not, then sell that guitar. You're wasting it."

After all, the only thing you hated more than the equipment suddenly breaking was wasted potential. And Mizu was wasting a LOT of potential.

Your words struck a nerve in her causing her. With a loud screech, she pulled the chair towards her and sat down. "Fine. If it gets you to shut the fuck up."

She looked at you with one final glare as she leaned back, hands beginning to move against her guitar.

She began playing Hotel California, immediately skipping to the guitar rift at the end of the song.

By the normal person's ear, it wasn't anything special. There were more impressive sounding songs out there. But to you, you knew how difficult it was to get the tone of the song right with how slow it was compared to other rifts. If she made a mistake here, a wrong pluck, a wrong drag, a wrong vibrato, the mistake would be so painfully obvious.

And yet, here Mizu was, playing it perfectly with the same angry look on her face. She was damn mad at you for touching her guitar, for pushing her towards your stupid fucking band. And yet, she couldn't help but want to impress you.

Did she really not want to be in the band?

Why was she trying so fucking hard then?

Like her body was moving on its own.

Like her hands were itching to play more.

As she ended the song, she looked down at the ground. Suddenly, the sound of clapping caused her to perk up and look at you. The sight causing her breath to hitch a blush to dust over her cheeks. That was when she knew the answer to her question.

It was you and your proud little smile.

That cute fucking smile.

All the annoyance and anger you held at her melted off during her little performance. You knew you saw talent. The moment you saw that goofy looking motorist with the awkwardly large hard guitar case at the stoplight, talent already hit you like a damn truck.

Although she knew you were satisfied with her performance, she couldn't help but want to try more. She'll try. She'll damn try for the hottest fucking manager she has ever seen. Her earlier hesitations of whether she wanted to join the band or not disappearing.

Call it a gay agenda but she was going to secure this fucking spot. She'll be best fucking guitarist you have ever heard or seen.

Just as you were about to congratulate her, she raised a hand up to cut you off. "Wait—fuck—that was too easy. I... goddamnit. Wait, I'll try doing something harder," she said in a panicked slur.

Her hands immediately went back to her guitar, eyes narrowing in thought. If an impressive guitar rift was what she needed...

Suddenly, she began playing the guitar rift for Free Bird. Eyes glued to her guitar, palms sweating a bit as she hit every chord, every pluck, every fucking bend.

You couldn't place your finger on what it was, but somehow, it felt like she was playing more passionately. Like she was putting her all into this one song. Was it the way she was bobbing her head? Or the way she moved her guitar during every vibrato? Maybe the way her body moved with the music?

Once the song ended, she closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. You couldn't help but giggle at how flustered she looked, making her blush again.

"Am I in?" she asked, looking at you with hidden desperation in her eyes, making you giggle even more. Her eyebrows furrowed as you continued to laugh, not really answering her question. "Well?"

A gulp went down her throat as you stood up from your chair and picking up the papers you previously held. "Mizu," you giggled out, "You were already in from the moment you tried again."

...

Well that was embarrassing.

You handed her the contract and a pen, humming as she read the content before signing. Looking at her signature, your smile widened. This flustered looking guitarist was exactly what you were looking for and you just hit jackpot.

"You won't regret this, Mizu. I swear." She glanced at you, scanning the big smile you had on your face before looking down at her guitar and unplugging it. "I better not."

Suddenly, you lunged forward at her. Her eyes widened when you suddenly took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Talent recognizes talent," you repeated, leaning closer to her, grip tightening with every word.

"I'll make you a star."

She'll be your star.

#bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x fem!reader #bes #Spotify

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lnfours · 11 months

Text

inclinations (invisible string) | l.n

summary: a story told in two parts: summer and autumn. summer held the whirlwind romance that came crashing down too soon. autumn brought the repercussions of young love and learning how to fall in love all over again.

au: childhood friends to lovers, uni!au

warnings: language, some not so secret pining, moving fast but it’s for the plot, language, fluff, i kinda want what they have.

masterlist | next chapter | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

THE HAMPTONS.

where every rich family spent their summer days by their fancy in ground pools or at the country club. the afternoons consisted of hitting the shops and cafes for some light shopping and brunch with friends.

but night time, that was your favorite time of day. that’s when everyone would hit the town for drinks or the few clubs that lingered, some would even host their own parties at their houses.

and one of those notorious parties would be the ones flo norris would throw. she was known for throwing the best parties in the hampton during the summer. and being her right hand woman, of course you’d always make an appearance.

which is where you were right now, sitting her room as she tried on bikinis. asking for your opinion on each.

“okay,” she said, walking out her closet in a black two piece, one that looked similar to the red one she had on prior, “how’s this one?”

you nodded, looking up from your phone, “i like it,”

“you said that about the others,” she pouted softly, “should i go with the red or this one?”

you twisted your lips in thought before pointing at the black two piece, “that one.”

her phone pinged on the bed and she sighed softly, “who is it?”

you glanced down at the phone. the name illuminating her lockscreen making your heart skip a beat.

“uh, your brother,” you said, picking the phone up.

“what’d he say?”

you clicked on the notification and typed in her passcode before reading the message out loud, “‘let mom and dad know max and i will be at the house in an hour please’.”

“just put the thumbs up on it,” she said and you double tapped the message before clicking on the thumbs up button. you locked her phone, setting it back on the bed as he hopped up next to you.

“you’re nervous,” she said, “why’re you nervous?”

you furrowed your eyebrows at her, “i’m not nervous?”

“you’re a bad liar,” she said, “c’mon! we’ve been friends for how long? i know when you’re lying and when you’re lying about being nervous?”

you swallowed and opened your mouth to speak before closing it. her eyes widened, “oh! is it because of him?”

him, meaning her brother. you knew that too well.

“you know, he’s not seeing anyone, it’s totally your chance,” she said and you laughed softly.

“no, flo-“

“oh come on!” she giggled, “you and i both know that if he wasn’t stupid, you two would practically be married by now.”

you laughed, “i doubt that.”

she sighed, getting up and offering her hands to you, “okay, fine then. no boys tonight. just us and our guests and officially kicking off summer. how about that?”

you sighed and looked up at her, laughing softly as you shook your head and grabbed her hands. you stood in front of her, “okay, deal.”

she smiled, pulling you into a hug, “good! now let’s do this, yeah?”

you nodded, following her down the stairs and through the house you had spent more summers at than your own. you made your way to the backyard, the speakers still playing music and the pool floats she insisted on blowing up earlier this afternoon floating around in the pool.

the night continued on and more and more people ended up showing up. you said hi to the other friends you had made during your summers in the hamptons, catching up with them.

flo raised her champagne glass to you, “cheers to us, and summer,” she smiled, “i missed you.”

you raised your glass and clinked it with hers, “cheers to us. i missed you.”

you both took sips and her eyes grew wide as she spotted someone in the crowd, a smile on her face as she called them over, “max fucking fewtrell is that you?!”

you followed her gaze and spotted the brunette as he made his way over. max fewtrell: lando’s right hand man, his best friend. wherever max was, lando definitely wasn’t far behind.

he smiled as he joined the two of you, giving flo a hug, “what’s up! as always, great party, flo.”

“thanks, max,” she smiled.

you smiled at him as he pulled you into a hug, “hey, y/n,”

“hey,” you smiled, “did you grow since the last time i saw you?”

you teased him and he rolled his eyes playfully, “ha ha, very funny.”

“where’s your other half?” flo asked, “better known as my annoying brother.”

max looked around at the groups of people, “he’s around here somewhere, think he went to go say hi to a few people.”

you both nodded, sitting and catching up with max. after a few more sips from your glass, you looked over at flo, “i’ll be right back.”

she nodded as you got up from your seat, making your way into the house through the crowds of people. on your way inside the house, you felt a hard chest collide with you. you were about to pull back and tell them to watch where they were going until you looked up and saw that stupid necklace.

the same one you had given to him for his sixteenth birthday.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he said and when you pulled away to look up at the man in front of you, it had finally registered, “y/n?”

you smiled, “hey, lan,”

he pulled you into a hug, “god, how’ve you been? it’s been a while.”

you pulled away from the hug, nodding as you brushed a piece of hair away from your face, “i’m good! i’m good, yknow, same shit different day, nothing totally new,” you said and he smiled at you, “how about you? how’s the whole racing thing going?”

he smiled, “it’s going good, actually. i’m just kind of glad to have a break, yknow, spend it here. haven’t been here in a while.”

you nodded, “yeah, guess thats what happens when you get hot and famous.”

he smirked playfully, “so you think i’m hot?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his arm as you laughed, “you know what i meant!”

his eyes looked over you from head to toe, “i mean, you’re one to talk. when did you grow up?”

you laughed, placing a hand on your hip, “well if you’d come to the hamptons once in a while you’d know.”

“if i knew i was missing out on this, i would’ve put more of an effort to come around.”

you smiled, opening your mouth to speak before you were interrupted, “yo, lando!”

you both turned to look at who was calling his name, spotting max in the doorway, “flo needs your help with something.”

he nodded, “be there in a minute,”

“she said it was urgent.” max said and lando rolled his eyes softly and you laughed.

“it’s fine,” you said, “we’ll talk later, yeah?”

he nodded back down at you, turning to walk towards max, “what’re you doing tomorrow?”

“nothing yet,” you called back.

“good,” he said, “mini golf? i’ll text you?”

you smiled, “sounds good,”

he sent you a smile before walking through the door with max.

it was official: summer was your favorite season.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

“you’re a cheater!” you laughed as he happily tapped his ball into the hole. he threw his hands up happily, cheering.

“maybe you’re just bad,” he said, crossing his arms as you got ready to take your shot, “your form is awful, hold on.”

you straightened up, watching as he walked up behind you. you sucked in a nervous breath as he leaned down and wrapped his arms around your own, his hands fixing your stance. he tapped his shoe against yours.

“spread your legs a little further,” he said, “and then pull back and follow through, don’t think too much.”

you looked down at the ball and back at the hole in the ground, “okay,”

he pulled on your arms, letting you swing with him as he followed through, tapping the ball. you watched as it went perfectly into the hole. you laughed softly, looking back at him.

“thanks,” you were close enough to see his eyes through his sunglasses. he smiled back at you, taking a step away as he cleared his throat.

“‘s what i’m here for,” he said, watching you walk over to grab the colored golf balls, yours pink and his green, obviously.

you grabbed the score sheet from the pocket of your shorts, unaware of his eyes on you. the way you looked in the setting sun, the way your hair blew in the soft shore wind. everything about you was perfect to him.

but how was he supposed to tell you that? you were his best friend, he wasn’t supposed to think about you like this.

you looked up with a smile on your face and he felt his heart melt right there on the mini golf course, “well, shocker, you won.”

he smiled, “the champion remains undefeated!”

you rolled your eyes, the both of you making your way off the course and to the booth to hand in the balls and clubs, “yeah, yeah, whatever,”

he laughed, “ice cream on me?”

“well if you’re buying, then definitely.” the two of you letting out a soft laugh as you made your way back onto the boardwalk and to the ice cream shop. he held the door open for you and you thanked him, the two of you making your way to the counter.

you placed your orders, making small conversation until a younger brunette walked up to him, “are you lando norris?”

he smiled, “yeah,”

“oh my god!” she turned to her friend, “i told you!”

he laughed softly before she turned back to him, “can i get a picture with you?”

he nodded, “sure.”

you watched as the girl gave her phone to her friend, lando and the girl smiling for the photo before she thanked him and walked out of the store with her friend happily.

“does that ever get old?” you asked him as he turned back to you.

he shrugged, “i mean, the fans are what makes everything worth it, the good races, the bad ones,” you nodded as he continued, “i mean, there are days where i’m just not in the mood, but if one picture can make someone’s day, then so be it.”

you smiled, “i get it,”

the person behind the counter called your order and he handed you your ice cream before the both of you walked out the door. you followed him to bench facing the beach and the water, the both of you sitting down as the sun was setting against the waves.

“so,” he said, “flo told me you were in uni, how’s that going?”

you tilted your head to the side, taking the spoon from your mouth, “it’s going, i guess? i don’t know, it’s not great but it’s not good either. i kinda just feel like someone existing in my classes.”

he chuckled, “like you’re a zombie in lectures?”

you laughed softly, “a little bit, actually, yeah,” you smiled, “especially at my eight o’clocks.”

“what’re you studying?” he asked, looking over at you now. you couldn’t tell behind his sunglasses, but he was watching you with love filled eyes.

“music theory,” you smiled happily.

“oh, no way!” he said, “you got into that program?”

you nodded and he smiled, wiggling his shoulder against yours, “look at you!”

you laughed, “stop,”

“oh c’mon!” he laughed, “you’ve talked about this program since we were kids and you made it! that’s gotta be a little bit of an ego boost, yeah?”

you bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight back the smile, “i mean i guess so-“

“see!”

“okay, but i could say the same with you!” you said, “you were always talking about racing with mclaren and now you’re actually doing it, you’ve gotta be the tiniest bit proud of yourself.”

he nodded, “i am, i guess.”

“you should be.”

he looked over at you, “but it’s different when i’m here, y’know. because i can just be lando here. not lando norris, formula one driver for mclaren, not the overly cocky, sassy guy twitter paints me out to be. i can just, i don’t know-“

“exist?” you asked.

he nodded, looking over at you, “yeah,” he said, “and beat you at mini golf.”

you rolled your eyes and sent him a look as he let out a boyish giggle, immediately apologizing, “okay, okay, sorry!”

you sprung out of your seat, “okay, but i bet i could beat you down to the ocean.”

he raised an eyebrow, “oh, yeah?”

you nodded, sending him a challenging look before you threw your trash into the trash can next to you, “yeah.”

he stood up, throwing his trash out and smirking over at you, “how much do you wanna bet?”

“loser buys dinner?” you said.

“deal,” he said and the both of you took off down the steps to the sand. you slipped your sandals off and laughed as he chased after you, the both of you running past the sunburnt people coming off the beach. you threw your shoes down on the sand, squealing when his hands found your waist, lifting you off your feet when he reached you. you laughed, flailing your legs as an attempt to get him to put you down.

“lando! put me down!” you laughed.

his laugh echoed yours as he complied, putting you down on the wet sand where the waves previously crashed. you spun around to face him, reaching to grab his sunglasses. you grabbed them from his face gently, finally revealing his watercolored eyes. he watched you intently as you smiled, your heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to break through your ribs.

he reached out to you, pulling you closer, “i’m sorry i didn’t come last summer.”

you shook your head, “you’re here now.”

he brushed a piece of hair from your face, “i’m still sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him.

you placed his sunglasses in his curls as he watched you, “so, where do you want to go for dinner?”

“ginos?”

“sounds good,” he grinned back at you.

#lando norris series #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x reader series #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 series #childhood friends to lovers au

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orchidyoonkook · 20 days

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 8

Title: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You're just there to help JK with his final project, so why are you being doused in water, facepaint and smoke? Art. Art is why.

Warnings: T, language, fluff, angst, honestly this one's kinda wholesome and fun, some photogrpahy jargin in there, but nothing a quick google search can't fix if you really need to <3, it's mostly surface level jargin. Also the smoke machine works cuz JK has great ventilation due to the massive windows being open, so don't worry bout that XD, some light and fun name calling, some world building. Ask if you need clarification on anything. That's all I think!

Word Count: 11,684

Release Date: September 1, 2024. 4:30PM

A/N 1: Surprise! Happy JK Day.

PJK [7:36pm]: Saturday afternoon. my place. 11am. PJK [7:36pm]: bring an extra set of clothes, something warm. Sweats if you have them. PJK [7:37pm]: also, Im gunna need your shirt size

The first three weeks of November have flown by and dragged on at the same time.

The weather’s getting colder. You need a thick jacket if you want to be anywhere outside, and all leaves have fallen from the trees, leaving pines the only ones left with their winter coats on. Hot chocolate from greenhouse cafe has become part of your life’s blood so you don’t freeze, and gloves with pocket warmers inside them are once again a part of your everyday.

But November skies have returned. And you frequently set up camp on the drying grass beside the greenhouse, dressing your canvas with oil paint to their likeness as it’s the only paint that doesn’t dry the second it’s out of the tube in the cold, static air.

Jungkook told you earlier in the week the shoot would most likely be this weekend, and that he just had a few final strings to pull together before being able to confirm. So with that in mind, you intentionally tried to finish all your work before this weekend, knowing the shoot will take a while to complete.

He mentioned it may leak over into Sunday depending on how much you get done on the first day, which is fine with you considering you usually spend Sunday evenings at his place anyway. You’d consider it an extended edition of your regularly scheduled broadcast.

And speaking of regularly scheduled, you haven’t missed a single movie night since Nel left. Granted, it’s only been three weeks, but even missing the two you did because of Nel had made an impact.

You’d gotten so used to them, having that time to destress and unwind before the week starts. A nice little routine that helps reset you both mentally and physically.

Suddenly not having that was…a weird feeling you try not to remember.

And you are more than happy to never miss another one ever again.

You aren’t sure what Jungkook tells Adaline he’s doing during movie night, but she’s never interrupted you, not even once. And it’s something you are increasingly grateful for, because she is one of the things you destress from as your unspoken rivalry always amps up the closer to exam season you get.

It’s Thursday evening, and you’re in your room finishing up a Microeconomics 3 assignment while piano music plays on a speaker in the corner. You use it to help you focus, and it’s working its magic as you’re finishing your work in record time.

Music has always helped you work better, and you credit it largely with how you’ve been able to keep up with everything in your schooling.

Yuri’s in her room, doing homework as well you assume. Or maybe texting Tai—the dreamy, big dicked Ilcalos island Count—you swear she’s only put her phone down for sleep and showering, as she’s constantly checking to see if he’s messaged her. And you hope it turns out well for them, Yuri deserves someone who treats her well. Especially after the whole Jungkook debacle—which you’re not allowed to bring up—and then the poor rebound you aren’t allowed to talk about either. You’re just happy she’s finally found someone worth her time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot Jungkook a text back.

You [7:40pm]: okay! saturday at 11 sounds good. I’ll bring sweats and warm socks

You message him your shirt size too, curious as to what he’ll use it for, but you’re sure you’ll find out in due time. You always do.

Subject to many of his homework assignments, you’ve been posed and lit and adjusted every which way.

Jungkook is incredibly professional when you’re with him as a model. Light touches to correct posing, always with a ‘may I’ before he does, and he fills the room with kind words, good vibes, and fun music so you never feel awkward.

At first you were really iffy on the whole idea when he first asked in September, because it would be the prince of your nation photographing little ol’ you. You weren’t anything special—yet—and you’re still never one for being in the spotlight, or for being on camera. At all. But if it was just for homework, and you were helping out a friend…you figured why not?

It helped that all of your worries immediately faded when you saw the results of that first shoot.

An email from a very non-princely email address found its way into your inbox. The subject was the date of the shoot, and the only message inside being:

thanks. Hope you like them.

Let’s do it again sometime.

-J

When you opened the attachments you made a quick dive to catch the phone that fell from your hands in shock.

You looked…beautiful. Like you never had in pictures before. Not in school, or at graduation, not even in the ones you took of yourself.

You didn’t know you were capable of looking like that.

Like how he saw you. Captured you.

And you’ll never admit you’ve held your chin a little higher with every shoot since.

They make you feel powerful, attractive. More confident, and sure of yourself, as if you were always meant to be in front of a camera. Like you’d been in front of one since before you could walk.

They do that for you.

He…does that for you—with his pictures, of course.

Jungkook is very talented. Very skilled with his camera, and you find yourself looking forward to the concepts he comes up with every time. Trusting him and whatever his vision is wholeheartedly.

Though a small, immature piece of you is also pleased he still wants you to model, and not Adaline. That he finds you easier to work with over her.

Your competitive streak never fails to come out, even with the smallest, secretive things.

Take that Adaline.

You gladly help him out with his homework, and he does the same for you.

If you ever need a male reference or a profile study. Anatomy practice, features practice, likeness practice. Anything and almost everything, all you have to do is ask, and he sits still or places whatever you need in front of you while you sketch.

Hands, however, have always been a personal favourite of yours.

They’re one of those things that can be drawn a hundred different ways and never look the same. Always a new position you can put them in. Consistently able to shake things up. And one set is never like the others—like eyes. There’s little differences in all of them and that’s where their magic lies.

You do these studies at the greenhouse, it has the best light to shadow ratio. When you ask him for one, he’ll switch to working with one hand, while the other does whatever you tell it. Normally either placed on your table or if there isn’t enough room, which nine times out of ten there isn’t because of all your supplies, you stick your foot on the lower metal frame of his table and he rests his arm, wrist or palm on your up bent knee.

Due to this, you’ve unintentionally come to find out that his hands are very strong, very calloused, and very, very warm…

Also! Aside from hand studies, you love loose figure studies because they’re great warm up sketches. And what Jungkook doesn't know is that you have dozens of warm up sketches of him. Doesn’t know you sneak pictures here and there when you can, hiding them in a hidden album on your phone entitled ‘hmwk screenshots.’ And he definitely doesn’t know that when he’s sitting at the cafe, nose deep in assignments, you doodle his features or his outfit in real time.

A nose here, a jacket there. A muscular forearm covered in tattoos also tends to find its way onto your page every so often.

He’s got a good physique. And the ridges make for excellent anatomy practice. So does the intricate line work of tattoos, and fabric rippling. Especially in drastic lighting. Consistency is key in maintaining and improving your work and it’s not like any of these sketches will ever see the light of day anyways.

They’re just, well…practice.

A sigh escapes you, and you refocus on finishing your microecon work. You still have two more assignments to get done before Saturday at eleven.

“And why are you working with some random girl when I’m available, again?” Adaline asks. She’s currently sitting on Jungkook's couch in your spot. He’s setting up tomorrow's materials against the big white wall by the floor length windows that showcase his balcony.

It’s why he chose to live here instead of in the dorms or on campus. His place isn’t enormous, like most people would think, it has enough room for everything a regular student needs: bedroom, kitchen, workspace, living room, bathroom, even a guest room. But the one thing he keeps different is the big white wall where a dining room would normally be.

Jungkook’s place has high ceilings, 10 feet tall, which is higher than the average but not excessive. And the wall that connects his kitchen to the balcony is a perfect mock studio. He can even keep all his equipment there; lights, gels, backgrounds, tubs full of props, camera cases, lenses, and more all stored in neat shelving against another wall.

“Because students volunteered for extra credit, and she’s who was assigned to me,” a small lie, one he was sure that Adaline wouldn’t dig into too deeply.

“Why didn’t you tell me I could volunteer?”

“Because you didn’t need the extra credit?”

She pouts, and goes back to her phone.

Adaline also doesn’t know it’s you he’s photographing and that is one hundred percent intentionally planned by him.

He could sense something between you two after you made that one comment after fall break. He notices now how you stiffen slightly every time he mentions Adaline, and the one time he mentioned you in passing to test the waters, Adaline changed the conversion topic almost immediately. A look of annoyance, or maybe even insecurity in her eyes.

So he’s been lucky that Adaline has never wanted to see any of his schoolwork prior to or after the singular shoot he did with her.

Lucky she hasn’t seen your face fill up his screen constantly.

And extremely lucky that she doesn’t know about the hidden folder buried deep in his desktop labeled ‘eqpmt rcpts’ filled with dozens of candid shots of you.

To be fair, you don’t know about them either. They’re random, shots taken every now and then where he thought you looked happy, focused, or just existing. True candids of the most candid person he knew.

It started that day with his first assignment from Professor Hirmer. He’d taken those quick pictures of you painting, and then simply never stopped.

He has pictures of you in the courtyard, walking and talking to Yuri, you smiling. He has some he took on his phone when you’re over for movie night, invested in the film or talking to him. And a bunch of you painting at the greenhouse. It’s hard to take secret candids when he’s right beside you, but he manages seeing as you haven't caught him yet.

He even has a few of you and Nel, love clearly written on your face in every single one of them.

Whenever he spots you before you spot him, and he has his camera on him, he takes a couple.

They’ve amassed into a healthy sum, but he thinks of it as a harmless habit as no one will ever know. And it’s not like he’s following you around to take them or using them for anything nefarious.

He just likes taking your picture. Capturing your spirit, your candor.

Your realness.

You are wholly yourself, always, no holding back, all of the time.

And to him, it feels like coming up for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey!” you say as you let yourself into Jungkook’s apartment. You’d knocked but no one answered and it was currently 10:56am on Saturday, so you knew he was here. Plus, his door was unlocked.

“Jungkook?” you call.

No answer.

You take your shoes off after closing the door and locking it. He should really keep his door locked.

Very quickly become best friends with the couch, you toss your backpack of warm clothes on the floor while you wait for him to make an appearance.

There’s shoot equipment everywhere; lights in the corner, some with soft boxes on them, gels laid out on the coffee table, and what you’ve come to learn is a lens case sits on the couch beside you in Jungkook's usual spot.

Jungkook has also somehow managed to find some small trees in blue ceramic pots and what you’re pretty sure is a smoke machine.

But the most peculiar thing is what looks to be a kiddie pool up against the wall with a folded tarp at its base.

Well that's…interesting…

You hear a door open somewhere in the apartment and running water.

“Jungkook? That you?”

“Hey! Yep. Just give me a sec, I’m almost done.”

The water sounds cease and Jungkook makes his grand entrance as he turns the corner holding a large watering can. Your eyebrow raises.

“For the trees?” you ask.

“What?”

You point to the watering can currently making his veins pop.

He laughs, “Oh! No. This is for later. You’ll see,” and walks to the other side of the room by the pool.

“Aren’t we mysterious today,” you say, following him with your eyes. He’s in ripped black jeans that accentuate the muscle definition of his thighs, and a matching baggy shirt. When his back is turned you snap a quick picture. The fabric folds on his baggy shirts are some of your favourite mindless things to cool down sketch.

“Nah, just focused. We have a lot to get through today.” He sets down the watering can and you can see the moment the switch flips from friend to photographer. “The guest room is ready for you. There’s a clothing rack inside with each look labeled. There’s also makeup and face paint, if you could bring out the make up after you're done changing, that would be great. We’re gonna start with ‘Bright and Bold’, okay?”

You usually use the spare room as a change room when you have to switch clothes for a shoot. But they were always from your own closet. He’d tell you the concept he was going for and you’d bring a few options to choose from.

Makeup you were used to, though. Jungkook loves abusing your artistic abilities for his shoots in the way you decorate your face or body, saying they make his works a level up from the rest of his classmates.

They also usually make for some of the coolest pictures you have of yourself.

This is the first time he’s ever bought clothing, though.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, this being his final assignment for an important class, and him being as serious as he is about his work and the final product. But you can't help it, you’re excited to see everything he’s chosen for the shoot.

For you.

For the shoot.

“Yep, sounds good. Be out in a few,” you reply. He nods in acknowledgement before moving to set something up and you don’t stick around to find out, grabbing your bag and heading towards the door lined hall.

The guest room is modest and clean. White sheets and gray comforter with, surprisingly, two throw pillows to spruce it up. The walls are white too, but you’re pretty sure that’s because Jungkook’s not allowed to paint the apartment per his landlord's wishes—a thought that still makes you laugh.

He could buy any place he wanted, but chose to rent. ‘To get the real university experience,’ he explained when you asked him the first time you went over.

Black furniture accents the room. A comfortable looking leather chair sits in the corner by a glass door that leads to the balcony. It has a small table beside it. There’s a dresser with a mirror in the other corner and of course, in the center of the room, is the bed. It’s a nice room. However, the newest edition is what’s keeping your eye.

Four shirts hang from the rack at the foot of the bed. The first is vibrant and colourful, the second a light neutral short sleeved V neck, third is strapless and skin coloured, and the last is made from thin black fabric you assume will be skin tight by the looks of it.

As promised, they’re all labeled with a sticker.

You throw your bag on the bed and grab the colourful one first. Its sticker says ‘bright and bold,’ and you put it on after removing the shirt you came in, then zip it up. The material feels heavy, durable and expensive. You check the tag on the inside seam and see it’s from Ilkaya, one of the biggest and most expensive fashion designers on this side of the realm.

Your eyes bug out of your head, and you try not to breathe too hard for fear of ruining it. Your routine of thrifting all your clothes makes you pretty damn sure you can’t even imagine how much this cost.

It feels good though, comfortable, not itchy. Really freaking expensive.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you have to admit you look amazing. It fits perfectly in all the right places, compliments your skin tone, and even brings out your eyes. Begrudgingly, you admit to yourself that maybe there’s some sense in what the price tag could be. But it would still be a ridiculous sum for a jacket.

With one last look in the mirror, you grab the palettes, brushes and other tools off the dresser, and leave your designated dressing room for the day in favour of returning to the living room.

Jungkook’s got music going from your shared playlist. Insisting on making one after your second shoot together, when he decided you both agreed to the arrangement becoming a regular thing. It’s a good mix of both of your musical tastes, even though you guys figured out quickly that you liked pretty similar stuff anyway.

“What do you think? Does it work?” You ask as you turn the corner.

Jungkook fiddles with this camera before looking and pausing for a moment to take you in. You hope you look okay, but the weird look he has on his face makes you backtrack a bit.

“Is this not the one you wanted? It had the label on it. But I can go back and double che- ”

“You look amazing,” is all he says, and your worry slides off you instantly. He smiles wide, the one you’ve come to recognize as genuine.

“Thanks. But the colour’s doing most of the work for me,” you say, smiling back shyly.

He has a white background set up, and two differently coloured gel’d lights sit on opposite one another, a third, smaller floor light faces the background. A backlight, he’d call it.

Bright and Bold indeed, though there is the matter of-

“What do you want me to do for my make up?”

“Actually,” he sets down his camera gently on a table, “Is it okay if I do it? I want it to be a little more on the amateur side and I don’t think your years of refined talent would let you get the exact look I want.”

That’s new. But you're here to stand and look however he wants you too, so you allow him with a nod.

“Sure, where do you want me to sit?”

“Here’s fine,” he says as he pulls a stool that was off to one side close to one of the windows. “As long as you don’t mind holding the make up. I don’t have a table to set them down on. Should’ve thought of that, sorry.”

You can tell he’s mentally scolding himself for forgetting something.

“No no, it’s fine,” you say, taking your seat, “I don’t mind, really.”

Placing the balls of your feet on the bar that holds the chair legs together, you make your lap even enough to set the palettes out, and use a hand to hold all the brushes.

Jungkook laughs, noticing your feet as you sit, “Cute socks.”

They’re light blue with a fox face on them, and little ears stick up from the elastic around the ankle.

“Thanks,” you laugh too, they’re your favourite pair. “I call them my fox socks. They’re lucky.”

“Let’s hope so. Wish me luck fox socks,” he calls to your toes, and you wiggle them in response.

He picks a brush and chooses a colour. “Close your eyes and let me know if I’m pressing too hard. If it isn’t obvious, I’ve never done this before.”

You close your eyes and whisper, “Will do.”

It's a uniquely intimate experience having your makeup done. Willingly letting someone get up close and personal with you, allowing them to see every potential scar, blemish and pore in the name of beauty and for the sake of creativity.

In this case, it’s also a little questionable considering where you feel the brush putting down colour: cheeks, lids, temple, nose. However, you’re simply a pawn in a well thought out plan, so you sit and wait for him to finish.

“Annnd done,” he says, making a final swipe with the brush on your cheek. “You look great! I didn’t hurt you, right?” he asks, showing you the makeup in a palettes mirror. Your face looks like it’s been attacked by a rainbow in the best way. You smile, taking the mirror from him and looking at all the little details.

For a first timer, Jungkook did a really good job.

“Nope, I’m good. How do you want me?”

Jungkook leads you to the backdrop, placing you in front.

“One second,” he says, grabbing a remote and clicking a button to lower the black out curtains on the windows, and then another that turns off the apartment lights. He also clicks on all the lights he’s set up and you’re quickly illuminated by a bright red and purple as well as the back light.

“I’m good to pose?” he asks.

“Yep.”

You love that he always asks first. It makes you feel safe and considered, consenting to every touch prior to its occurrence.

Jungkook instructs the first pose to have your hands on the sides of your face, making slight adjustments so that you don’t cover any of the makeup. And for the first time, his touches leave little sparks where they land.

You’re sure it’s just because of the lights or that the shirt is thick and makes you warm.

Or maybe you’re just nervous and need to get the first photo jitters out of your system.

Soon enough, the camera’s pointing at you and you smile the brightest you can. He’s given you the prompt of ‘you’re so excited and happy you can’t hold it in,’ and you work with it the best you can, taking the first few with the pose he gave before being given full reign.

It’s a decent way into the first shoot when Jungkook says, “Hmm…we’re not quite there yet, I need a bit more,” and follows up with, “How about ‘you’ve just been commissioned by the Modern Art Museum to have the leading showcase for next year’.”

You smile the biggest you think you ever have at the thought. Because that’s the dream, that is the biggest goal you could achieve. An entire gallery of your work as the primary exhibition in the Western Shores Modern Art Museum? You couldn’t go any higher. It’s every artist's dream.

“There you go! That’s it!” The camera’s capturing quickly as you imagine what it would be like to have your own showcase at the WS-MAM. Incredible is the first word that comes to mind, your work in the biggest museum on the continent? You can’t even imagine, but you want to.

One day, you promise yourself. You’ll do it one day.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, breaking your daydream, “Let me switch out the gels for new colours and go again. These are great so far though, you're doing amazing.”

You hold your hand out for a high five and he smacks it. “Go team!” you say, and he laughs.

An hour and a half, a makeup fix and three lighting changes later, the first shoot finishes. You collapse on the couch and rub the muscles on your thighs.

Jungkook plops down beside you, nose deep in the pictures he’s just taken, double checking everythings good.

“This is a fantastic start, I hope we can keep it up all day and finish before tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you say, and you mean it. Shoots with him are always fun, but inevitably tiring. “I’m gonna to grab a water, want one?”

“Yes please,” he replies without looking up.

In the kitchen, you open the fridge to grab the two bottles and notice a box, stamped with a coffee mug that has a greenhouse inside of it, on top. The greenhouse cafe’s logo.

“Can I ask what’s inside the cafe box?” you ask as you sit back on the couch and pass him a bottle.

“Ah, caught red handed,” he says, setting his camera on the table and taking a swig. “I may have asked Vivan earlier this week to make sure there was an overstock of tarts so I could grab them for you as a thank you for today.”

...Oh

That’s so sweet. He’s never gotten you a thank you gift before, especially not in the form of the most delicious pastry to ever exist. Maybe you should get him something for all the times he’s helped you with homework? A solstice gift maybe?

There’s heat forming in your chest and you really hope it’s not the beginning stages of heartburn. Maybe Jungkook has antacids.

“You didn’t have to do that, I’m happy to help.”

“So you don’t want them then?” his shit eating grin making a glorious comeback because he knows what your answer’s going to be.

“No! I want them. I most definitely want them.”

He chuckles and puts his water down.

“Okay Donatello, glad you accept. Let's move on to the next set up. There’s makeup remover and cotton pads in the room, and some moisturizer too if you need it.”

The next shoot is called ‘Regality,’ and it has you in the strapless shirt. You find out it’s quite a low cut when you put it on. There’s enough to cover you, but there’s definitely a lot of your chest showing. However, under the shirt on the hanger is a scarf to cover yourself with, which you think is very considerate.

“Makeup?” you ask as you come out again, scarf covering you.

“Neutral, but strong. Kind of like how my mother does,” the background is still white, but you have a hunch that it will remain white in this picture, unlike the last one. “This one is going to be black and white, so try to emphasize your natural beauty.”

You ignore that he essentially just said you're beautiful, surely he’s just being kind and professional. Making sure his model feels good about herself.

Right?

Right.

You put on a coat of mascara and go light on the shadow so it won't be too dramatic on film. You also use a shade of lipstick that adds just a tint to your lips and a blush that makes your eyes pop.

Jungkook has you sit on the stool from earlier and faces your body three quarters of the way towards the camera, but keeps your head turned in profile.

“Oh! Almost forgot, one second,” Jungkook jogs to his room, coming back with a palm sized velvet box. “I had my mother send these over for this shoot. She has better taste than me, so I let her pick them out.”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when he opens the box.

Inside are two dangling diamond earrings, and quite possibly the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

And now you’re terrified.

“Jungkook, I can't wear those. They look like they’re worth more than my house, my car and my tuition combined.”

He takes one out and places it in your hand for you to put in, it’s the length of your index finger. And all you can think about is the potential houses you’re holding as you look at it.

It’s a semi-rectangular earring, encrusted with four columns of diamonds that cascade down, each column longer than the previous. Like a sparkling waterfall you can attach to your ear.

“Don’t worry about it, mum said she never wears them anyway because they’re part of a set that the necklace was lost to years ago. Please,” his face is nothing but reassurance and small smiles, “You’re giving them a chance to live again.”

You couldn't say no to those eyes even if you wanted to.

So you reply, almost breathless and still against your better judgment, “Okay.”

Placing them in one after the other, they have a significant, understandable weight to them. You take a couple deep breaths so you don't freak out, and then you return to your previously designated pose, profile set, body facing the camera.

“Can I adjust?” Jungkook asks, after taking a step back and getting a wider view.

You nod gently, still terrified of the earrings.

He makes sure the earring is visible and untangled first, before a finger gently comes beneath your chin, and lifts it a bit higher.

The feeling they leave behind is all you can think about as you stare at your place on the wall, Jungkook snapping away. Not even the soft light illuminating your profile is enough to make you blink.

This shoot goes by quickly, and you’re relieved to get the earrings back safely inside their box.

“It’s like 2:45, wanna break for a late lunch?” Jungkook asks.

“Please, I’m starved,” you say, returning from the guest room after tossing on the sweater you brought. “What's on the menu?”

“Well, we have two options,” he says, looking very faux serious, “1. We order out from wherever you want and awkwardly wait for it to arrive because the next shoot is not one we can’t prep for, then eat, then shoot. Or 2. I make use of the ingredients I bought to make Bulgogi Kimchi Fried Rice and you get lunch and a show.”

You're shocked.

Jungkook…cooks? Oh this you absolutely must see.

“Hmm….” you say, pretending to really mull it over in the same ‘serious’ tone, “I’m thinking I’ll have to go with option two, Chef. But I’ll lend a hand where I can, no use in standing around doing nothing.”

“Every chef needs a sous.”

With both of you on task, lunch is getting made quickly. Jungkook has all the ingredients to make ‘my buddy’s famous family recipe,’ a man who you assume is a chef back at the palace. The island countertop is currently covered in them; onion, kimchi, marinated bulgogi, gochujang, cooked rice, eggs and more.

You’re surprised at how skilled Jungkook is in the kitchen. He’s cutting the ingredients like he’s been doing it his whole life and working the pan over the stove like the proper technique has been drilled into him since birth.

Thirty minutes pass, and after both of you shed a tear at the cut onions and evenly split the remaining tasks, you’re sitting on the couch about to take your first bite. It smells delicious. Your mouth is watering and you can’t wait to dig in, stomach painfully empty by this point.

Finally taking that first bite, you nearly die of euphoria.

“Ouhmahgaud,” you say, mouth half full. Jungkooks on the other side of the couch, trying not to cough out his own food from laughing at your reaction. His eyes are nearly shut with how wide he’s smiling.

“Good?” he asks after swallowing his food first, like a civilized person.

You’re vigorously nodding as you swallow your own helping in hopes you’re understood.

“You’re giving me this recipe. I need it. I don’t think I will survive if this is the only time I ever get to eat it.” Your bowl is almost half gone already. Thank god there’s leftovers, you will be having more.

Plus, you want to make it for your mom when you go home, she’ll love it.

“I’ll text it to you later, don’t worry.”

You’re very sure the look on your face conveys the gratitude you feel and the rest of the meal passes in a very comfortable and satisfied silence.

Twenty-ish minutes later, after letting your seconds settle for a couple minutes, Jungkook gets back to business.

“Next look is the most adventurous, it uses the facepaint. Are you okay with contacts?”

“I think so, never tried them before though. Just give me a few before we start so I don’t explode when I stand up.”

“All good,” he says, before quirking a lip and adding, “I really don’t feel like explaining why there’s kimchi and bits of you all over my walls to either of our parents, so take all the time you need.”

You laugh, firstly at the visual, then at the idea of Jungkook meeting your mother. That would be something you needed on record, paper and film.

After a minute, you get up, the guest room making your acquaintance once more.

“This one is called Enigmatic,” Jungkook calls.

“Got it!”

You take longer than normal to change, maybe eating before putting on the skin tight shirt wasn’t a great idea. But at least it was stretchy.

It has long sleeves, a high neck, and is a very dark midnight black. There’s a matching black scarf for this one too, and a safety pin attached to the corner.

“Okay, what's the plan for this one? I hear facepaint is involved,” you say, back for round three, scarf in hand.

The background of the set is black now, a close match to your shirt. Jungkook is by the smoke machine, currently set up on the stool and plugged into a nearby outlet.

You hold up the scarf, questioningly.

“That’s to go over your head after the paint, but let’s see if you can do contacts first, they’re in the washroom. Need help?”

“No, I'm good.”

You don’t succeed at first, but after a couple attempts you look in the mirror and see purple eyes staring back at you. You love them.

“I look like a badass,” you say, returning. The smoke machine’s been turned on and it’s created a completely different atmosphere. At your reemergence, Jungkook shuts it off and comes close to give you a look. You freeze a little at the eye contact, his browns meeting your currently violets for a prolonged moment.

“They look better than I’d hoped, this is going to be great.”

He reaches under the gels on the table for a piece of paper. It’s a makeup model face with the look he wants drawn on. “Are you able to do something like this?”

The diagram shows the cheeks, bottom half of the nose and down all the way to the neck as black, and the eyes and up as white, bleeding down into the black like smoke. You’re going to need eyeshadow for that part. If you did that with the face paint it would just become a gray mess.

“Yep, but it’s going to take some time to get it right.”

“That’s okay, I’ll use it to get the smoke machine properly set up.”

You use one of the palette mirrors and start with the white, covering the top of your face and making a good base layer for the eyeshadow. Then fill the bottom of your face and neck with the black. Carefully, so as to not make gray, you use a large brush to cover both sides with their respective eyeshadow shades, before blending them together like the reference. Your skin starts to feel like it’s on fire by the time you're satisfied and you check your phone for the time when you finally finish.

4:37pm.

Not bad. You put the scarf over your head and cover your ears with it, using the safety pin to hold it in place.

“Done.”

Jungkook takes one look at you and lights up.

“Have I ever mentioned how talented you are, and that you make my schoolwork so much more fun? Because I feel like I should again even if I already have.” Your cheeks heat, glad he’s excited you’re able to help. “How did you manage to make it look even better?”

“I do vaguely remember mentioning something about a deal with a semi-suspicious genie,” you joke. And both of you break out in giggle fits after a second, recalling the conversation from forever ago.

Running through the same steps of lighting, posing, and adjustments, Jungkook then flips on the smoke machine and lets it fill the room heavily before starting to take pictures.

You’re sitting on a small box this time, so that you’re slightly lower than the camera. Jungkook tells you to keep your hands at your sides and look up, just above the rim of the camera lens. It creates a very interesting look, and you're excited to see the results.

He has you do a couple more poses before allowing you to do your own thing once more, trying to think of what would look mysterious and enigmatic.

You try to let the music inspire you. This is a look you’ve never done before, so you’re finding it a bit difficult to get into it despite Jungkook's helpful prompts and suggestions. But you flow a bit better with it as time goes on and you become more comfortable.

An idea pops up out of nowhere and you have him do a close up from the middle of your chin to the middle of your forehead. You stare straight into the lens to really showcase the purple contacts and makeup.

“This’s the one for sure,” he says, taking a few more. “Great idea, why didn’t I think of a close up in the first place?” You know he's talking to himself at this point.

It’s close to 6:15pm when Jungkook decides he has enough pictures for this look. You don’t mind the longer shoot seeing as you set aside the day for this, and you can’t wait to see how these ones turn out in particular.

You’re halfway through getting the face paint off, a mountain of gray stained cotton pads beside you, when Jungkook turns the music down.

“Let’s do a light, early dinner and then shoot the last one?” he asks. “I kept this one at the end because it’s going to create the most mess and it’ll be nice to have dinner out of the way for when I have to clean up.”

“More mess than this?” you point to the cotton pad mountain.

“Much more.”

“Light, early dinner it is,” you confirm, not wanting to have to wait till late to eat. “But can we order out so I have time to get the rest of this off?”

“Sure, what’ll it be?”

Clean faced, moisturized and ramyeon filled, you and Jungkook are preparing for the last shoot. Or well, lightly arguing.

“Water?”

“Mhm.”

“On me?”

“Yep.”

“From that thing,” you point to the contraption he calls a c-stand that will be holding the very full, very large watering can over your head for an extended amount of time, “And into there?” you point again to the kitty pool on top of the tarp that’s underneath the watering can c-stand.

“That is the plan,” he looks amused at your slight distress.

“Are you nuts? What if it falls on me? How do I know it won’t unhinge and I’ll have a nicely cracked open skull to explain to my mother on Solstice break?”

“It won’t fall and you know it won't because you trust me and trust I wouldn’t put you in unnecessary danger. But if it does, tell your mom I say hi and sorry.”

You scoff at him, unbelievable. “So you admit there’s a bit of danger!”

Jungkook sighs, and looks to the ceiling. “Yes, YN. There is a touch of danger. But that’s only if, somehow, the c-stand I have triple safety checked, duct taped twice, and quadruple secured with four fifteen pound sandbags, decides that you deserve a watering can to the head.”

You side eye his tone. This wasn’t an unrealistic worry. But you do trust him. And trust he would never intentionally put you in any danger.

The trees are set up near the backdrop that looks like a row of brick houses. The shot is supposed to be ‘The Calm after Before the Storm,’ where you look relieved and happy in an ‘outside’ setting while ‘rain’ falls over you, also in black and white.

“Fine, but if I hear one peep from that thing,” c-stand staring down the tip of your finger once more, “I’m tuck and rolling and taking you out while I do it.”

“Very fair!” he says relieved, and goes to set up the stand with the watering can.

You’d changed into the neutral V neck after dinner, and he’s asked for no makeup. So all you have to do now is stand and pose while trying not to die from foreign objects falling from the sky while you get wet.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

It is incredibly difficult, and you’re glad he made this one last because you’re at best; slightly miserable. Only the promise of a hot shower, hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows and your pick of whatever you watch afterward is keeping you going.

You started this one just shy of 8pm after waiting 45 minutes for the food. And it’s nearing 9:30 now. Jungkook has had to refill the watering can four times, dump the kiddie pool twice, and you swear if you don’t finish within the next twenty minutes, you’re going to collapse from shivering.

To be fair, he does fill the watering can with warm water, but it only stays warm for so long before freezing water is pouring on you for the millionth time tonight.

“I have one last idea, and by the way, I’m never doing this concept again so don’t worry about that, but also… don’t shut down the idea immediately okay?” Jungkook says.

The watering can is almost empty again and you’re relieved that your time is almost up. That in itself should make for a good picture. He snaps it.

But his tone makes you a little wary, “Okay… what is it?”

“Pretend I’m Nel and you’re seeing me for the first time in six months, like you do at the end of April.”

Well, you didn’t have that down on your photo shoot prompt bingo card.

Are you okay with the idea? You aren’t sure, but aren’t not sure either.

“I mean, I’ll try. Maybe you could give vocal cues to try and help? But don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t, promise,” Jungkook pauses for a second before adding, “Does he call you baby?”

You nod, and you distantly hear and ‘okay’ as you slowly allow yourself to get into that headspace.

You start, and the camera starts going.

You’re in the airport, waiting for Nel, ‘smoosh’ paper in hand. The gate opens, and through all the other passengers you see him, see that he’s in one piece, see that he’s safe.

Your face illuminates with relief at that so much so that you don’t even notice the water that starts running down your face.

You hear a ‘hi baby’ and in your head, it’s coming from Nel’s mouth as he nears you. You smile impossibly wider at the thought of seeing him, feeling him. Having him here with you.

You look happy to see me, ‘Nel’ says.

“I am,” you reply.

There’s repetitive clicking in the distance, but you ignore it. It’s probably just a flight attendant's heels on the floor.

“I missed you.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Nel speaks again.

I missed you too, baby.

You’re shivering hard now, lost in thought, unaware of reality.

YN, Nel calls.

“Yes, love?”

“YN.”

“Babe, what is it?”

“YN, hey,” you're being shaken gently.

“Hmm? What?” you slowly arrive back to the present. Strong hands grip your shoulders. They feel nice. Solid. Deliciously warm.

A very concerned looking Jungkook comes into focus, camera dangling around his neck and reaching for you.

Oh.

He’s the one holding your shoulders, trying to get you to come back to reality.

“There she is, welcome back,” he lets go and grabs a blanket from somewhere and wraps it around you. “We got the shot, go take a shower and warm up okay?”

“Okay,” you say, still a little dazed, but present enough to function.

You step out of the pool, holding on to the hand Jungkook offers to balance—Warm. Solid. Strong—and head straight for the bathroom, making a pit stop in the guest room to grab your bag with fresh clothes.

The hot water cements your place back in reality, letting it warm you up and cleanse you of the day.

You have no idea what just happened with that whole Nel thing, but it was a new feeling and a new headspace and you really aren’t in the mood to analyze or acknowledge, so it’s shoved onto a top shelf in the back of your mind for a later date.

Once you're able to return to the directory of your mind, you don’t know how long you’ve been in the shower. But you know you’re clean, no longer cold, and in the mood for hot chocolate, so you step out and dry yourself with the towels Jungkook laid out for you on the toilet seat.

They’re soft. So soft in fact you consider only for a second shoving one in your now less full bag to take home with you. However, you do rather enjoy your friendship with the prince, so you think better of it upon second thought.

Dressing in your sweats, you exit, tossing the towels in the hamper and your bag of the clothes you arrived in back into the spare room.

“Better?” Jungkook asks as you sit down in your spot on the couch for the last time tonight, wrapping up in the blanket he left for you. He’s in the kitchen but heard you coming.

“Much, thanks,” you sniff, “Is that hot chocolate I smell?”

Jungkook returns from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. “With extra whip cream and marshmallows, as ordered.”

You carefully take it from him, giving your thanks and happily slurping away the second it’s in your grasp.

“Alright Caravaggio, what are we watching?” he asks, sitting down on his side, sipping away on his own.

Sometime between you leaving for the shower and coming back out Jungkook changed into his own comfy attire, and tidied up the studio space as the pool and tarp are nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve thought really hard about this, all of however long I was in the shower,” Jungkook mutters something about 35 minutes; you ignore him, “And have settled on ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

He whines just a little when he says, “But it’s November.”

“So?”

“So, Solstice isn’t until the third week of December,” he’s saying this like his point is the most obvious thing in the world.

It’s not.

“Your point?”

“That it’s November, and you want to watch a Solstice movie.”

You’re mockingly outraged.

“Who made you town grinch? I didn’t realize we had a holiday hater in our midst.”

You loved the holidays, all the big ones, and the small ones, but Solstice was special.

“I’m not a grinch, I’m just not there yet, mentally.”

“Then get ready to dive in head first, because you said I could pick the movie for risking my life for you and I pick ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

Jungkook doesn’t argue further, but he does roll his eyes as he puts on your movie with a small smile hidden behind his drink.

It’s sometime during the first act, you’re lying back against your corner of the couch, feet up and under the blanket when you ask, “What are your solstice break plans?”

Jungkook takes a moment to part from the TV, very invested for someone who was so against it half an hour ago. “I have a lot of ‘princely duties’ to do for Solstice, like standing and looking thoughtful while my dad gives his annual Solstice speech,” you snort. “Then there’s the palace dinner, the parade through the capital, and the live televised event,” he says in a tv announcer's voice, “Where my family and I light the Solstice Star. And then there’s the new year and that in itself has another long list of things I have to do. Besides things like that though? Not much, and then it’s back here.”

Right.

You often forget who he is.

That behind those kind eyes, and small smiles, behind the greenhouse study dates, and movie nights, and photoshoots, Jungkook has an enormous responsibility constantly looming over his head, counting down the days until he finishes his schooling. One that’s just waiting to drop onto his shoulders forever.

You often forget that Jungkook is the Prince, first in line to the biggest throne in the realm. That you spend your time with not only Jeon Jungkook, friend and photography student, but also, His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook, Heir Apparent and Future King of The Western Shores.

He just makes it so damn easy to forget.

You only asked because you thought maybe he had plans with friends or family, completely forgetting about all of the things the royal family does during the holiday season to celebrate with the nation, their people, and now you feel like an ass for even bringing it up.

But there’s something in his answer, or lack thereof, that snags your attention.

“What about celebrating with your family and friends in private?”

“No time,” Jungkook’s stare goes distant as he brings his knees up and puts his arms around them, resting his chin. “Friends are always busy with palace preparations and dad’s not really the sentimental type. We celebrated when I was younger; big family breakfast, presents, tree decorating, whole thing. But after I turned about 13 or so, it started dwindling pretty quickly. Now it’s just me and my mom exchanging a gift with each other at midnight under the palace tree.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so heartbreaking yet beautiful in your life.

“Your mum sounds wonderful, I’m really happy you two get that time together.”

He looks at you, and you can tell by the look in his eyes he loves that time with her more than anything else.

Solstice is supposed to be the time you spend with your family, blood or chosen. The time where you all gather to cook and bake, and exchange thoughtful gifts with the ones you love. The time where you truly cherish one another and count yourself lucky for all that you have.

Solstice is your favourite time of the year.

To not spend it like that just seems…wrong. Horribly, painfully, awfully wrong.

“What about you?” he asks.

You don’t want to make him feel bad, so you tone down your answer, taking away the meat and giving the bones.

“My mum and I cut down our own tree and decorate it with the ornaments we’ve collected over the years,” you have them from every place you’ve ever visited, and your mum kept all the ones you ever made as a kid. You even get a new one every solstice to take a picture for and label with the year.

“Then we bake solstice cookies until our hands cramp and survive off only them until solstice dinner; a turkey, honey glazed carrots, mashed potatoes with gravy, essentially if it waters your mouth, it’s there,” he chuckles at that. “We do gifts for each other too, opening them on solstice morning before making hot drinks and reading in the breakfast nook until the sun sets or till we get hungry, whichever comes first.”

Jungkook's eyes glow, radiating warmth, a lazy smile on his face as he listens to you.

“That sounds really nice, YN.”

“It is,” you reply, looking him in those radiant eyes as you do. He looks… happy. Happy for you, that you get to have something like this that’s so special. It breaks your heart a little…maybe you can help.

“You wanna make some solstice cookies with me before break?”

His look of happy shifts to one of slight panic.

“What?” you question, and comically ask, “Have you never made solstice cookies before?”

He hesitates before answering a very quiet, “Uh…N-no.”

Your shock must be incredibly evident in the way he almost flinches at your reaction.

So you try your best to keep your voice level when you ask, “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. I’ve never made solstice cookies.”

That’s it. You can’t hold back any more, you’ve never heard anything so blasphemous in all your life.

“You’ve never what? How is that even possible?”

He shrinks into himself a little more.

“The palace pastry chef always makes them because that’s kind of his job,” you stare at him in disbelief. “Is this really that big a deal?”

You swear there’s cog’s and smoke flying out of your ears. Solstice cookies are a religion in your household. You know dozens of recipes by heart, always finding a new one each year to try and up your game. You cannot imagine a solstice without making them. Wait no, actually you can, but it would be because you’re dead.

You held back in your answer earlier, for his sake, but you and your mom’s hands cramp up because you make enough cookies to give a box to everyone in the neighborhood. It’s one of your favourite traditions, and your neighbours even look forward to it every year, going so far as sending you both recipes to try out.

“Big dea—you’ve never fucking mad—not even when you were little? No one brought you to the kitchen and let you help? Aren't all your friends back home the pastry chefs' kids or something?” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but your tone is a little more passionate than you were intending.

But Jungkook knows you, knows you occasionally get that passionate about things, and takes your outburst in stride.

“Yeah, one of them is, but we don't sit around the oven and make cookies all break long. And his dad is always too busy to teach us even if we wanted to.”

You decide something. Right then and there.

“This year you are.”

“What?”

“Mark your last Saturday off because I'm going to show up here, ingredients-a-plenty and teach you how to make solstice cookies. I have a million recipes up here,” you tap your head with a finger, “But I'll choose the easiest ones. And I’ll come over early so we can spend the day making all of them. I can’t in good conscience leave for the break knowing you’ve never made them.”

He sighs. “Do I have any say in the matter?”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook stares at you and you can’t figure out what he’s thinking. You’re worried he’s going to say no anyway. To say you’re crazy and that they’re just cookies and that he has more important things he has to do on his Saturday before leaving for home.

But he doesn’t. And you should’ve known he wouldn’t, not after all the time you’ve spent together.

You know better. Know him better.

“Alright Picasso. Sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to it,” he decides, and goes back to watching the movie.

It’s the first time he’s ever repeated a nickname.

“Wait! The wind guy wants to replace who?!” Jungkook shouts.

You laugh at his confusion, and rewind the movie.

Jungkook wakes up sore.

His back is killing him, which makes sense since he’s half lying on the couch, half on the ground.

The TV’s silently playing some slideshow of movie recommendations based on recent watches.

He checks his phone, reaching for it on the coffee tale.

14% battery.

4:07am.

Shit, he fell asleep.

After the solstice movie he wanted to watch its predecessor. You had no qualms and so on it went, but he doesn’t remember much after the brothers started fighting.

Hearing soft, even breathing next to him he turns to see you, hunched over in your spot asleep, no doubt in the process of ruining your own back.

He should go to bed.

You should go to bed.

But you’ve never stayed the night.

What should he do? Should he wake you?

But you look so peaceful. And it’s nearing exams. You barely sleep when it’s exams season.

Instead, Jungkook goes to check the guest room, but it’s a mess with yesterday's comings and goings. Make-up and clothes and hangers strewn everywhere.

Quietly, making a decision he hopes you won’t kill him for in the morning, he pads back to your sleeping form.

It’s for your back, he tells himself. No other reason.

Deja vu sets in as he scoops you up from the couch, blanket and all. Just like last time, you gain enough consciousness to know to wrap your arms around his neck, but not enough to wake up. Your head rests on his shoulder and he selfishly savours the feeling as he walks down the short hallway to his room.

Jungkook sets you down gently on one side of the bed, and your arms release, slumber undisturbed as he tucks you in.

He goes back to the living room to retrieve your phones. Yours is still at 56%, and he places it on the table beside you when he returns.

Climbing into his side of the bed, he’s careful not to touch you.

Though he wants to.

Desperately.

His sleep deprived brain is too slow to block out the thoughts that start to race. Thoughts of how he wants to turn around and pull you into his chest, slide an arm around your waist, and kiss you goodnight. How he wants to wake up in the same position, you still in his arms.

But he’s also awake enough to know that will never happen. That you’re with Nel, and happy with him. That he’s drawn that nice, big line.

He’s awake enough to know you being in his bed is a fluke, unintentional.

A one time thing.

Plugging his phone into its charger, he sets it down on his own bedside table and pulls the covers up, falling back asleep.

His back facing you.

An exhale wakes you.

Warm and cozy, you take a deep breath and roll to your left side, stretching on the way over. The scents of clean linen and something familiar find you. It’s comforting, that smell, but you can’t place it.

Another exhale, but this time you feel it as well as hear it.

You open your eyes to see a sleeping Jungkook face not a foot from your own and you jolt in shock, falling off the bed in the process.

You look up from your new seat on the floor, ignoring the pain in your side from landing, and peer over the covers to check on Jungkook, who, miraculously, hasn’t woken up from your tumble.

Relieved, your mind focuses on more pressing questions like ‘how did you get here?’ And ‘why were you in his bed?’

The last thing you remember was being halfway through the prequel to A Miser Brothers Solstice on the couch, watching Jungkook more than the movie because of how invested he’d become in the story.

But you aren’t on the couch now. You were in his bed.

The bed of the Prince of the Western Shores.

The Prince who has a girlfriend, and you, who has a very long term, very serious boyfriend.

You hear a vibration, and following the sound, you find your phone on the bedside table.

You quickly grab it quickly and go to the living room as quietly as you can manage.

There’s a large number of unread texts.

SlurryYuri [11:08pm]: hey, just checking in. You didn’t get home when you said you’d try for SlurryYuri [11:31pm]: Helloooooooo? YN? You there? SlurryYuri [12:14am]: it’s getting late YN, when are you coming home? Are you on your way?

Missed Calls: (3)

SlurryYuri [2:43am]: it’s been hours, so you better be dead or have crashed in the school somewhere. Either way I’m kicking your ass when you get home

Missed Calls: (2)

(Recent)

SlurryYuri [9:36am]: you’re still not home?? YN seriously, where are you SlurryYuri [10:23am]: If you don’t message me back in an hour I’m calling the police and filing a missing persons

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You crashed hard, the shoot must have taken more out of you than you thought, so you never texted Yuri you were going to crash in a sleep pod at school like you’d planned too.

You make quick work of messaging her back, glad she unintentionally gave you just the excuse you needed.

YN [10:25am]: ohmygod I’m soooooo sorry, it was the school one. I fell asleep in the school. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll be home soon, promise. I’m just going to grab breakfast first. Again im sorry

SlurryYuri [10:27am]: thank the gods youre okay!! Don’t ever do that to me again YN! I don’t wanna be the one who has to break news to your mom!! She’s too nice. SlurryYuri [10:27am]: and take your time getting back if your rushing for me, I’m not at the dorm SlurryYuri [10:27am]: Tai showed up yesterday out of the blue and took me dancing. We’re out getting brunch right now, and he has plans for the rest of the day SlurryYuri [10:28am]: Im just glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere

YN [10:29am]: me too, and okay I will. Thanks for checking up on me and making sure im safe, youre my favourite

SlurryYuri [10:30am]: damn right I am, see you tn <3

YN [10:30am]: see you <3

You exhale deeply, that was fucking close.

Your stomach rumbles and it reminds you that you actually need to get breakfast.

What could you have? You could order in again, but that means a wait time and you are hungry now. You could raid Jungkook's pantry, or see if he has any fruit, but then you think that’s a gross invasion of privacy when it’s not movie night and you haven’t asked if it’s okay.

Wait.

The egg tarts!

You dash to the fridge, the marvellous sight of a greenhouse inside a coffee mug comes into view. Stuffing one down before you even get the box from the fridge, you exit the kitchen, sit down on the couch, setting the box on the coffee table. Once opened in front of you, you realize there is a healthy amount of tarts inside.

How many did Jungkook ask for?

Speaking of, a bed-headed, yawning Jungkook makes his morning debut, still in last night's clothes.

“Hey,” he says groggily, walking over and stealing a tart.

“Hey!” you say back, not nearly as friendly.

“Overnight tax, Picasso. Room isn’t free.” He chuckles at your faux outrage, popping half the tart in his mouth as he walks to the kitchen and grabs something from the fridge. Returning, you see it’s a morning protein shake.

Gross.

“So is that name the one you’re sticking to now?” you ask, picking up another tart. At this rate they won’t last until lunch.

“Yeah, that okay with you? It’s your name in my phone after all.”

“It is?” You didn’t know that.

“Yeah, has been since the start.”

You’re quickly learning that sleepy morning Jungkook is very different from morning post work-out Jungkook, friend Jungkook and photographer Jungkook. His voice is deeper, he’s a lot more relaxed, and maybe even harmlessly borderline flirty, like he’s not all there yet. Softer.

“Picasso’s just fine. A compliment really.”

“Oh? And what am I in your’s then? Hopefully something just as nice?”

You tell him like it is.

“PJK.”

“PJK?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah? It’s obscure enough to not be recognizable if someone were to see it, but enough for me to know who it is.”

“Nah, you need something better, PJK is boring.”

“It’s your initials.”

“And boring,” he’s really not letting up on this.

“Well...what would you save yourself as?”

He mulls it over for a minute before deflating. “Okay, fair point, but I seriously want a new one. Something that can rival Picasso.”

“Do you have any nicknames? Something not completely obvious?”

For a morning person, Jungkook sure is taking his time. Maybe he was only a morning person before 8am, and then if he got up anytime after that he became a normal person who despised mornings like everyone else.

“Uhh…Vivian calls me JK, but that’s essentially the same thing as PJK. My buddies back home sometimes call me Kook, but I don’t think that works either. My mum has one for me that I will not disclose to anyone so long as I am breathing. So I guess not.”

A lightbulb dings over your head. “What about your security? Don’t they have special code names for you when they detail you? Like bear or eagle?”

“Yeah, but it’s not nearly as badass as either of those.”

“Fess up,” you say. Now you have to know.

“Hare.”

“Hare?” Now it’s your turn to be incredulous. “Like a rabbit?”

“Yep.”

An idea pops into your head and an evil grin spreads across your face, one you know is already setting worry into Jungkook’s still awakening brain as you change his name.

“I don’t like that look,” he confirms. “What’d you change it to?”

You flip your phone around and hold it up to him.

“Bunny?” he says incredulously once again.

“Yes.”

“I give you Picasso, one of the greatest painters of all time, and you think giving me bunny is anywhere near on par with that?”

Teasing him is far too fun, especially when he makes it this easy for you.

“Oh absolutely. In fact, I think it’s the best name I could possibly set it as.”

Jungkook disagrees, vehemently. “No, change it back. PJK is fine.”

“Too late. You dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Jungkook brings a hand to his face, pinching the crease between his brows and takes a very long, deep breath, exhaling just as dramatically.

You take that as your victory. But you’re sorely mistaken.

He launches at you, reaching for your phone and you scream, reaching your arm to keep it away from him. You have a fox socked foot on his chest to try and keep him back. His right arm is holding him up near your hip on the couches edge and he’s reaching with his left as far as he can without breaking his sternum on your heel.

“Give it!”

“Never!”

You try to bring up your other foot to push him away, but Jungkook is strong, and forces both it and the one on his chest down with the arm that was supporting him, temporarily keeping himself up with his left hand on the back of the couch.

With your legs out of the way he can almost reach his phone. But in his distracted state, misses the couch when he goes to put his supporting arm down again, and flips onto the ground, taking you with him. You scream, but his arms wrap around you as he makes sure to take the brunt of the impact, landing on his back, you safely secured to his chest.

There’s a moment of pure stunned silence, you resting your forhead on his chest while you process, him not letting go of your waist as he gets a breath into his winded self, before you’re both laughing as you take in what happened.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, you?”

He takes a second to respond. “I’m great.”

You push to sit up, and he releases you from his hold, but that was a mistake. Because now you’re sitting on his lap.

It takes an entire three seconds of you staring at him and him staring right back before you jump and scramble off him as fast as you can.

“Sorry.” you say in unison, you standing and him from the ground. It’s a painfully awkward 8 seconds before you break, cackling at the whole situation, and he joins in with you again.

Jungkook brushes off his pants as he gets up too. “Got any plans before tonight,” he asks, business as usual.

“Nope, cleared my schedule in case this went long, I’ve got the whole day.”

You swear his smile grows two sizes.

“Well in that case,” he looks to the TV, then back to you, “Wanna start movie night early?”

An entire day to relax and chill out before the hell that is exams season takes your every free second?

Yes please.

“Solstice movie marathon?” you propose slyly, near devious.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” he confirms, already halfway to the kitchen.

You spend the day like that, on the couch watching movie after movie, both pretending the little incident never even happened.

But you make sure to go home after movie night this time.

Chapter Nine: TBR

A/N 2: This chapter kicked my ass but it's here and I couldn't be more thrilled. I really like how it's ended so I hope you guys do too.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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sofiareidings · 1 year

Text

Coffee Runs

Summary: The guy who's been coming to the cafe you work at finally asked why you've never called him by his name.

A/N: I'm sorry this story is so late, especially since I missed Monday's post. School has been so busy this week and I've also had a bunch if extracurricular lately. I'll try and be more on time from now on (Don't hold me to that) Also! I got the idea for this one shot from @hanllo-kitty

Word Count: 0.8k

Song Suggestions: Invisible String - Taylor Swift

It was a good job, a great job really. The cafe was in a nicer part of town and people would subconsciously give nice tips so your pay was good. Rarely were customers terrible. Most people that came in were students or really busy people rushing in and going.

There were a few regulars. Like Joe, Joe was an eighty year old man who came in everyday for a coffee and a sandwich. While he waited he would talk about the lotto numbers and how his kids were doing. There was also Lola, she was a journalist who spent most of her day sitting in the corner of the cafe while refilling the same cup until closing.

But there was only one regular you would think about while getting ready for work.

Come on, I don't know his name. Don't shoot the messenger.

He'd been coming in for the past three months almost everyday, right after the cafe opened for a coffee. He always looked a little tired and acted like it too. He barely made conversation and normally shuffled out of the store in the same fashion as the other overworked people; quickly.

You hadn't learned his name yet. He always seemed to forget to say it when you asked, which resulted in you making up something.

"Guy with the sweater vest!"

"Guy in the purple!"

"Guy with the scarf!"

You get the point.

He was your favourite regular because of his looks. God, even when he was incredibly sleep deprived he looked beautiful. He had brown hair that fell just below his sharp jaw. Brown eyes that always happened to be in the light from the cafe window, making the small gold flakes in his eyes shine. He was normally dressed in a sweater vest and neutral pants, he probably worked at some type of office. The one part of him that stood out in his outfits were his converse, odd for the rest of his outfit. You could've sworn a few times you saw brightly coloured mismatched socks.

***

The sound of the cafe bell echoed through the nearly empty shop, having only opened half an hour ago. Smiling in the direction of the person walking in you quickly noticed it was 'Guy with *whatever he had on*" who came in. Something was different, he had thick glasses on. That was new.

"Hey, just the regular coffee and donut?" You put the order into the computer, looking back up at him. Taking in the new look.

"Yeah, thanks." His lips creased into a line, you called it a tired smile, the same one he made everyday. He handed over his money and poured the change into the tip jar then stepped back to wait for his order.

A couple minutes later you came back to the counter with his order. "Guy with the glasses!"

He did his usual, smiled and grabbed his order saying bye. But just when he reached the threshold of the door he paused and turned. "Why do you do that?"

Having already turned around you paused, this was the first time he'd talked to you in a clear voice. You weren't really sure what he meant. "Do what? Did I get your order wrong?"

He cleared his throat and seemed a little frustrated. "You never say my name, you just call me guy with something. Is it just to annoy me?"

"What? No, you've just never told me your name." Laughing a little, realising the misunderstanding.

"I didn't?" His face changed to confusion, "Oh my gosh, I didn't." He realised his mistake then his face flushed a shade of red.

"Don't worry, it's okay. Guy with the glasses." You laughed, looking around the cafe for a minute, strange it was still pretty empty.

"I am so sorry, I thought I told you and you just wanted to annoy me. I feel like a jerk, you seem so nice." Genuinely sorry he apologised profusely. "Can I make it up to you?"

Deciding to take the chance, you'd been daydreaming about this guy for months. "Well, maybe you could take me on a date." A little shocked by your own boldness, your face went up like twelve degrees.

"Uh, yeah…" He trailed off, clearly flustered. "Yeah, I would really like that."

"Well then, it's a date." You beamed, internally jumping up and down out of excitement. Since when were you so forward? He made that smile he made everyday before turning towards the door again.

That's when you realised.

"Wait!" You shouted, louder than you expected. Causing your coworker to drop a cup. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Spencer. I'll make sure to be back tomorrow." He nodded again and chuckled lightly before finally walking through the door.

God could tomorrow morning come any quicker.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #fandom #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn!reader #sofiareidings

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jymwahuwu · 1 year

Text

TW: yandere, kidnapping

wrote some soft yandere jing yuan stuff tonight :3

You… have a crush on General Jing Yuan, quietly. Like hiding in all the stars quietly staring at the moon. That came from an encounter at a cat cafe. Unexpectedly, a Xianzhou general would go to the cat cafe in disguise. When you recognized him, Jing Yuan blinked and put finger on his lips playfully, expressing that he hoped you would keep it a secret. You chatted with him all afternoon in the cafe.

In the next few weeks, you visited at the same time, but Jing Yuan, did not visit that cafe again.

Of course. He has too many official duties to keep busy. Also, you are nothing special to him. You understand.

One night, you caught a glimpse of his sculptural handsome face, his broad chest and muscles, his long, layered hair like a white lion, and the occasional red string that appeared on camera on the Space TV channel. Your cheeks are burning.

At the end of the interview, the host asked Jing Yuan what type of person he likes. You hold your breath, waiting for the answer. Unlike the previous perfunctory reply, the general pondered for a while before replying-

"Hmm…Never thought about what type of person I would like. I probably won't know until then."

You're a bit disappointed, but cheer yourself up - that means you might be his type. isn't it?

A few months later, you hear that people in Xianzhou are flocking to buy pictures of the general - that's a business that Miss Tingyun has developed in secret. Even though it was rumored that even the general knew about it, Jing Yuan just smiled and ignored it. You want to buy these too, but there are too many people there. When it's your turn, there's only one photo of the general's back left.

There is a faint disappointment in your heart. Maybe it's really impossible.

"Do you want to buy it?" Tingyun asked.

You nodded flusteredly, paid, and carefully treasured the photo. However, you decide to start a new life and look for a possible relationship, and your feelings for Jing Yuan are as far away as the moon in the night sky.

You don't know, Jing Yuan has witnessed the whole process of buying photos. He actually knows you, remembers your face, your expression. The general is surprised that you are still willing to purchase this photo - do you have… feelings for him? Do you adore him? Do you like him? Like, love? A burst of warmth surged in his heart, maybe the feeling of being missed and loved is really good.

After returning to the General’s Mansion, Jing Yuan quietly monitored your life and internet usage, and wanted to confess his new inner feelings to you, to spend hundreds of years with you, to spend an immortal life together 😚 But you have never returned to that coffee shop. One day, those hackers sent him a picture of you sitting in a restaurant talking to a strange man- the man even touched your hand, and you bowed your head. General stared at the photo, expressionless.

After a few days, some mysterious people took you away. You struggled in panic, but your hands were bound, and your eyes were covered by black blindfolds. After the blindfold is removed and the light flows into your eyes, you look into those eyes again as if in a dream.

"Jing- Jing Yuan?" You asked confused. "Who took me just now? Am I saved?"

General put you between his arms, took a deep breath-

"Yes, you are safe now."

#yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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savorypink · 8 months

Note

need late sias!alex as a barista and u as the annoying customer who comes in during closing time. he angry fucks you in the bathroom cuz u annoy him

“cuz u annoy him” makes me giggle, but here you are anon!

“...and that’s why I stopped paying my taxes!”

You speak into your phone’s speaker, swinging the doors of the small cafe open. Caught up in a conversation over the phone, you miss the scowl on the barista’s face as you saunter towards the counter. The lights of your favorite coffee spot have warmly dimmed, the minimal lighting enhancing the coziness of the atmosphere. This lighting, however, is an indication that closing time is near. To the dismay of the night shift barista, Alex, you have always made it your business to show up right before the doors close. Your horrible timing isn’t entirely your fault, though; 1) you’ve got things to do, 2) the cafe has become rather popular recently, and your patience isn’t the best. Why would you want to wait in line?

Your conversation continues even when faced with the barista, completely ignoring the chairs sitting on the empty tables, the lemon scent of cleaning products breezing past your nose entirely. The barista’s cute, large doe eyes look up at you from the counter he’s wiping down with a bleach-stained rag; he doesn’t seem happy to see you.

“Hold on just one second...” you say to the barista and your rambling friend on the phone. Digging into your bra, you pull out the crumpled-up bills and coins for your usual drink, all in exact change. You hand him the money with a warm, lip gloss-coated smile. You’ll see if he’s worthy of a tip.

“You know what to do.” You finish with a wink before he takes the money out of your manicured hands. Your perfume's pleasant candy scent lingers when you turn your heel to the tables behind you, dizzying and addictive to his nostrils, but he scowls as soon as you pick up a chair. Plopping down, you continue entertaining your friend on the phone, and you aren’t quiet about it.

“Yeah, I’m at the cafe now. It’s so cute!” you squeal. “You should totally hit it up sometime. Make sure the Elvis-looking guy makes your drink, though. He’s the best.”

Your words wash away the barista’s annoyance as he prepares your drink, knowing your preferences like strings on a guitar, pure muscle memory. Your loud mouth quickly tarnishes this somewhat peaceful moment.

“It’s the ginger-haired girl you gotta watch out for. Ugh, she’s the worst! Can’t make a drink for shit. And guess what? I found a hair in my muffin! When I flipped out on her, she kept saying, ‘Calm down,’” You do perhaps your worst impression of the nasally lady, “and she was like, ‘Do you want another muffin?’ No! I want my money back, Ed Sheeran!”

Your friend on the other line laughs alongside you, a bubbly yet ear-piercing cackle that makes Alex almost crush the mixer in his hands. His brain bounces from wanting to hear your laughter again to shutting you up with a kiss. As your gums continue flapping, you allow your eyes to examine the barista behind the counter. His backside is as cute as his front, the lean muscle of his shoulders contracting under his white t-shirt, strong arms flexing as he scoops up the ice and pours it into the mixer. You put a gelled nail between your teeth as you watch him, shifting in your seat as your panties become uncomfortably wet.

“Hey! Are you still there?” Your friend calls on the other line.

“Yeah!” Your cheeks warm up at the interruption, “Like I said, make sure Elvis makes your drink. You’ll know exactly what he looks like. If his back is turned, just look for the one with the cute butt.”

Alex is thankful his back is turned, your words tinting his face a rosy red. The silver bell on the counter dings once your drink is prepared. You don’t bother putting the chair back as you approach the counter. You thoroughly look through the transparent cup, ensuring the amount of ice and the number of dried fruit is accurate; you have no notes. Taking a sip, you let the liquid linger on your tongue before swallowing. Cold, sweet, and punchy; you couldn’t ask for more. You reenter your bra, dig out some change, and place it into the tip jar near the register. Your sunny, warm smile conflicts with the barista’s snowy, freezing shoulder.

“Thanks, Alan!”

“Alex.”

Your eyes dart to the pastry case behind him, a croissant drizzled with chocolate catching your eye. “How much for that croissant? It looks tasty…”

“For you? Free of charge.” He’s more concerned with getting you out of here before you give him gray hairs.

“Wow, really?” you beam in amazement. “You’re so kind! Alan, you’re the best! You’re way nicer than that ginger chick who tried to poison me. Ugh, she doesn’t work here anymore, does she? So unprofessional. She’d be better at scrubbing toilets than making drinks.”

Alex smirks at your remarks as he hands you the pastry in a white paper bag. “You mean my boss?”

“That’s your boss?” You immediately take the pastry out of the bag, biting into the flaky treat. “She’s in the wrong line of work if you ask me!”

“Oh, yeah? Do tell.”

Your mouth moves before you can detect the sarcasm in his voice. You’re oblivious to the flakes falling into your shirt, decorating your cleavage as you continue munching and talking. Alex second-guesses giving you a napkin before handing you a few from the dispenser. If he didn't, he’d have more reason to stare at your chest. Flakes and chocolate stain the corners of your mouth and lip, and he hates to admit it, but you’re looking very…cute.

“Anyway,” you finish, wiping yourself clean, “You should totally be running this place, Alan. It doesn’t hurt that you’re super hot, too. Just work on the resting bitch face, and you’ll be amazing!”

Your final comment digs painfully into his skin, and it’s a shame. He was starting to like you.

“You’re too pretty to be talking with your mouth full,” Alex crosses his lean arms over his chest. “ I could teach you proper etiquette if you’d like. I’m a tough teacher, though. Be warned.”

Offended, you blink wildly before smiling at the compliment he snuck into his invitation. You gladly accept.

“You think I’m pretty?”

---

The cold marble of the bathroom sink raises the tiny hairs on your skin. You claw at it to no avail, sheepishly bent over the sink with your thong and velour tracksuit pants hugging your ankles. The empty bathroom echoes a slapping sound, a mixture of wetness and the noise of your ass against Alex’s relentless hips. His cock drives in and out of you at a brutal pace; each thrust angrier than the next.

“You’re awfully quiet,” his large palm comes down on your ass with a vicious spank. “Come on…you were mouthin’ off about a muffin just a minute ago.”

Your cunt gushes at his words, the tight walls of your core needily squeezing him in a vice grip. Lust clouds your brain, unable to form a witty comeback to his statements, your weak moans becoming a new language. Before you lay your head on the marble, Alex fists your hair in a ponytail, tugging you upwards to face the mirror. Ignoring the messy reflection, you allow your eyes to roll into your skull, heat beginning to pool in your stomach, his cock hitting the right spots repeatedly and harshly.

“We’ll figure out a use for your mouth in the next lesson. You're doing a great job at taking me, muffin.”

#mickey is typing…#alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #so much fun to write! apologies for the wait!

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porcelainseashore · 3 months

Text

Into the Ether (12)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Smut including blood drinking, and some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: This Ready Flesh

His vision was blurry, tunneling in and out as he struggled to focus on the pavement in front of him. The street lights flickered, his retina capturing them in a mesmerizing delay, creating luminous streaks and trails across the sky. It had been ages since Leon had gotten into such a state where he couldn’t walk straight anymore, shambling in a zigzag pattern towards his destination. At least he still knew where he wanted to go — to you. It was all he could think about as he staggered into Café Noir, calling out your name while the other patrons delivered wary side glances.

In his inebriated haze, he stumbled through the crowd until he came across a figure he vaguely recognized. Grabbing the person by the collar, he sputtered, “Patrick, right?”

The young man nodded timidly, trying to back away, though Leon clung onto him firmly. “Where is she?”

He could even smell the strong stench of alcohol on his own breath as he spoke. The vessels he had drunken from earlier must have been completely wasted. He should know, since they had already passed out when he got to them. It was probably pure vodka running through their veins at this rate.

“Sh-she already left an hour ago,” Patrick stammered, cowering slightly in fear.

Jesus Christ, what did this boy ever do to you? Leon sighed. He was scaring people unintentionally, looking all crazed with his bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He didn’t even need a mirror to confirm that. What a fucking mess.

Right on cue, he saw the ponytailed redhead come into view, and she looked pissed. Great job, Leon, he berated himself. Now he was gonna get his ass kicked. But he deserved it. He deserved all of it.

“I’ll handle it from here,” she told Patrick calmly, before turning back to Leon with a deadly glare.

Dragging him by the arm over to a free table in one of the more private corners of the room, she shoved him onto a chair and ordered, “Stop terrorizing the locals.”

“Hi to you too, Redfield,” he mumbled despondently, slumping over with a hiccup before catching himself with his supporting arm.

Claire stabilized him, shaking her head disapprovingly as she sat in the opposite chair. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now?”

When he didn’t answer, she scolded, “Not a good look, Kennedy.”

“Yeah? What’s it to you, Claire?” he challenged, though his slurring made the words sound all jumbled together.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she cursed, tapping the side of his cheek rapidly, in a blind effort to get him to come to his senses. Finally, she came to a decision. “Okay, here's the deal. We’ll sit here until you sober up, and then, we’re gonna talk.”

Regardless, that didn’t prevent him from retorting, “Yes ma—”

“Shut it, Leon.”

It was an agonizing wait for the effects of the alcohol to dissipate, and it didn’t help that Claire kept throwing him dirty looks, warning him against trying anything funny. When he could finally string a proper sentence together without making a fool of himself, she spoke up, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and it’s your private business, but something tells me I need to step in before this blows up in everyone’s faces.”

“What do you mean?” He caught the underlying warning in her words and sensed there was more than what she was letting on.

Sighing, she knocked back a mouthful of beer before continuing. “Let’s… save that for later,” she negotiated. “What’s gotten into you? Hell, I’ve never seen you like this, ever.”

He pinched his lips together, reluctant to come clean with his emotions. But he knew he had no one else he could talk to like this. It was one thing he appreciated about Claire, even though her backhanded comments often grated on his nerves, she would always be straight with him. She just pretended to be begrudging about it.

“She’s gonna leave me,” he muttered.

Claire raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “So… this is how Leon Scott Kennedy, the great knight in shining armor, wins back his ‘one true love’, huh?” She mimicked quotation marks with her fingers in the air, adding salt to the wound. “By getting trashed and moping around?”

In any other circumstance, he would’ve fought back in an instant, exchanging cutting remarks laced with hidden barbed wire. Now, however, he remained passive and compliant, like a doll. “I did something unforgivable,” he finally admitted.

She snorted, propping her legs up on the table. “Yeah, you’ve done a lot of unforgivable things. We all have,” she emphasized.

Leaning forward, she prodded his chest with her finger accusingly. “You left us without a reason, no goodbye, nothing, and yet, Chris and I are still here, aren’t we?” She paused, taking a moment to recollect herself, and rolled her eyes. “God, that was soppy. Just, er, fuck— rewind and erase that shit, will ya?”

Leon bit his lip, suppressing a laugh. “Sure, whatever you say, Claire.”

“Anyway, your fledgling is beginning to realize and understand that there’s no perfect little world for Kindred like us,” she began.

“Of course, she would run off to you Anarchs of all people,” Leon huffed, clicking his tongue in disdain. “She’s been collecting all sorts of injuries from the gym.”

She sat up straight, folding her arms across her chest in pride. “Thanks to Chris’ training.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hand.

“You have it bad for her—”

“I don’t—” he protested, though she interrupted him in return.

“She talks about you, you know?” At this, he fell silent and she added, “Not in a bad way.”

“What does she say?” he blurted out almost too quickly.

“You’ll have to ask her that yourself,” she replied coyly. “But I don’t think she’s over you yet.”

His heart swelled, though he tried to rein it in to prevent false hope from building up. After all, false hope was worse than having nothing to hope for.

“Just do me a favor, will ya?” she requested. “Don’t try to control her; it never works. Trust me, I know my kind when I see one.”

It was Leon’s turn to scoff, “You wish.” He knew you well. No matter how much of a rebel you were, you were a Toreador through and through.

“Now that I got your attention, we should move on to the serious topic I guess.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “There’s two things, which do you wanna hear first? The bad news or the bad news?”

“Claire…” he warned, his patience growing thin.

She placed her feet back down on the ground, unzipping her jacket to pull out a bunch of photographs from its inner pocket. Handing it over to him, she said, “I hate it whenever you’re right.”

“Get used to it,” he quipped back, shuffling through the pictures he assumed she had acquired from a bunch of surveillance cameras in the area. Then, he came across one that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Lucas. He was talking with someone, a tall figure with their back to the camera, obscured by a long cloak.

“A Sabbat member,” she clarified, pointing at Lucas’ image. “Turns out the suitor has been meeting with him regularly.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “You know this is a literal death sentence for the entire Anarch sect in Raccoon City, right? If Wesker finds out…” his voice trailed off as he witnessed Claire’s eyes watering up and her hands trembling. She knew the implications and she was scared.

“There’s something else though,” she stated, pushing forward despite her uneasiness.

Fishing out a separate photo from the stack, she held it before Leon. It was a zoomed-in version of the previous photograph. Tracing the outline of another shadowy figure in the background, she mentioned, “You see this here? There’s a third party involved, but we couldn’t make out who they were.”

Tightening his jaw, he promised, “I’ll keep this under wraps for now, but we need a plan, and we need it fast.” And then, he suddenly remembered. “What’s the other bad news?”

This seemed to make her even more unnerved, but she steadied herself and said, “The suitor has started taking an interest in your childe.”

His eyes gleamed lethally, already imagining the multitude of ways he would slice the guy into ribbons. “Who is this suitor?” he seethed, saliva foaming at his fanged teeth as his voice quivered in blistering rage.

She was mute, her eyes darted away from his, and her whole body was shaking. Something was very wrong.

“Claire!” He grasped her hands, both pleading and demanding, “I need to know!”

“The Baron,” she whispered, barely audible above the constant drone of background chatter.

His eyes widened. Like the Camarilla had their Prince, the Anarchs had their Baron. He’d just never expected such a big player to be involved. But then again, why wouldn’t he? Who would be as foolish and powerful enough to risk it all?

“Heisenberg.” The name flew out of his mouth like an omen.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, you know the drill,” Chris instructed, clapping his hands together to get you to move. “Four sets of jump rope, three minutes each, and for your one-minute breaks in between, push-ups.”

“And don’t forget to use your vitae!” he yelled over once more.

That was just the warm-up. You groaned, stretching out your limbs as you pushed yourself up from the floor to grab the skipping rope disgruntledly.

“Hey, winners never quit and quitters never win,” he advised before setting the timed alarms on his watch.

It took every ounce of effort not to roll your eyes at his clichéd motivational quote. At least you could see the progress you were making relatively quickly. Your feet went through the motions, your muscle memory intact as you began with a basic bounce, working your way into side straddles, hip twists and then alternating single leg jumps. You were light and nimble in your steps, just like you had to be when you got into your fight stance. It was like Mr. Miyagi’s teaching technique with “wax on, wax off.”

A beep sounded. You tossed the rope to the side and dropped into a plank position, channeling your energy through your flattened palms as you performed controlled, repetitive push-ups. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, dampening the dusty ground. Your hands and fingernails were caked with dirt.

Another beep, and you sprung up, huffing as you took the rope and continued with high knee jumps. Your heart was pounding against its cage, and you felt like you wanted to die from exhaustion, but you pushed on. At some point, you broke through an invisible wall, and your body accepted the strain, no longer fighting against it. It was then where you had the headspace to think.

The past days you had free were spent mostly with the Anarchs, so much so that you felt more aligned with them than the Camarilla. You wondered if they secretly knew and were spying on you all this while, ready to dole out your punishment when it was time to face the consequences. For some odd reason, you had a hunch that someone had been watching you recently, but every time you tried to suss out the culprit, they had vanished from sight.

Despite favoring Anarch company, the insight you’d gained into their practices made you realize that they still had the same bullshit hierarchies and politics like the Camarilla, just a little flatter and more equal on the surface. It wasn’t perfect, but it seemed like the lesser of two evils to you.

Beep. Guess it was back to push-ups. Your sweat had begun to form a puddle beneath you and it stung your eyes. Halfway there, you told yourself. Not much longer to go. You’d talked to Chris and Claire about Leon, asking them how he was like when he still hung out with them, during the time he was somewhat a part of the sect. They’d told you many stories of his bravery and courage, putting others first before himself, but also how entangled he was in the mysterious deals he had with Ada and the rest of the Camarilla. It seemed as if he had no way out of them.

“Why?” you’d asked.

“If this is the world he’s been exposed to, how would he know any different until someone or something challenges it?” Claire had proposed.

“His sire, Ada, is a…” Chris paused to consider his words before settling on “transactional woman.” He shrugged. “She probably taught him deals like that are inevitable.”

The same advice as she had tried to impart to you. If someone who was deemed as your superior repeated these teachings again and again, at some point, they could become the truth.

“We’re not excusing Leon for what he’s done,” Claire was quick to correct him. “Just trying to explain it in context.”

Beep. “Speed up!” Chris shouted, and you knew that he wanted you to train your Celerity. Faster than a blink, you took up the rope and completed the routine as swift as lightning. The rest of the sets went by in a blur as you thought about one person only — Leon.

The blue of his eyes, the color of the sea, changing into gold. It reminded you of the Mediterranean, back during one of your travels. The light of the sun glittering on the water’s surface, shifting into the sand dunes of the desert. You felt his presence then; faint, sorrowful and alone, just as he felt yours. A ghostly hand reached out, and you lost your balance, tripping on the rope and landing flat on your face.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Chris grunted, helping you up by your arm, as you wiped away the blood from the graze on your knee.

Leon. You had a sudden urge to speak with him after behaving like strangers since your falling out. As much as you told yourself it was to reconcile and meet Rebecca as a united front, you’d be lying if you insisted there wasn’t something more. Want and longing, like an empty glass discarded in the sink. You’ll talk with him tonight, you determined. However, fate had other plans for you first.

You were shadowboxing in the gym’s ring while Chris barked out directions from the sidelines. At some point, you noticed the expression on his face darken and his body stiffen. He started making his way over to you with an instinctive sense of protectiveness.

An imposing silhouette loomed over you and you stopped abruptly, spinning around to face a tall, robust man with long, unkempt graying hair. He wore a wide-brimmed fedora hat and a beige trench coat over his attire. Round wire-framed glasses covered his eyes but did nothing to hide the bold smile across his face. He scratched at his rugged beard before taking a long drag from his fat cigar.

“Well, well, sugar. How nice of you to visit,” he remarked, puffing out a waft of smoke as he released the cigar from his mouth, planting it between his thumb and index finger.

“Baron,” Chris greeted. He was standing beside you now, tersely grasping your shoulder, suggesting caution.

In his other hand, the man held a metallic cane, rigid and bladed at the sides, its handle adorned with a carved horse figure. The cane clinked every time it touched the ground as he walked towards you, seemingly heavier than it looked. He didn’t lean or rely on it like he had an injury, merely tapping it lightly with each step forward. When you focused closer on the mechanical contraptions, you could tell that it concealed a secondary weapon of sorts.

“Oh, no need for formalities.” He waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all comrades here.”

With a courteous bow, he tipped his hat at you, acknowledging your presence. “Heisenberg,” he proffered, stubbing out the cigar with his boot as he extended his gloved hand to you.

Despite the unsettling atmosphere, you took his hand and shook it firmly like you always do. Might as well fake it until you make it. He raised his eyebrows, grinning at you like a maniac, nodding in appreciation at your dauntlessness.

“So, sugar, how do you like what you see so far?” He raised his hands, rotating in a slow, deliberate circle, as he gestured to the surroundings and the Kindred who’d quietened down since his arrival.

“It’s nice,” you answered flatly, keeping your responses vague and to a minimum until you could better ascertain what he wanted from you.

“I always knew you’d belong to us.” Though with the way he said ‘us’, it sounded more like ‘me’. You caught a glimpse of recognition in Chris’ eye and your suspicions about the man in front of you were confirmed with his next sentence.

“Too bad that Toreador dickhead had to ruin my plans,” he sneered. Clamping his hand on your shoulder dramatically, he continued, “This has been a real party and all, but why don’t you come back to our base? Make yourself at home?”

Heisenberg was the suitor. The one who wanted to use you for his own gain and power. He made your skin crawl.

“Baron—” you saw Chris attempt to plead your case only to be cut off by him.

“Dammit, Chris, I swear to god!” he bellowed, slamming his cane so violently on the ground that you were afraid it would break. Then, in a complete switch, he became almost dainty, whispering with a light flourish, “For the last time… it’s Heisenberg.”

The man was unhinged. You didn’t know who was worse: Wesker or Heisenberg. But you needed to get the fuck out of there.

“Maybe another time,” you proposed, backing away, though that only caused his grip on you to tighten. “I really should get going.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?” he questioned in an odd sing-song before mockingly commenting, “Will your sire be worried?”

“Heisenberg.” The unmistakable voice of the man in question resonated throughout the room, penetrating the dense silence. You heaved a sigh of relief, never having been happier to hear it.

The Baron finally released you, but not without mumbling in your ear, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, Leon!” he greeted in a sickeningly sweet tone. “We were just talking about you! Always the thorn in my side, huh?” He laughed at his own joke, but no one else joined in.

It didn't take long for Leon to catch up to where you were standing, positioning himself between you and Heisenberg. His steely countenance peered down at you briefly before he looked back at the Baron. From behind, you saw Claire slowly walking over to join her brother.

“You heard the lady,” Leon stated. “She wishes to leave.”

At this, there was a fleeting tick in Heisenberg’s cheek, his smile faltering as his lips twitched ever so slightly, betraying his obvious irritation at Leon’s words. Suddenly, there was a loud swish and an electric crack in the air, as the cane he was carrying turned into a whip, which he lashed across the ground. It landed mere centimeters away from Leon’s face, but he didn’t even flinch, staring Heisenberg down with a cold glare.

“Think you’re real tough, don’t you, boy?” Heisenberg spat.

However, Leon remained as calm and elegant as ever. You wondered how many times he’d practiced for this very moment. Motioning to you, he mentioned, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Heisenberg, but my childe here still remains part of the Camarilla.” Turning back to face the Baron, he delivered his final line like an arrow hitting its mark, “And if it comes to it, we will protect our own.”

For a split second, Heisenberg was stumped, but masked it with a ridiculing chuckle. “Is that a threat?” Without waiting for Leon to answer, he offered his hand to you. “Last chance, sugar.”

You ignored it, making your decision to take Leon’s instead, interlacing your fingers with his as you squeezed his palm. He squeezed back and smiled weakly.

“Your funeral,” Heisenberg huffed, disappointment and wounded pride clearly marking his face.

Together, you exited the gym hand-in-hand, narrowly escaping Heisenberg’s wrath unscathed, while numerous pairs of eyes watched you from the sides.

━━━━━━━━━━━

After the chivalrous display Leon had put on in your previous encounter with the Baron, you didn’t expect such a severe scolding from him the minute you stepped into his apartment.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was back there?” he berated. “You’re being too reckless hanging out so openly with the Anarchs!”

A mixture of hurt and confusion flashed across your face as you shot back, “Yeah? Maybe you should take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Leon, considering that you used to be one of them!”

“Who told you that?” he snapped, backing you into a corner of the room. “Was it Chris—? No, Claire?”

You shoved him off roughly, shouting, “You have no right to judge! What have you been doing this whole time, huh? Fuck all!”

He looked away from you in embarrassment before turning back with a blazing fire in his eyes, his mouth writhing with manic fury. “I’ve been watching you, making sure you were safe, and you think I’ve done nothing?!”

You let out a harsh, hollow laugh in his face. “So, it was you? Stalking me like a fucking creep!”

He ground his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that you could see his muscles straining under the effort. “I don’t want to be ordered by the Prince to destroy you.”

“What did you say?!” you blurted out in bewilderment, grabbing his collar and slamming him into a nearby wall. Visible cracks emerged behind him along the plaster, spreading like spiderwebs. He whimpered in pain, but you continued pressing him in. “Are you threatening me?” you asked, your voice laced with grief and betrayal.

“No, never— I would never do that to you.” It came out like a cracked whisper. “If you step out of line, he will ask me to. But I would much rather be destroyed in your place,” he admitted.

So, was that why he kept trying to ‘control’ you? You were overcome with a sudden onslaught of emotions, and you didn’t know what to trust anymore.

“Liar!” you screamed, an insurmountable rage surging through your blood as you hurled him against a glass coffee table. It smashed into smithereens, and he struggled to get up as the shards nicked his hands and body. Blood spilled onto the floor like a murder scene.

You bolted over, still overcome with frenzied anger, as you pinned him to the ground, pummeling his face while yelling, “I hate you! I fucking hate your guts! What you did to me, what you did to Sherry! You fucking monster! I wish you were d—”

You paused, realizing what you were about to utter and knowing that deep down that you didn’t mean anything you had just said. But the damage was already done. A pang of guilt seeped into your chest and it convulsed as you choked out uneven sobs. Your hands were trembling and covered in scarlet red, and your breath hitched as you peered at Leon’s bloodied and bruised face. He’d been cut up real bad, his nose was broken and his cheeks were puffed up like a balloon. However, he didn’t fight back, accepting every punch and insult you threw at him, like he deserved it.

“Do it,” he croaked, blood dribbling down the sides of his mouth. It almost seemed as if he wanted you to put him out of his misery.

“No, no, no, I—” You shook your head furiously, staring at your reddened palms and started crying.

Your head fell forwards onto his chest, weeping into his stark white shirt, now ruined with blood and tears. A hand came to rest on your back, rubbing it reassuringly in circles, while the other carded through your hair. Even though he was the one suffering, he still took upon himself to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” you repeated like a prayer, but he hushed you gently.

It was then that you gave in. You’d seen who he was laid bare entirely before you. A monster with his skeletons exposed, and yet, you loved him. You loved him so much your heart would burst.

Holding him close, you moved him away from the broken glass and onto the rug — a new replacement for the one you had bled out on. You touched his face delicately with your fingertips; it was wet and sticky. Why wasn’t he mending himself? You wanted to kiss away his wounds and the pain. He stayed still, eyeing you curiously, waiting to see what you would do. A small gasp fell from his lips as you took your fingers into your mouth, tasting him whole. It was divine, just as you remembered, like figs and honey, and you had the insatiable desire for more.

“I want you, Leon,” you breathed. “Every part of you.”

At this, he drew in, taking your lips with his own urgently. You kissed back, matching it with a similar level of desperation, like both of you were famished. Parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to slip in to caress yours, swirling against it tantalizingly, as blood and saliva dripped from his mouth into yours. You lapped it up ardently, as though you didn’t want to waste a single drop.

The nuances of his taste became clearer. A hint of leather, oak and spice, and at times, subtle notes of vanilla and whiskey, making you feel as if you were a sommelier. Perhaps these were the flavors he had enjoyed when living. Fire coursed through your veins as you straddled him, pressing your scorching body against his. He groaned at the contact, bucking his hips into yours feverishly.

Both of you continued in the same rhythm, moaning each time his erection rubbed against your pelvis. Giddy and heady from the high, you clawed at his shirt, clumsily tearing through the fabric and sending its buttons flying across the room. He responded in kind, ripping open the clothes you’d been wearing, unable to wait any longer.

His heated gaze dragged along your naked body, admiring it in reverence, as if you were a goddess that he worshiped the very ground you stood on. Planting wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your breast, he murmured, “I need you, angel.” His hot breath fanning against your skin, causing you to shudder in delight. “Please, let me taste you.”

“Anything you want,” you rasped, tangling your hands in his hair. “I’m all yours.”

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, so unlike him that you wondered if you had awakened the sleeping Beast with your words. He took his time, cupping your breasts in his hands as his tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other. Latching onto it with his mouth, he suckled it, increasing the pressure as you twitched in response. You surrendered yourself entirely to him, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body.

He held your gaze as you watched his teeth sink in, puncturing the soft flesh of your breast. The sharp, prickly sting turned into that euphoric thrill you’d subconsciously craved for ever since the first time he’d tasted you. He drank from you a little before leaving the site, grazing your skin with his searing lips they traveled downwards. The first mark was left open and bleeding, just like the rest of the marks he would make. It was his way of showing the world that he had claimed you. You would let him devour you if you could.

His mouth paused at the side of your ribs and he made his second mark, the sensitivity of the spot causing your body to jerk suddenly, but he grasped the fat of your hips, holding you down as you whined. Blood flowed from the wound as if you’d been pierced in the side by a lance, and yet you begged, “More, please, more…”

The final mark he made on you in this round came when he reached your pussy, aching and sore for his touch. He licked your clit eagerly, sealing his lips around it as his fingers brushed against your folds, teasing the entrance before slipping in easily. Moans spewed out from your mouth as he continued sucking hard on your clit and curling his fingers against your spongy walls. At some point, he replaced them with his tongue, dipping and thrusting hungrily into your slit. His fingers glistened with your arousal all the way up to his knuckles, and you brought them into your mouth, soaking in the intoxicating aroma of sweat, lust and love. He hummed, taking the opportunity to bite into your mound, filling himself up with more of your essence as you threw your head back and gasped his name.

Coming up for breath, he peered at you beneath him. The carmine traces coating his lips like red-stained roses, and the scent and taste of your blood lingered in his very soul. He’d seen three separate memories of you with every mark, each more personal than the last, but no less beautiful. You looked truly holy like this, with your blissed out face and blown out eyes, your lips flushed and swollen. A moist sheen covered your body and your breasts quivered from your ragged breathing. He loved how he could do this to you. If he could, he would crown you as his sweet Mary, Isis, Ishtar, or any other form the saint and deity came in, bathing you in swathes of Marian blue and gold, and laying jewels at your feet. As the sanguine fluid trickled down your cunt like a virgin’s first time, he realized that for once, you were his, and solely his.

His wounds healed up in the process, good as new again, but you reached out, teary-eyed, cradling his face in your hands as you pressed your foreheads together. You never wanted to hurt him, and he never wanted to hurt you either. However, the pain still remained, like heavy stones crushing against your chest. He had already forgiven you, kissing you tenderly and stroking your cheek until you pulled away abruptly.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, like a thin wisp of smoke drifting into his waiting mouth. “Fuck me right here on the floor.”

The same floor where your life had drained away into the ether, the same floor where he had made that fateful decision to Embrace you, and the same floor where both of you had envisioned this very moment before it even happened. You needed him to fuck you rough and fast, just so you could forget and engrave this memory in your heart simultaneously.

He heard it in your voice and understood, obliging as he peeled off the rest of his clothes, pushing you forward onto the ground, so that your front lay flat against its laminated surface. You felt him guide the tip of his cock against your pussy, smearing precum along your folds before burying himself to the hilt. He didn’t hesitate or hold back, pounding into you vigorously from behind without giving you the chance to adjust to his size. You mewled in agonizing pleasure as he grasped your ass, spreading it apart so he could penetrate deeper. Your skin rubbed raw against the hard floor, bones bruising against wood as you scratched scars into its layers.

With every sharp thrust your body jolted forwards, his balls slapping against your skin as he gritted out, “Fuck, angel, you just take it so well.”

“How much have you wanted me like this?” you asked impulsively, your voice strained as you rutted back into him in sync with his unrelenting pace, feeling the head of his cock hitting your cervix.

His dick throbbed at your question. A hand came up and pushed your head down, squishing your face into the floor. “God, I— think about bending you over and making you scream—” he panted. His tone turned feral and inhuman like you’d never heard before as he slammed his hips against your ass to punctuate each word, “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Screams tore from your throat until your voice became hoarse, and scalding tears gathered at your waterline before splashing onto the ground. Yet, something savage and animalistic, akin to what he had shown earlier, emerged from the depths of your chest. “Leon, please,” you keened. “Fuck me harder.”

Wrapping his arm around your neck, he leaned forward, placing his full body on top of you so that his chest was pressed flush against your back. Rocking his hips into yours, he fucked you so deep that you felt him in your ribcage. Instinctively, you plunged your fangs into his arm, breaking skin, as he hissed a string of curses before doing the same, clamping down on your neck. You drank from each other, consuming and mixing vitae as he continued pistoning into your cunt. Veins protruded from your neck and your eyes turned bloodshot, rolling back into your head. The excruciating euphoria you’d experienced from your Embrace returned, flooding your senses, and the visions began.

You saw the human life he’d led: a first and last date at the drive-in cinema where he’d fumbled with a cute girl, the all-nighters he’d pulled cramming for exams, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he nodded off to sleep. Then came glimpses of his life and unlife with Ada: how they’d fallen in and out of love, the way he’d been brought to his highest highs and reduced to his lowest lows. You felt for him in those moments, wanting nothing more than for his happiness to shine through, even at the expense of your own.

The images blended together like a watercolor painting, and you smelled the sand and sea. Two figures skinny-dipping, copulating by the waters, and again in the middle of a sandstorm. Your bodies melded into one and you were drawn back into your sweet release, both of you crying each other’s name on your lips. His hips stuttered, stuffing spurts of his cum into your cunt, the excess leaking between your thighs.

You stayed like this for an eternity before he pulled out, turning you around to face him as you lay side by side. He nuzzled your neck, kissing you affectionately. Blood caked your faces and streamed down your bodies.

“Messy drinker,” he chided softly, though his eyes were loving and warm. He licked all around your mouth, cleaning up the vermilion stains.

“I learned from the best,” you retorted, smirking as you caressed his jawline.

He scoffed, kissing your temple as he nestled you into his arms — a perfect fit. “You know I’m never letting you go after this?”

“Didn’t plan on leaving anyway,” you murmured into his chest, feeling his smile widen against your cheek.

I love you. He didn’t need to hear your confession to know that you meant every single word.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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k-dokja · 7 months

Note

If it's not bothersome, i missed your taehoon writing :) (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

Two parts ✌️

"...What?"

It is late afternoon, and you are in a corner of the cafe near your school.

Graduation would be in a few months and by now, the troubles Taehoon's friends had with that crime lord or whatever he was had ended. Taehoon's back to being a normal student again. Normal as he can be with his reputation, anyway.

You, however, never stopped being a normal student. By that, it means you've been worrying about your education while Taehoon was hanging out with his friends, busting crime rings, beating criminals up, and caring about anything except his studying.

"I got an offer last week," you explain, "the scholarship will be good for my tuition, and—"

"Fuck that," Taehoon cuts in, "when did you even apply for a scholarship?"

He leans back in his chair. The golden sunshine casts on his brown hair and turns them almost blonde. His features soften under this lighting, accentuated by an ethereal glow. He almost looks angelic, but the effect is marred by the scowl on his face.

"I've been applying for them since last year," you shrug, "I just... never thought to tell you about it."

"So, that's it?" Taehoon glares at you, "You already made the decision without telling me?"

You bite down on your lower lip. A long sigh escapes past your lips before you lean back in your seat. "I didn't tell my friends about applying. I didn't want to create any false hope or expectation."

"But I'm not one of your friends," he grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "I'm your boyfriend. I'm meant to be the one you can share things you can tell others with."

Belatedly, his eyes widen before he fixates them to yours. "Did you even tell me about this first?"

You sink in your seat under the scrutiny of his gaze. "Well..." It's a little pathetic how you can't even admit this to him, but that doesn't matter when the truth is written on your face.

Taehoon presses his slips together, and you notice the way his fist clenches under the table. He inhales for a long moment, then exhales, slumping back in his seat. "Whatever," he clenches his jaw, "when will you be gone?"

"I have about three months for preparation after graduation," you tell him before continuing, "and then..."

"How long will you be gone?" Taehoon doesn't hesitate to ask. "Will you come back for holidays and the like? Where are you even going anyway?"

You swallow. If you answer more, it would only give him the false hope that you are trying to work this out with him. Because you can see him trying to work it out with you. He's frustrated with you and angry with the situation, but he loves you. He'd probably overcome all of the hassles to stay with you. All the time difference, all the late-night phone calls, all the long days going without seeing each other.

It will take a toll on both of you. Eventually. Inevitably.

That's why you don't want to string him along.

"Taehoon," you say, far calmer than before, "let's put an end to this."

Here in the secluded corner of the cafe, the silence is impossibly loud.

He gazes downwards at the drink in front of you before his shock fades away and leaves behind nothing but scorn. "Fine," his scoff is twisted by a smile, "probably for the best anyway."

"A long-distance—"

"Wouldn't work, yeah, whatever," he crosses his arms before meeting your eyes with his arrogant ones. "I get it, I heard that before when you broke up with that uptight asshole you dated. I just thought..."

Taehoon's gaze eventually turns upwards, before he abruptly stands up. "Actually, fuck this." He leaves before you have the chance to say anything else, rushing past the people and the tables to reach the exit. You know you should chase after him, you should apologize at the very least.

It wouldn't matter anyway, his path and yours are diverging. That's the problem with growing up, you can't stay rooted in the same spot with him. Not when it can drag you down.

This is for the best. This has to be.

#fics #seong taehoon #seong taehoon x reader #viral hit #how to fight

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whenlostinthedarkness · 6 months

Text

Tis The Damn Season | Part 2

Ellie Williams x Reader

Photo credit: [ x ]

Summary: After your unexpected run-in with your ex girlfriend Ellie, you take a trip down memory lane and explore your spots in Jackson. The next morning, Your mom starts to make a miraculous recovery which leaves you with some hope. Come nightfall, that ex girlfriend makes yet another surprise appearance, and one that you can’t ignore.

Rating: M [mentions of past relationship, mentions of an ill mother, & angst w/reader & Ellie.]

WC: 4.7k

A/N: Sorry that part 2 took forever to come out. I’ve had lotssss happening in my personal life and creating anything was hard, but I hope you enjoy this part 2!

Taglist: @bready101 @onlinelesbo

Part One | Masterlist | How you can help Palestine

——————-

You were left alone again. Except a new feeling had crept up on you that hadn’t been there before. It could be relief from getting your first run-in with your ex, or a shaken emotion from seeing someone who was like a dark ghost in your mind. You couldn’t put your finger on it. All you could think about was the brick building that sat directly in front of you.

Before the outbreak, one could call this place a cafe of some sort. Since those were in severely few supply nowadays, it was more of a dinner, cafe, and hang-out spot all combined into one.

A lot of teens and young adults would come here to do school work, just have a chat, or grab a bite to eat. You and Ellie had claimed this spot as your first romantic public endeavor.

Without much thought, your feet moved until you stood directly down the center of the bay windows. Your reflection shone as you moved your face closer to the windows so you could get a proper look at the place. The only light illuminating the inside was one cast from the string lights that hung above, however, you could still make out the familiar mixed-matched tables and chairs that held so many memories of so many people.

And then, you saw it. That same roughened, wooden table you knew from your teenagehood. It was tucked away in the farthest right corner-one that you remember picking on purpose so you and Ellie could have some sort of privacy within a social place.

At this very place was where Ellie held your hand for the first time, where you and her took a pocket knife to the wood of the table and carved your initials inside of a heart to be engrained forevermore.

The last memory, however, was a bitter one. One that had you moving as far away from the glass as one stride of your legs could get you. It was like you saw a ghost of the past. She lingered everywhere and stained every wall in that place in the best and worst way possible.

You’d rather not reminisce on the day when you ended things with her, all because Ellie, “didn’t know what she wanted” when it came to the both of you or life in general. It’s funny how you chose that very table and chairs to end what started in those exact seats.

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until your concentration was broken by the chattering of your teeth. Your eyes glanced downwards and caught a glimpse of your red raw hands. You figured you should head home.

As your cold legs and feet backtracked along the path, you couldn’t shake the image of Ellie’s face that you’d seen only moments ago. She still looked like Ellie, but different. The adult years aged their way onto her face and bones like expensive wine. You thought adulthood suited her very well. You felt yourself analyzing this “new” Ellie your entire stroll home.

Soon enough, your hand was opening the door and enclosing you in the warmth of your home..well, your old home. Slowly, your cold feet shuffled along until you were in bed with closed eyes and a mind that finally was able to drift into the unconscious world.

A couple of blocks away, Ellie herself had just gotten into her bed. That is, once she was able to pry herself from the window that, just so happened to have a crystal clear view of your route home.

The both of you went to bed with thoughts of the other swirling like rainstorms.

—

The sun shone through the window much too soon in your opinion. Your hand shielded your eyes as you picked up your watch from the table side bed; you groaned as you saw the two hands on the clock.

Though you did eventually get some sleep the night before, it was a small amount that still had your eyes stinging and puffy and your brain in an eternal fog. However, your mother was on your mind and you knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep just to catch a couple of extra hours when instead you could be spending that time with your mother at her bedside.

You were eager to get up and outfit your body in proper warm clothes, all while a pot of coffee boiled on the single electric stove top. Once the dark tan liquid was poured into a thermos and your work boots were strapped on your feet, you set off for what lay beyond the front door.

The sun rose moments ago as the streets were only littered with a couple of people who were either on top of their horses with rifles slung over their shoulders, or those who were on foot, busy getting the chores for the morning done.

Familiar faces greeted with sympathetic looks as you journeyed back to the infirmary. They didn’t have to start any pity-driven conversations with you for it to be clear that every single person you were coming across in this god-forsaken town was seeing you as fragile. You despised it.

Being fragile, for you, meant being weak and you’d go to the ends of the earth to prove that you were anything but weak. One could suppose that being meek or non-self-sufficient was one of your biggest fears.

The sun shone through the smudged windows, bringing a bright sunny light to this dreary place. A wave of antiseptic and gauze tingled inside your nostrils, bringing a weird sort of nostalgia. You caught the eye of the nurse from the night before, and she quickly had you follow her lead as she walked you down to your mother's cot.

“How’s she doing?”

The nurse tried her best to put on a happy face, but it looked so forced, it was impossible to see it as truth. “I checked on her a couple of hours ago and she was…, she seems to be the same as the last time you saw her”.

You nodded slowly as the heaviness of your mother's health remained on your chest.

The both of you passed rows and rows of empty and filled cots that were enveloped in stained curtains that hung from orange, rusted hooks attached to the ceiling. It felt dystopian to have such a bright sun shining down on people who were actively fighting to stay alive. You just hoped the same fate wasn’t stricken upon your mother- and it seemed that your hope was a force to be reckoned with.

There your mother was, sitting up with her back resting against the cold brick wall. She still looked ill, but that corpse-like appearance and the greyness of her skin was fading into a more natural tone. She seemed alive.

You couldn’t hold back your joy as you squealed, “Mom!”, and came to sit on the floor next to her bed.

The nurse stood with mouth agape as your mother sat her hand on top of yours; you enveloped your hand with hers almost immediately.

“How are you doing Mom?”

Her voice was rasped, but her smile was genuine as she told you she was fine and found much more importance in asking how you were doing and what you had been up to. At this moment, it was obvious your fear of weakness had come from somewhere or rather from someone.

Day turned into sunset and sunset turned into the grey of night. Your mother’s eyes were drooping the later it got and you knew she was pushing herself only because she was enjoying the time she was spending with you. With a little bit of convincing, you were able to get your mother tucked away in bed. Your lips pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead as you whispered sweet words into her ear. The night nurse herself couldn’t help but smile at the interaction between the two of you.

“I’ll come to find you if anything changes”, she said softly. You nodded before giving your mother one last look. A surge of joy and hope was alive in your heart- one that you hadn’t felt since..well, a long time.

As you exited the infirmary, your eyes looked up to the night sky. You noticed how the stars were brighter tonight than they had been the night prior. You knew Ellie would be looking up at the sky tonight in awe-you could picture it perfectly and you hated it. You hated how it had become a habit for you to look up to the nighttime sky any time you were given the oportunity, all because of her.

Thankfully, your thoughts of her were quickly interrupted.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” that all too familiar, deep voice hummed in fatherly comfort.

“Hello again Joel. You just getting home?”

Joel nodded from his place on top of his horse, a near reflection of the night before. “Yeah. We had a long day today, didn’t we girl?”

You smiled as you watched him lovingly pat the side of his brown quarter horse.

“You know, I’m cooking some of my famous soup tonight. It’s been stewing all day and I sure could use some help eating it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his dim suggestion that was a clear ploy. “Hmm, I wonder who could be available to help you out there Joel. I think I may know someone.”

Joel raised his eyebrow with fake astonishment, “Oh really? Maybe this someone could hitch a ride with me on the back of my horse and I could give them a homecooked meal tonight. I’m sure this someone hasn’t had one in a longgg time.”

You shook your head grinning ear to ear, “You’re ridiculous you know that.” However, the humor was quick to leave your eyes as you thought about Joel’s home. Most, if not all of the memories were drunk with her. “Will uh-will Ellie be there?”

Joel’s smile fell the slightest bit as he answered honestly. “Nah. She’s out on patrol tonight and she won’t be back ‘til morning. Besides, she’s got her own little place behind the house now. She only really comes around when she wants some of my cookin’ - and who could blame her!”

You reveled in his talent of being able to turn a near-sour moment into a positive one. “Then I guess I have no choice but to have some of your world-famous soup.”

With that, you reached your hand up to meet Joel’s as he assisted you in getting on the back of his horse.

You noticed that it wasn’t as cold today. The snow was beginning to melt from the bare branches of the trees and it nearly felt like a new season was on the horizon. You knew it was silly, but you thought how nice it would be should your life be shifting in a sort of new beginning as well. One with a happy, healthy mother and maybe one without as much hatred for a girl you were desperately trying to forget.

Before long, you and Joel were at the all too familiar Rancher Street with his modest home in the near distance. The white picket fence stood out amongst the soggy brown soil as you walked from the back of the house, where Joel had stowed away his precious mare, to the front entrance. The dingy garage where you knew Ellie was living sent a shiver down your spine as you spotted it sitting beneath the dim oil street light. Quickly, you turned around and followed behind Joel before curiosity got the best of you.

The moment Joel flicked the light switch, the orange, warm hue was so familiar and comforting that you felt like you were drenched in the comfiest blanket you’d ever felt. His home felt so warm. However, your comfort was interrupted by a rustling coming from deep within the home.

“Stay here,” Joel said with a protective outreached arm as his eyes scanned the parameter.

Cautiously, he walked in a near slink-like manner as he retracted the knife that he had stowed away in his back pocket and held the sharpened end out in front of his chest. Foot by foot, he walked slowly, yet with assertiveness.

Just as Joel got to the very back of the main hallway a rattle sounded again in the same area which you now presumed was the kitchen. Out of caution, he rested the flat of his back against the wall that was shielding the kitchen from the rest of the home until suddenly, a figure that appeared to you as a shadow began coming closer and closer to the open doorway that Joel was centimeters away from.

Joel knew it was now or never as he jumped quickly, keeping his head straight to stare directly into the kitchen at whatever or whoever was intruding in his space.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack kid! What are you doing here?” You saw a full sigh leave Joel’s body as his body physically relaxed right in front of you. You watched, puzzled by the entire situation, until you heard the voice of the mysterious intruder who, it turns out, was no stranger to you afterall.

“Sorry”, she spoke. At the sound, you felt as if every bone in your body broke all at once. You had the urge to run straight out of the door you had walked in moments ago, yet you remained frozen in place.

“Me and that new guy switched shifts and I smelled your soup cooking on my way home so..”

“So what you’re saying is, my soup made you break into my damn house?” Joel spoke with amusement in his voice. From his side profile, you could make out his signature amused smile as he shook his head back and forth.

Ellie said, “Pretty much,” and you could perfectly picture the way her shoulders shrugged in playful arrogance.

“Well don’t let me interrupt your dinner. Help yourself,” Joel said as his am stretched upward on the door frame and looked down the hallway. His face went slack as he remembered your presence as well as the promise he assured you of and how that promise was under the very same roof.

Joels mouth hung open while his eyes looked at you with “i’m sorry” written in his pupils. He tried his best to assess the situation and somehow work it out in your favor in a matter of minutes, but it was inevitable.

“Were you talking to someone outside? I thought I heard you.” Ellie questioned as she screwed the lid on her thermos. Joel didn’t answer - he appeared frozen in time as he searched your face.

“Or have you started talking to yourself now that you’re getting old as shit?”, Ellie teased with a smirk, expecting a similar reaction from Joel, yet his face remained like a stone.

“Is everything okay?”, she said with genuine concern in her eyes. “Oh god, did you bring a date home or something?”

Before Joel could figure out a plan or stop her from moving past him on the opposite side of the kitchen island, Ellie emerged from the doorway and was met with your hardened figure by the front door.

Neither of you said anything. It felt like a staring contest to see who would say something or make a move first and both of you were overly committed to winning this game of sorts.

“Uh.” Joel spoke as he moved to stand directly next to Ellie. “I’m uh-i’m sorry Ellie. I thought you wouldn’t be around or else-”

“Why’s she here?”, Ellie spat with eyes narrowed directly on you.

“I’ll just go.” Your hands shook as you turned yourself around and wrapped your hand around the door knob. You began to twist against the cold metal, until you heard an urgent “Wait” as Ellie protested your departure.

She wore a much softer expression when you turned around. Her face had relaxed-almost fallen-and her eyes were sympathetic.

“I was going to take this to go anyways”, Ellie said shaking the thermos for emphasis. “I’ll uh-catch you later Joel. Thanks for the soup.”

Accordingly, Ellie slipped out of the back door-her winter boots leaving mild, yet visible foot prints in her wake.

As soon as the door closed, Joel offered an apology that sounded as if he had put you in the most horrifying situation possible.

“I told you Joel. It’s fine-really!”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you thinking i set this up somehow. No matter how much I enjoyed you with Ellie, I would never do that to you.”

You nodded honestly. “I know.”

After the apologies and reassurances, you and Joel jumped right in to where you’d left off. Joel immediately went to work in the kitchen. Grabbing bowls and spoons and napkins. Asking you what drink you’d like and offering up his prized whiskey that you knew he didn’t offer to just anybody.

Just as the two of you were sat at the table with all the dinner essentials, there was a light knock at the front door. One that was so faint, if it weren’t for the silence of the apocalyptic world, you surely would’ve missed it.

Joel sighed as he stood from the table and tossed his napkin down onto the white lace table runner. “Sorry for all the interruptions. I’ll be quick.”

You nodded as your lips met the tip of your glass and the copper colored liquid burned down your throat in the best way possible. The whiskey was smooth and had you reminiscing on all of those past dinners with Ellie and Joel and this divine whiskey. If only things were as simple now as they were back then.

Joel’s voice was mumbling something in the distance, but his tone was so deeply hushed, you couldn't make out exact words or phrases. Then, came the footsteps. Suddenly, Joel and Ellie were standing in the dining room, both looking less than ecstatic.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, but Ellie’s generator blew out and can’t seem to get it up and running again.” Joel’s eyes couldn’t even look at yours as he spoke.

“I can just go to Dina’s or something-“

“No.” Joel and Ellie’s heads shot up to look at you which suddenly made you grow shy over your protest that flew out of your mouth before you could even properly think about it. “You should stay.”

“I should?”, Ellie questioned with a crease running along her forehead and eyes that were bunched together.

You look at Joel and then back at Ellie. “Yeah, you should.”

The dinner was quiet. It seemed like you could hear the sound of every fork scraping along China and each gulp that moved liquid down someone’s throat. Joel was the only saving grace, and thank god for it.

“So. What are you up to nowadays? Where have you been staying?”

“A town thats a bit away. Nothing special about it really. I mainly keep to myself and just try to stay alive.”

Joel nodded along as you spoke. “Do you think you’ll ever come back to Jackson permanently? I know you’re missed her and not just by your mama.”

Curiously, your eyes move over to Ellie’s to see if Joel’s question gets any sort of response out of her. She is stone faced as she moves her fork around her plate.

Secretly, in the deepest pit of your stomach You wanted her to miss you. You wanted her talk about you constantly while you were gone. You wanted her to not be able to move on from you just as you weren’t able to move on from her.

How selfish. You knew it was an act of ultimate self pleasure and yet the indulgence never ended. Some sick part of yourself wanted her to ache just as much as you were aching to be with her again. Yet you suppressed it all.

You acted as if she didn’t exist and that you didn’t care, but at this dinner table you could feel your facade crumbling into a thousand pieces because every damn question, you found yourself looking to Ellie to see a reaction of pain or longing or something else to signal that she missed you or cared about what you had been up to since you left. You weren’t even close to being over her, regardless of how hard you tried.

“Everything alright?”

You looked up to see both Joel and Ellie staring at you in the midst of your silence. You could only hope your facial expression didn’t give away how truly crazy and overwhelmed you felt.

“Yeah-yeah! I'm fine, just a bit tired I guess.”

Joel nodded as he spooned the final bite of his soup into his mouth. Ellie’s bowl was still nearly full.

“Maybe I should head out.” You said, patting the napkin along the line of your lips. “It’s getting late and I want to get up bright and early to see my mom.”

You needed to get some fresh air and you needed it now.

“I can walk you.”

For a moment you felt anger. Anger that your loneliness was being dismantled when you craved solidarity, until you remembered who it was that was saying those sweet words. The very poison that filled the cup that you couldn’t seem to drag away from your mouth.

“You don’t have to, really”

“I know I don’t have to.” Ellie’s tone was one you didn’t dare to question. Not that you had a choice as she was already gathering her belongings that were strewn by the back door.

Ellie fully prepared to give you a true piece of her mind. She told herself that if ever given the opportunity, she would lay it on you. Tell you how much you hurt her. Tell you how confused and fucked up she felt after hearing that you’d left without a trace, all while being silent with your goodbyes. She’d rehearsed the speech a million times in her head when she’d lay in her empty bed with nothing but the light of an outdoor lamppost casting shadows through the dustied window. She was so dark and utterly alone.

On the other hand, Ellie was an idiot either. She knew the reason you left was because of the fight. She knew she was being a child, and she knew that she was fighting off a force that wasn’t a threat to her, but Ellie would’ve never expected you to leave how you did strictly from her actions. You were headstrong and stubborn and everything she loves in a woman - but who's to say a human can’t have moments they regret.

Who's to say that Ellie wished she told you right then and there that she loved you instead of acting like you were a puzzle she didn’t know the answer to when she knew, damn well, that she was completely smothered in adoration for you. She knew she loved you - but saying it made her vulnerable, bare-naked.

She’d lost so many in life and getting closer to you-loving you- would just be a precursor for the pain Ellie would feel when she eventually lost you, because everyone leaves. That’s exactly what you did. You left.

Silently, you walked to the front door, grabbing your coat and slipping on your boots over your wool socks.

“You both be safe alright?”, Joel said while walking towards the both of you as you stood by the front door. He wore a smile that was interesting to say the least. You swore you could see hope in his eyes.

“Thanks again for dinner Joel.” You kindly waved him off and turned around to face Ellie who was holding open the front door for you. Chivalry isn’t crucified after all, even when it’s your ex.

It was so quiet. A howl from the wind or a nearby coyote was the only audible objects-that and the snow being smothered underneath both of your shoes. Speaking of shoes - the canvased sneakers that were nearly begging to be tossed in the trash still clung to Ellie’s feet even in this sort of weather. It made you chuckle ever so slightly.

Funny - Ellie wasn’t sure what on earth could be funny at a time like this.

“What?”

You shook your head, feeling shy all of a sudden as Ellie tried her best to figure you out. So many questions hung over her head when it came to the thought of you. A deep marooned contrast of when she was yours and you were hers; she’d never known someone as much as she knew you back then.

“No, tell me. What’s so funny”, Ellie’s words came with venom in her spit. It caught you off guard as you walked with your mouth agape before directing your eyes to the road ahead instead of Ellie’s tattered shoes.

“Those fucking things,” You said motioning to the shoes that Ellie glanced down to look at.

The skin on Ellie’s forehead screwed together as she too kept her eyes forward. “What about them?”

“Nothing.. just..still wearing those converse in the snow I see.”

Suddenly Ellie stopped in her tracks as flames began to seethe through her pupils. She felt her muscles tense up as her jaw began to ache from how hard her teeth were being gnashed together on her own accord. “Why do you do that?”

You were confused, but mimicked her stillness as your hands settled to cross in front of your chest as if it were a boundary. “Do what?”

“Talk down to me like that!”

“Oh c'mon El, you know I’m only giving you shit. Lighten up a little.”

“Lighten up? You want me to lighten up after-.” Ellie stopped the words from tumbling out of her mouth by pinching her lips together as tightly as she possibly could.

There it was. The barricade was bombed and the dam was broken. You could feel your body begin to shake and your teeth grit behind your lips as the topic that you were desperately trying to avoid-the very elephant in the room was being exposed and drawn from behind it’s curtain.

“You really want to do this now? While my fucking mother is in the hospital Ellie! I don’t know if she's even going to make it and you’re focused on why I left?”

Suddenly you were the one steaming red as your gut reaction kicked in. Your palms met Ellie’s chest as you pressed her backwards slightly. Not in an effort to physically harm her, but one that got her-the trauma-as far away from you as possible. “Get away from me.”

Of course Ellie felt bad. Your mother hadn’t even crossed her mind today, she was ashamed to say. It seems that the anger and sadness and grief of you overcame the entire reason she was seeing you face to face, thus her being too free spoken with words that fell on the spectrum of hate.

By the time she’d accepted her ignorance, you’d already started fast walking away.

“Hey, please. C’mon babe.” Ellie knew it was trouble the second the pet name was accidentally spoken.

“Don’t you dare call me that!”

Ellie could feel the tears well in her water line and god did she hate it. She hated how you were pushing her away again and again and again even if she knew why.

“Just talk to me, please.” Ellie begged with a tone that was pathetic to any ears who caught it. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect you.

Ellie was never one to show emotion. Exhibit A: when you confronted her about what the both of you were and she responded with “I don’t know”. You’d think the girl was a god damn Capricorn with the amount of avoidance she displayed when it came to anything emotional. But this was so much more than the stars in the sky and the time she was born.

In the heat of the moment, the both of you had already swiftly walked the route to your mothers home. You knew you shouldn’t do it, yet you felt it gnaw away through your skin, into your bones as the anger and frustration began to slither away to hide in the snow covered grass.

“Do you want to-“

“Yeah”, Ellie interrupted with several nods of her auburn colored head.

#ellie williams #tlou2 #tlou #the last of us #ellie fic #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #the last of us part 2

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